I glanced at the sky as I started down the steep path. Clouds still scudded overhead, dark and dreary. But it hadn’t started raining yet, and the wind seemed to be dying down a little. Maybe the storm wouldn’t hit us after all.
Down at the beach, I whistled loudly several times, but Squeak didn’t appear. I paced back and forth, wishing I’d thought to put on my swimsuit. Then again, maybe it was better that I couldn’t be tempted into the water. On a stormy day like this, there could be dangerous currents out there. I was a strong swimmer, but even I didn’t want to get caught in a riptide or something.
Besides, Squeak didn’t seem to be in the cove anyway. I perched on an only-slightly-damp rock near the tidal pool, staring out at the white-capped waves. I’d expected the dolphin to be tucked into some corner of the cove hiding out from the storm, but if he was here, I was sure he would have responded to my calls. Where could he be?
An hour later, it started to sprinkle and I finally gave up. I hurried up the trail, squinting against the increasing rain. At the top of the cliff, I broke into a run, bursting into the house just as thunder rumbled in the distance.
When I entered, Will leaped up off the couch as if he had ants in his pants. “Annie!” he shouted. “Where were you?”
“Nowhere.” I pushed a damp lock of hair off my face. “I’m going to change.”
Will followed me all the way to my room, lurking outside the door as I pulled on a dry pair of shorts and my favorite swim team tee. When I came out, he was dancing from foot to foot.
“What’s with you today?” I grumbled, pushing past him on my way to the bathroom. Once again, he hung out in the hall until I finished, padding downstairs after me. I sighed, doing my best to ignore him and hoping Mom got home soon.
Half an hour later, I gave up trying to read and tossed my book aside. “Want some lunch?” I asked Will. “We might as well not wait for Mom—she probably stopped by the restaurant on her way home from the store or something.”
“I have to tell you something,” Will blurted out.
I headed for the pantry and grabbed a loaf of bread. “First tell me if you want tuna or PB and J.”
“No, listen!” He grabbed my arm, almost making me drop the bread. “It’s about Admiral Squeak.”
That got my attention. “What about him?”
“Morgan found out about his name. She’s really mad.” Will flapped his hands anxiously. “She said she’s going to get revenge.”
I tossed the bread onto the counter. “What do you mean, get revenge?” I said. “Revenge on who?”
“Like I said! Admiral Squeak!” He sounded frustrated. “She and her friends are going out on Jet Skis to find him! They’re going to chase him out of the cove and the harbor and make sure he never comes back!”
“What?” I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Will, what are you talking about? How could you possibly know that?”
Before he even spoke, the answer came to me: Mattie.
Grace Ogawa was one of Morgan’s best friends. Mattie must have overheard them talking and told his new friend Will.
“Will, what else did Mattie say?” I shook him, feeling frantic. “When are they going?”
“At noon.” Will squirmed out of my grip, reaching up to rub his shoulder where I’d squeezed it. “I was going to tell you before, but you were being mean so I didn’t.”
I spun around to look at the clock on the microwave. It read 12:48.
“Oh no!” I moaned. “I have to stop them! Stay here.”
I guess I sounded pretty serious, because Will didn’t argue and just watched silently as I yanked on my sneakers and crashed out of the house.
Outside, I grabbed my bike from the shed and flung myself onto it, thanking my lucky stars that the rain had stopped again, at least for the moment. I pumped hard, skidding around the curve onto the road leading down into town.
My head was throbbing with fear. Would even the horrible Morgan Pierce really take out her anger on a helpless animal? I wasn’t sure. But I couldn’t take the chance. I was the one who’d convinced Squeak to trust me—to think people were friends. It would be my fault if something terrible happened to him because of that.
The marina was mostly deserted—no surprise, given the weather. Nobody was crazy enough to risk their boat—or their life—heading out into an oncoming storm. Or were they? Squinting through the salty spray whipped up by the wind, I tried to guess which Jet Skis belonged to Connor and his buddies. Had the storm convinced them not to go after all?
But I couldn’t count on that, and I had no way of knowing which Jet Skis were which. I shivered as another gust almost knocked me over and thunder rumbled somewhere out over the Sound. If my parents knew I was even this close to the water on a day like today, they’d kill me. But I had to help Squeak. He trusted me, and I couldn’t let him down no matter what. Dropping my bike on the dock, I jumped into my family’s fishing boat and scrabbled under the seat cushion for the key Dad always hid there.
My hands shook as I untied the boat, then inserted the key into the ignition. Taking a deep breath, I turned the key, and the engine roared to life.
I kept the boat slow as I steered out of the marina. The water was choppier than usual due to the stormy weather, and the rain was starting up again, tiny droplets stinging my face and making it hard to see. I hunched over the wheel, peering forward and trying not to hit anything. I realized I’d forgotten to put on a life jacket, but I didn’t dare take my hands off the wheel to grab one from under the seat.
When I reached open water, I opened up the throttle a little bit. The steering wheel jerked and jumped in my hand as the hull hit an especially big wave, and I felt the boat shudder.
Swallowing hard, I blinked rainwater out of my eyes, clamped down more tightly on the wheel, and let up a little on the acceleration. I’d driven the boat lots of times—well, mostly our old boat, which was even bigger—but never without Dad right there to help. I was going to have to pay attention if I didn’t want to mess up.
Soon I’d left the marina behind. A few larger yachts and sailboats were anchored out in the middle of the harbor, but it was easy to steer around those. Then the fishing boat was pointed straight toward Little Twin Cove.
But I’m probably getting all worked up for nothing, I told myself. Squeak wasn’t even there earlier.
That was true. But Morgan and the others didn’t know that. They’d probably look for him there first, especially if Emma told them she’d seen him there more than once.
My grip tightened on the wheel again at the thought of Emma’s betrayal. How could she have told Morgan about that stupid nickname? It was bad enough that she was ignoring me, but I never would have expected her to do something that could hurt an innocent creature. Or to break a promise, for that matter, even if we weren’t friends anymore.
Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned my head, Squeak’s name already on my lips. But no—it wasn’t him. Just chaotic whitecaps tossed up by the wind.
When I got closer to the cove, I heard a new sound over the moan of the wind—motors. Peering through the misty rain-spattered air, I spotted several Jet Skis up ahead.
The drivers saw me, too. All three of the Jet Skis turned and raced toward my boat. When they neared, I recognized Connor and two of his equally obnoxious friends. A girl clung on behind each boy. Morgan was riding with Connor, and Grace Ogawa was hanging on to the second boy. The third girl was Emma.
I gritted my teeth, glaring at her. But it was Morgan who shouted my name.
“Annie! What took you so long?” she yelled, sounding annoyed. “We were about to go back in.”
I pushed a chunk of wet hair out of my eyes. “What are you talking about?” I shouted back. “Will told me what you said, and I won’t let you do it!”
“Duh, him telling you was the whole point,” Grace said, tossing her wet black ponytail back over her shoulder. She glanced over at Morgan. “Told you she wouldn’t follow the pl
an.”
“Ems said she’d come running right over,” Morgan called back, shifting her glare to Emma. “How was I supposed to know she’d mess it up?”
Hold on. What was going on here? “What plan?” I snapped, grabbing the wheel for balance as an especially big swell rolled the boat from side to side. “Will told me—”
“Yeah, yeah, like Grace said, that was the whole point,” Morgan exclaimed with a scowl. “Her brat of a brother was supposed to spill the beans to your spaz of a brother. And everyone knows he can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“So he was supposed to tell me,” I said, feeling stupid as I finally figured out what was happening here. They’d set me up! Or tried to, anyway. Leave it to Will to actually keep a secret for once in his life.
“Yeah.” Grace giggled loudly. “We figured you’d go storming over to Morgan’s house right away, and we’d be waiting for you there.” She loosened her grip on the boy in front of her just long enough to make a snip-snip scissors motion with her fingers, pretending to cut her ponytail.
I gasped as Morgan, Grace, and the boys laughed. Had they really planned to grab me and cut off my hair? Even for Morgan, that seemed crazy mean. Could she really be that mad about some stupid nickname?
Shooting a look at Emma, I saw that she looked kind of ill. Good. She deserved a little seasickness after the way she’d betrayed me—over and over again.
“Anyway, when you didn’t show up we were afraid you might be just as big a spaz as your brother,” Morgan said. “We talked the guys into coming out to see if you were actually out here looking for that stupid dolphin.”
Connor revved his motor. “Yeah, and I’m ready to go back,” he said. “This rain’s a drag. Plus my dad’ll kill me if he finds out I went out in this storm.”
The other two boys revved their motors, too. I slumped in my seat, relieved that they were leaving. In fact, now that I thought about it, I realized they’d never intended to harass Squeak at all—just me. That made me feel a tiny bit better, though not much.
“Hey, watch it,” I cried as one of the boys zoomed past the boat, so close that his wake washed up over the side.
It was the Jet Ski that Grace was riding, and she glanced back at me and laughed. “Do it again!” she urged the guy.
Meanwhile, Connor and the other boy were following their friend’s lead. Soon all three Jet Skis were zooming around in circles, coming as close to my boat as they dared.
“Stop it!” Emma cried, sounding terrified. “You’ll hit her!”
“No we won’t.” Connor cackled. “I’d never do that to my Jet Ski.”
“Oh yeah? I might!” The guy with Grace revved his motor again and zoomed straight toward the side of my boat, peeling off at the last second and sending another wash of seawater over the side.
“Quit that!” I yelled, swiping the moisture off my face. I was soaked to the skin by then, but I hardly noticed. I was too busy trying to start the engine up again.
Finally it roared to life. I spun the wheel, trying to turn back toward the marina, but Connor was there in front of me, zipping back and forth. I had to turn to the side to avoid him, and then turn again when the kid with Emma zoomed up to cut off my path.
“Get out of my way!” I yelled over the increasing clamor of the wind and rain. The storm was finally coming for real, and I definitely wanted to get back on dry land before it arrived in full force.
They ignored me, Morgan and Grace egging the boys on and all of them laughing as they herded me farther and farther from the marina. Well, almost all of them. Emma wasn’t laughing, or saying anything at all. She was hanging on tightly to the boy in front of her, her face a mask of fear.
But I barely noticed that as I struggled to get the boat back on course. We were getting awfully close to the mouth of the harbor—and the rough, storm-tossed waters of the Sound beyond. My heart pounded as I tried not to imagine what would happen to my little boat out there in this kind of weather.
Connor—I was pretty sure it was him, though it was raining harder now, making it difficult to see—roared toward me again.
“Oh no!” he yelled over the wailing wind. “My steering’s gone—I’m going to crash!”
With a little scream, I yanked the wheel hard to one side, cutting the motor at the same time. Bracing for impact, I was relieved when the Jet Ski veered off at the last second—until I heard Connor hooting with laughter.
That rat! He’d tricked me again. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the key and jerked it, but nothing happened. Stupid boat! I tried again and again.
“See you, loser!” Morgan shouted. “Remember this the next time you think about messing with my family!”
The wind grabbed her shriek of laughter, whipping it away as Connor turned and roared off in the direction of the marina. The other two Jet Skis followed. I squinted through the rain, watching them go. It looked like Emma was turning around to stare at me, but it was raining pretty hard and I couldn’t be sure.
“Good riddance,” I muttered, trying again to start the engine. All I got in return was an ominous clicking sound.
I gulped, suddenly remembering what Dad had told me about this boat: Her engine’s a little older and more temperamental than our other boat. You don’t want to flood it.
“Oh no,” I cried, panic zipping through me like an electric shock. “No, no, no!” I tried again, turning the key more gently this time, but it was no use. The engine was flooded, and I had no idea how to fix it.
A large wave hit us square in the side, almost tossing me out of the driver’s seat. I gripped the wheel with trembling hands, trying to figure out what to do. Were there even any oars on this thing? Maybe I could paddle back to shore.
Glancing over my shoulder, I gulped as I saw Long Island Sound looming just beyond the mouth of the harbor. It might as well have been the Atlantic—I couldn’t catch even the slightest glimpse of the New York side, not in this kind of weather. All the stories I’d ever heard around town about people lost at sea danced through my head, making me feel hot and cold all at once, wishing I could turn back time to before I’d flooded the engine, or maybe before I’d decided to rush out here in the boat at all. After all, it turned out Squeak had never even been in any danger—but now I was, for sure. What was I going to do?
Another huge wave crashed up over the side of the boat, spray mixing with the rain. Several inches of water were sloshing around in the bottom by now, and I realized I’d better bail out if I didn’t want to capsize.
Having something to do distracted me—at least a little bit—from my terror. I yanked open a cupboard, grabbed the bucket stowed there, and got to work. But the faster I bailed, the faster the storm dumped more water in the boat. Worse yet, when I paused for a rest, I could see that I was moving even more rapidly out toward the Sound!
“No, no, no!” I muttered as the panic took hold again. There was no way the boat could stay afloat if it ended up out there …
CRASH! This time the wave was so big it knocked me into the side of the boat. I hung on as the boat spun around crazily, one side tipping dangerously close to the surface. I gasped for breath, then choked as water—rain, sea, or both—splashed into my mouth and down my throat.
Coughing and shoving wet hair out of my eyes, I crawled over to another cabinet. This one held several bright orange life jackets. Pulling one out, I yanked it on over my T-shirt and snapped the buckles with shaking, fumbling fingers.
I was just in time. The next wave washed all the way over the boat, leaving behind way too much water. My whole body started shaking as the boat foundered, the bow dipping below the surface.
Half lunging and half swimming over to the starboard side, I shoved myself over the edge and pushed off, striking out away from the boat. I’d heard of people getting sucked underwater by a capsizing boat and didn’t want to take any chances.
Seconds later, the fishing boat had disappeared beneath the waves. I bobbed there, trying to blink the rain and salt spray out o
f my eyes, glad for the life jacket helping to keep me afloat in the rough water.
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I’d been raised on the water; I knew the rules. This sort of thing only happened to other people—like the stupid tourists who didn’t pay attention to weather warnings and had to be rescued by the Coast Guard.
So where was the Coast Guard now? They have no idea I’m out here, I realized, my heart clenching into a cold, hard knot of fear in my chest as I pictured the fishing boat’s radio—now lost beneath the churning sea. Nobody does. Nobody except people who hate me.
I tried to tell myself that Emma might not be totally hopeless—that she might tell someone I was out here. After all, she’d always been a worrier. Then again, why would she be worried now? The last time she’d seen me, I’d still had the boat. She and Morgan and Grace were probably back at the Cottage giggling over hot cocoa by now, making fun of the way I’d rushed out to save Squeak.
The thought made me want to cry, but I didn’t have the energy to waste on that. If nobody was coming to save me, I’d have to save myself. Spinning around, I squinted at the horizon, trying to figure out which direction to swim. The marina seemed impossibly far away, but I didn’t think I’d gone that far past the cove. Maybe I could make it back there on my own.
Catching a glimpse of something I thought might be the Point, I struck out that way, my arms windmilling wildly. It was hard to perform a proper crawl stroke with the life jacket on, but I did my best. Pull, pull, kick, kick—the familiar movements should have come easily. But the harbor’s rough waters felt foreign, nothing at all like the school pool or the quiet cove. I’d always been at home in the water, any water, but this time it was my enemy, fighting me and sapping my energy with every stroke. Before long, my arms and legs felt heavy and slow.
I can do this, I told myself. I’m one of the best swimmers on the team. Coach even said I might make states next year.
Heart of a Dolphin Page 8