Surrounded by Sharks (16 page)

The sun set over the ocean, and that was fine because Davey wasn’t in it. He was lying in a clean white hospital bed with fifty-six fresh stitches in his leg. They’d done a lot of work in the little hospital on Key West. Cleaning the wound, cutting away the dead flesh, stitching him up. They’d knocked him out for it, but it was hardly necessary. After it was over, he slept straight on till morning.

For the second day in a row, he’d woken up to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. And now, a few hours later, he found himself once again crammed into a small room with his entire family. But they weren’t snoring this time; they were talking.

“It’s like a Bengals game out in the waiting room,” said Tam.

“Browns!” said Brando. He had — in classic Brando fashion — chosen his own team. Two days ago, that was exactly the sort of thing that would’ve started an argument. Not now.

“It’s like a Bengals-Browns game,” said Pamela.

Tam and Brando smiled; those were always good games.

“Who’s out there?” asked Davey. “Who’s waiting?”

“Lots of people want to talk to you,” said Tam.

“Like who?” said Davey. Images of state police, FBI agents, and possibly his school principal flooded his mind. He was still having a hard time believing that he wasn’t in trouble for causing so much commotion.

“Reporters, for one,” said Pamela. “You’re big news.”

No FBI agents, but that wasn’t much of a relief. The thought of TV cameras and tape recorders — of having to explain himself — made him nervous. “Who else?” he said.

“Your aunt from Miami,” said Pamela.

“I didn’t know I had an aunt in Miami,” said Davey. He looked over at Brando for confirmation. He shrugged.

“You
don’t
,” said his mom. She opened her eyes wide with fake fear.

Davey laughed. He must be big news to bring reporters and crazies to the same hospital.

“Yeah,” said Tam. “We might keep that one waiting a while.”

“How about forever?” said Brando.

Davey chuckled again. He looked down at the spot where his right arm emerged from under the hospital gown. It was badly burned from a full day of direct sun and devilish glare. He reached up with his right hand and poked a particularly wicked patch just below his shoulder. All he felt was a weird tingle. And now that he thought about it, why didn’t his leg hurt more? He couldn’t see what was going on beneath all that gauze, but they’d told him about the stitches.

“I’m pumped all full of painkillers, aren’t I?” he said.

“Oh yeah,” said his mom.

“Big-time,” said his brother.

“What if I get addicted?”

“See, that question right there is why you won’t,” said his mom.

He looked over at the IV bag. It was hanging from a metal hook above his bed. A long plastic tube hung down, ending in a needle that disappeared under a strip of white tape on his left arm. “They’re in there?” he said.

“Yep,” said his dad.

“What else?”

“Just salt water and some antibiotics, I think.”

“Salt water?” he said. “I think I’ve had enough of that already!”

It wasn’t a great joke, but once they started laughing, they didn’t stop for a long time. It was pure relief. When they finally stopped, Davey had something else to say. He almost chickened out, but he couldn’t. Out on the water, he’d made a promise to himself: If he ever got the chance, he’d say it.

“I missed you guys.”

The room was quiet now. It was his mom who spoke first. “It must’ve been so lonely out there.”

He looked at her. They realized at the same moment that he didn’t mean he’d missed them “out there,” or not only that. He meant before that, too; he’d meant up in his room. Davey looked down, his blush hidden by his sunburn.

“We missed you, too.” It was so quiet, barely a whisper, that Davey wasn’t even sure who’d said it. It could have been any of them, and that was enough for him.

Someone knocked on the door: three firm raps. Tam straightened up and muscled a smile onto his face. “Ready for the first group of visitors?”

“Not the reporters!” said Davey.

“No,” said Tam. “They can wait.” He got up and went over to the door. When he opened it, one man filled the entire frame. Davey recognized him from the morning before: the big British guy.

“Thanks for coming,” said Tam.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” said Big Tony. The room seemed smaller as soon as he entered. He was followed by the rest of the family.

“Hi, Drew!” said Brando.

“Hey, B-Boy,” said Drew.

Just like that, Davey knew his little brother had a new nickname. Drew pushed Brando in the shoulder in place of a handshake. Then she turned toward the bed, where Davey had something else he’d been waiting to say.

“Thank you.”

Drew had expected the words, but not the emotion behind them. All she could think to say was, “It was nothing.”

All Davey could think to say was, “It wasn’t.”

Then suddenly the whole room was talking. Davey leaned back. Brando — or was it B-Boy? — started telling everyone about chasing after Deputy Fulgham and hopping into his boat. How Fulgham hadn’t really wanted them there. How they weren’t about to ask. After that, he did a spot-on impersonation of “the Beast.” Everyone laughed. Davey lay back and listened. He felt lucky to have a brother like … well, like whatever his name was now.

And then, as if she was reading his mind, his mom said, “We were lucky.”

“How’s that, then?” said Big Tony.

“Lucky you were there on that street, that you took the boat you did.”

“Oh, that was her idea,” he said, hooking a thumb at his daughter.

Drew smiled shyly, slightly embarrassed by what she was about to say. “I thought this was where the party was.”

“Yeah,” said Brando. “The search party!”

The whole room laughed again, louder now, because there were more people. A few minutes later, a nurse came in with a fresh bag of IV fluid and the Dobkins were ushered out of the room. Brando walked Drew to the door. Big Tony, who’d been first in, was last out.

“I’ll see you back on the wee island,” he said before ducking out the door. “Business meeting and all that. Hope you don’t mind I didn’t bring a tie.”

“Not one bit,” said Pamela.

“I might make one out of a palm leaf,” said Tam.

“What was that about?” said Davey once the room was quiet again.

“Oh,” said his mom, “well.”

Davey waited her out.

“All right, well, it turns out that he works in imports….”

Davey turned to his dad for confirmation. “Thinks there might be a big market for Tibetan goods there in England. As long as they’re authentic.”

“And of the highest quality,” added his mom.

Davey looked at them both. They were wearing cat-that-ate-the-canary smiles that made him smile, too.

“Ready for the next group?” said his dad.

“The reporters?” he said.

“Afraid so. Can’t keep them out there forever.”

Davey shrank a little further into his bed.

“Don’t worry,” said Brando, stepping forward. “I can be, like, your spokesman.”

Davey sat back up. “Okay,” he said. He couldn’t think of a better guy for the job.

“Shake on it?” said Brando.

It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that required a handshake, but Davey leaned forward anyway. And when Brando reached over and grasped his hand, he understood. His little brother held on tight.

They both did.

Michael Northrop has written short fiction for
Weird Tales
, the
Notre Dame Review
, and
McSweeney’s
. His first novel,
Gentlemen
, earned him a
Publishers Weekly
Flying Start citation for a notable debut, and his second,
Trapped
, was an Indie Next List selection. NPR recently picked Michael’s middle-grade novel
Plunked
for its Backseat Book Club. His latest title for young adults is
Rotten
. An editor at
Sports Illustrated Kids
for many years, Michael now writes full-time from his home in New York City. Visit him online at
www.michaelnorthrop.net
.

Gentlemen

Trapped

Plunked

Rotten

Copyright © 2014 by Michael Northrop

All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.,
Publishers since 1920
.
SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS
, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Northrop, Michael, author.

Surrounded by sharks / by Michael Northrop. — First edition.

pages cm

Summary: On the first day of vacation thirteen-year-old Davey Tsering wakes up early, slips out of his family’s hotel room without telling anyone, and heads for the beach and a swim in the warm Floridian waters — and a fateful meeting with a shark.

1. Sharks — Juvenile fiction. 2. Missing children — Juvenile fiction. 3. Families — Florida — Juvenile fiction. 4. Swimming — Juvenile fiction. 5. Florida — Juvenile fiction. [1. Sharks — Fiction. 2. Swimming — Fiction. 3. Survival — Fiction. 4. Rescues — Fiction. 5. Florida — Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.N8185Su 2014

813.6 — dc23

2013045351

ISBN 978-0-545-61545-7

First edition, June 2014

Cover art & design © 2014 by Phil Falco

e-ISBN 978-0-545-61547-1

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.