by Sylvia Liu
I stare at him and my eyes tear up. “Dad, I’ve been trying to talk to you for a long time. I really need you to listen to me.”
His eyes widen. “I’m listening.”
All the words that’ve been swirling around in my head finally come together. “Please send all these people away. Missy and Sunny aren’t going to come back until they leave.” I bite my lip over the lie.
His face flickers. “It means that much to you?”
“Yes.” My mouth feels dry, my heart pounds, but I keep going. “Having the video go viral is too much for me. There’s no place to hide from it, and our home should be that place, for me and for the manatees.”
Dad looks at the people trampling our yard. “Fine. I’ll send them away.” My heart is about to burst with joy. “I’ve got to work on my proposal for the council meeting anyway,” he adds.
My heart settles back down in disappointment. “Can we talk about the festival?”
“Sure, bug. We’ll talk later tonight.”
Dad walks back to the FWC officers, who are shaking hands with Mr. Carlson. “Thanks, guys, I have your cards, and we’ll be sure to call you if we see the dolphin.” He says something to Amelia’s dad in a low voice, and the two of them make their way among the people in our yards, herding them back to their cars or boats.
Amelia and Deion exchange triumphant grins, but mine is strained. These people can’t leave soon enough.
When everyone finally leaves, the three of us hurry back to the dock.
Missy and Sunny are gone.
My shoulders relax.
“Now are you ready to make our video?” Amelia asks.
I shake my head. “Not now. Let’s just sit for a moment.”
Amelia and Deion sit next to me, our legs dangling off the dock. The wind blows through my hair and a mullet splashes the water. We got our small victory by getting rid of the people from our yards, and Missy and Sunny seem to be all right for now, but Dad’s plan for a boating festival is still happening. I’ve got to convince him not to go forward with the project.
* * *
After my friends leave, I head to the office, my heart beating double time. Dad’s on his laptop, a map of the bay and a bunch of papers spread on the desk.
He looks up over his glasses. “Becca bug, what’s up?”
I perch myself on the chair-and-a-half in the corner, my knees bouncing. I usually like to curl up here to read, but this isn’t a comfy read-a-thon. I come right to the point. “Do you have to push for a boating festival? Bringing all those boats here could hurt Missy, Sunny, and the other manatees.”
Dad takes his glasses off. “Most of the boating events are going to take place in the bay, and I’ve told you we’re going to follow the environmental regulations. That’s what I’m working on right now.”
My brows scrunch together. “But the manatees will be out in the bay too. There’s also a dolphin there. Couldn’t you do the festival in the summer, when the manatees aren’t around?”
Dad shakes his head. “We want to do the festival when the tourists will be here. Becca, I don’t have time to discuss this right now. Trust me. Your video has been a boon already to my business, and we can even use it to advertise the festival.” He turns back to his laptop. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get this done for Thursday’s city council meeting.”
I stare at him. It’s a done deal echoes through my head. Whatever Dad says about caring for the manatees or environmental reviews doesn’t mean a thing.
It’s Monday, and Ms. Amato’s giving everyone time to work on their projects at school, so we’re doing some final research before we put together our video.
“Listen to this,” Amelia says. “One of the biggest threats manatees face is the loss of warm-water habitats.”
“What’s that mean?” Deion asks.
Amelia studies the article. “Manatees need to have warm water in the winter, but Florida’s warm springs are disappearing because people are building new homes or pumping the water for farming.”
“That’s terrible,” Deion says, “but it’s not going to get people excited, and it doesn’t have much to do with the boating festival.”
“But look at this report,” I say. “In Florida, the leading cause of death to manatees is boats.” I wince when photos of manatees with boat scars show up on the screen. “Most adult manatees have some sort of scar from being hit by a boat.” I’ve read this fact and knew it, but seeing picture after picture of manatees with their scars hits home. I think of sweet Sunny—a manatee who is unblemished and has never felt the pain and shock of being hit. But one day, maybe a year from now, or maybe three years from now, he might be struck by a speeding boat or Jet Ski.
“That’s horrible.” Deion looks as stricken as I feel.
“So are we meeting after school to do the video?” Amelia asks. “The city council meeting is in a few days.”
I gulp. The pressure’s building up, and I know we need to work on this video and get it together, but I don’t know if we can pull it off. I’m petrified by the thought of presenting to the council. Dad’s already said the decision’s a done deal. And can I really go up against Dad’s plans in front of the whole town?
“Let’s do it, and we’ll be ready,” I say, trying to hide my doubts. I’ll have the chance to make our case, but will it be enough?
* * *
We meet after school at the dock. I look around hopefully for Missy and Sunny or the dolphin, but no luck. They’re not back. It doesn’t matter, though. I’ve got enough footage of them from other videos we can splice together. All I need to do is introduce the problem in a way that will convince people to care.
Deion holds the phone ready to film me, but he’s moving side to side, antsy as usual.
“Hold still,” I say.
He puts down the phone and wiggles his entire body. “Okay, gotta calm down.” He grins. “Can’t have the camera operator be all jittery.”
I laugh.
Amelia, who’s been scanning the water for Missy and Sunny, turns to us. “This is serious business, guys.”
I smooth my face back into serious mode. She’s right, but I’m also starting to realize that it’s okay to have fun too while doing this important thing. “I’m ready.”
“I’m going to count down, and you start talking in five, four, three, two …” Deion holds up a finger to let me know I’m on.
I never thought I’d be doing this. I feel like I’m standing on a cliff about to jump into a lake far below. The idea is suddenly exhilarating. I take a deep breath and begin. “You’ve seen the video and the memes of the dolphin jumping in front of the boat about to hit the manatees. My name is Becca Wong Walker, and I took the video.”
Deion gives me an encouraging nod. Amelia throws up two big thumbs-up and motions wildly. I’m going to take that as, Keep going, you’re doing great.
“This dolphin did an extraordinary thing. We all know it. But what you may not know”—I glance at my friends, who both nod—“is there’s a city council meeting about boats in the Two Brothers Springs area in three days, on March twenty-fifth. They’re about to approve a boating festival scheduled for next winter that will bring tons of boats to the area. This could hurt the manatees. Please come out to let the council know you’re worried about the manatees. A dolphin can’t save the manatees by itself. We need your help.”
A feeling of relief and exhilaration thrills through me. I did it!
Deion turns the video to Amelia, and she says, “Click on the link below for more information.” She points down excitedly with both hands to the bottom of the screen, where we’ll add a link.
* * *
The three of us are back in my room with the family laptop and my phone. We’ve worked all afternoon, taken a dinner break of fried rice and stir-fried chicken and snow peas, and now it’s late. We’ve edited the footage of me in front of the river together with the original video and added links to a website we created with all sorts of fa
cts about manatees and boats and information about the council meeting. I press publish and the new video goes live.
Deion slides down the chair like melted taffy. “I can’t believe we worked so hard. What’s the emergency?”
I glare at him. “The city council meeting is three days away and we need to get the word out so people care about it and come to it.”
“How are we going to get people to watch this version of the video?” Amelia asks. “It’s got”—she looks at the screen—“one view, and that’s probably us.”
Good question. I stare at this video. It took me all my courage to turn the camera on me, to say my brief piece, and no one’s going to listen. Story of my life.
Deion sits up, a sly smile working its way across his face. “Here, give me your laptop.”
I look at him dubiously. “What’re you going to do?”
“Do you trust me?” He turns on his most charming smile, which normally is most certainly not one to trust, but I’ve gotten used to his over-the-top persona masking what’s underneath. “It’s easier if I show you instead of explaining,” he says.
Amelia shrugs, with a don’t look at me expression.
“Fine.” I push the laptop to Deion and he taps away at the keyboard. After a few moments, his eyebrows meet in deep thought and he presses the return button with a flourish. He hands the laptop to me.
Amelia and I crouch over the screen to see what he’s done. We’re still looking at our new video, but now the view counter is flipping like crazy, with the views hitting twenty, then forty and seventy. It’s viral video 2.0.
“What are you, some kind of magic ninja hacker?” Amelia asks.
“Nah,” he says. “I used the dolphin block meme, but for our own point.” He clicks on a different tab and shows us what he did.
Deion has made his own #dolphinblock meme. On the boat, he typed the phrase Internet hordes. On the dolphin, he wrote The real video you should see, and on the manatees, he typed The manatees. He added a link to our new video.
I break into a smile. Deion is so original, always with a fresh take on things. It turns out teamwork and having friends make things so much better. “You used the meme to remind people the point of it all is to protect the manatees.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a grin.
“Thank you,” I say.
Our new video isn’t as popular as the original one, but it’s gotten plenty of views in the three days since we posted it. With a half hour to go until the start of the city council meeting, the video has over 21,000 views, with the comment section on fire. I’m in the back seat of our car with Deion. Amelia’s coming separately with her parents.
“It’s nice of you kids to come see Dad talk about his boating festival proposal,” Mom says.
Deion and I exchange looks. Since Dad wouldn’t listen to me, I thought if he knew my plan, he wouldn’t let me come. Now I realize that wasn’t such a great idea. Dad will probably get really angry if I embarrass him by opposing him in public.
We turn onto the street for city hall.
The first sign this is no ordinary city council meeting is the long line of cars pulling into the parking lot. The second sign is the crowds of people on the sidewalk holding signs and chanting. I crane my neck to read them.
An older woman with frizzy hair holds up a sign that says, FLORIDIANS FOR BOATING RIGHTS: DON’T MESS WITH US BECAUSE WE’RE NOT MESSING WITH THE MANATEES. I can’t believe there’s actually a group that’s promoting speeding boats. A large guy who reminds me of a friendly bear holds up a sign that says, TAKE THE DOLPHIN BACK HOME. He faces a much smaller man, who shouts, “The dolphin should stay if it wants to stay!”
We make our way to a parking spot and walk toward city hall’s steps. We pass a woman with long, messy braids holding up a sign for the Citizens Concerned about the Connectors, who shouts, “No more toll roads! The manatees need their homes more than the developers do!” The toll roads aren’t even on the agenda, but I guess all the publicity from the dolphin video brought everyone who cares about manatees out tonight.
Deion and I follow Mom and Dad as we push our way through the crowds and their chanting and signs.
“Can you believe this crowd?” Mom asks.
Dad looks around, shaking his head. “I’m impressed by this show of civic interest.”
It’s overwhelming. All these people came out because of something I did—first, my video of the dolphin, and now, the video asking them to be here.
We go through security and arrive at a large and stuffy room. The space hums with conversation and chairs scrape as people make themselves comfortable. I scan the room for Amelia. When we spot each other, she waves wildly at me, and I turn to Mom. “Can Deion and I sit with her?”
Mom nods. “Sure. Dad and I will be up front. He’s on the agenda to present.”
Deion and I wind our way to Amelia.
“I saved seats for you.” She moves some papers and her mom’s purse from the seats and we sit.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Carlson,” I say.
Amelia’s parents smile. “So nice to see all these people interested in local politics,” Mrs. Carlson says, “especially young folks like yourselves.”
Deion gives me a look. All of a sudden, it sinks in. I’m going to speak in front of everyone: my parents, the Carlsons, and the council members. I don’t know if I can do it. Maybe I don’t have to speak after all. Maybe all these other people with their signs can do it for me. I’ll just melt into my seat like a nice puddle of goo.
It’s eight and a woman with graying hair held up in a bun calls the meeting to order. There’s a bunch of preliminary stuff, which is super boring, and then she says, “Our first order of business is to discuss the proposal by Eric Walker, owner of Nature Coast Boats, to hold the Diamond Springs Winter Boating Extravaganza in January. We’ve posted the proposal on our website for the thirty-day comment period and are opening the floor today for public comments on the permits.” She looks out at the crowd. “It’s unusual to have such a turnout for one of our meetings. I understand we have a young lady to thank for it.” She peers at her page and looks up. “Miss Becca Wong Walker, who happens to be the daughter of Mr. Walker.”
I shrink down in my seat as Amelia and Deion both sit up straight. Deion waves and points at me, mouthing, This is her! The people around us look at me with interest and my face burns with heat.
“Mr. Walker, will you walk us through the highlights of your proposal?”
Dad walks up to the podium, smoothing the top of his hair, which is short, so I’m not sure what the point is. “Thank you, Chairwoman Leeds. A consortium of businesses I’m a part of proposes to host the Winter Boating Extravaganza. We hope this will become a yearly event to draw visitors who might otherwise head to other parts of Florida, like Orlando or Miami. Each year, we’ll feature the latest motorized water sports equipment, such as electric-powered motor boards, sea scooters, and flyboards, along with wakeboard and tubing contests. The goal is to create something different and fun that appeals to younger people.”
The chairwoman flips through a binder. “You’ll need to go through the permitting process, from security to logistics and environmental impacts.”
“Of course,” Dad says. “We’ll be happy to provide all the information you require.” He goes on to outline all his research into how many people are expected to come, how much money they’ll spend, and all his big plans.
When he’s done, the chairwoman says, “We’ll open the floor to public comments. We’ll hear first from those who’ve signed up in advance.”
Gulp. That’s me. She’s going to call my name any second. I grip Amelia’s hand.
“You can do it,” she whispers.
The chairwoman calls up some guy. I don’t hear who he is, because I’m busy trying not to puke from nervousness. Before long, his words seep into my brain. “… Floridians for Boating Rights. We advocate responsible boating.” I pay attention, hoping this group will su
pport some restrictions on the festival. He continues, “We’re out on the water all year round and our members report increasing numbers of manatees from year to year, so clearly they’re doing just fine. We strongly support the Winter Boating Extravaganza and look forward to spreading the word about it.”
My heart sinks. It may be true there are more manatees these days, but they’re still threatened by boats and development.
The next person called up is the girl we saw at the wildlife refuge, with Citizens Concerned about the Connectors. She talks about the problems with the proposed toll roads, which I agree are a huge problem, but the chairwoman reminds her to stay on topic.
My heart starts drumming really hard. I’m not ready.
“Our next commenter is Becca Wong Walker.” She looks at me over her glasses. “Our local celebrity, who brought all this attention to our town.”
I push myself to my feet and walk awkwardly out of the seating area and to the front. As I pass Dad, he gives me a puzzled look.
“Hello.” I clear my throat, which feels all scratchy. This is it. This is the moment I need to make my case.
I close my eyes. I don’t think I can do this. I should just take my notes and run out the room and hide away for good.
But I can’t hide anymore. I need to speak up for Missy and Sunny.
“My name is Becca Wong Walker, and I took the video of the dolphin jumping in front of the boat.” A murmur runs through the room.
I feel like I could pass out. The whole room goes dim and lights up again. I grip the podium. An image of Missy and Sunny comes to mind. Sunny, the cute little baby manatee who’s never been hit by a boat. If only he could grow up until a ripe old age and never get scarred or hit. It’s him and his mama that I’m here for. A feeling of power and peace wells up in me. I can do this.
“The manatees follow their instincts, and every winter, they come back to our warm springs. If we hold the boating festival in the winter when the Gulf waters are cold, that’s exactly when the manatees gather in the springs. Speeding boats are the number one killer of manatees in our area.”