The Shark Rider (18 page)

“You'll stay right behind me?”

“Yes!”

That seemed to snap Rosina out of panic's tight grip. She nodded, took a couple of deep breaths, and then dove after the octopus's trailing arms. Tristan swam right behind her, knowing that if she hesitated or got stuck, he would probably drown—it might have been the bravest but dumbest thing he'd ever done.

The underwater passage was tight. Tristan pulled with his arms and kicked as best he could. He felt slow and awkward without webbing. He scraped his arm and then a foot on the rock walls, and then bumped into Rosina's feet. She flinched forward, hitting her knees. He knew that wasn't going to go over well. Tristan hesitated to give her a moment to get ahead. The scrapes stung. Rosina rose up slightly, and Tristan nearly ran headfirst into a ledge. His legs hit painfully as he pulled himself past. Rosina swam upwards. He followed. She was breathing in a small pocket of air. Tristan joined her. It was a tight fit, and as he squeezed in, Rosina smacked her head on the rocky roof.

“Ouch! Watch it.”

“Sorry,” Tristan said, smiling nervously. “Ladies first.”

Rosina grimaced, took a big breath, and again dove after the octopus.

A few seconds later, Tristan followed. The underwater tunnel got wider and angled down. Up ahead, Rosina swam under a rock arch adorned with colorful splotches of algae and sponge. Tristan twisted onto his back as he went under, looking up. Air bubbles trapped underneath shimmered silver amid the rock's bright splatters. Then there was just open blue water and a bunch of legs hanging down. Tristan headed for the group at the surface. About midway up, he paused, thinking he saw something in the distance—a large, shadowy form swimming through the water. It was just like that morning. He stared harder, but couldn't make it out. Something was definitely out there. But
what
?

Tristan hit the surface, and Rosina punched him in the arm. “That's for running into me. Look at my arms and legs. I'm all cut up.” She also nodded to him in a silent but obvious thank you.

Tristan nodded back, knowing she didn't want the others to hear how she'd panicked in the pool. At the same time, he realized that by helping her, he'd forgotten all about his own fear and pounding heart. Tristan looked at his legs. Blood was seeping out of the small nicks and scrapes from where he'd hit the walls of the tunnel while swimming out. He turned to the others. They were also all scraped up.

“Lucky we've got this healing skin thing,” Tristan said, referring to their special genes that also gave them amazing healing powers in the sea. He then looked to Sam and the two dolphins that were playfully poking her with their beaks. “Thank your friends there. They saved us for sure.”

“Yeah, yeah. Can we just go back now,” Ryder said.

The dolphins next to Sam began squeaking nervously and pushing her toward shore.

“Uh, guys. They want us to get going. Something's out here they don't like. They said to go that way.” She pointed to their left along the rocks.

The dolphins didn't wait to see what the group would do. They sped away in the opposite direction. Sam yelled thanks and quickly swam the way they had told her to go. The others followed. The octopus jetted along beneath Hugh. Tristan kept looking back, wondering what was out there and not sure he really wanted to know.

They swam into a small sandy cove and got out. A narrow path led back to the main trail.

As they walked, Tristan turned to Sam. “What was out there?”

“Don't know,” Sam answered. “The dolphins didn't say.”

Tristan thought about what it could be and just one thing came to mind. There'd been blood in the water. Not a lot, but still—blood had been seeping from their cuts into the water around them.
Shark.
Tristan couldn't be sure. Besides, he didn't want to believe that a shark could be a threat to him or the others. It must have been something else—but what?

Back at the trail entrance, Charlie was waiting. He was
not
happy. “Where've you been?”

“Remember that joke about the boulders falling?” Tristan said.

14

DINNER AT THE YACHT CLUB

T
HE
Reef Runner
NEARED
M
OSQUITO
I
SLAND
around late afternoon. The last few hours aboard had been busy for the teens. After their near-disaster of a pleasure stop at The Baths, they were questioned non-stop by the captain, Coach Fred, Meg, the first mate, and the steward. Even Abbott the cat seemed curious about what had happened, trailing at the campers' heels wherever they went. They also learned that, strangely, no other visitors at The Baths had seen any boulders move, though a few people reported hearing a deep thudding noise and feeling some shaking. Rumor was that there had been a far-off explosion or a weak earthquake in the area.

With everyone listening, the campers were careful about how they recounted their escape from the
boulder pool. Certain details were purposely left out. The captain seemed especially curious about what had happened. Charlie thought the teens were exaggerating, while Sarah urged them to report the incident to the local authorities. Coach Fred and Meg convinced her and the others that it would be best to keep quiet about the whole thing, saying it was just a freak accident and that, fortunately, no one had been hurt.

For his part, Tristan was surprisingly happy. Sure, they were almost crushed to death by a boulder and then nearly drowned, but he stayed pretty calm—at least on the outside. And although only he and Rosina knew it, he probably saved her life. Tristan felt confident and proud, just like after last summer. If only his parents could see this side of him. He vowed not to worry so much about messing up or getting pulled from camp by his parents.

While the captain and first mate prepared to anchor off Mosquito Island, Coach Fred and Meg took the opportunity to have a more private discussion with the campers. They huddled on the stern deck out of the others' earshot.

“I'll be speaking with Director Davis in a bit,” Coach Fred told them. “So whose brilliant idea was it to go off the marked trail to begin with?”

Silence. Though if Coach had been watching closely, he might have seen Rosina glance accusingly at Ryder.

“Check, got it, no snitching,” Coach continued. “Well, nice job getting out of there without panicking.”

Tristan stole a glance at Rosina, who seemed to be purposely looking away.

“Before I talk to the director, given this afternoon's little adventure, do any of you want to return to Sea Camp? After all, you are only Snappers, young and inexperienced for a mission like this.”

Tristan didn't hesitate. “No way.”

“Yeah, like, no way is right,” Ryder agreed.

“We don't want to
leave
,” Sam added. “We still don't know what's killing the fish and stuff.”

Hugh and Rosina nodded in agreement, once again with slightly less enthusiasm.

Coach smiled and struck Tristan on the back so hard he nearly did a face-plant on the deck. “That's just what I wanted to hear. No quitters at Sea Camp! Had to ask though, camp policy and all.”

“Was it an earthquake?” Hugh asked.

Coach Fred hesitated before answering. “Probably a small quake or maybe some construction on the island. But as I always say, it's better to be suspicious than get caught off guard. You should all remember that, one of my better mottos. We've discussed it, and our best guess is that it was indeed just a freak accident and nothing to worry about.”

Tristan didn't think Coach Fred looked so sure.

Meg pulled out the chart they'd been using and unrolled it across the deck. “While you were at The Baths, we had a report of another fish kill.” She pointed to Mosquito Island. “We're up here, just pulling into Invisible Bay. We'll anchor, and then, first thing in the morning, go check out the site.” She pointed to a cluster of small islands to their south. “Here at Cockroach Island.”

Hugh raised his hand. “Cockroach Island, really? And you want us to go there?”

Meg laughed. “That's just another old pirate name. There were so many cockroaches on the ships back then that they were regular guests at mealtime. The hardtack biscuits crawled right off the table.”

“Yuck!” Sam said, cringing.

Rosina looked ill, while Ryder pretended to barf.

“I've also contacted the institute and arranged for transport of the samples we collected this morning. They'll go out on this evening's ferry from the Bitter End Yacht Club. I've spoken to the owner, an old friend, and she's arranging things on their end. She also invited us for dinner. It's a short ride across Gorda Sound, and given what you've all been through today, it might be a nice treat. Assuming you're staying and it's okay with you, Coach?”

“Looks like we're all staying,” Coach Fred said proudly. “As for this evening, I'm not sure they have the table manners for the Bitter End. But if you all agree to be on your best behavior?”

The campers rolled their eyes at the man and then nodded in agreement.

Meg leaned in closer to the group. “By the way, how did you really escape from that pool and come away without even any cuts or scrapes?”

They recounted the whole story, this time filling in the missing details.

The inflatable cruised across Gorda Sound, the long bay that separated Virgin Gorda from the smaller islands to the north. The winds were light, the seas calm, and a speckling of high clouds streamed across the early evening sky. The captain, first mate, and steward stayed aboard the research vessel.

Coach Fred was at the back, operating the outboard engine. He wore khaki shorts with a bright white, logo-free polo shirt. He didn't look thrilled about their dinner date at the yacht cub. The campers were dressed in their finest attire, or about as good as it could get: a pair of clean shorts and a Virgin Islands Institute T-shirt provided by Meg. The scientist was also in a T-shirt paired with a blue sarong skirt decorated with white silhouettes of fish. She pointed out the nearby islands.

“That's Virgin Gorda to our right, of course. To your left is Prickly Pear. The next island to the north is Eustatia, and behind that, Necker Island.”

“Dr. Gladfell, does anyone live on Prickly Pear?” Hugh asked as they cruised by the small tan one-hill island. It had little vegetation, steep-sided rocky cliffs, and just a few pockets of sand along the shore.

“It's Meg, Hugh, and no, no one lives there. It's a national park.”

“What's that island past Necker?” Tristan asked. He could just make it out in the distance.

“That's Scar Island.”

“Eagle ray!” shouted Sam. She pointed to a large ray swimming gracefully beside the boat. It had a long, whip-like tail and a purple back with white spots.

“Turtle!” Tristan yelled from the other side of the inflatable.

The campers leaned over to his side. A sea turtle's small yellow head had just broken the surface. As soon as it noticed the boat, the creature took a gulp of air and dove.

“Glad to see that one looks healthy,” Meg noted.

Continuing across Gorda Sound, they saw another eagle ray, two more sea turtles, and an enormous gray stingray lying motionless on the sand. As they neared the Bitter End Yacht Club, Coach maneuvered the inflatable around a maze of moorings and boats, along with people paddling kayaks or trying to windsurf. He aimed for a dock running alongshore. Behind it was a two-story wooden building painted chocolate brown with blue-and-pink latticed trim. It reminded Tristan of a giant gingerbread house. Meg scrambled forward to the bow to fend off the dock. She then held the boat steady so Tristan and the others could climb out. Tristan did it without so much as a stumble. Things were looking up. Coach passed them a small cooler containing their dead fish samples and got out as well. Meg secured the line from the bow to a cleat.

“Hello, there! Welcome to the Bitter End Yacht Club.”

A light-haired, elderly, and notably fit woman scurried out of the building to give Meg a long, tight hug. She wore a flowery sundress with matching flip-flops. Her skin was wrinkled but not in a loose or flabby way, just enough to highlight how spry she was for her
age. She also had intelligent blue eyes and round rosy cheeks that scrunched up when she smiled. For some reason, Tristan immediately liked the woman.