Cry of the Sea (20 page)

“Give me that phone,” Mrs. Slater said,
grabbing it from the meek lady’s hand. She immediately began
yelling at the poor dispatch person. I used that moment to sit back
in my tiny desk and pop off a text to my dad about what was going
on and added the warning that I might lose my phone at any
minute.

A burst of noise exploded in the hallway of
the school so loud it penetrated the glass walls of the office as
the doors opened. In walked the volunteer, Regina, and Principal
Mains. The principal patted the air in front of them for the
reporters to calm down and then closed the door behind him. A
moment later he stepped into the front office.

“What is going on out there?”

Mrs. Slater hung up the phone. “I have the
police coming.”

He noticed me in the back corner and then
said to Mrs. Campbell, ignoring the Vice Principal, “Would you call
the parents of these girls please? They need to come and escort
their daughters out of here and decide what they are going to do
about all this press outside.”

I stood up and cleared my throat. “My mom’s
probably on a plane, and my dad’s probably in the middle of his own
mess at the beach. Could someone else pick me up and take me to
him?”

Mr. Mains’s forehead creased as he considered
that.

“I’ve got my own car,” Regina said.

“You two will never get to it,” he said. He
paused for a moment as he considered the problem. “Let’s get one of
your friends who has a car here to go get it and meet you both at
the cafeteria entrance. I’ll escort you there, and you should be
able to get out without too much attention. Call me when you are
clear of the building, so I can do something about these vultures
outside.”

“But Mr. Mains...” Mrs. Slater said. “I’ve
got Miss Sawfeather under suspension.”

His eyes grew wide with anger. “You what? For
what?”

“Truancy.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his thick
brown hair. Mr. Mains was young for a high school principal,
probably ten years younger than Mrs. Slater, at least. As fake as
she was with her spiky dyed hair, he was all natural. He had a
touch of gray around his sideburns and in his eyebrows, and wore
tweed blazers with Dockers instead of suits. Everyone liked him
because he used to be a school therapist before going into
administration and he was known to be really fair. Like right
now.

“You do know
why
Juniper has been out
of school, right?” he asked. “It’s been in the news.”

“You don’t believe any of that hogwash, do
you?” she asked, her hands on her plump hips, talking up to the
tall man like a fourth grader with attitude.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “It doesn’t
matter if I believe in mermaids or not. I do believe there was an
oil spill, however, and if her family needs her to help with the
ramifications of that I see no reason to prevent her from doing her
part. Both of these ladies are Honors students. I’m not exactly
worried about them falling behind.” He leaned over to put his face
right in front of hers and said in a very low voice, “And if you
haven’t noticed, all of those reporters out there believe at least
something about her story. Our students can’t safely exit this
building until those folks are gone.”

“Yes sir,” she responded, her eyes nearly
slits. I imagined she’d be throwing darts at a picture of him after
hours as she drank gin and tonics and wondered for the thousandth
time why he got promoted over her.

He took Mrs. Slater into his office where
their argument continued for a few minutes. Only her voice carried
through the door, though, because his was so calm and collected
compared to hers. While they went round and round about school
policy, we had Mrs. Campbell page Haley to come to the school
cafeteria. She would be able to get to her car without drawing any
attention from the press. Mrs. Campbell ran down there to meet her
and tell her the plan.

Mr. Mains emerged from his office and wiped
his hands together as if washing off something nasty. Behind him,
Mrs. Slater was so red in the face I thought she might explode. The
phone rang, and the poor little volunteer mom picked it up.

“Hello? Um, no. She’s in class at the moment.
We aren’t allowing any reporters...” Mrs. Slater grabbed the
receiver and slammed it down on the base. Mr. Mains shot her a
warning look, and she stared right back at him with some serious
contempt.

I felt kind of bad about being responsible
for the drama happening between them and hoped that it would boil
over soon, but I had a feeling this rift was about more than just
me. It kind of looked like this wouldn’t end until one of them was
fired or dead.

Mr. Mains guided Regina and I out of the
front office away from the staring reporters at the windows and
down the hall toward the cafeteria. Five minutes later we were
driving down the road in Haley’s car and laughing so hard we could
barely breathe. Haley had to pull over into the mini-mall parking
lot until we calmed down.

“So what do we do now?” Haley asked, through
her subsiding giggles. She turned her head to me for an answer.
Regina leaned forward between the seats and expected an answer from
me too. Suddenly it wasn’t all that funny anymore. My heart thumped
in my chest like I’d forgotten my lines in a play. I really didn’t
know what to do next.

Chapter
Thirteen

We all got out our cell phones and got busy.
Haley called the school to let them know we were safely away from
campus. Regina texted Marlee, Gary, and Ted and told them to ditch
school at lunchtime and meet at her house. “Well, you can’t go to
your house,” she explained to me when I asked what she was doing.
“The press will be waiting for you there.”

I ignored her for the moment and called my
dad. He said the same thing as Regina about going home. He didn’t
want me there without him and mom. “Are you coming home then?” I
asked him.

“I can’t,” he said. “The beach is packed with
people. I have to try to keep them away from the water and the
damage from the oil. I don’t have enough help here at all.”

“Do you want me to come there?” I asked.

“No. It looks like a storm is brewing, and
I’m hoping that’ll chase some of them indoors.” He paused. “Can you
get hold of Carter?”

“I don’t think he’s speaking to me right
now.”

“Oh, well, that’s unfortunate. I could use
him out here.”

“I’ll text him and see if he can join you.”
Regina and Haley were done with their calls, and the motor was
still running on the car. I needed a plan. “Dad, we have to talk to
the reporters at some point.”

“I know,” he grunted. “Your mom will be at
the airport soon. Why don’t you go to her office and meet her
there?”

Regina didn’t take the news that I wanted to
be dropped off at my mom’s office downtown very well. “Why can’t we
stay with you? I thought we were a team?”

“Look Regina, you’ve done enough already,” I
told her. “I don’t know what you were saying to the reporters in
front of the school, but you shouldn’t have been out there at all.
This really isn’t your business.”

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” She got out of the car
and slammed the door. Then she opened Haley’s door and said, “Come
on!”

Haley switched off the ignition and pulled
her keys as Regina tugged her arm to get her out of the car. Before
Regina slammed that door too, she said, “Get there on your own!”
And they left me sitting in the passenger seat of Haley’s car as
they walked into the Espresso Café.

I sat for a moment, wondering if I should
follow them inside, tell them I’d changed my mind, and invite them
to be part of whatever was going to happen with my mom this
afternoon. My mom’s pretty imposing. They wouldn’t get away with
much in her presence. They’d probably be sorry they tagged along as
they sat in the corner bored to death.

Only Mom was still on the edge with me, and
I’d only just earned back a fraction of respect from her. I didn’t
want to test her patience. I didn’t want to blow it again with her
so soon. It would be better to come without the teenage
sidekicks.

Plus, didn’t Regina just set up for her whole
entourage to meet her at home? I really didn’t want Marlee, Gary,
and Ted along as well. That would be popular kid overload, and my
brain could explode from the weirdness of it all.

So, I got out of the car, slipped on my
backpack and closed the door behind me. A beep of the car doors
locking assured me that Haley was just on the other side of the
darkened windows of the shop watching me. I walked away from the
café toward the grocery store, not quite sure what to do now. I
texted Carter my dad’s request for assistance at the beach but
didn’t dare ask him to pick me up. I considered leaving a message
for my mom to come get me after she landed, but that would be a
long time from now, and the inconvenience would irritate her. In
the store I grabbed a soda and a candy bar and walked up to the
counter. When I reached into my pocket for some cash, I pulled out
a business card.

Problem solved.

Ten minutes later I was seated in the Channel
4 News van beside Juarez Peña and his cameraman, one of those beefy
bald guys with a goatee named Chuck Emory, who squatted behind our
seats and kept his balance by holding both of our headrests. I
think he refused to sit back in case he needed to grab his camera
for a quick shot. Both of them grinned like they’d won some big
prize, and Peña clobbered me with questions.

“I can’t answer anything until my mom gets
here,” I told them several times. “I promise you that you will get
the story first, but you’ll have to wait.”

At last it clicked that they weren’t going to
squeeze anything out of me, so Peña relaxed and just drove out of
the parking lot. I saw Haley and Regina run out of the coffee house
waving their cell phones to get my attention. I ignored them and
turned my phone to silent.

Chuck finally settled back in his seat. I
didn’t hear a seatbelt click, though.

“I’ve wanted to meet your parents in person
for a while,” Peña said. “I’m very impressed by their work. Do you
think your dad will join us?”

“He’s pretty busy working.”

“With the mermaids? And where would that be
again?”

“Nice try.”

Both of the men laughed, and then Peña gave a
little sigh. “I give up,” he said. “You want some lunch?”

We got some fast food, since we had time to
spare, and he was very good about not asking me anything else about
the mermaids or oil spill. Instead, he commented on my name. “Which
tribe is Sawfeather?”

“Chinook,” I answered. “A coastal tribe of
the American Northwest. We are famous for our canoes and totem
poles.”

“Why canoes?” Chuck asked through a mouthful
of hamburger. “What’s interesting about that?”

Before I could answer, Peña spoke up. “Most
of the American Indian tribes in this region were whalers. They
made canoes out of cedar wood and rowed them into the ocean to kill
orcas.”

I nodded. “That’s right. How did you know
that?”

Peña smiled. “I’m part American Indian too.
The Lummi of the San Juan Islands.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it. “Your name
is Spanish though. Double Spanish actually, since you have two last
names.”

He laughed. “I know. I still haven’t forgiven
my mother for that. She insisted that her maiden name be my first
name. But yeah, my Spanish ancestors invaded Washington, and it was
common for many of the men to take American Indian wives because
they were the only women in the region. So, way down deep, I still
have some of that heritage, and I’ve made it a point to learn about
it.”

“Interesting,” I commented before taking a
long drink from my soda. Wow, I really didn’t want to get this guy
and my dad together in a room. It would be blah, blah, blah
city.

Chuck waved his right hand as if to erase all
of the family history stuff away and get back to what was more
interesting to him. “Are you saying they tried to kill killer
whales from canoes? Were they crazy?”

“No,” both Peña and I said almost too
defensively.

“It was dangerous, to be sure,” Peña said,
“but they had no choice. They needed the meat and blubber.”

I tried to suppress the thought as it came to
me, but it blurted out anyway: “My dad tells this old story about
killer whales and a mermaid.”

“Oh!” Peña cried out. “Is it the legend of
the American Indian fisherman who was thrown overboard and instead
of drowning was magically transformed into a killer whale? I love
that story!” He leaned across the little yellow table toward Chuck.
“They say that’s why there are so many orcas in the straits of
Georgia and Juan de Fuca around the islands. One of the islands is
even named Orcas, and there are sightings all the time.”

“Sounds like a day trip is in my future,”
Chuck said. “If I ever get a day off.”

Peña waved a French fry at him like a teacher
with a pointer. “The best time to go is in August for the
Potlatch.”

“Pot Luck?” He grinned madly. “I’m in for
that!” He ate his second hamburger.

“No, the
Potlatch
.” Peña corrected.
“It was an old tradition when all the tribes of that region would
get together to celebrate the peace between them by making
offerings to the sea. They went out in canoes and dropped handmade
items like necklaces, headbands, shawls, and things like that into
the water as gifts to the sea spirits that kept them alive. Just a
couple years ago a few of the American Indians from the islands got
together and decided to start up the tradition again. It’s become a
huge festival week, and tourists come from all over.”

He lost me somewhere around “old tradition”,
and I only half listened. When he finished, I said, “Sounds like
something my parents would like.”