talking to them out of the blue. After all, they had run into her, nearly plowed her down in fact. Tristan didn’t know what to say. As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about his ability to make conversation.
“Where are you from? Me, I’m from Maine. The water there is really cold and there’s lots of lobster. People come from all over to eat them. There aren’t any fish like in the streams here. Did you see the dolphins in the lagoon? Isn’t this awesome? What did you say your names were?”
“I’m Tristan and he’s Hugh.”
“I’ve never been snorkeling. Have you? Can’t wait to do it. And a wave pool, that is soooo cool.”
“Yeah, should be awesome,” Tristan said, looking at Hugh and wondering how she could talk so fast and breathe at the same time.
“Wonder when we’ll get to go in? Hope it’s tomorrow. Though I don’t really want to go with Rosina. Who else is in your room? Hey, how did you get all wet? Where did you say you’re from?”
Tristan just looked at her, his mouth slightly agape. He wasn’t sure which of her questions to try to answer before she started talking again.
Sam laughed awkwardly. “Sorry ‘bout that, I kinda talk a lot when I get nervous.”
“Kinda a lot?” Tristan asked with a grin.
Sam shrugged and they all laughed, then headed to the Poseidon Theater.
It was dark inside the secret room hidden between the Poseidon Theater and the Conch Café. The only light came from the images on the flat screens mounted on the walls and spread out on the curved table at the front.
“It looks like it’s in the Bermuda Triangle area again,” Jade said.
“Jade, I’ve told you several times. Please do not call it that,” Director Davis instructed.
“Okay, well, word is that there’s something happening in the Bahamas,” Jade responded, pointing to a screen where a satellite image of the Bahamas showed an area outlined in red. There was a wishbone-shaped series of small islands in the middle of the highlighted region.
“Anything more specific? What about you Flash, any word from the net?” Director Davis asked, directing his question to a curly-haired African American boy sitting in a swivel chair at the front table.
The boy’s fingers flew over several keyboards as he talked. “Director, I’m patched in and sources in the region tell us that there’ve been several blasts in the area, a subsea sandstorm, and several pilot whales have been injured.”
“Any idea on the cause? Is it a military exercise?”
“Doesn’t appear to be, usually they let us know on those ahead of time.”
“Should we send a team in?” Jade asked eagerly.
“Not so fast,” the director responded. “I’d like to get a little more information before we rush in, especially now. Tap into the satellites and ocean observing buoys. And see if the seismic instruments have picked anything up. I’ll make a few calls.”
TRISTAN, HUGH, AND SAM WERE THE LAST TO arrive at the Poseidon Theater. The other new campers were already there, sitting on the tiered benches of the large half-roofed amphitheater. At the front was a large stage area with a shallow pool curving around it and behind that, were some tall reddish-tan rocks and greenery. The theater was eerily quiet and dark.
“So, are we, like, just supposed to sit here? Where’s that coach dude?” Ryder complained loudly.
Suddenly, a kaleidoscope of swirling lights lit up the stage and pool. From surround-sound speakers came a drumroll. A door in one of the rocks slid open and Coach Fred walked out. He was wearing a sparkly red sequined vest and camouflage pants. In his hand was a long three-pronged shimmering pole that closely resembled a rake with an overdose of glued-on glitter. Tristan couldn’t decide if he looked more like an odd military and Broadway musical hybrid or a cross between a soldier and circus ringmaster.
“And now to showcase the best and the brightest, the bravest of campers, let’s give a big Sea Camp hand for Rory,” he announced.
Tristan, Hugh, and Sam looked at each other, clearly all thinking the same thing.
“Is that the same guy as before?” Tristan whispered.
“It’s the same guy alright,” Ryder told them quietly. “I heard he’s ex-Navy, but always wanted to be in show business.”
“Ya think?” Tristan said.
From the top of the amphitheater came a loud, “Woohoooo!”
Tristan and the rest of the Seasquirts turned. An older boy, maybe seventeen or so, came flying down across the theater toward the stage. At first it seemed as if he was soaring impossibly through the air, but then they realized he was holding onto a clear handle sliding along a zip line. Just before reaching the stage he let go, did a backflip, and landed in the shallow pool.
A spotlight came on, focusing on the top of one of the rocks to the side of the stage. It must have been at least twenty feet high. Another older camper, this time a stocky girl with dark hair, leapt up from behind some plants, looked at the Seasquirts, and did a graceful swan dive into the pool.
The two teens swam in tandem underwater at an unnaturally fast pace and then leapt impossibly high into the air and somersaulted. Afterward, they jumped out of the water, landing perfectly right next to Coach Fred.
“So, what did you think of that? Give a big hand for Rory and Carmella.”
The Seasquirts clapped weakly, too stunned to put much feeling into it.
“Thanks guys. And for our next act, notice Rusty here swimming lazily in the water,” Coach said, pointing to a lighted area and the red-haired boy Tristan and Hugh had seen earlier at the jungle wall. He was doing an exaggerated breaststroke with his head out of the water swimming slowly across the pool.
“Easy to see isn’t he?”
The white lights illuminating the pool went dark for just an instant then colored spotlights swirled across the water. The boy vanished. The white lights came back on and there he was still swimming slowly across the pool.
“Want to see that again?”
“Yeah,” someone shouted.
Tristan squinted his eyes and kept them trained on the spot where Rusty was swimming. But as soon as the colored spotlights came on, he lost sight of him. Yet, when the lights came back
