by Sylvia Liu
Finally, she writes back. What?
Can you come over? I’ll show you.
A long pause. Let me ask my mom.
An even longer pause. I’ll be over.
I pace around my room, almost bouncing off the walls. I watch the video again—the dolphin leaps into the air, and then again—the boat veers away from the manatees. My delighted laughter escapes with each amazing moment. The video is looping for the third time when the doorbell rings.
I run to the door and fling it open. Amelia has a cautious expression, like she’s not sure whether I’m still mad at her or she’s still mad at me. The thrill of seeing the dolphin save Missy and her baby buzzes through me.
“Come in.” I pull her toward my bedroom.
Amelia’s eyes widen. “What’s with the huge smile?” she says with a tentative grin.
I must look weird, but I don’t care anymore. People outside my family never see my I-don’t-care-what-people-think-of-me personality. “I just saw an amazing sight on the river and got it on video.”
We get to my room and plop on my bed. I hand over my phone. “Watch this.”
She sits on my bed cautiously and takes the phone. The video plays the scene I’ve already come to memorize. Missy and Sunny swim with their tails, making the circular ripples on the water’s surface, the dolphin’s fin appears and disappears, the boat zooms into view, the dolphin leaps into the air, and the boat turns sharply away.
Amelia’s face transforms as she watches. “Ohmigosh!” she squeals. “Did that dolphin just save Missy and Sunny from being hit?”
“Yes.”
“You caught it so perfectly. It’s like a movie.”
Her words give me an idea. “This video would be perfect for our PSA on the dangers of boating.”
Amelia stares at me and claps her hands. “You’re right. The video’s super dramatic, so people will have to pay attention. And we can talk about the dolphins and manatees being friends. How cute is that? I love stories of odd animal friendships.”
A smile spreads across my face.
“This is much better than yelling at my parents’ Airbnb guests,” Amelia says.
My smile slips. I was hoping she was over that.
She stares at her hands, wringing them. A frown flickers across her face. “I’m sorry for what I said back at the Airbnb.” She sighs. “I hate it when my parents fight, and the thing they fight most about is their business. Even so, it was a mean thing to say.”
A huge weight lifts from my chest. “I’m sorry too,” I say. “Deion and I should’ve talked to you before going off to confront those guys.”
Amelia gives me a wavery smile.
“Let’s tell Deion about this video,” I say.
“I’ll call him.” Amelia texts him, and pretty soon, he’s on the screen.
“What’s up?” Deion is walking around his backyard. He plops down on a lawn chair.
“You’ve got to see this video that Becca took of the dolphin and Missy and Sunny,” Amelia says.
“What? You were there without me?” Deion’s brows beetle together. “We’re supposed to be a team.”
Amelia and I exchange looks. I just managed to get back on Amelia’s good side and now Deion’s mad at me? This is why I haven’t had friends before. It’s way too complicated. I didn’t even think he cared. He acts like nothing bothers him. I try to see if he’s messing with us, but no, he actually seems upset.
Amelia stares intently at him. “Dude,” she says. “We totally did think of you. We’re calling you right now, aren’t we? You can’t be here with us all the time. We live here. You don’t.”
Amelia always knows what to say. I add, “Don’t be mad. You should see this video. It’s really good.”
Deion’s face softens. A small thrill goes through me. Something I said changed his mood.
“So the dolphin actually exists? You have proof?” Deion says.
“Oh, better than proof. It’ll blow your mind.” Amelia turns to me. “Send him the video?”
“Hold on.” I text Deion the video.
While we wait for him to watch it, Amelia air drums her knees and sings off-key, “Oh manatees, oh manatees, how much we love thees. You are the best cows of the world, because you are the cows of the seas …”
I burst into giggles and join her. She sing-shouts while I softly harmonize, “Oh manatees, oh manatees, how much we love thees.”
Deion comes back to the screen. “That was amazing. What’re we going to do with it?”
“We were thinking we could make this the main part of our science project.” I explain what Amelia and I talked about.
“Let’s do it,” Deion says. “The Manatee Marauders are on the case!”
Amelia snorts. “Okay. Let’s make this PSA the place where we reveal the footage. It will be amazing to surprise everyone with this dolphin playing with manatees.”
“Yeah.” Deion breaks into a grin. “If this is one of the first times a dolphin has saved manatees, it’s also something scientists could study. Our science project could make a difference.”
I nod, liking this new Deion, who actually cares. It sounds like we have a plan. Hearing my friends talk about the PSA as something that might actually change people’s minds fills me with both anticipation and a little dread.
* * *
After Amelia leaves, Mom and Dad come home. I can’t wait to show them the video of the dolphin and manatee, so I herd them into our family room as soon as they’ve taken off their shoes.
“That’s extraordinary,” Mom says after they’ve watched it. “What are you going to do with it?”
“We’re going to use it to make a PSA about the dangers of boats to manatees for our science project.”
“That’s great,” Dad says. “While you work on that, I need to do some work before dinner. The boating sports festival is on the city council agenda in a couple of weeks, and I have to work on some figures,” Dad says.
“What are they voting on?” Mom asks.
“Whether to go ahead with our proposal. We’re going to need to go through some environmental reviews for the temporary moorings that’ll be installed for the demos and races. I’ll be presenting the economic case for the festival.”
I look up. “Temporary moorings?”
“Yes, the city will need to create places for all the boats to tie up.”
This boat-a-palooza or whatever Dad’s calling his X Games of boats is a terrible idea. “Dad,” I say, “all those boats are going to be dangerous for the manatees.”
Dad gives me a thoughtful look. “Lots of boats and tourists already go visit the manatees during the winter. They seem to be doing fine. Weren’t manatees declared no longer endangered recently?”
This is something I know about. “They’re threatened, which is less protection, but most of the scientists who studied manatees were against the change.”
Mom leans in. “That’s interesting. How do you know that?”
“I’ve been reading about manatees for the past two years.”
“I’m sure the manatees will be fine,” Dad says. “The city will go through an environmental review and make sure the festival pays attention to the manatees.”
Mom says, “Becca, your video is really something else. You should show it to your teacher.”
“You’re changing the subject,” I say. Mom is doing that thing she does, where she doesn’t disagree with Dad outright, but if she doesn’t agree, she’ll try to ignore their differences. I guess it’s better than the way Amelia’s parents fight.
Mom gives me a crooked smile. “Maybe, but I’m still right. Talk to Ms. Amato.”
“When did you say the city council is meeting?” I ask Dad.
“In a couple of weeks.”
A prick of unease nags at me. In two weeks, the city council could approve Dad’s plan for Boat Olympics. It’s going to be held in the bay, which isn’t in the minimum wake zone, but manatees hang out there too. Somebody’s got to spe
ak up for Missy and Sunny, but I’m not brave enough. And even if I were, how could I go against Dad and his business?
I head to my room, racking my brain for a way to make a difference and help Missy and Sunny and their manatee friends.
Amelia, Deion, and I lean over the railing of the walkway at the wildlife sanctuary. In the tank below us, two fat manatees slowly swim around.
I spend Sunday afternoons with Grandma whenever Mom drags Dad to flea markets, so I convinced her to bring us here, figuring we could get more background info on manatees. Plus, it’ll be nice to spend time with my new friends. It’s a nature reserve that helps animals that’ve been hurt. They have a Florida panther; a gray fox; a lot of birds, like a one-legged hawk and a bald eagle with a broken wing; a reptile hut with snakes and lizards; and a bunch of other animals. When I was smaller, I loved playing with the touch tank, but now it feels sad. I know these animals can’t survive in the wild and are safe here, but I can’t help comparing them with their cousins that are free.
“This manatee is Gertrude and the other is Parker,” the park lady says.
“Why’re they here?” Amelia leans against the railing, wiggling her fingers at the manatees.
“Gertrude was rescued a year ago. She was hit by a boat and had severe internal injuries. Now she has problems with buoyancy. She can’t go back to the wild, because she can’t sink to the bottom to eat the seagrasses.”
The big fat manatee moves slowly back and forth in a large tank. Gertrude, I think, do you have a baby somewhere out in the world? “What about Parker?”
“Parker was born in captivity, so she wouldn’t survive in the wild. She wouldn’t know how to feed off the eelgrass or where to go when the weather gets cold. Manatees are like elephants—they rely on their memories to go back to the warm springs each winter, and it’s their mothers who teach them that. A manatee born in captivity doesn’t have that knowledge.”
The woman feeds the manatees head after head of romaine lettuce. She takes them out of a huge carton and tosses sixteen heads of lettuce to each. “These girls are on a diet because they don’t swim enough to keep their weight down. We feed them eighty pounds of lettuce a day. In the wild, manatees eat ten percent of their body weight a day, which can be a hundred and fifty or two hundred pounds of seagrass,” the woman explains.
“That’s a lot of farting,” Deion says.
Amelia and I giggle. I imagine bubbles of fart trailing behind the manatees.
“You’re right.” She smiles. “In fact, manatees control their buoyancy with their farts.”
We all laugh.
“I wonder if it propels them forward,” Deion says. “That would come in handy in a swim meet—Deion, the Mean, Lean Farting Machine.” He raises his arms and lets out a crowdroar noise.
The park ranger hides her smile and continues. “In the wild, manatees are an important part of the food chain. They’re like lawn mowers, eating the older parts of the seagrass and keeping them healthy. If they didn’t eat the seagrass, the grass would grow so quickly and thickly, boats and fish couldn’t get through the shallow waters. They also spread seeds through their poop and stir up the baby fish and shrimp hiding in the grass when they eat. This allows bigger fish to eat the little fish, and eventually the apex predators eat those fish.”
“Manatee poop makes the world go round.” Deion snickers.
“Pretty much.”
“It’s the circle of life,” Amelia says.
Now my sides hurt from laughing. But I can’t help feeling sad for these manatees who’ll never get to swim free and far, roaming the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Ocean.
As we leave, a college-aged girl sits at a table with some flyers by the parking lot. “Will you sign a petition to stop the toll road?” she calls out.
Grandma walks over with a bright, interested expression, and I follow. Amelia bounds up next to me and Deion saunters over too.
“Hey there.” She hands me a flyer with a picture of a scared-looking manatee and some bullet points. “The state legislature recently approved a toll road that will come through this community. It will break up the estuary and spring ecosystem that manatees, birds, and other wildlife depend on, and it’ll bring a lot of development to the area.”
I wrinkle my brows. Dad was talking about this at the barbecue the other day. “Is it a done deal? Can people stop it?” I pick up the girl’s flyer and run my finger across the logo, three interlocking Cs, for Citizens Concerned about the Connectors.
“Good question,” she says. “There are several task force meetings studying the roads where people can provide comments. The more people we can get to sign this petition showing they’re against it, the better.”
“I’ll sign it,” Deion says.
“Sorry, you have to be over eighteen.”
“Who says I’m not over eighteen,” Deion says in his fake deep voice.
Grandma’s reading the flyer carefully.
“Are you going to sign it?” I ask.
“Yes, of course. This is unconscionable.” She takes the offered pen and signs her name. “Did you know I was a teen on the first Earth Day in 1970? My friends and I skipped school to go pick up trash by the river.” The girl smiles, and they chat about environmental activism, past and present.
Somehow Grandma signing the petition feels both like a big deal and like nothing. I let out a deep breath as we walk to the truck.
It’s not fair. Missy and Sunny can’t catch a break. They just want to live their own lives, nibbling seagrass and playing in the water. They want to stay warm in the winter and swim far and wide in the summer. But everywhere they go, they face dangers—from boats and algae and fishing lines—and now they could lose their homes when the toll road cuts through the land and brings in even more people, cars, and condos.
Even more horribly, Amelia’s and my parents are all part of the forces that could harm Missy and Sunny. Dad’s bringing the festival of boats and Mom’s helping the Carlsons with their fancy Airbnbs. Having our parents on the wrong side of the manatees is a horrible feeling. Why don’t the people I love care about the manatees as much as I do?
I’m so frustrated. I’m mad at them, but I’m mostly mad at myself. No matter how much I promise to help Missy and Sunny, I haven’t figured out a way to actually make a difference.
I lag behind as the others walk to the truck. I stare at the video I took of the dolphin saving Missy and Sunny. This dolphin didn’t think and agonize over what to do. It used its instincts to protect other living creatures. It just did it.
Well, so can I. My heart pounds and my hands shake.
I glance at Amelia and Deion. They wanted to wait to use the video in the PSA, but I don’t think we can wait. Missy, Sunny, and the dolphin need help now.
I look at the little lock symbol on the video showing it’s private, only viewable by me. After a moment, I type a title and a few sentences under the video:
Amazing Manatee Rescue by Dolphin
Near the Two Brothers Springs, a dolphin risks its own life to save a group of manatees from a speeding boat. Boats are one of the main reasons manatees are killed each year. Don’t be the boat. Be the dolphin!
If I make this video public, I can send it to the city council to make them see the danger of the boating festival, and they’ll have to change their plans. I can’t think about how mad at me Dad might get for going against him. For a moment, I feel bad. I promised Deion not to leave him out anymore. And Amelia will probably feel betrayed—the boating festival would be good for her parents’ business too.
But I can’t just keep doing nothing. Missy and Sunny got lucky once. It might not happen again.
I take a breath and set it to public.
Let people see what a dolphin can do. Let it lead the way.
We’re in the truck, pulling out of the parking lot. After a few moments, my phone dings to let me know there was a view and a like on the video. A small thrill runs through me. Aside from Mom, Dad, Amelia,
Deion, and Grandma, no one else knows about or has ever seen my videos.
Now someone out there—I don’t know who—has watched the video and liked it. I don’t know how they even found it already—I haven’t had a chance to look up the city council members to send it to them.
Gulp. Maybe I’ll take a break and pass out. Someone I don’t know has watched the video.
Another ding, and another. Each ding makes my heart beat a little faster and my face grow warmer. I’m not even on the video, but I feel like I’m on display. A gray dread blooms like a mushroom inside me. I made the video public so people at the city council could see it, but I didn’t expect anybody else to watch it.
Grandma glances at me. “What’s that?”
I hastily turn off the notifications. “Um, nothing.”
“Who wants some frozen yogurt?” she asks.
“Me,” Amelia, Deion, and I all say at the same time.
“Jinx,” Amelia says.
“Nah, who does jinx anymore,” Deion says.
“Are you rejecting the power of jinx?” Amelia says.
“That’s right. I reject it completely.”
I need the power of something to keep my mind off the video.
Grandma drives us to the Froyo Emporium. There were so many of these a few years ago, but this one’s the only one left in town, the last stubborn holdout of the frozen yogurt fad. I mean, it’s delicious, it’s a great idea, so why shouldn’t it stick to its confetti-colored dreams?
I glance down at my phone, and my heart does a triple flip. The likes are cycling up, blip, blip, blip. It’s only been a few minutes, and the video already has 135 views. At this rate, I need to let Amelia and Deion know I made the video public.
“Look.” I show my phone to them in the back seat.
“Whoa,” Deion says. “That your video?”
I nod. My face feels like I’ve been out too long on a hot summer day.
Amelia frowns. “Why’d you publish it without talking to us about it? We agreed to wait until our science project to use it.”
A tight feeling squeezes me, like I can’t breathe. She’s right. I knew Amelia and Deion didn’t want to share the video right away, and I ignored their wishes.