Manatee's Best Friend

by Sylvia Liu

  I paddle as hard as I can, as if I could bury my troubles in the river with each stroke.

  “Whoa,” Grandma calls. “Since when did you become an Olympic kayaker? Slow down and enjoy the scenery.”

  I heave a sigh and stop paddling. As I drift along, I blow a dangling strand of hair off my face. How am I supposed to enjoy the scenery with Missy’s and Sunny’s lives in danger? We glide under a dead branch and near a tricolored heron. On the other side of the river is a tree filled with turkey vultures. It sure would be nice to sit on top of a tree looking down on the world with your buddies, not having to worry about boat strikes or viral videos and memes.

  The old oaks interspersed with palm trees slowly slide by. The banks are a tumble of fallen logs, tall grasses, ferns, and brambles.

  We’re heading to a small cove where we’ve found manatees before. We make our way in, looking out for the telltale signs of manatee footprints or their noses coming up for air.

  Nothing.

  We move on. A splash catches my attention.

  “It’s a mullet,” Grandma says. “You shoulda seen the mullet runs we used to get when I was a girl. We’d sit in a boat and the mullet would swim by for half an hour.”

  I smile at the thought of Grandma as a kid in a boat on this river. “Tell me about how you used to catch crabs.”

  “I’ve told you a hundred times,” she says with a chuckle.

  “Tell me again.”

  “Well, my brothers and I used to catch crabs and toss them into our small open boat. When we dragged ourselves into the boat afterward, the most important thing was to make sure the crabs didn’t grab ahold of our feet or fingers. If they did, there was nothing that could convince the crabs to let go, other than dangling them back over the water.” She smiles. “Either we caught the crabs, or the crabs caught us.”

  I wonder if I could just pop into the water and catch crabs. I think I’d be too paranoid about alligators.

  “The mullet’s probably why the dolphin’s in the river,” Grandma continues. “Dolphins’ll chase their food into fresh water.”

  “If dolphins come into the river to chase their food, it should be okay for them to hang around here, right?” It makes sense to me that nature wouldn’t make an animal do something that would hurt itself.

  “It’s not good for the dolphin to be in fresh water,” Grandma says. “When I was working as a park ranger, we came across a dolphin once in the river that had stayed too long, and it was covered with all sorts of skin sores and lesions.”

  Skin sores sound awful, but I bet that was just a dolphin that was already sick. Missy and Sunny’s dolphin friend looks perfectly healthy.

  The tide’s coming in, so the ripples of water are going against us, making it harder to kayak, but we continue to paddle. The sun makes my skin prickle, and the breeze smells of dirt and moss and fish; water drops splash me as I dig my paddle into the river.

  I set my jaw and paddle even harder.

  A loud motor roars behind us. Grandma and I scoot closer to the riverbank. A couple of men in tank tops and cargo shorts standing on a scallop boat zoom by, staring at us impassively. A few moments later, their wake rocks us from side to side.

  I glare at the disappearing boat. “Aren’t there speed limits here?” I ask.

  “We’re still under winter rules, which means twenty-five miles per hour in this section of the river,” she says. “That boat was going a lot faster than that.”

  My heart sinks. People don’t even pay attention to the speed limits that exist. Twenty-five miles an hour already seems awfully fast—and dangerous—for manatees.

  * * *

  An hour later, we reach our turning point. The landscape has changed dramatically since we started, with only cabbage palms and old leather ferns lining the riverbanks. Instead of the previous lush and crowded greenery, it’s a strange and lonely landscape. Grandma says it’s from global warming and rising seawater bringing more salt water into the mouth of the river, killing most of the plants except the palm trees.

  Grandma glances over with a grin and points out a bald eagle across the river.

  My eyes widen. A few yards behind her is the small dark snout of a manatee coming up for air. I motion and mouth, Manatee!

  I move closer and we peer into the water. There it is. A huge manatee, bigger than my kayak grazes at the seagrass below us. It’s a bit murky, but with my polarized sunglasses, I can see its large oval shape.

  My heart floats out of my body. No matter how many times I see manatees, whether it’s Missy or her baby or another one, it feels like the first time. The gentle giants, moving so peacefully underwater, unaware of our human problems and hurry, make me want to jump up and dance. This one’s so big, I feel like a tiny blip next to it.

  Grandma says, “Becca, you always bring us luck. What’s happening, right?”

  “You’re happening, Grandma.” I grin.

  As we watch the manatee graze by our kayaks, it hits me. All this time with the viral video, I’ve been thinking only about myself—what people think of me and how awful I felt when Amelia and Deion misunderstood me. I was mad that no one was thinking of the manatees, but I wasn’t much better.

  “Grandma, I need these manatees to be all right”—I blink away a tear—“and I need to fix things with my friends.”

  The manatee moves away, and Grandma paddles closer to me. “I think you know what to do,” she says.

  A great blue heron glides down to the water in front of me, ripples fanning away as it lands.

  I let out a ragged sigh. I do know. I have the power to make a difference, and I won’t let my fears of speaking out stop me from helping the manatees. But first things first.

  On our way home, I ask Grandma, “Can we go back to your house, and can I invite some friends over?” I don’t know if Amelia and Deion will want to see me, but I have to try to reach them. The thought of going home to a street lined with cars, reporters, and hordes of sightseers makes me shudder.

  Grandma smiles. “Of course. I’ll check with your parents, but I don’t see why not.”

  I text Amelia and Deion. I’m so sorry about everything going on at my house. I have an idea, and I need your help. Can you come over to my grandma’s place?

  At Grandma’s house, I sit at her kitchen table with a fresh-squeezed lemonade and wait to hear back from my friends. Soon enough, they say they can come, and I share the address.

  I check my video stats for the first time in over a day. If I were at home I probably would’ve refreshed it over and over, caught up in Dad’s excitement about the video, or in my own anxious thoughts.

  When I open the app, it takes a moment to register.

  The video’s been watched over three million times.

  I gasp. I don’t even know how to think about a million views, and now it’s three times that.

  “What is it?” Grandma asks.

  “It’s my video.” I show it to her. “I can’t get over how many people have watched it.”

  “Your dad called this morning while you were out kayaking. The reporters would like to talk with you as the person who witnessed the dolphin saving the manatees.”

  I exhale deeply. Why Dad still thinks I want to talk to reporters is beyond me. The thought of facing them gives me the shivers. “I can’t talk to reporters.”

  The doorbell rings, and it’s Deion with his mom.

  “Hello, I’m Patricia Walker,” Grandma says.

  “I’m Laura Williams.” Deion’s mother is tall and thin like Deion, with an easygoing smile.

  I wave to Deion, who nods and joins me in the family room while Grandma and Mrs. Williams chat.

  “What’s going on?” Deion has a neutral expression.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about the video, but I want to wait until Amelia gets here so I can say it once.” My heart pounds.

  He considers me for a moment and nods. He flops down on the couch and pulls out his phone. I get up and pace around, not su
re what to do while we’re waiting. This isn’t a comfortable silence. It’s the opposite—a cringey one filled with nervous energy, at least for me. Deion doesn’t seem to notice, tapping away at his phone.

  As his mom leaves, Amelia arrives and comes into the family room with a closed-off expression.

  “I’m glad you came.” I steady my voice. “I’m really sorry about disappearing.” I feel like I’m always apologizing, but it seems to be the right thing to do. “I didn’t know how to deal with all the attention.”

  “It hasn’t been easy for us either,” Amelia says.

  “I know,” I say. “When you turned away from me, it hurt my feelings that you weren’t there for me.”

  Amelia looks away.

  Deion coughs and fidgets.

  “But then I realized I was being selfish,” I say. “The video blowing up messed us all up, but here’s the thing: I want to get back to why I shared it in the first place. We have to warn people of the dangers of boats. We need to use it to stop the council from approving the festival.”

  “What does that mean for us?” Amelia asks.

  “Let’s make the PSA,” I say, “but we do it our way. You’ve told me to let my personality show.” I take a deep breath. This is it. I’m going to put myself out there. “I want you to interview me, and I’ll talk about the dangers of boats to manatees.” I keep going before I lose my nerve. “We can use the video, but explain it, so people understand what’s going on.”

  Deion nods. “We use how popular the video’s gotten to get people’s attention.”

  “Yes,” I say, “and we need to do it quickly, because the city council’s about to approve my dad’s boating proposal. If we can put out our video before then, maybe it’ll change their minds.”

  “But the project’s not due until after the city council meeting,” Deion says. “I’ve never finished a project before it’s due.”

  I give him an exasperated look.

  He holds up his hands. “Okay, fine.”

  Amelia leans back. “But how’re we going to know that things won’t get out of control again, or you won’t hide away when things get tough?”

  I stare down at my shoelaces, then look at Amelia and Deion. “I promise I won’t disappear again. I’m not used to remembering I have friends.”

  Amelia blinks a few times and finally breaks into a crooked smile. “You better get used to the idea, ’cause we’re not going away.”

  She nudges Deion, who says, “Yup. Not going away. You’re stuck with us now. We’re your barnacle buddies.”

  I could almost cry with relief and happiness, but instead I let out a ragged breath and smile.

  “I have an idea,” Amelia says. “Let’s show the video we make to the city council at the hearing next week.”

  I stare at her. “But that means speaking up in person.” Getting in front of the camera to do this new video will be hard enough. I won’t be able to show it in person.

  “That’s the thing,” Amelia says, “you can do it, and you’ll be great at it. Plus, we’ll be there too.”

  “But who’ll listen to a kid?”

  “Are you kidding me? You know so much about manatees, and it shouldn’t matter what age you are,” Amelia says.

  “That’s right,” Deion adds. “Remember when Greta Thunberg talked to the United Nations and world governments? She’s a kid too. You only need to face the city council.”

  A flutter goes through me. It’s different from all the other times my insides have made themselves known, because now it’s a twinge of growing excitement. I really can do this. Amelia’s and Deion’s smiling faces make it feel doable. I have my friends back, and we’re doing it together.

  “All right, let’s do it.”

  We get right to work on the video.

  “What do you want to say?” Amelia holds up her phone, ready to film me.

  “I think we should focus on what the city council is deciding on,” I say.

  “We can look up what’s on their agenda,” Deion says.

  “Look at you, Mr. Politics.” Amelia puts down her phone. “How do you know that?”

  He shrugs. “My mom had to go to the council last year when she was trying to get a playground put in the park by our house.” He snorts. “The things my parents do for my little sister. Anyway, you can look up what they’re going to discuss online and sign up to talk.”

  I gulp. This is getting too real. I pull up the city council’s website and poke around until I find the agenda. “They’re going to discuss a special event permit for the Winter Boating Extravaganza.” I make a face.

  “What kind of name is that?” Deion says.

  “I know, right?” I say.

  Amelia’s crouched over my shoulder, reading. “Look, there’s a place to write in ideas for new topics for future meetings.” She turns to me. “Let’s ask the city to enforce the speed limits for Jet Skis and boats.”

  That feeling of impending doom crashes down. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

  Amelia glares at me. “Yes, you can.”

  “I believe in you,” Deion says with a grin.

  I straighten up, their words pulling me up to the sky. “Okay, I’ll sign us up to say something.” My breath grows shallow as my fingers hover over the keyboard. A few clicks and I’ll be committed.

  I tap away at the computer, and in a few minutes, it’s done.

  “Now are we ready to video your big speech?” Amelia asks.

  I take a breath. “Yes. I want to say my piece and we can cut to the video of the dolphin jumping in front of the boat.”

  She takes out her phone again. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

  We’re sitting on the couch, but this feels wrong. “This isn’t working. We need to be by the river at my house.”

  “But isn’t there a mob there now?” Deion asks.

  I furrow my brow. “You’re right. We need to be at the river with no one around, and if no one’s around, maybe Missy and Sunny will come back too.” It’s past time to talk to Dad. He needs to hear why what he’s doing at our house is making everything worse, but thinking about confronting him gives me a stomachache. But I miss Sunny and Missy and need to know if they’re all right. “Amelia, let’s go talk to our dads and ask them to send the people away.”

  She twists her lips and stays silent for a long time. Finally, she says, “I know you’re right, but I don’t want to get my dad mad. He’s already in a bad mood all the time, fighting with Mom.”

  I sigh. Everything is always complicated. “I’ll talk with my dad, but will you come with me?”

  Deion smiles. “Like be your moral support. Yeah, sure.”

  Amelia nods.

  I call to the kitchen, “Grandma, can you drive us back home?”

  * * *

  When we arrive home, Grandma’s truck barely squeezes through all the parked cars on either side of the street. A white truck with the FWC logo sits in our driveway.

  I hop out and make my way to the backyard, where a dozen or so people crowd around the shoreline. A kid about our age throws a rock into the river, and I wince. A little girl squeals as she chases her scampering dog, and a couple on the dock peer into the water. Two boats are tied to our dock and another one putters in the river.

  The only reason my head doesn’t explode is because I’m pretty sure Missy, Sunny, and the dolphin are smart enough to stay away from this pandemonium.

  I rush down to the river, with Amelia and Deion following. I spot Dad and Mr. Carlson talking to a woman and a man wearing greenish-khaki pants and tannish-khaki short-sleeved shirts. They look awfully official.

  “Hi, Becca,” Dad calls. “These are FWC officers who’re here to look for the dolphin. They’re organizing a recovery mission to capture the dolphin and release it back out in the Gulf.”

  I whip my head to look at the pair. My heart squeezes tight like it always does when I have to talk to a stranger, but I’ve had practice now at pushing through. “You can’
t … the manatees need their friend,” I stammer. I look past them at the river. Luckily, as I guessed, there’s no sign of the dolphin.

  “It’s done nothing but be a hero,” Deion says.

  I think quickly. “Can you just watch it for a while? Monitor how it’s doing?”

  The woman says, “That’s actually part of our protocol. Once we find it, we will monitor it before taking further action.”

  “Okay.” I smile uncertainly. Did I just win?

  “When was the last time you saw it?” she asks.

  I try to think. It was before the video went viral, which already seems like a million years ago.

  Amelia tugs at my arm and moves her eyebrows up and down in an alarming fashion. I get the hint. “Excuse me, please,” I say.

  Amelia practically drags me to the dock, and my feet trip keeping up with her. Deion huddles close. “What’s going on?” I hiss.

  “Act natural,” she says.

  “How am I supposed to act natural if you’re dragging me like you’re kidnapping me?”

  Amelia lets go and smiles brightly and waves to her dad talking with the FWC officers.

  The three of us jostle one another as we walk down the dock.

  “Look over there,” she says in a quiet voice.

  Out on the other side of the river, away from the boats, I see the manatee footprints. I’m sure they’re Missy and Sunny. I gulp. They’ve gotten so used to coming here that now they’re in danger, and it’s my fault. It was because of my video that all these people are here. “We need to get these people out of here,” I say. “They’re going to ruin everything.”

  “I’ve got your back,” Deion says. “What should we do?”

  “We can’t let people realize Missy and Sunny are here.”

  “How are we going to get them to leave, and the FWC people too?” Amelia asks. “And those boats?”

  I don’t know the answer, but I know I have to try. I stalk back to the bank, where Dad is still chatting with the FWC officers.

  “Dad, can I speak with you?”

  “Sure. Excuse me a moment, folks.” Dad steps aside and puts his arm around my shoulder. “What’s up, bug?”