The Shark Whisperer (3 page)

The smell of dinner wafted into Tristan's bedroom making his stomach growl. He grabbed the pamphlet and headed for the door, really hoping they were not having fish for dinner. He took one last look at the aquarium. All the fish were now swimming about like normal, as if Tristan weren't even there.

2

BEHIND THE JUNGLE WALL

T
WO WEEKS AFTER
T
RISTAN
'
S FALL INTO THE
shark pool, he was headed for summer camp at the Florida Keys Sea Park. Ever since the incident—as his mother liked to call it—Tristan had become obsessed with all things shark. According to Susana, his sixteen-year-old sister, it was not an obsession at all. Rather, it was a clear case of possession by sharks. To Susana, the ocean was a dark, malevolent abyss. It contained only creatures that could eat, kill, or at least, seriously maim you. She was now convinced that sharks could also take over people's minds, or at least her klutzy brother's.

Tristan drove his parents crazy with questions. How many sharks are there? Where do they live? Do all fish think and see alike? Can sharks tell what we are thinking? Tristan's computer became shark central.
He Googled, Binged, and Yahooed sharks, shark life, shark types, shark history, shark food, and anything else shark-related. His mother took him to the local library to find books on sharks and the ocean. They even went back to the aquarium to learn more. Tristan was not allowed anywhere near the shark pool and several staff followed them for their entire visit, like security guards watching a convicted jewel thief at Tiffany's. But nothing seemed to quench Tristan's new thirst for knowledge about sharks. The opportunity to go to an ocean and marine life-themed summer camp seemed heaven-sent.

Tristan's parents packed a duffle bag and backpack for their son, wrangled their uncooperative daughter into the car, and headed to the Florida Keys. They drove south through the vast swamps of the Everglades, making a game of counting alligators in the canals next to the highway. They passed forests of green, bushy mangroves that had long, crooked, and orangey roots hanging down into the water. Tristan thought they looked like gigantic drinking straws. There were wide shallow bays the color of milky pea soup. Tristan and his family looked for herons, egrets, and the truly peculiar, but beautiful roseate spoon-bill—an astonishingly pink bird with pink feathers, pink legs, and a long gray spatula for a bill. Sometimes the road was just a narrow strip of land with the ocean to the east and Florida Bay to the west.

They reached Cranky Key in the late afternoon, after some six hours of driving. The island was about
four miles long and three miles wide. The only thing on it was the Florida Keys Sea Park. At the entrance, Tristan's parents stood wide-eyed and openmouthed. Susana even shut off her iPod.

Tristan stared ahead. “Awesome.”

The summer camp was part of the Florida Keys Sea Park—a water park, botanical garden, and aquarium all in one. At the entrance there was a beautiful archway built of white stucco, eco-friendly forest-green bamboo, and dark hardwood beams. It was heavily draped with the rich purple and pink flowers of bougainvillea plants. The blooms hung down like colorful garlands at Christmastime. In front of the arch was a fountain. At its center were three jumping dolphins carved out of shiny green stone. Every few minutes, water shot from the dolphins' blowholes. Looking through the archway into the park, Tristan's family could see winding streams, shallow blue pools, and trails amid lush tropical gardens. Several people were climbing up the zigzag stairs of a tower to jump onto a curving waterslide or ride a zip line across the park.

Then Tristan heard the screaming. It brought back some recent and not-so-fond memories. But this time the parents and children were yelling with joy and laughter, not shark-induced terror. At the park office, the Hunt family was given Tristan's welcome packet and directed to a walkway leading to the summer camp bungalows.

Tristan's mother read from an information sheet as they walked, “Welcome to Sea Camp. You're in the
Seasquirts bungalow. After unpacking there's a camp briefing at the dining hall, the Conch Café. Then . . .”

Susana leaned over to Tristan. “You're a Seasquirt. Isn't that cute?”

“Excellent,” Tristan replied. So entranced by his surroundings, he was completely unfazed by his sister's typical snarky remark.

To their right flowed a wide, meandering, and crystal clear stream with people floating by on inner tubes. To their left was a small waterfall and pool surrounded by hibiscus plants sporting giant red flowers. The pool was connected to another of the park's winding streams. As they watched, two young girls drifted by, snorkeling in the clear water.

“I touched it!” one of the girls yelled gleefully, pointing to a small velvety golden ray swimming by, its fins gracefully waving up and down. She popped up under the waterfall, waving happily to Tristan and his family, but was soon distracted by a school of bright yellow fish.

“Hope I get to go in there,” Tristan said.

“Yuck, who'd want to swim in there, probably full of germs, not to mention things that bite and sting,” Susana said.

“You're just jealous,” Tristan responded.

“You
are
nuts—certifiable.”

“Okay, kids. I'm sure it's safe,” their mother said hesitantly, looking to her husband for reassurance. Ever since the shark pool incident she'd kept a close eye on her son. Too close for Tristan, just the other day he asked if she was going to put him on a leash or
implant one of those pet-tracking devices under his skin. Scarily, his mother seemed to like that last idea.

A little further down the path they came to a wooden signpost with seven colorful arrows pointing in different directions. The top three arrows showed the way to the Wave Pool, Dolphin Lagoon, and Shark Alley. The bottom four arrows were labeled Bungalow Shore, Poseidon Theater, Rehab Center, and Conch Café. They headed in the direction of Bungalow Shore. Tristan stared wistfully down the path to Shark Alley.

The walkway brought the Hunt family to a high green wall, where a teenager stood holding a clipboard. She had sun-streaked blond hair pulled back in a high ponytail and seemed about the same age as Tristan's sister. She looked extremely fit and was wearing an aqua blue tank top with a matching pair of shorts, both of which had the shark and wave logo on them.

“Hello. I'm Jade. Welcome to camp,” she said perkily, her ponytail bouncing as she spoke.

“Hello young lady. This is our son, Tristan,” his mother replied, patting him on the head and pushing his hair back from his face. “He's a new camper.”

Tristan shrank at least several inches from embarrassment.

“Yes, I see,” Jade bubbled, looking down at her clipboard. “You must be Tristan Hunt.”

“Yup,” Tristan muttered, inching away from his mother's reach.

“Okay then. The bungalows for campers are just a short way past the wall. We'll get you all set up in your room.”

“Great, thank you,” Tristan's mother said. “We'll just go and help him unpack.”

“Oh, no need. I can help Tristan get settled in. You must have a long drive home.”

“Oh no trouble. We'd like to do it. You know, first time at the camp and all.”

“It's not a problem, really. We help new campers all the time. He'll be just fine,” Jade assured her, smiling sweetly.

“Ah mom, I think I can handle this,” Tristan said, giving his father a pleading look.

“Alyssa, looks like he's in good hands,” his father said while staring at his cell phone. “We have a long drive back, even if we only go halfway tonight. And besides, we need to find someplace where I can get a cell signal. I'm expecting an important call from the office.”

Jade took Tristan's duffle bag from his father. Tristan hugged his mother, who looked like someone was about to hit her with a bat or, at the very least, take away the air she was breathing.

“Seriously, be careful and call us anytime. Call, text, or e-mail every day if you want,” his mother urged.

With her earbuds back in and her head bobbing to some unheard beat, Susana piped in, “Oh mom, he'll be fine, unless of course he breaks a few bones or something.”

“SUSANA! How can you even say that?”

“Just kidding mom. Jeez, can't you take a joke?”

Tristan grabbed his backpack and turned to go with
Jade. As happened all too often, his feet and long legs got tangled while turning. Tristan spilled awkwardly to the ground.

Jumping up as fast as was humanly possible, he blurted out, “I'm fine, no problem. I'm fine.”

Susana shook her head. Tristan once again saw the look of disappointment in his father's eyes.

“Son, do
try
to be careful. And stay in touch, otherwise I'll have to tie your mother up to prevent her from driving back down here.”

“Cell service really isn't so great here,” Jade merrily interjected. “But we have a landline he can use once in a while.”

“I'll be fine and I'll try to call or e-mail, really.”

Tristan's father had to literally pull his mother away, just about dragging her back to the car. Tristan was sure there'd be scuff marks from her shoes as his father hauled her away.

“Bye. Be good,” his mother called out, teary-eyed.

Now just the two of them, Tristan stared at Jade more closely. He tried to hide it by leaning forward and letting several nearly nose-length strands of hair fall over his face. Even so, he suddenly felt flush like he'd gotten an instant sunburn. She was one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen and she moved with an athletic grace he could only dream of.

“Don't worry, parents are always like that the first time,” Jade said with a knowing and somewhat comforting smile.

“Uh-huh,” was about all Tristan could eek out.

“Okay. First thing you need to know is how to get through the jungle wall.”

“The jungle wall?” Tristan asked.

“It's meant to keep the regular folks out and let us in.”

“Regular folks?”

“You know, the park visitors—all those screaming kids and their parents. Don't get me wrong. They're okay and all. Help keep us going and doing what we do. But we don't want 'em snooping around and bugging us all the time.”

“Uh, okay,” Tristan said, wondering what in the world she was talking about. It was an ocean and marine life-themed
summer camp
. There'd probably be silly arts and crafts, running games he'd be worse than horrible at, hopefully some snorkeling, and greasy cardboard-tasting food that slid off the plate.

Tristan moved closer to the tall green barrier ahead. He quickly realized what she meant by jungle wall; it was actually a dense thicket of intertwined plants. There were vines as thick as the rope Tristan had attempted to climb in gym class and some had seriously nasty thorns. They were twisted, curled and snaked around massive tree trunks that resembled long, smooth elephant legs. Tristan thought they'd need a chainsaw to get through or even better, a bulldozer.

“The trick is you just need to know where to step. If it recognizes you, the wall will let you through.”

Tristan looked at the girl like she had vines coming
out of her head. “How could the wall, I mean the jungle, know me?”