“Who cares,” the girl responded, and used a stubborn chin to indicate her sister. “Ask her. She knows everything.”
I give up, the boy thought.
But he couldn’t give up. This might be the very last tagging trip for Sharks Incorporated, so it had to be a success. He had to think of a topic so interesting the sisters would forget they were angry. He stared at his hands. He focused on the bulky farmer’s gloves that covered them.
Suddenly, Luke knew a way.
But was it worth sharing his secret?
This required some thought.
If he revealed the burn scar, there was a risk that kids at school would find out. He would be taunted, possibly. Bullied, maybe, by the older kids because the lightning scars set him apart as different from everyone else. And on the baseball field, yeah, there was no doubt he’d be made fun of. Baseball players loved assigning nicknames for oddball reasons.
For instance, the guys on his Little League team in Ohio (the Pioneer Eagles) had called Luke “Hay Hook.” Hay hooks were large, sharp hooks used to snatch bales of hay or straw onto a wagon. One hot afternoon, Luke had swung at a bale of hay but missed and had buried the hook into his leg. The result was a scar on his shin that was barely noticeable.
As nicknames went, Hay Hook wasn’t bad. In fact, it was sort of cool. But what would guys in the dugout call a kid with two lightning scars that were as weird as circus tattoos?
No, too risky, he decided.
He argued the subject back and forth in his head. Should he take off his gloves and share the truth. Or leave them on?
Share.
The word caused him to remember something. It had to do with the bittersweet smile on his aunt’s face that morning in the lab. There was a sadness he didn’t understand when she’d said, New friends aren’t nearly as important as old friends you can share your secrets with.
He hadn’t understood Hannah’s sadness. But he finally had to admit the sisters were his friends. This wasn’t easy to admit, even to himself, because they were girls—but so what? They were also his teammates. And teammates share.
Luke stood suddenly and announced, “Hey, you two, stop acting like kids. I want to show you something.”
Maribel paid attention when the boy took off his left glove and placed it on the console.
Sabina’s eyes widened as he removed his right glove. She started to say, “If you want me to read your palm, we should—”
That’s as far as she got.
The scream of a fishing reel interrupted her.
“Fish on!” Maribel yelled.
They all rushed to do their jobs.
SEVENTEEN
A RAY, A DINOSAUR, AND A SEA COW
It wasn’t a shark that took the bait. It was a stingray—the first they’d ever caught.
It was Maribel’s turn to take the rod, but she delegated the job to Sabina, hoping to end their feud.
Her kindness seemed to help. When the younger sister saw what was on the end of her line, she hollered, “Maribel, stay back, it’s a stingray! Look at how long its tail is. Luke, put your stupid gloves on, and keep away from that stinger.”
The ray was the size of a doormat. Wide, rounded wings slapped the water when it came to the surface. Its tail was a yard long. The barb on the end smacked the side of the boat like a bullwhip.
“It looks like Batman’s flying car,” Sabina whooped.
Luke, who loved Batman, agreed. The ray was flat bodied and sleek, blackish brown on top. Its eyes were set deep in what resembled a space vehicle designed to cruise among the stars.
He was relieved to have his gloves on again. The sisters appeared to be getting along just fine.
Maribel shot video. Luke used a paddle to control the ray’s tail, and a long-handled hook remover to free the creature.
The stingray righted itself, flapped its wings, and flew away like an underwater bird.
Seconds later the second fishing rod buckled. Another big fish caused the reel to clatter.
It was Luke’s turn on the rod, but he said, “Maribel, you take it.”
The older sister replied, “No, it’s all yours.” Good captains, she was learning, put the happiness of their crew ahead of their own.
The boy didn’t argue. He wrestled the rod from its holder and held on. “It’s a big one,” he said. “Look at it go.”
Line peeled off the reel as the fish ran. The line ripped a crevice across the water fifty yards behind the boat and kept going.
The sisters weren’t sure it was a shark, but they got the tagging equipment ready, anyway. This included the polished new amber pole that Luke had made.
“I don’t think it’s a blacktip,” the boy said after a few minutes. “It hasn’t jumped.”
There was another difference he noticed. Small sharks raced away like rockets. This fish pulled with the steady force of a tractor. The boy had the rod anchored against his belly. He used both hands to leverage the rod up. Whenever he got a chance, he cranked the reel to recover a few feet of line.
Just as fast, whatever had taken the bait powered its way farther and farther from the boat.
Twenty minutes went by. “It’s too big,” Maribel decided. “We’ve got to let it go.”
“Not yet!” Sabina protested.
“I don’t want to, either,” the older sister said. “But those are the rules.”
Maribel was worried about something else. In June, it rained almost every afternoon, and it was getting late. She had yet to hear thunder, but in the far distance there were mountainous black clouds.
The boy was sweating, still battling the fish.
“Did you hear me, Luke? We don’t have a choice. You know what Dr. Ford said to do if a fish is too big to handle.”
They were using special fishhooks designed to bend free before the line broke.
“Tighten the drag,” she instructed, “so the fish can bend the hook and get away.”
Luke hesitated, then conceded, “Yeah, darn it. You’re right. But I sure would like to see what it is.”
Maribel was relieved. Hannah had told her that good captains never have to raise their voices or say, “That’s an order.”
There was a knob on the front of Luke’s spinning reel. It could be adjusted so that it was impossible to pull line off the spool. She watched the boy screw the knob down tight and brace himself.
Luke felt the rod bend with such force that it threatened to pull him off the boat. Then suddenly the rod sprang back and the line went slack.
“Lost it,” he said, cranking in line. “Doggone it. I bet it was another big bull shark, you think?” An instant later, it was no longer easy to turn the reel. “Hey…,” he said. “Hey! The fish is still hooked, and it’s coming straight toward the boat.”
Sabina hooted and got the new tagging pole ready. Luke lifted hard … lowered the rod quickly and reeled. Over and over, he repeated the procedure until the fish was beneath the boat. With a final effort, he lifted and they all looked down.
Maribel gasped. “Oh my goodness … it looks like a dinosaur.”
“What is it?” Sabina asked. “Should we tag it?”
“I’m not sure,” Luke said.
They had never seen anything like the fish at the end of the line. Its body was six feet long, with wide fins like wings. It looked a little bit like a shark. But it sort of looked like a stingray, too—except for one obvious difference: Protruding from the fish’s nose was a long toothy blade. The blade resembled a sword edged with teeth.
“Get the book,” he suggested. “I think it’s a sawfish. They’re really rare.” The fish had stopped struggling. Using the slow sweep of its tail against the current, the creature seemed content to rest peacefully on the surface beside the boat.
There was a locker beneath the boat’s steering wheel. Maribel retrieved a book titled Marine Fishes of Florida. She flipped through the pages but was interrupted by an ominous rumble. It was followed by a sharp blast of thunder.
&
nbsp; “We don’t have time to look it up,” she said, glancing skyward. “There’s a storm coming. We’ve got to get back to the marina.”
“Should I tag it?” Sabina asked again. She couldn’t take her eyes off the strange fish. It was longer than she was tall and had rough cinnamon-colored skin. The girl was eager to be the first to try the new tagging pole.
“Whatever we do, let’s do it quick,” Luke said. “This fish is tired of being hooked. And I’m getting a little tired myself. It’s gotta weigh close to a hundred pounds.”
Maribel considered the towering clouds over the mainland. They had yet to feel a chilly blast of wind that would signal the storm was moving their way. That suggested it would be a while before they were in danger of being drenched or struck by lightning.
“Give me a second.” She had found the book’s index. “Here it is,” she said. “Yes, it’s a sawfish—a small-tooth sawfish.”
“Small?” Sabina said. “That thing is huge. I think we should tag it before it gets mad.”
Maribel read from the book: “‘Sawfish look somewhat like sharks, but with their wide fins and flatter bodies, they are really an ancient relative of stingrays. Their nose, instead of teeth, has a specialized sword that resembles a saw. They use this saw to stun small fish before eating them. Sawfish grow to over eighteen feet long.’”
Eighteen feet? They actually had caught a dinosaur—a young one!
Maribel skimmed ahead. “You’re right, Luke. They’re rare. Listen to this: ‘Loss of habitat and overfishing have destroyed most of the sawfish population. In the United States, the last remaining population of sawfish live off south Florida.’”
“Then I am going to tag it,” Sabina said. She leaned over the boat with the new tagging pole in both hands. “Scientists somewhere have to be studying sawfish.”
Maribel nodded, convinced. “You’re right. I’ll get the camera.”
* * *
We really are good at what we do, Luke thought. They had tagged, measured, and estimated the sawfish’s weight in less than three minutes. It gave him a good feeling to watch the big fish swim away unhurt. He was also pleased the tagging pole had worked perfectly.
The sisters congratulated each other on another good job. Luke shared some fist bumps, then went to the front of the boat to pull the anchor. The storm was still miles away, but it was coming. As he reached for the rope, a dark shape in the water caught his attention. For an instant, he froze, then began to back away.
Maribel noticed. “What’s wrong?”
The boy didn’t respond. Something gigantic was swimming toward their boat. The animal—whatever it was—was the size of a bear, and as hairless as the prize pigs he’d raised in 4-H.
Luke stood and watched, mystified.
The animal surfaced for an instant … went under, then continued toward them. Its progress beneath the water could be followed by watching shiny swirls on the surface.
“What’s wrong?” Maribel asked again. She was frightened by the look on Luke’s face.
Finally he whispered, “Did you see that?”
Sabina said, “Of course not. You see everything before we do—and it’s not fair.” She moved beside him. “Where? I don’t see anything.”
“Hang on to your seats,” Luke warned. “It’s going to ram our boat any second now.”
“Ram us?”
“Yeah—grab something!”
He watched the animal’s wake spin circles on the surface. The creature arrowed closer and closer … then vanished beneath the boat.
After several tense seconds waiting for an impact, the boy muttered, “Where the heck did it go?”
“Is this a joke?” Sabina demanded. “I was just starting to like you a little bit.”
“I don’t see anything, either,” Maribel said. “Is it a shark—or a bigger sawfish?”
Cautiously, Luke leaned over the side. Beneath them was a massive shadow. The shape was oddly familiar. But he couldn’t admit that what he saw resembled a giant swimming pig. The pig—or whatever it was—had a big, broad tail shaped like a shovel.
“It looks like, I don’t know … a small whale, maybe,” he stammered.
“A whale,” Sabina said. “And people say I’m crazy. Water in this bay isn’t deep enough for whales.”
That was true. “What it really looks like,” Luke said, “is a … well, a giant pig with a big flipper for a tail.”
The younger girl thought his words were hilarious. “Pig farmer, that’s what I’ll call you from now on.”
He ignored her laughter and watched the shadow float upward. When the deck jolted beneath their feet, Sabina went rigid. Her face paled. The boat jolted again and began to rock.
“What’s happening?” she yelled.
Until then Maribel had been frightened, too. Not now, because she had experienced something similar one day out in Captain Hannah’s boat. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “Keep watching. You’ll understand what I mean.”
In Spanish, Sabina said, “Is everyone crazy? There’s nothing funny about a giant pig attacking our boat. Do something!”
Luke wasn’t convinced, either. When the snout of a large animal spouted water beside the boat, he jumped back, saying, “There it is!”
The animal was huge—the size of two pigs in one body that was gray-black and splotched with barnacles.
“Don’t worry, it’s harmless,” Maribel said with a laugh. “It’s a manatee. They’re like giant teddy bears that eat grass and sea squirts and things. They’re vegetarians that wouldn’t harm a fly.”
“Man-a-tee?” Luke repeated so he would remember the name.
“Some people call them sea cows,” Maribel explained. “They like to scratch their backs on boats and pilings and stuff. Sabina, you’ve seen manatees around the marina. Why were you so afraid?”
“I wasn’t afraid,” the girl insisted. “Well … not until the pig farmer here told me our boat was about to be rammed.” She knelt for a closer look at the manatee. “Awww,” she cooed. “See how cute its face is? Luke, what’s wrong with you? In Ohio, does everything resemble a pig?”
The animal lounged on the surface for a while. It spouted and snorted as if enjoying the attention. When it nosed toward the bottom, a huge fluke tail appeared and slapped the water.
At the same instant, a thunderous boom echoed through the mangroves. A fresh gust of wind chilled the late-afternoon air. They still had an hour or so of daylight left, but they couldn’t risk getting caught in a thunderstorm.
“We’ve got to get moving,” Maribel said. “Luke, pull the anchor. Sabina, would you mind putting the rods away?”
The younger sister had been startled by the nearby lightning strike. She obeyed instantly, saying, “No kidding, we’ve got to go.”
Overhead, the sky had grayed. Clouds were laced with eerie green light.
Luke should have been the first to notice the color of the sky. He didn’t. “Hold on … Something’s wrong,” he said from the front of the boat.
“Now what?” Sabina groaned.
Usually their anchor was marked by a Styrofoam ball attached to the anchor line, as a safety precaution. If they had to abandon the anchor for some reason, it could be found later because the ball floated. But the Styrofoam ball was gone.
“We’re drifting,” he said. “Feel it? The boat’s swinging, and our anchor’s missing.”
Maribel had already noticed. The tide was carrying them through Fools Cut toward open water outside the bay. And leaving the bay was forbidden.
She started the engine. “Everyone, stop what you’re doing and sit down,” she said. But when she tried to turn, the boat would not turn. She pushed the throttle forward. The engine strained as if the boat had snagged something heavy beneath the water.
It had snagged something. Luke figured it out. “The manatee got tangled in our anchor line. Look!”
Thirty feet in front of the boat, the animal surfaced. Looped around its tail wa
s a jumble of rope and the Styrofoam ball.
“We’re not drifting,” he said. “The manatee’s pulling us. We’ve got to cut the anchor line, or it’s going to pull us out of Dinkins Bay.”
Cutting the anchor line seemed like a good idea until Sabina cried, “Wait—we can’t! The poor thing will die trying to drag all that rope and our anchor. We’ve got to untangle it. See—it’s already getting tired.”
The manatee was on its side, slapping its tail. Battling against the weight of the boat had exhausted the creature.
Maribel remained calm and tried to think. The wind had picked up. The air was cold, fragrant with the scent of rain. The animal had pulled them through the cut. Ahead lay a space of green water and waves, where a silent thread of lightning flickered in the distance, then vanished.
Seconds later—Boommmmm!—rolling thunder vibrated in their ears.
Luke winced. “Maribel,” he said, “let’s get the heck out of here. I don’t want to get struck by lightning again. Trust me, it hurts.”
Both girls stared at him.
“Again?” they asked in unison.
The boy stammered, “Uh, well, yeah—almost a month ago. I was going to tell you, but—”
Another bolt of lightning brightened the sky. Thunder hammered at their ears.
Maribel looked at the struggling animal, then at Luke and her younger sister. “We can’t talk about this now. If we work fast, we might be able to cut the manatee free before the storm gets here. It’s up to you both. If I have to make the choice, our safety comes first. Everyone, double-check the snaps on your life jackets!”
As they adjusted their inflatable suspenders, a blast of wind spun through the mangroves. Sabina raised her voice to ask Luke, “What’s it like to be struck by lightning? I hate lightning. Why aren’t you dead?”
The boy cleared his throat and swallowed. The stormy hues of the sky—neon green and pinkish purple—mimicked the colors throbbing in his head. For some reason, those familiar colors calmed him.
“The doctor said maybe I was for a few seconds,” Luke replied.
He turned to Maribel. “Lightning really sucks. It’s like your body’s on fire—that’s the way I felt. So if we’re going to cut that thing loose, let’s hurry up. It’ll suck even worse if we’re not back to the marina by sundown.”
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