Strong Like the Sea, стр. 18

If I didn’t already know better, he might’ve hurt my feelings, but that’s just how Uncle is, so I try to keep out of his way as much as I can. His “Go away” is loud and clear without him ever saying another word. It’s Auntie I came to see anyway.

A tourist family walks by on the beach, their children splashing in the surf. Over and over, the kids dart out and back, their laughter rising over the shhhh—shhh of waves crashing softly as they roll in from the deep and wash over the sandy shore.

I hand Auntie the little bottle and sit beside her on the log. “See how the stopper fits? The yellow string is a match too. And I found this.” I take my oilskin hat off, fish the square paper out from between the liner and the sweatband, and show Auntie the matching marks from the bottle and paper.

She’s still holding up the bottle to peek inside when Uncle sets his tools aside and walks over. “Have you been into my samples? Those aren’t toys. You didn’t dump out the vial, did you?”

“Hush, she didn’t dump out anything. Our Elizabeth made a challenge for Alex, and it seems you’re a part of it.” She passes him the square. “Read this.”

Uncle tilts his head back to read through the bottom part of his glasses as Sarge shoulders his way between us, his long tail knocking against my knees as he gazes up at his favorite human.

“Sarge, ow!” I lean away, but his tail beats a steady rhythm. Whap, whap, whap! He wags fast and hard like maybe he’s hoping his tail might sweep me right off the log and out of the yard.

“It’s marked inside the bottle too.” Auntie passes him the vial, and Uncle scowls at it as he squints inside.

“My phone says it means ‘rescue,’ but I’m not sure if it’s right . . .” I scramble off the log and stand out of Sarge’s reach behind Auntie.

His hand shaking, Uncle checks the bottom of the vial and growls, “That’s what it means, but what good is a marked-up vial? I can’t take samples with this. It’s ruined.”

“I thought maybe there might be something here to match it.” My voice feels very small even to my own ears, but under Uncle’s prickly gaze it’s a miracle I can talk at all.

“Fo’ real, Matthew?” Auntie chides and Uncle snaps back, but I stop listening when I see the new stones curving around the base of Auntie’s banana tree. The ‘rescue’ character is painted in blue on a yellow stone, and a string of colored rocks follows after. Yellow, yellow, blue, green, blue, yellow . . . The colors fade as my brain focuses on the pattern. Morse code again. I pull my notebook from my bag and check my notes. Dot dot dash—a U in Morse code. And more: dash dot, dash dot dash dot, dot dash dot dot, dot.

UNCLE

Morse code. Together, Mom’s clues in the rocks say, “Rescue Uncle.”

I watch him as he grumps back and forth with Auntie. “. . . but why not use a marker or paper? Why ruin the bottle?”

“You’d give that girl the moon if she asked. What’s one little bottle to you?” Auntie laughs.

How could I possibly rescue Uncle? He’s a marine biologist—and super smart. He’s been working for the university since before I was born; getting samples; teaching students; doing all the things that keep him so busy and gone on the water and on the reefs. Mom and Dad both talk like he’s so much fun, and I think he used to be—I might even remember it a little—but he’s been grumpy for so long, I can’t remember what his laugh sounds like. It’s like all of his happy sailed away one day, and grumpy was all that came back.

I scan the yard and spy more color-coded rocks by the breadfruit, banana, and papaya trees.

Work, Together, Help, Ohana

Help Uncle rescue things for work? I turn the words over, rearranging them in my head. Together, help Uncle rescue work family? What would be his work family that needs rescuing?

“Do you rescue things in the ocean?” I blurt, and Uncle blinks at me while a sly smile slides over Auntie’s face.

“I collect samples to test water quality and—”

“Turtles, dolphins, sea lions—my Matthew would rescue the entire ocean if he could.” Auntie beams at him.

“Well someone needs to do the work,” says Uncle. “And there’s only so much a man can do by himself.”

By himself. An idea wiggles into my head and I bite my tongue to keep it from popping out of my mouth. Is this really what Mom meant? The waves rumble onto the sand, and beyond them, deep blue stretches to the horizon with vast sky above and impossible depths below.

Deep water strong enough to snatch people from the shore.

Deep water with hidden creatures.

I shake my head and step back, but no one here is asking me to do anything. It’s only Mom and me, arguing inside my head.

I don’t have to do it.

Auntie and Uncle can’t make me.

Dad won’t make me.

Mom won’t make me. But if I don’t, I’ll never find Mom’s next clue—won’t finish the challenge. It’ll be over, and I’ll have to tell Mom I couldn’t do it—that I couldn’t keep up, that I wasn’t smart enough—that I quit because I’m scared of things I can’t even see.

Dad’s voice echoes in my head. “You’ve got two weeks.”

Two weeks to figure it all out. Or two weeks to fail.

I’ve never failed a challenge yet. And I’m not going to start now. I squeeze Auntie’s shoulder. “I think I know what Mom’s clues mean.”

They watch me, Uncle grudgingly, Auntie expectantly.

I lift my chin and take a breath. “I need to help Uncle with his work.”