Strong Like the Sea, стр. 51
I clench my fist and scan the water. Clear waves in front and whitecaps off to my right should mean I’m close enough to Hukilau to miss the reef, but still, I can’t be sure. Was that flash a blue bubble? No, just sunlight reflecting on the water. But what if I’m wrong? What if there are eels and tentacles and things waiting just out of sight?
The bag sinks lower, and I bite my lip. All my notes. All my work—can I let it go? If I lose it now, I’ll never have time to do it all again, and Lowen will win the award for sure.
No report means no grand prize. No photo to go on the wall beside Mom’s award pictures—and I need to be in that picture. People say, ‘like mother, like daughter,’ but it takes a lot to be like Mom. She’s extraordinary, but I’m just me, ordinary Alex. Winning is the only way I can be sure I’m good enough. Without that report, any hope for the grand prize sinks right here with my backpack.
I try to pretend it’s no big deal, that it doesn’t matter to me—except it does.
“Go get it,” I order, more to myself than Sarge. This should be easy. It’s so close, I can swim it in less than a minute. Maybe even walk out and grab it without swimming at all! I can see the bottom below it—nothing but sand. Am I really going to let my report go because I won’t walk across sand with a little water on top? “You can do this.”
A couple rollers rush across the surface and dunk my bag.
Once,
twice,
three times.
My bag flips under the water.
Lower and lower.
What does the bag mean to me? The question jumbles in my head and changes into, “What does Mom mean to me?”
Everything.
Sarge hops beside me as I retreat above the waterline and set my slippers on the sand with my hat, phone, and glasses carefully tucked in the middle. If I lose this pair, all I’ve got left is swim goggles.
Keeping an eye on the shrinking brown blur that is my backpack, I slosh into the water.
It’s not so bad—not by the reef. Just a little farther, I chant inside my head. Like a swimming pool. Not by the reef. No place for things to hide and jump out at me. Every time I start to freeze up, the blurry, sinking backpack spurs me forward again. It’s not that far. Just a little ways. Not in the reef. Nowhere near the reef.
Still ten feet away from the bag, waves steal my breath as the ground drops away and water swells up to my armpits. A wave breaks against my face, and then there’s nothing beneath my pointed toes.
Another wave hits me and I strike out swimming. Images of eels and urchins and hidden things fill my head, but the backpack is so close. Just in and out. Not far. I imagine clear sand beneath me and cling to that picture as I close the last few feet.
My backpack sinks all the way under, and I reach with my next stroke to grab it, then spin around and kick for shore. Is that a shadow below me? Something big and dark crosses between me and the sand. Maybe I’m imagining it, or maybe not. I kick harder until my fingers curl against the sandy bottom and I rise from the waves and scramble to my feet.
Dripping wet, I stalk to my pile of things on the sand and scowl at Sarge, who trots alongside me with happy splashes like that was the most fun ever.
The backpack zipper sticks the first time I tug, and I hold my breath until it releases, revealing a mostly dry bag. A tiny dribble of water pools in the bottom corner, and I tip the bag to pour it out.
A tight knot in my gut lets go all at once and I sigh. It’s okay. I’m okay. I made it.
“Huff, huff!” Sarge barks as he prances around me splashing and wagging his tail.
“You stink,” I growl, but he nudges my hand with his nose until I scratch his ears. “I don’t forgive you,” I tell him, and his tongue rolls out in a delighted doggy smile. As we walk back to the yard, he stays by my side, nudging my hand for more pets.
How can I stay mad at that?
My phone buzzes with a text from Malia: So sorry! I fell asleep. U need me at Uncle’s?
With my bag secure on my back, I stare at the words. If she had been there for me, I wouldn’t have missed the bus. I could have the clue figured out by now . . . except then I wouldn’t have been able to help Uncle. I thumb a reply: No. Thnx. Already done. U okay?
The three bubbles appear and disappear a few times as she types a response, but when it comes, it only says: I will be.
Tomorrow I’ll corner her at school and see what that means, but for now, it’s enough to just put one foot in front of the other. By the time I make it back to Uncle’s beach, my legs wobble and all my energy leaks away—lost somewhere between here and the shallow waves filled with imagined shadows.
I focus on one foot in front of the other, my hand fisted in Sarge’s thick fur as he pulls me home. At the edge of Uncle’s yard, where the beach creeps into the grass beside the bushes, I slump onto the warm sand and tuck my backpack under my head for a pillow.
Dad always said a few minutes in the sun could recharge his batteries, maybe that’s all I need too. A little recharge, only a minute and I’ll be fine. I won’t even close my eyes.
I yawn, and Sarge lies down between me and the people cleaning farther