chattering like an otter.
I shake myself back to the present and focus on Gramps.
A faraway look in his eyes, he leans back in his chair, takes a deep breath, and begins. “Richard and I were out fishing. The night before there’d been a terrible storm. We found her clinging to the side of the boat.”
My mind drifts while he tells the story, remembering the parts he’s leaving out. That mom was a lab rat. She never knew where the lab was or whom it belonged to: the government or a private investor. She was either stolen or an orphan. They altered her germ line by adding dolphin DNA. The germ line that was passed on to me.
Without thought, I rub the blowhole between my shoulder blades. I focus on Gramps.
“She was fourteen and your dad was seventeen. They looked at each other and that was that. I don’t know who fell in love with her first, Richard or your grandma. We raised her like one of our own. The only one who never considered her a family member was your daddy and he married her.”
“And they were happy,” I prompt, my elbows resting on the table, my chin in my hands.
“I’ve never seen anyone happier.” He rolls pasta on his fork and pops it in his mouth. He chews and swallows before saying softly, “We were all happy.”
Poor Gramps. I know he misses Grams and his children. Grams died five years ago. She went to sleep one night and never woke up. I reach over and squeeze his hand. “You still got me, Gramps.”
He rolls his hand over and grasps mine. “I sure do. You’re the joy of my life. I’m a lucky man.” He drops my hand. “Now finish eating and get out there and save the ocean world.”
“Why do you think they picked Mom?” I asked around a mouthful of pasta.
He taps his fingers together and looks into the distance. “I don’t know. But if I was to guess, I’d say at some point they saw her swim when she was little more than a toddler. Whoever did that to her would have wanted someone with an affinity for the ocean.” The faraway look in his eyes disappears and he slaps his palms against the table. “Get going, girl.”
I wolf down my food and carry my dirty dishes to the sink.
“Leave them. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Gramps.” I hurry to my little room at the end of the hall and step out of my offending clothes. Under them, I’m wearing a bright turquoise two-piece. I take a quick look in the mirror. Satisfied, I trot out of my room and down the hall. “Bye.” I let myself out the door and jump off the deck into thick blades of grass that tickle my feet.
A few yards behind the house is the edge of the cliff. I wrap my toes around the rocky ledge and push off. The wind pulls at me as I bullet through the air. The water barely splashes when I hit it and go straight down. I pull into a ball, turn in a circle then stretch out my arms and cut through the water. It ripples around me, warm and smooth as a lover’s caress. I push to the surface and chuff to blow water out of my crescent-shaped blowhole, before diving back down. My eyes adjust to the clear dark water. My hair floats out around me.
Multi-color coral catches my eye. Entranced, I circle it. Water ripples. I whirl sharply. That’s when I see the fins.
Chapter 4
I turn right. A dark fin circles. I turn left and see another, and another. The circle closes around me, coming closer and closer. A gray shadow dives beneath me and shoots toward the surface.
I wrap my arms around the friendly dolphin and giggle in delight, bubbles dotting the water. The other dolphins circle and dive around us. We frolic, playing hide and seek between the glittering coral reefs. A school of bright yellow fish glides by. Startled, they scatter.
We swim around a mile out when the dolphins begin to chatter, making whistling sounds. I listen, then hear it too, a pod of blue whales heading toward the shallows, no doubt following krill.
I have to get the whales turned around before they hit the shoal. I swim toward them. My dolphin friends trail behind. The whales’ song becomes stronger. If the situation weren’t so dire, I’d enjoy listening to them. This group is happy. When they finally come in sight, I swim back and forth in front of them. Their massive bodies dwarf me. They slow and watch me curiously.
The dolphins chatter, their fins swinging from side to side, swishing cool salty liquid. In response, the lead whale lobs the surface. The wave knocks me up and out of the water. I land with a loud splash.
The dolphins circle me chattering in agitation.
I shake myself and head back toward the whales. The whale that caused the small tsunami noses me in apology. I pat him and swim past, careful of his tail.
The dolphins continue to chatter. The whales respond, roll on their sides, turn around, and swim back toward the ocean.
I blow bubbles out my mouth and manage a credible chatter. The dolphins chirp back at me.
The rest of the night passes uneventfully. Around one-thirty, I remember my English Lit paper. I take one more cruise around the bay then head home.
It takes me two hours to write the darn thing. I proof it and slip into bed. The alarm beeps insistently less than three hours later. “Nooo.” I pull the pillow over my head, already drifting back to sleep.
“Honey, it’s time to get up. If you don’t, you’ll be late for school.” Gramps raps his knuckles against the door.
“Coming.” Resigned, I unbury my head.
His footsteps disappear down the hall.
I stretch like a cat, get up, stumble to my tiny bathroom, and throw water on my face. With short, impatient strokes, I gather my hair back before I throw on my clothes. With great reluctance, I put on my glasses. I grimace in disgust at my appearance. I look more like a mouse than a dolph-girl. Oh well. Even Superman had his mild-mannered, nearly invisible counterpart: Clark Kent.
My mood lightens exponentially as I open the door and smell the seductive scent of pancakes and fresh-brew. Of their own accord, my steps hasten to the kitchen.
“Thanks. This looks wonderful.” A stack of pancakes on a plain white plate, orange juice, and a steaming cup of coffee sit on the table. I slide into my chair.
“Eat up.” He stands at the stove. Batter pops and hisses as he ladles it into a cast-iron skillet.
My stomach rumbles. Gramps doesn’t have to ask me twice. Swimming the sea burns an unbelievable amount of calories. I have the appetite of a football player and never gain an ounce.
I suck down a fluffy hot stack swimming in butter and maple syrup, grab my books, and head for the door.
“Have a good one. Did you get your homework done?” Gramps scoops flapjacks out of the skillet and sits down to eat his breakfast.
“Sure did. You have a good one, too.” I blow out the door and hop in my truck. The engine rumbles to life. A white puff of smoke sputters out the tail pipe as I head for school.
I chug into the parking lot and have the satisfaction of seeing Fahrenbacher blanch as I pull alongside his sleek
