Strong Like the Sea, стр. 13
He spreads his fingers and shows me his open hands as if each finger held a jewel at the tip, and I can’t help but smile at his excitement. He’s like a kid with a favorite toy.
“TMI, I know. But the point is, in a chaotic world, I find peace in the small things like origami or the golden ratio. They’re beautiful.”
“Okay, but what does that have to do with the schedule?” I crease the spine of my gecko and watch while Dad begins a series of tight folds along the side of his creation.
“I have no control over where your mom goes—what’s more—I wouldn’t want to control her. This is her dream job. Of course I support her. But it’s harder than I thought it would be to have our lives tossed about by top-secret officials in agencies that we can’t talk about. So I started scheduling the things I could control. Replacing chaos and uncertainty with order, logic, and consistency.”
Tiny, folded legs emerge on the sides of his gecko, and he holds it so I can see how it’s done.
“I can control when I give dive lessons, when we have doctor or dentist visits, when I have time with you, and a million other things. The schedule is an anchor I hold to when I feel adrift.”
“I know.” Maybe not in so many words, but I know he stresses when we don’t follow the plan.
He curls the tail in a gentle curve to the side, like a gecko at rest, and I mimic his work. “But for you, the schedule is stressful, yes?”
I breathe out a whoosh of air and nod. “It’s like you said. You have control, but I don’t. Not of anything—not even when to study. There’s nothing left.”
He dots an eye on either side of his gecko’s head, sets it on the table, and hands me the pen to dot mine.
“I see. Sometimes I forget how fast you’re growing up. How about we make a new schedule, and this time, we take turns?”
I set my gecko beside his. Not the same, but close enough. Family.
When Dad brings out a new oversized calendar page, he lets me make the first mark. I write “History Project” in gold—like a grand-prize trophy.
Then he draws a circle around Friday two weeks away and writes “Last Day” inside it.
We go back and forth like that until all his things and all my sleuthing days, study days, and even a play day with Malia are up where they belong. But instead of only red and blue, our new calendar is blue, and pink, and orange, and yellow, and all the colors. A rainbow with Mom’s prize at the end.
“So, all you have to go on is this little glass bottle?” Malia holds the bottle up for the other two girls to see as we walk home from Laie Elementary School. “What could you fit in here anyway?”
“Maybe it’s for a small kine drink, like when you’re only a little bit thirsty.” Tehani reaches for the bottle, but her backpack slips off her thin shoulder, and she has to readjust the straps. Her mom wanted to get a smaller backpack, but this was the only backpack with kitty ears and glow-in-the-dark whiskers. Tehani would wear it even if she had to drag it behind her.
Malia passes the bottle to Tehani, who studies the bottom and turns it over. “No markings or anything? How are you supposed to know what this is?” The backpack starts to slip again, but our biggest friend, Naya, leans down and adjusts the strap for her with one hand. Naya’s wide shoulders and thick frame make her strong enough to help anyone smaller than her—which is most of us.
“Thanks.” Tehani lifts the bottle up high for Naya to take it, but she shakes her head.
“Naw, I’m good.” Naya tosses her soccer ball high overhead and catches it again. “There’s got to be more to it. Small kine like that—it’s the world’s most useless bottle.”
“I’ll figure it out.” Taking the bottle back, I stare at it for the thousandth time, as if that’ll do any good. During an art project in class today, I dabbed some paint on the bottom of the bottle and tried to use it for a stamp on paper, but all that did was make a mess. Jack suggested I try to make a rubbing of it like we’ve done with tombstone names, but the pencil marks didn’t show anything different. No code to decipher, no words to figure out. If there’s a code on the surface here, I don’t see it.
“Eh, brah, watch out you slow pokes. Coming through!” Jack cruises past us, biking so fast he’s standing on the pedals.
“For reals?” Tehani calls after him. “Where you going?”
“Sam’s store!” Jack throws a shaka over his shoulder and keeps going. “Need some grindz before the rain hits.”
Tehani bumps my elbow with hers. “You think he ever thinks of anything besides food?”
“Sure he does.” Naya’s lips curl into a sly smile. “Drinks.”
I grin, and a raindrop splatters on my glasses.
“What about you?” Naya asks. “You ever not figured out one your Mom’s clues?”
“No. I always do, but sometimes it takes me a little longer.” If Mom got a clue like this bottle at her job, she’d probably be done already and on to her second clue by now. “If I could figure out how to think like her, I’d be faster.”
“Maybe.” Naya glances at the others, but I’m not sure if she gets it.
I try again. “Maybe it’s impossible for me to think the same, sort of like a duck stretching its neck