Willa and the Whale

by Chad Morris

Papá Mendoza sat behind my family and gave me a thumbs up. Mamá Mendoza whipped her finger, as if to tell me to whip them into shape. I laughed. And Marc nodded.

  Maybe everything hadn’t worked out perfect in my life, but I did have some great people behind me.

  The mayor spoke into a little microphone that broadcast his deep voice throughout the room, “The city now opens the floor on the subject of the dead blue whale in the Lakeside district.” He didn’t need a microphone; the city council room wasn’t that big. Maybe the mic made them feel important.

  I didn’t want to get out of my seat. I wanted to sit down and let other people do this. Maybe they would have great ideas. Maybe they would take care of this. But I had to be brave. I wasn’t sure that anyone cared like I did, or had planned like me and my pod. And Dad said I had something worth sharing.

  I stood quickly before my courage swam away like a scared herring, and approached the microphone on the stand for commenters. Again, the room was small, but I was glad I wouldn’t have to worry about volume. My message would get across.

  Memories of losing my debate to Lizzy came flooding back. I thought I had been prepared then, too, and had lost big time. I took a deep breath. This time would be different. Very different.

  At least I hoped it would be.

  I cleared my throat. “My name is Willa Twitchell. I live in the Lakeside district,” I said. “And I have some ideas about what to do with the whale.”

  The mayor nodded. He looked at me like I was just being cute. One of the councilmen didn’t even raise his eyes to see me, like I was a waste of time. And then there were all the others on the city council and the audience behind me too. Maybe they felt the same way. I hoped to prove that I was worth listening to. “I’ve heard lots of rumors about what to do, everything from cutting the whale into pieces and burying it, to exploding it, hoping to completely annihilate it, to just letting it rot. I think we can do better than that. I think we need to.” Inside, I thought about Blue’s pod singing for him.

  This would be my song for him.

  Because honestly, he wouldn’t want me to actually sing for him. I’m really, really, really bad.

  I looked at the mayor and he wasn’t yawning. So far so good. I wasn’t super polished or anything, but I didn’t sound frightened.

  “I found the whale on the beach and tried desperately to keep it alive. I kept it wet, I called emergency services, I gathered people to help me. We did everything that we could, but we couldn’t save him.” I let out a bunch of air. I wondered if any feeling was coming across with my words. I hoped so. “And somehow when it died, I hurt. It probably had more to do with the fact that my mom died about two months ago, and she loved—” my voice caught inside, but I inhaled slowly and continued, “—she loved every creature in the ocean. And she taught me to as well. This whale isn’t just a nuisance to be disposed of. This whale had a pod, and judging by his age, children. This whale didn’t just come out of nowhere. This whale has lived a life, longer than me, longer than a lot of people in this room. And he was rare and endangered. I think he deserves to be treated with respect as we decide what to do here today.” The mayor leaned forward and the councilman who was ignoring me looked up.

  “I’m going to suggest a few things. And I had a lot of help coming up with them.” I looked back at my pod.

  “My dad had a great idea. You see, my mom was a marine biologist at Northwest Washington University.” I didn’t stumble this time when I talked about her. “And he wondered if they wouldn’t be interested in this whale for their marine biology department. He called them and talked to them several times, pitching his idea for them to take the whale.” I remember hearing a few of these conversations as most of them were video calls. The men and women there spoke so highly of my mother it brought back stings—and also immense pride. “They expressed interest, but were concerned with the logistics of transporting it.” Lizzy gave me that sentence.“They had grant money that they could apply to the effort, but it wouldn’t cover it all. So,” I raised a finger, “we had one important part of a solution.” I noticed all of the council was looking at me now.

  “Then I asked my friend Jean Lambert. She has a nephew with a construction company in Oregon and that nephew has a friend with a construction company in Seattle. That company said they would donate three days use of their equipment and a few of their men to move the whale. An incredible donation that would take care of more costs.”

  “We knew we would need water transport for the equipment and for the whale, and who better than our local Juan Mendoza?” I turned and gestured toward Papá Mendoza as he raised his hand to receive the praise. It made me smile. I know where Marc gets his goofy bravado. “He said that he had connections to a boat that would be big enough for both jobs. He is trading labor for the use of that boat.” I watched as the city council members started to take some notes. I thought that was good, but I wasn’t sure.

  “But we still didn’t have enough money to finish the job,” I continued. “Close, but not there yet. That’s where my friend Lizzy Wallace comes in.” She sat in front of my dad and beamed. “It’s expensive to haul and preserve the skeleton of a whale like this. I talked to someone who might just be smarter than me. She did a lot of research and found out that there are organizations across the country that have money to donate for marine life education. She has contacted several of them, and we have covered almost all of our other costs. And we might have some pledges for more still coming.” Her parents may have helped her, but I figured that I would give her all the attention for this. She might need it.

  The mayor scribbled down more notes.

  “Even my stepmom helped out by setting up a social media funding page and linking it to a video channel where I posted my pictures and videos of ocean creatures.” I almost hadn’t talked to Masha about this, but I was glad I did. She was a pretty smart lady when it came to social media marketing. “A video I posted of a humpback whale breaching only a few yards from me already has enough views that we should be able to pay for the truck driver. If this trend continues, we should be able to finish covering the costs with nothing asked of the city whatsoever.”

  Caleb gave his mom two thumbs up, clearly proud of her contribution.

  “And last but not least, my seven-year-old stepbrother gave me this five-dollar bill that he has been saving since his birthday.” I pulled the bill from my pocket. Yes, my dress was that awesome. “It was all the money that he had, but he wanted to help.” He had overheard me talking about it with Masha and he offered. Super sweet. I needed to get to know that kid better. Masha gave Caleb two thumbs up and he looked pretty proud of himself.

  “That’s my proposal,” I said, shifting to squarely face the mayor and the council. “You will find more thorough information in your email inboxes if you would like some time to look it over. And you are welcome to ask me, or my pod—” I quickly corrected myself, “—or my team any questions you might have. Thank you.”

  I almost curtseyed like Lizzy had at the end of her debate, but I didn’t. I gave kind of a half nod.

  Before I could turn to go back to my seat, someone clapped. I couldn’t tell who it was. Maybe it was my dad or Marc. But someone else joined. And then someone else. When I looked behind me, they all were clapping. I don’t know why. Maybe they weren’t expecting a presentation like this. Maybe they were expecting something else.

  The mayor clapped too, then leaned forward.

  He looked at me, this time almost like he was asking permission to speak. I nodded. “That is quite the amazing presentation,” he said. “Maybe we should have you come work for the city in a few years.” A lot of people laughed at that. But it was a good laugh. Like he was right.

  He wasn’t. That job would make me nutty. It didn’t have anything to do with the ocean.

  The mayor addressed the whole room. “Would anyone else like to give us a proposal o
r voice their concern?” He surveyed the room. It was quiet until Mr. Ford, the owner of the country club, said, “As long as we’re not blowing it up or letting it rot downwind of my golf course, I’m good.”

  Everyone laughed again. The mayor took a second to look around the room, but no one spoke or raised their hand. “Well, then,” the mayor said, “would anyone object if we forward Willa Twitchell’s plan to the state wildlife department as our city’s recommendation for what should happen with this blue whale?” The mayor once again surveyed the room. And then he struck his gavel on the table. “No objections. This meeting is adjourned.”

  Maylan Twitchell, Journal #13, twelve years ago

  The first time I saw a moray eel, I thought it was going to bite me. I was young, snorkeling in Mexico and I came upon it by accident. It closed and opened its mouth, showing me its sharp teeth, threatening me to back off and I got the message loud and clear.

  It was later that I learned that opening and closing its mouth like that was just how moray eels breathe. Though you should always give them their space (those teeth are sharp!), that eel wasn’t trying to scare me. It was just watching me like I was watching it.

  I learned a lesson that day not to jump to conclusions. In my job we observe, observe, and observe. Then we give it our best guess.

  The large metal arms of two huge cranes extended out over my cove. Their massive steel lifting cables descended all the way down to Blue.

  It had taken over a week for all of the proper paperwork to go through and to coordinate the truck. But on a bright and sunny Saturday morning, right after the fog burned away, a huge semitruck sat on the highway with traffic being directed around it.

  Construction workers stood around Blue’s body, setting up the cables that dangled from the cranes. It probably wasn’t a very pleasant job. He had been dead for a while, but was still in decent shape. Of course, he didn’t smell very good. I couldn’t imagine how they were going to lift him. I was never meant to be an engineer.

  “This just might work,” Marc said. A large crowd had come out to watch, but Marc and I had climbed a ridge to one side of the cove. We had a great view and the space to ourselves.

  “After all our hard work, it’d better,” I said.

  It was going to take a while to get Blue all attached. So we talked. We talked about school, swim team, and about how Hannah was starting to walk. I even told him about my therapist and how she was helping me. I was really nervous that he would think that was weird or something, but he seemed pretty chill about the whole thing.

  Marc got quiet for a while, then spoke softer. “So,” he said, “you said that you’re my friend no matter what, right?“

  “Definitely,” I said.

  “Remember how you talked about your mom when we got cookies? You shared what was really bothering you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, looking back at Marc instead of at the huge cranes.

  “And I said that maybe some time I could tell you what’s really been bugging me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Those words have haunted me,” he said. “I knew that some time I’d need to tell you.” He blew out a bunch of air. “And this is going to be hard to say.” He wasn’t smiling. He ran his fingers through his hair, and some strands stood up. He looked like a nervous roosterfish.

  He pounded his own fist once. “Really hard to say.”

  I wanted to encourage him, tell him it was okay to talk, but I just waited.

  “Now, you can’t overreact, okay?” he said, pointing at me.

  I nodded.

  “And you won’t think my family is terrible or anything?”

  I shook my head. “I know you guys too well.” But the fact that he asked made me really nervous. What was he going to tell me?

  Marc puffed up his cheeks, then he looked like he was going to say something, but didn’t. Then he did it again. Finally, he started talking again. “It’s just . . . she . . . I . . . didn’t.” It just wasn’t coming out. Then the tears started. I had never seen Marc cry.

  He wiped them away quickly and blinked to keep them from returning. “Sofia is—” he started, but then stopped again. “She’s—” And he still couldn’t say it. He took a deep breath. “She’s not learning like you think.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “She’s in a hospital,” Marc said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Your mom said that.” Was she not studying health? Was she sick herself? Like sick so bad she was in a hospital for months?

  Marc shook his head. “No. It’s more of a clinic. And the only learning she’s doing is learning to get off drugs.” He paused. “She’s addicted to a lot of them. And she’s in the hospital full-time trying to get off them.” His brows dipped and he squeezed his eyes shut in a struggle to hold back tears.

  Addicted to drugs. I would have never guessed. What was that like to have a sister going through that?

  “It got really bad,” he said, more tears streaming. “She started more than a year ago, but it got so bad that she was stealing from us. I had saved fifty dollars to buy the next Call to Action game when it came out, but one day the money was gone—disappeared. It had taken me three months to save that money. And she stole it. I was so mad at her.” He shook his head. “I mean, like completely furious. Plus, she stole so much more from my parents. And from other people too.

  “We tried to help her on our own, but she had gotten angry and mean. She didn’t want our help. It was tearing up my parents’ hearts and I hated her for it.” Marc punched his own fist again. “Eventually, it got so bad that my parents took her to the rehab clinic. She won’t talk to us. She’s furious. And it’s expensive, really expensive. She’s had to do it a few times. Between that and paying back all the money she stole, my parents decided to move into the marina—to save money to pay for everything.”

  “That’s why you didn’t think you could do swim team?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded, “but my parents said that just because they were spending a lot on my sister didn’t mean they didn’t have any left for me and Dante.” He sniffled. “It just felt like that, so I thought it was true.” He lifted his chin and took a deep breath. “She went from being fun and a great sister to being someone I didn’t even know.”

  He kicked his legs a little. “I just want her back.”

  There was a pause so I spoke. “I’m sorry. I really like Sofia. She’s a good person.”

  “I think that’s what’s so embarrassing about it,” Marc said. “She was a good person. We have a good family. We come from a good heritage, a good culture. What will people say if they find out about her?”

  A gull landed right next to us and we watched it pace the ground. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’d hope they’d just want to help.” I put my hand on his shoulder. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t know if that would help or hurt. So I did what he’d done for me. “Thanks for telling me,” I said. “That’s got to be really hard.”

  Marc nodded. And then we talked more. We stared at the huge cranes getting a massive dead whale ready to be moved and we talked. My mom was gone. And a beautiful blue whale was gone too. And my best friend was terrified that his sister was gone. That he wouldn’t get her back.

  Finally, we watched the cranes lift Blue slowly all the way up out of the cove, and then lower him onto the two trailers of the ginormous truck. He fit. Not perfectly, but he fit. After Mrs. Ingebretsen snapped a few pictures for the newspaper, the semi slowly started down the highway until we couldn’t see it anymore.

  And Marc and I talked some more.

  Maylan Twitchell, Journal #13, twelve years ago

  In grad school I learned that there are twenty million tons of gold in the ocean. It’s right under our noses. But seeing it is nearly impossible because it’s dissolved. It’s one of the minerals found in the water. The trick is realizing that it’s ther
e and recognizing that the ocean is incredibly valuable.

  Sometimes I see my little girl and hope others can find the gold in her. But more importantly, I hope she can see the gold in herself.

  A whole line of swimmers stood on their blocks.

  We raced in heats. Only eight people could race at a time, so a group of eight would line up and race. Then another.

  It was the Tupkuk Tornadoes against the Oceanview Tiger Sharks. For a swim team, Tiger Sharks is a much better name than Tornadoes. Well, kind of. Tiger Sharks sounds cool, but they don’t actually swim that fast. Usually only about two and a half miles per hour. They can do some crazy bursts of speed, but only for a few seconds. They’re kind of like tigers in the zoo. They are capable of moving really fast, but most of the time, they just laze around.

  But these Tiger Sharks weren’t lazy.

  The bald official with the whistle called out, “Step up. Take your mark.” The man wore a jacket that was too big for him. Or maybe his head was just a little too small for the rest of his body. Either way he looked a little like a turtle. He blew his whistle.

  I wasn’t on the blocks yet. It wasn’t my turn. But my heart thudded like it was.

  At the sound of the whistle, Marc leapt off his blocks.

  “Go, Marc!” I screamed and clapped. I’m sure he heard it before he clumsily crashed into the water. He definitely didn’t have the dive down yet. That started him off near last place.

  “Vamos, Marc! Vamos! Vamos!” Mamá Mendoza screamed from the bleachers for him to go, go, go. Papá Mendoza and Dante screamed too. My family was also there cheering.

  “Go, Marc!” It was Lizzy. She stood next to me, her suit and swim cap matching like she was a pro. And she was stretching while she cheered.

  She still kind of bugged me, but not as bad as before. I mean, I think I understood her a little bit.

  Marc surfaced from the water and what he didn’t have in form and style, he made up for in intensity. He smashed that water and pushed himself through.