Maggie Malone Makes a Splash (6 page)

I swing through the salon and down the stairs to Marina's stateroom like it's something I do every day. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull a cute pair of avocado-green terry-cloth shorts with an elastic waist over my rainbow-striped swimsuit. Then I find one of those button-down long-sleeved sun shirts that says
Sea
Angel
on the pocket and put that on. I figure that's perfect.

I hear two short knocks on the door to my room.

“Hey, Mare, your dad's tying up and I think he could use a hand from his best girl,” Lexi calls through the door.

“Be right there!” I yell back. She really seems great. I love that I picked a drama-free life this time.

I tie my wild mane into a loose braid and head up the stairs. I recognize Flynn “The Fin” Tide as soon as I see him. I know he's at least as old as my dad, but I have to say this guy's got kind of a superhero or movie-star quality to him. Dark hair and skin, a big, white toothy smile, and he's got a big, square chin that would make Superman jealous.

“Marina!” he yells when he sees me and tosses me the line to his boat. “Today's the day! Your favorite—
Acropora
cervicornis
!”

Say what? I don't remember anything about Flynn speaking a different language. I try to think fast.

“Oh! Um, yeah, Dad! You know nothing gets me fired up like a big, juicy bowl of…” I trail off because I've got nothing.
What
in
the
world
is
he
talking
about?
Luckily, he's distracted by Lexi, who starts going over the shoot schedule with him as soon as he steps on the boat. He gives me a huge smile and a little tug on my braid, and goes back to listening to Lexi.

“Would you like some kelp milk on your big, juicy bowl of exotic coral?” Zac says with a laugh. He's inside the cabin lining up gear on a long table.

“Sprinkled with extra-sharp shark's teeth, please,” I reply with a wink.
I
just
winked
at
a
super-cute boy!
I bite the inside of my cheek—because that's what I do when I get nervous around a boy—and pretend to be extremely busy coiling and recoiling the dinghy rope into a perfect circle on the deck. At least I know what
Acropora
cervicornis
is now!

“Hey, Marina?” Zac hesitates and then continues. “Would you mind taking a look at my creative writing essay with me? It'll only take a few minutes and I have to submit it online today. You're such a great writer, and I'm just not sure…”

“Of course,” I say. Because for one thing, I happen to be pretty darn good with words, and also because Zac has the sweetest puppy-dog face.

He rushes to his stateroom and returns with a folder. We sit side by side on the banquette in the salon and I read his essay while he waits, obviously hoping I like it. I laugh out loud when I read the part about him riding on the back of his buddy's moped, holding a burrito in one hand and a slushie in the other.

“I think it's great!” I say, handing it back to him when I reach the end. “It's funny and really honest when you make fun of yourself—I love that part. You might wind up being a famous writer. An oceanographer-writer, of course!”

Zac shoves the paper aside and grabs both my hands. “You really think so?” he asks, looking me straight in the eye, and then he gives me a huge hug.

Just to be clear, I've never had a boy grab my hand before—let alone
both
my hands—and then give me a big bear hug. I think I might melt like a snowman that showed up in the wrong season.

“What about you, Marina?” Zac asks, collecting his papers.

“What
about
me?” I say, willing my brain to stop feeling so fuzzy.

“Well, I mean, I guess it's pretty clear that you're going to take over for your dad someday,” Zac says. “I just wondered if there was anything else you wanted to do…or something you would do if your future wasn't already set in stone.”

It's so sweet that he wants to know this about me—well, about Marina—but I'm afraid to answer for her! Like, what if I said, “Oh, I'd love to be an astronaut or an Olympic sprinter or a goodwill ambassador to Africa,” and Marina's secret fantasy is to be a kindergarten teacher or a drummer in a rock band? That could make for some seriously awkward conversations between these two, and I'd hate to be the cause of
that
. Zac would be all, “But you
said
you wanted to be a fill-in-the-blank!” and she'd be all, “Uh, I never said that!”

“I guess I've never really thought about it,” I tell Zac. “But I love that you asked me that! I'm going to start to think about it for sure.”

“You should,” he tells me, nodding his head enthusiastically. “Because you're amazing, Marina. For real. You could do anything you wanted. You know that, right?”

I'm flustered by his sweet words for a second, but then I remember something my mom always says: It's just as important to be able to accept a compliment as it is to give one.

“Well,” I tell Zac, whipping out the best compliment response I've got, “coming from you, that means a lot.” We sit there grinning like fools together, and it's all I can do
not
to tell him how glad I am that I picked a day in Marina Tide's shoes.

“Sandwiches will be ready in five,” Captain Jack announces. No fish tacos? Rats! I'd sort of gotten my heart—and my taste buds—set on having a couple of those, what with all the fish swimming around here, but maybe oceanographers don't eat fish. I guess that would make sense.

We all sit around the big wooden table on the aft deck, and Captain Jack serves everyone a turkey sandwich the size of an entire loaf of bread. I eat every last bit of mine—even though he put those spicy pepper flakes that make me sneeze on it—because that swim made me crazy-hungry.

“Look at Mare go!” Zac laughs as I inhale my sandwich. “You might sink straight to the bottom of the ocean this afternoon with that much food in your belly!”

“Oh, don't worry. She's going to work it off,” Lexi says. “There's still plenty of scrubbing to do around here. All of the vent screens need to be washed. The fluids need to be checked and topped, and every valve cover bolt needs to be inspected and tightened.” Zac groans but he's smiling when he does it. You can tell he loves everything about being on this boat.

Maybe it's because they're different chores than I do at home, or maybe it's because I have Zac alongside me, whistling all sorts of silly, made-up tunes, but the time seems to fly. Zac makes a great chore partner and I find myself wishing—especially after that little chat we had before lunch—that I had some guy friends like Zac back at home. Not that I'm looking to replace Stella or Elizabeth or Alicia or anything, but there's something just plain cool about hanging out with a guy. I decide I'm going to work on that.

“Not half bad,” Zac says, inspecting my work.

“Thanks,” I say shyly, turning away. When I do, I see Captain Jack climbing the ladder onto the stern
.
He's wearing full scuba gear and being super quiet for the big guy he is, until he accidentally trips over a rope I just coiled. He stumbles and flails, and instead of freeing himself, he gets all caught up in the rope. Captain Jack tries to steady himself by grabbing on to a bunch of life vests hanging on hooks. I cover my mouth when he pulls the whole mess of them down with him when he falls. The commotion brings Flynn and Lexi running.

“Jack, are you okay?” Lexi asks, all out of breath. Jack nods and shakes his head, which sends water flying everywhere.

“You've been diving this afternoon?” Flynn asks, helping him up. “You know we have a limited number of dives in the area so that we keep our disruption of the ecosystem minimal.”

“Surface dive only, Flynn,” Jack explains, hanging the life vests back on the hooks. “This mask was leaking and I had to test the regulator—valve's been acting up. We're all set now.”

“Relax, Flynn,” Lexi says to Flynn in kind of a baby-talk voice. You know, that voice where it sounds like somebody's being really sweet to you, but really they think you're kind of dumb. Why would she speak like that to him? He's only one of the most famous oceanographers in the world. He doesn't seem to notice. “Captain Jack knows what he's doing.”

“Oh, of course. Right,” Flynn says, shaking his head and focusing on Lexi's clipboard. “Sorry, I'm just a little nervous or excited, I don't know. It's my little girl's first solo shoot and…”

“I know,” Lexi says, comforting him. “I've watched her for a year and a half, and I can tell you that she's absolutely ready. I don't think anybody in the world knows more about staghorn coral than Marina Tide. And in the post-dive interview, she'll be able to explain, in words that kids across the country can understand, how important it is to protect this endangered species.”

“You're right,” Flynn agrees. “It'll be great. Zac, why don't we go down to your stateroom and go over your notes for the shoot one more time?” Zac nods and follows Flynn.

As soon as they're gone, Lexi turns to me.

“Marina, this is a deep dive today, so get your full suit and booties on, okay?” she says.

“You got it!” I tell her, hoping I can find the right suit down there. Then I remember Marina's microscopic closet and figure it won't be too tough of a task.

“Jack, I need to talk to you for a second,” I hear Lexi say as I tuck into the main cabin. I know it's not polite to eavesdrop, but I'm still a newbie in Marina Tide's life and I need some inside scoop on my dive and shoot plan here. I crouch below one of those little round windows and listen.

“What was that?” Lexi whispers to Jack. “You were supposed to be back on the boat making lunch before Flynn got back!”

“We agreed the kid shouldn't handle the dynamite, right?” Jack says. “It had to get down there somehow.”

Did I just hear
dynamite
?

“I'm scared, Jack,” Lexi says. “I just don't know if I can go through with it.”

Go
through
with
WHAT?

“It's a little late for that, Lexi.” Captain Jack's voice turns angry. “Listen to me. We joined this team and came here for one reason: to find that buried treasure. The treasure that my father spent his whole life searching for and died trying to get his hands on.”

“But do we really have to blow up the reef?” Lexi pleads.

“We've tried everything else, Lexi. You know that,” Captain Jack says. “We're talking about my father's legacy, and I'm not leaving here without it. We stick to the plan. Got it?”

GULP! What. Is. Going. ON?

My head is swimming—pun intended—when I get down to Marina's stateroom.
Buried
treasure? That somebody DIED trying to find? And stick with the plan? WHAT plan?
If ever there was a genuine, full-blown, I-need-a-genie crisis, this would be it.

“Frank!” I whisper into the tiny mirror on the back of Marina's stateroom door. “Earth to Frank! More specifically,
big, huge ocean
to Frank! Frank the Genie, please come in! This is a maritime EMERGENCY! S.O.S!”

“Well, if it isn't Maggie-Marina-Tide-Malone,” Frank says, his face coming into focus in the mirror. “You sound like a girl who just found a family of ants camping out in her pajamas! Or should I say a cluster of sea slugs in her wet suit?” Frank says this with a belly laugh, but I am
not
in the mood.

“Frank, something crazy is happening,” I tell him, ignoring his joke—and the fact that he's wearing what looks like a bullfighting costume.

“Crazier than diving into somebody else's life midstream, you mean?” Frank laughs again, neatly adjusting a fringy gold tassel on his shoulder. Of all of the genies in the world, I had to get one who thinks he's the star of his own one-man comedy show.

“Like, major big-time crazy,” I tell him. “I think Lexi and Captain Jack are planning something…something
bad.
”

“Maggie, remember what I told you about Brianna, because it applies in this life too,” Frank says with a sigh. “You can't control what other people are going to do. Worry about your own self.”

“I
am
worrying about my own self, Frank,” I say nervously. “I'm worried that these
other
people
are planning to do something really scary and dangerous that's going to kaboom my own self!” My heart is pounding inside my chest.

“Well, if that's true, then I guess you have to ask yourself what Maggie Malone would do. I think Maggie Malone would find someone she could trust and tell them about this majorly scary business you speak of,” Franks says, distracted, leaning back and forth in a cloud of smoke.

“I mean, I
think
I heard them say… But what if I'm wrong? They seem so nice… I don't know,” I explain, confused and hoping for a good genie answer.

“Look, Mags, I'd love to chat more but they're about to release the bulls,” Frank shouts. “Go with your gut! Do some digging. Ask some questions. Remember,
you've got this
! And let's hope I've got this too, or you may be in the market for a new genie!” I watch in frustration as Frank's face bounces up and down and fades away.

I can't control what other people are going to do? No kidding! Worry about my own self? Yeah, that's not hard to do right now. This is not exactly a first-rate genie revelation. He wasn't even listening to me!
Why, oh why, oh why
did I pick this life? And why don't MMBs come with some sort of warning? You know, like
Be
careful
what
you
wish
for
, or something—anything—that might make you think twice before jumping into something that might not be at all what you expected.

I really have no choice, so after pacing around the tiny stateroom a few times, I finally pull the thickest, longest wet suit out of the closet and try to step into it. Now I know what a sausage feels like when it's getting stuffed! You know how when you're still wet from the shower and you try to pull your jeans on and those things are all “Yeah, that's not happening, sister”? Well, if this wet suit could talk, that's what it would be saying to me right now. Was I supposed to spray myself with cooking spray before attempting this?

I manage to get both feet into the ankle holes, and then I pull and I tug and I do about thirty-seven frog squats until finally I have the wet suit up to my waist. When I try to get my arms into it, I realize I've got the thing on backward! Who puts a zipper in the
back
of something, anyway? I peel it off and start the whole process all over.

I'm dripping sweat by the time I get the thing zipped up—which is no easy task itself, because I have to dance and shake all over the place to reach the long zipper strap in the back. That was not fun—but at least it distracted me for a few minutes from the mess I'm in.
Uncle
of
a
salty
sea
urchin, the mess I'm in!
I take a gigantic breath to steady my nerves before heading up the stairs, because what else am I going to do?

When I get to the top, I can see everyone else—Flynn and Zac and Lexi and Captain Jack—in a huddle on the back deck. It looks like they're going over one of Zac's logbooks. I keep my eyes on the group as I tiptoe over to Lexi's dive equipment lined up on the big table. There are three different cameras, some funny-looking computers on wrist straps, and a stretchy belt that must weigh at least ten pounds. I pick up one of the computers. It's got a round dial with a bunch of numbers on it that mean absolutely nothing to me, and I can feel my knees start to shake.
I'm about to go scuba diving, in the ocean, and I have no idea what I'm doing. Scuba diving is dangerous, deadly even, if you don't know what you're doing! I sure hope Skipper has my back, because I'm not so sure anybody else on this boat does.

I pick up a plain, black, waterproof box from the table. It's about the size of a fat book, and it says OTTER on the top in all capital letters. Oh, I love otters! They might be my second-favorite sea animal, after dolphins of course. We went to the River Bend Aquarium on a school field trip last year, and I got picked out of the whole audience to dole out the dead-fish treats during the otter show. Those dead fish smelled as nasty as you'd think, but it was totally worth it because I got to go backstage and pet those sweet little critters. I thought they'd feel all rubbery like Skipper, but they were covered with thick, soft fur.

On the way out, they gave me a giant stuffed version of Otto, the River Bend mascot. But wouldn't you know, Izzy Zimmerman turned green with envy and stole that thing right out of my backpack on the bus ride home. When we were walking off the bus, I was all, “Um, Izzy, that's my Otto.” Hello, his head was sticking out of
her
backpack. And she was all, “Uh, no it's not!” Can you believe that? In the end, I just let her have it. Anybody who knew Izzy knew it wasn't worth it. She once gave Willis Freedman a black eye just because he wouldn't give up his banana-cream pudding cup at lunch.

I turn the box over in my hands, wondering what's inside it. Maybe it's fish food…or more film…or a first-aid kit? I check outside and see the crew is still in a tight little huddle, so I pop open the lid.

It's definitely not fish food…or more film…or a first-aid kit. It looks some sort of timer. One that's speeding backward, ticking off the seconds, even as I hold it in my sweaty hands. I'm no expert, but it might be the sort of timer you'd use to activate a bunch of dynamite you put underneath a precious coral reef that you were planning to blow up.