The Shark Rider (8 page)

Hugh was frozen still, his eyes the size of baseballs.

Okay, maybe another time. Heard what you did for that bull shark. Nice work
.
Hey, did you hear about the fish and stuff dying? Sounds bad. You guys going to investigate?

Tristan told the shark that they just arrived and hadn't heard anything about any fish dying. He then told the others what Snaggle-Tooth had said.

“Ask him where,” Sam suggested.

Tristan conversed with Snaggle-Tooth for a few more minutes before the shark swam away.

“He wants to go find some other people to show his teeth to,” Tristan told them.

“Hope he doesn't run into any new campers or, like, normal people,” Hugh said. “Talk about freaking out. Would've scared me out of the water
forever
.”

“So what about the fish dying? Where is it?” Sam asked.

“Snaggle-Tooth said he doesn't know much, but it's near some island named Virgin Gorda. Never heard of it.”

“Well, we should probably tell the director,” Sam suggested.

“We can tell him at dinner,” Tristan said, and the others nodded.

“Hey, Hugh, want to try to find a seahorse or something to see if you can still do the camouflage thing with your skin?” Sam asked.

“No, that's okay. Maybe tomorrow.”

Just then, a thin, dark brown bird popped up nearby. Something small and tan was wiggling in its short, yellow bill. Tristan looked closer. The bird had an orange face, and in the afternoon sun its eyes resembled glowing emeralds. He'd seen similar birds diving in the lagoon last year.

As Tristan and the others watched, the cormorant shook its head, trying to find a way to swallow its squirming catch. Eating got a whole lot harder when a seagull homed in on the cormorant's prize. The gull swooped down and pecked at the bird's bill to dislodge its wriggling meal. The cormorant paddled away, trying to dodge its attacker.

Tristan felt bad for the bird. He knew how it felt to be bullied. Then things then got even worse for the poor cormorant. The seagull landed right on top of its head. The cormorant shook itself to dislodge the seagull, but the bird stayed put, wavering like someone trying to balance on a tightrope. To get rid of its feathery headdress, the cormorant then whipped its head back. The seagull took flight, but the cormorant's catch also went flying, straight into Rosina's face.

“Aargh!” she shouted, stepping back and swatting the air by her face. The bird's wiggling catch was now floating in the water in front of her.

Sam jumped in to prevent Rosina from flinging it away. “Wait, what is it?”

Tristan looked down. It was soft, speckled, and about the size of a golf ball.

“Octopus,” Hugh said. “A baby, I think. Still alive, but hurt.”

“Let's take it to the Rehab Center,” Sam suggested.

The seagull hovered nearby. It squawked loudly at them, while the cormorant silently eyed the teens like they just stole the last very best meal of its life.

“What about the birds?” Rosina said. “They say they're hungry and that's a seriously good treat.”

“Oh, there's plenty more for them to eat,” Sam replied. “Look how cute this little guy is. I bet Doc Jordan can help him—or her.”

“Well, pick it up,” Tristan said to Hugh.

“You pick it up,” Hugh snapped back.

“
Boys
,” Sam said as she carefully scooped up the creature and ran from the shallow water to the beach. “Grab my stuff.”

Tristan and Hugh followed her.

“Wait for me,” Rosina shouted. “I have to apologize to the birds since you guys are all a bunch of wimpy do-gooders.”

“Tell them we'll bring a few scraps from dinner instead,” Tristan shouted back.

Rosina waved to the birds. “I'll be back with take-out.”

6

SURF'S UP

A
FTER DROPPING OFF THE BABY OCTOPUS AT THE
Rehab Center, the teens changed and made their way to the Conch Café for the first night's official welcome dinner. Tristan immediately noticed the latest young recruits sitting up front at the Seasquirt tables. They looked just as clueless as he did last summer.
Just wait,
he thought.

Director Davis tried out a few new jokes, which went over about as well as his old ones. He then introduced Coach Fred. The campers ate from the not-from-the-ocean buffet and drank lots of pink Sea Camp water. After dinner, the Snappers and Squids were directed to go to the Wave Pool for practice.

Before Director Davis left, he stopped at their table. “Looks like the twins, Julie and Jillian, won't be joining
us this summer. They're on a trip to Africa with their parents. Digging fossils, I believe. So it'll just be you five.”

The teens nodded.

Sam nudged Tristan.

“Oh, yeah,” Tristan said. “Uh, Director Davis.”

“Yes?”

“We ran into Snaggle-Tooth in the lagoon. He was showing us his teeth.”

“Yes, they are quite nice.”

“He also asked if we'd heard about some fish dying. Somewhere around an island, Virgin something.”

“Virgin Gorda,” Hugh added. “Where is that?”

The director paused noticeably before he spoke. “Virgin Gorda is in the British Virgin Islands in the northeastern Caribbean.”

“Snaggle-Tooth asked if we were going to investigate,” Tristan said.

“Starting with the questions already, are you? Well, there has been a report of a fish kill in the area. A colleague of ours is investigating. It's nothing for all of you to worry about. Besides, if I were you, I'd be much more concerned about getting to the Wave Pool before Coach Fred shows up.”

Tristan and the other Snappers turned to the Squid tables. They were empty. The older teens had already left for the Wave Pool. Not only were the Snappers behind, they also forgot that on the first night they got to dive in right after dinner. The group had to go back to the bungalow to change into their swimsuits. With barely a nod to the director, the teens sprinted for the
door, forgetting all about the dying fish and the island named Virgin Gorda.

By the time the Snappers got to the Wave Pool, the Squids were already diving through and riding two-foot waves. Thankfully, Coach Fred wasn't there yet. He was still at the show for new campers. Tristan watched as one boy did an impressive 360, spinning completely around on his stomach as he rode a wave in.

“Look, we kept the waves nice and small for you kiddies,” shouted the Squid who just did the 360. He was a stocky, dark-haired teen with thin lips and a flat, crooked nose that looked like it had been on the wrong end of a fist a time or two.

“Cute, dude,” Ryder shouted back. “Like, let's get some real waves in here and we'll see who surfs 'em better.”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “These are just fine.” She turned to Ryder and punched him in the arm. “Give us a break. We're not all,
like
, California surfing dudes.”

The Snappers joined the older Squids in the pool. Tristan, Hugh, Sam, and Rosina practiced how to swim through and ride the waves—nothing fancy. Ryder, on the other hand, took every opportunity to show off his jumping and surfing abilities. He leapt out of the waves and somersaulted. He glided atop the crests, swerving back and forth like a dolphin riding the wake at a ship's bow.

After a particularly long ride in, Ryder turned to the flat-nosed Squid. “Yo, like, let's see ya do
that
, Squid-boy.”

“Lame and tame,” the teen responded. “Check this out.” The boy dove into the pool, swam out, and came up on a wave about to break. He did another 360 on the cresting wave, this time twisting as he whirled around. He then streaked underwater to where Ryder was standing. “Now that's how it's done, pea brain.”

“Is that the best you've got?” Ryder asked.

“It is in
these
waves. We have to keep 'em small for you baby campers.”

Tristan was sick of the two boys' smack talk. He turned to Brianna. “Make the waves bigger so they can show off for awhile. Maybe that'll shut them up.”

“Yeah, do it,” another teen said.

Coach Fred had entrusted his bedazzled wave controller to the mocha-skinned girl who made Tristan go all googly-eyed. He tried not to stare at Brianna while she contemplated the buttons on the sparkly controller. With a smirk, she pressed one. The waves grew larger. Soon four-foot-high walls of water rolled through the pool. About halfway across, the waves steepened, curled over, and broke into a churning mass of whitewater.

Ryder and the Squid boy glared at each other and then dove into the pool. Tristan rapidly lost sight of them in the swirling whitewater. Minutes later, two heads popped up out by where the waves were breaking. The boys saw one another and ducked under.
They swam farther out until they were just beyond the breakers. They stopped, treaded water, and bobbed up and down. The two boys glared again at each other and then turned to watch as a wave approached. The Squid boy tried to shove Ryder out of the way to get the best position. But Ryder grabbed his ankle and pulled him briefly underwater.

Tristan and the others moved right to the water's edge to get a better view. As the next wave approached, the water began to rise under the boys. Side by side, they started kicking.

“What is going on here?”

Coach Fred strutted to where the startled teens stood on the beach. He was still in his camouflage pants and sparkly red sequin vest. “You are all supposed to be practicing, getting used to your webbed feet again.” He glared at Brianna. Avoiding eye contact, she handed over the controller.

Ryder and the Squid boy surfed in, but nobody was watching. Coach Fred had their full attention. When the boys' heads popped up in the shallow water next to the beach, Coach Fred waded in and grabbed each by the arm. “That'll be enough for tonight, boys.”

The Snappers made their way back to the bungalow. On the way, Sam leaned over to Hugh and Tristan to whisper, “One day, Ryder's big head is going to get him into trouble.”

7

SQUIDS VS. SNAPPERS

T
HE NEXT WEEK AT CAMP WAS SPENT TRAINING
hard. So hard, the teens had little time to think about potential spies; revenge-seeking, yacht-owning shark killers; or fish dying near some far-off island. Especially long hours were spent at Coach Fred's ocean boot camp. He set up buoys in the lagoon for the Snappers to swim around. He rigged floating lines they had to jump over or dive under. He placed weighted sticks on the bottom to see how fast the campers could find and recover them. And just to make it harder, he added some large, powerful, and very sneaky distractions—dolphins Toosha and Scarface. They sprinted by unexpectedly, cut off the campers, or playfully nipped at their toes. Rosina tried to fend off the dolphins by shooting slimy strands of mucus at them. After that,
they harassed her the most. The least disrupted was Sam. It seemed marine mammals were a little biased when it came to her.

In the swimming exercises, Tristan was the fastest, while Ryder excelled in anything that involved jumping. Sam always found the weighted sticks first—after all, she had her own undersea quick-find tool—echolocation. Hugh and Rosina were just happy to complete each challenge, especially with the dolphins involved. Coach Fred's boot camp was not where they shined. They did far better in sessions with Ms. Sanchez, when they worked on their communication skills and other talents.

One afternoon, when they arrived at the lagoon for what they thought was going to be another grueling session of ocean boot camp, the teens were surprised to find the Squids already there. It was the same group of campers who had been at the Wave Pool the first night. Coach Fred was standing on the dock holding two sets of colored neoprene vests, one red and one blue.

“Gather round, my little campers,” Coach announced. “Time for a friendly Sea Camp competition. It's an excellent means to strengthen your skills and show off your teamwork—
I hope
. I assume you've all had plenty of water today.” He stared pointedly at the teens.