Claudia laughed. “I’m just teasing,” she said. “Your bike is pretty cool. It’s been through a lot. Like it has a story to tell.”
“Yeah, if it could talk, it would say, ‘Arthur crashed me into lots of stuff before falling off of me.’”
They both laughed at that one.
“How many papers you got left?” Arthur asked.
“Five,” Claudia said. “Just the ones on Fradon Street. How about you?”
“Nine,” Arthur replied. “What do you wanna do when we’re done?”
“Did you hear about the octopus?” Claudia asked, an air of mystery in her voice.
Arthur cocked his head. “What octopus?”
“One of the local fishermen caught an octopus this morning. Big thing! Guess it had been raiding the lobster traps for food,” Claudia said. She glanced over at Arthur, who had a strange look on his face. “Uh, you okay?”
“What? Yeah,” Arthur said, feeling anything but okay. “I’m . . . I just forgot I have something I gotta do. I’ll catch ya later, Claudia.”
“Arthur, wait—”
But before she could say another word, Arthur had already turned his bicycle around, racing down to the docks.
“Get a load o’ this guy!”
Arthur’s bike skidded to a stop on the dock, and he couldn’t believe the sight that awaited him. There was the local fisherman that Claudia had been talking about, Gilly. He was standing in front of a large, water-filled tank. It was easily eight feet long, like the kind of tanks that restaurants would use to display all kinds of colorful saltwater fish. Several people from town were crowding around it, and Arthur’s stomach sank when he saw that both Matt and Mike were among them.
He hit the kickstand with his left foot and parked the bike just beyond the crowd. Then he ran over to the tank, pushing his way through the crowd.
“Hey!”
“Watch it!”
“You’ll get your turn!”
But Arthur didn’t hear the voices. He was too intent on seeing exactly what was inside the tank.
Or rather, who.
Topo . . .
The octopus was bigger than some of the largest fishermen in Amnesty Bay. It had the same markings as the one that Arthur had first seen when he was just a little kid. The one that always seemed to walk along the shore with him. The one that Arthur would talk to, the one that always listened to whatever Arthur had to say.
Arthur shoved his way to the front of the crowd, until he was right next to the tank. The people looked at him as if to say, Who does he think he is? but said nothing. Arthur placed a hand on the glass, and the octopus responded instantly, placing one of its tentacles against Arthur’s hand from the other side.
“I guess you guys are family,” Matt said, chuckling in his own inimitable, not-too-smart way.
Mike followed suit, laughing.
Arthur gave a steadfast look to Gilly. “You have to let it go.”
Gilly was a great big man, over six feet tall, with curly red hair, and he was missing his two front teeth. He smiled at Arthur and said, “Now, why would I do that, kid? I caught a perfectly good octopus! Look at it! What a prize!”
“It’s not a prize,” Arthur said. “Let it go!”
“Look, kid,” Gilly said, trying to sound sympathetic. He leaned down to face Arthur eye to eye, resting his hands on his knees. “I know, it’s about conservation or preservation or whatever, right? I’m gonna sell the octopus to the aquarium, make a little extra money, and this octopus will live in the lap of luxury. It’ll get all the food it wants, and you can visit it on weekends, okay?”
“Awwww, you gonna miss da widdle octopus?” Mike said, giving Arthur a little shove.
But by then, Arthur had stopped paying attention. He had a weird feeling again.
Just like at the aquarium, he thought.
“Are you all right?”
Arthur snapped out of it, turned, and saw Claudia.
She must have followed me.
“I . . . don’t know,” he said, and Claudia shook her head.
“What’s going on, Arthur?”
Arthur didn’t answer. He felt the strange feeling inside his head again, as he cast his eyes upward, and looked at Topo.
Topo hates it. I know Topo hates it.
The feeling seemed to hit Arthur from all sides, and he held his temples with his hands. He felt Claudia put an arm around him, pulling him away from the tank. But Arthur yanked back, refusing to leave Topo’s side. Through the tank, in the ocean, Arthur could see a fishing boat coming into port, carrying its fresh catch.
Turning to the left, Arthur saw two other fishing boats returning on the opposite side of the dock. Their nets were full of fish.
The feeling inside his head grew until Arthur could barely stand it.
Arthur held his head and gritted his teeth.
What is this pain? I’ve never felt anything like this before—
“Arthur?” Claudia said, looking into Arthur’s eyes. “You don’t look so good.”
Claudia grabbed his arm, and suddenly, Arthur got an idea. He grabbed Claudia’s arm back and pulled in close to her ear. “I’m gonna do something, and I want you to just go with it,” he said.
Claudia shot him a look that said, “Uh, say WHAT?!”
“Oooooohhhhhhh!” Arthur moaned. He grabbed his stomach, and then promptly hurled himself to the dock in front of the tank and started to moan even louder. “OOHHHHHHHHH! I think I’m gonna be sick!”
He might as well have been inside a crowded movie theater and yelled, Fire. The crowd suddenly parted around him, horrified at the thought that this kid might boot all over the dock.
Arthur rolled over on his side and looked up, seeing the crowd that was now pushing to get away from him. Arthur continued to moan, holding his belly, making burbling sounds from his mouth that made everyone try to run even faster.
Gilly looked at Arthur, then at Claudia, concerned. “Is this kid all right?” Gilly asked Claudia, who shrugged. “He doesn’t sound all right. I had a dog that made sounds like that whenever he got sick. It was the worst!”
Rolling over a little more, he saw Topo in the tank, arms thrashing wildly.
What is Topo waiting for? Arthur thought. Get outta here!
And as everyone focused on Arthur, the tank behind them started to rock, back and forth. Back and forth, as the octopus within threw its tentacles and its mass against one side of the tank, and then the other, back and forth.
“What the hell?!” Gilly shouted.
Back and forth, the tank rocked, until it flipped over into the ocean.
Arthur could hear Gilly cursing as he saw Topo flee from the tank and make its way out to sea.
Good job, Topo.
“Are you okay, Arthur?” Claudia said, cradling Arthur’s head, barely suppressing a smile.
“I . . . I think I’ll live,” Arthur said, pretending to pass out.
Claudia leaned over him and whispered in his ear, “Worst. Performance. Ever.”
Chapter Fourteen
“YOU’RE NOT GONNA WIN AN Oscar any time soon.”
Arthur sat on the beach, looking straight up at the overcast sky. His eyes focused in on two seagulls flying up above, circling. And he saw Claudia, sitting on the sand right next to him, shaking her head.
“Are. You. Okay?” she asked, each word a sentence unto itself.
“Yeah,” Arthur said, squishing the sand between his toes. “I mean, I’m not gonna really vomit, if that’s what you mean.”
“Yeah, I kinda figured that out from your amazing performance,” Claudia joked. “It was terrible, but I think everyone else bought it hook, line, and sinker. Which is unbelievable.”
“I’m surprised they all believed it,” Arthur said, standing up slowly. “But who’s gonna take a chance and get ralphed on?”
He looked past Claudia and saw their bikes ditched in the sand. He saw a set of footprints leading over to the spot upon which they sat, and another set of marks th
at looked like someone dragging someone else.
“I can’t believe I literally dragged you away from the dock,” Claudia said. “Literally.”
“I literally believe it,” Arthur replied, managing a weak smile.
“When you pretended to pass out, couldn’t you have ‘woken up’ sooner?”
“Sorry,” Arthur said, grinning. “I had to sell it. I couldn’t just walk away, not after that.”
“You’re some kinda weird,” Claudia said. “But I like that.” She looked away from Arthur, and at the ocean.
Then Arthur did the same.
“So, what really happened?” Claudia said. “One minute, you’re arguing with Gilly about the octopus, and the next, you’re acting all weird, and then you’re pretending like you’re gonna hurl all over the crowd.”
Arthur shrugged his shoulders. He started to speak, and then he stopped.
“What?” Claudia asked, her eyes staring into his. “You can tell me. Remember: spit-wad affair? You owe me.”
Arthur tried to chuckle, but only a tiny sound came out. “I’m . . . I’m gonna tell you something,” Arthur said deliberately, “and it’s kinda weird. Like, really weird. So you have to promise that you won’t, like, run away or anything.”
“You’re not like a serial killer, are you?” Claudia joked, scooting backward in the sand.
“What?” Arthur replied, taking it seriously for about a half second. “No! No, just . . . no! Nothing like that. But it’s . . . it’s hard to put into words and probably harder to believe it.”
Claudia felt the tiny grains of sand beneath her hands and started to draw circles. “You can say whatever you want; I’m not going anywhere.”
Taking a deep breath, Arthur nodded. “Okay. Well, back there at the dock? That octopus? I . . . know that octopus,” he began.
“You know that octopus,” Claudia repeated, her face and voice both monotone. “Like know know him? Like a friend? What is he, like, your pet or something?”
“No, not my pet octopus. Topo doesn’t belong to me. It doesn’t belong to anyone,” Arthur said.
“Topo?” Claudia asked.
“Yeah, I call it Topo.”
“Right . . . Topo,” Claudia said, as she continued to draw in the sand. “Because that’s like a traditional octopus name or something.”
“Anyway. There’s, like, this . . . connection between me and Topo. It’s like I can feel whatever it is that it is feeling. And I think . . . ,” Arthur said, his voice trailing off.
“You think what?” Claudia said, looking at his eyes.
“I think . . . it can understand me.”
Claudia stared at Arthur.
“You’re gonna run away now, aren’t you?” Arthur said.
“No, I’m not. So Topo . . . understands you?”
“Yeah. Like, back there at the dock . . . I told it to get outta there. I mean, I didn’t say it out loud, but I thought it.”
Claudia kept drawing circles in the sand. She said nothing, and the sound of the incoming waves filled the air. Slowly, she began to speak. “The tank,” she said.
“The tank,” echoed Arthur.
“So you created a distraction, so Topo could escape?”
“Yep.”
Arthur watched as Claudia continued to sketch in the sand.
“So?”
“So?” Claudia answered.
“So, aren’t you gonna say something? Like, tell me I’m out of my mind?” Arthur ranted.
“I don’t think you’re out of your mind,” Claudia said. “I believe you.”
Arthur looked at Claudia.
Maybe Dad was right. Maybe everything will be okay.
Chapter Fifteen
ARTHUR WAS SURPRISED BY THE gust of wind as he pedaled his bike home. It hit him from behind, pushing him forward down the worn street. Looking out over the ocean, he watched as the waves rolled in, cresting white, crashing into the rocky shore.
A minute or so later, and Arthur was home. The sun was setting, and he saw the lights on. He parked his bike, then opened the front door. Inside, he could hear people talking.
Company? Arthur thought, though that seemed doubtful. He listened closely, leaning in.
“—likely to need more than a raincoat in the next few days.”
Nope, it’s just the TV.
Arthur walked into the living room, where his father was sitting on the edge of the couch, fixated on the TV. The local news station was turned on, and he was watching the weather. Arthur saw a big “Storm of the Century?” graphic imposed on the screen.
“Hey, Dad,” Arthur said.
Tom didn’t say anything, but quickly raised his left hand, palm out, in a gesture that Arthur knew meant, “Quiet! I’m watching this!”
He plopped down next to his father and watched along with him. The weatherman was a curious-looking guy with slick black hair matted to his head, wearing an ill-fitting suit that looked like it had been the height of fashion in 1970. He spoke in a high-pitched voice, and Arthur wondered how a guy like this got on TV in the first place.
“The coastal storm is already developing, and if you’ve been outside at all in the last hour, you’ll notice the high winds are already starting,” the weatherman said, his voice squeaking. “The storm is expected to make landfall in the next twenty-four hours. Depending upon the route, the storm might slam right into Amnesty Bay. So now’s the time to batten those hatches and tape those windows!”
Tom got up from the couch, walked over to the TV, and turned it off. “Big storm rolling in,” he said gravely, looking at Arthur. “I’ve spent a good chunk of the day getting the lighthouse ready. If any fishing boats get caught out there tomorrow, we’ll be ready. How are y— Arthur, what’s wrong?”
I don’t wanna tell him. I don’t wanna tell him, Arthur thought.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Arthur lied.
Tom pointed a finger in Arthur’s direction, shaking it. “I’m your father, and I can tell when something’s wrong. The look on your face says it all,” Tom said. “You’re practically screaming, Ask me what’s going on, Dad. Something happened today. What?”
“Dad, c’mon . . . I just got through telling all this to Claudia.” Arthur hemmed and hawed.
“Claudia? The girl who has the paper route? The spit-wad champion of Amnesty Bay?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dad, that Claudia. Anyway, it’s no big deal.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. You told Claudia; you can tell me. Out with it.”
Sighing, Arthur leaned his head so it was draped over the back of the couch. “Fine,” he said with a huff. “I was down at the dock today, and Gilly was showing off this octopus he caught.”
Tom had a stupefied look on his face. “Gilly actually caught something?” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Ignoring his father, Arthur continued, “It was Topo, Dad. Gilly caught Topo. And I was so angry . . .”
“You mean the octopus? The one you talk to? What did you do, Arthur?” Tom asked, suddenly concerned. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I just . . . It’s like I could hear it, Dad. I mean, it wasn’t talking or anything, but it’s like I could feel Topo in my head. I got mad. I mighta kinda sorta pretended to be sick so everyone would pay attention to me, and Topo ran.”
“Octopi don’t run,” Tom prodded. “What happened?”
“Topo knocked over the tank and escaped into the ocean. It’s like it understood me, Dad.” For the first time since he got home, Arthur smiled.
Tom walked over to the couch and made a motion for Arthur to move over. He sat down next to his son and patted him on the knee.
“And it wasn’t just with Topo,” Arthur continued. “It was the fish. The fishermen? They came in with their catch. And it’s like . . . I could feel them, too. They didn’t want to be caught . . . They were in pain. And I could feel it. I wish I could have done something for them, too.”
“I’
m not surprised,” Tom said softly. “I probably should be, but I’m not.”
Arthur stared at his dad, wide-eyed. “How is that even possible?”
“We used to talk about this, your mother and I. You’re unique, Arthur, you know this. You’re half human and half Atlantean. She—your mother—thought that you might have . . . I guess you’d call them skills? Abilities? She said that as you got older, these . . . powers would show up, develop,” Tom said, looking at Arthur.
The boy cast his eyes downward and didn’t say anything. Tom kept going. “I don’t know, Arthur, I’m just a lighthouse keeper. But your mother, she was amazing. And she knew with all her heart that one day you’d be able to do some pretty amazing things.”
“Like what kind of amazing things?” Arthur said quietly.
“Hold that thought,” Tom said. “I’ve got something to show you. Be right back.”
With that, Tom pushed himself off the couch and walked briskly from the living room. Arthur looked up, not sure exactly what his father was doing. His eyes drifted over to the black screen of the TV. He wanted to turn it back on so he wouldn’t have to talk about anything.
A minute later Tom returned with an old, well-worn, leather-covered book clasped in his hands. He offered it to Arthur. “Here, take this,” Tom said, and Arthur did.
“What book is this?” Arthur asked, feeling the cover with his fingers. “It looks old.” He ran his hand along the front cover and felt the wrinkled leather binding. The title of the book was stamped in gold foil—The Mystery of Atlantis, by Bernard Collins.
“It is old. I bought it a long time ago,” Tom said. “Your mom and I would read it together. It’s a guide to the myths and legends of Atlantis, its history. Your mom would tell me what was real and what was baloney. I think it’s time that you read it and learn a little more about your mom. Who she was. Who you are.”
Tom stopped talking abruptly, then wrung his hands together. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I’m not good at this kinda thing.”
Arthur stared at his dad. “You’re doing fine. We’re both in ‘uncharted water’ here.”
Tom sighed and smirked. “Arthur, remember what I told you about puns.”
Undertow Page 5