Strong Like the Sea, стр. 50
By the time the boys leave, everything by Tanakas’ yard is bagged and in the rubbish bins by the front gate. All that’s left is a streak of micro-plastics speckled in a wavy line across the sand.
With kitty-litter scoops, Tehani, Naya, and I shovel bright patches of scattered plastic and shake it so clean sand falls through while bits of plastic stay caught. Sort of like panning for gold, except the prize is a bucket of junk and a clean beach.
Naya might be extra big and strong, but after lifting and dragging all the heavy stuff with Kase, she starts to slow down. So I run into the house and grab some cheese sticks and sweet bread out of the kitchen to refuel. Snacks make everything better, and we talk while Naya and Tehani pull the cheese apart. I sit and nom on the sweet bread, but stuff the cheese stick in my pocket for later.
We fill half a bucket with the tiny colored bits and bottle caps before Tehani and Naya have to go work on their reports, which is probably what I should do since I can’t go to Kailua anyway.
There’s still lots to do up and down the beach, but I think Uncle will be happy with what we did when he gets back from the doctor. Good thing he went, too. I’ve seen him grumpy gobs of times, but never with his face all red and his hands shaking so hard like that. He sure didn’t look good. Maybe he needed more of that noni tea?
With a last look around, I dump the bucket into the bin, the pieces rattling all the way down inside to the bottom. That done, I jog to the sitting logs and reach for my backpack. “Bye, Sarge. Uncle will be back soon.” I hope.
But when I try to swing my backpack onto my shoulder, Sarge is faster. He catches the strap in his teeth, stealing it right out of my hand!
“Hey, bring that back!” I grab for it but miss.
Tail wagging, Sarge prances backwards, my bag dangling from his jaws.
I wrinkle my nose as a line of dog drool drips down the strap and across the bag.
Good thing it’s waterproof, but still.
“Drop it.” I point at the ground. When I packed my stuff this morning, I was imagining a dry bus ride, not a slobbery game of keep-away. “My whole report’s in there. I’m not playing.”
But Sarge thinks we are, so every time I lunge for the bag, he leaps out of my reach and wags his giant tail like crazy, flinging sand and water drops all over. He’s so goofy, it’s hard to be mad when he only wants me to stay and play.
“Give it.” I sprint to the side, but he whirls and dashes toward the beach. “Hey, wait!”
My half-smile crumbles as Sarge bounds right over the waterline and into the ocean.
Splashing gleefully, he shakes my bag, tossing it like a cat playing with a mouse. He looks toward Hukilau then back at me, his feet dancing with excitement at our new game.
“Don’t you dare!” I shake a finger at him, and he shoots off through the shallows, streaking up the beach. My bag flaps up and down with every bound as water streams behind him.
Great. “Stop! Not funny!”
I try to watch for blue bubbles as I jump over nets and dodge empty jugs. For once, I’m glad I got my slippers. A few houses away, he waits for me belly-deep in the water. Waves lap at my bag and he gives it another playful shake. Sure, it’s supposed to be waterproof, but I’ve only ever tested it against rain.
“Sarge, stay.” I try to sound like Auntie. “Big lug! You give it back, eh?” Hand outstretched, I ease closer while he watches me with a doggy grin. No blue bubbles on the water, and no shadows under the waves, but the ocean has fooled me before.
One step into the water, then two. My heart skips along, beating faster than Sarge’s tail.
“Got it!” My fingers graze the bag, but he jerks it with him and plunges along the shore into deeper water. His white and black coat spreads out, floating around him as he paddles away, my bag bobbing in the water beside him.
“No!” I grab the rim of my hat and pull it down hard, thinking fast. “No, no, no! My backpack—my report! Sarge, please!”
I pat my pockets frantically, pull the cheese stick out, and hold it up. “Look Sarge, cheese! Want cheese?”
Please come back, please, please!
Out in the surf, Sarge turns and swims parallel to the beach, his eye on me as I unwrap the cheese and waggle it high for him to see.
“Yummy cheese. Bring it back and I’ll trade you!” I try not to think of what might happen if there’s a hole in the bag. My notes could be soaked already. “Come here, Sarge. See the cheese?”
Paddling faster, Sarge turns toward shore, but in his hurry, he lets my backpack go.
“No!” I run till water splashes halfway up my calves and point behind him. “My bag! Come on, boy. Go get it!”
Ignoring my pleas, he torpedoes right for me, jowls billowing with every leap in the waves. His feet touch down and he shakes, a hurricane of water drops flying from nose to tail.
I cringe, closing my eyes for a split second—but it’s too late, his tongue slurps the cheese from my grasp in one quick gulp. Thick slobber drips from my hand.
My poor backpack bobs on the waves more than thirty feet away, but with every wave that dashes over top, it sits lower in