Surrounded by Sharks (7 page)

Drew was waiting in line at the breakfast buffet. She was going to get one of those big meaty American meals she’d heard about. The smell of bacon wafted her way, and her stomach rumbled for it. She’d barely eaten anything since she’d arrived on the island. She was beginning to wonder if she ever would. So far all she had on her plate was silverware and a stiff cloth napkin. Her dad was talking to the guy in front of them and holding up the works.

“You can’t have just one slice of bacon!” said the man. He had some sort of accent. Drew ran through the different sorts of American accents she knew, all from movies or TV. She pegged this guy as either a cowboy or a redneck, possibly both.

“Now hold on a minute!” said her dad. “I’m watching my boyish figure!”

She could hear him making his own accent bigger, playing to his audience. She rolled her eyes.
Come on
, she thought.

“Well I’m sorry to say that horse has left the barn,” said the man. Now Drew was thinking cowboy, just because of the horse thing. Her father laughed. The “horse” was his boyish figure. It had gotten away. Boy, had it. Everything about Big Tony was big these days, and that included his stomach.

“That a Texas accent?” asked Big Tony.

“Louisiana,” said the man.

Drew wasn’t exactly sure where that was, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. Her dad would just pretend the guy was from Texas, anyway. She looked at the man. All he had on his head was a bald spot, but it would be a giant cowboy hat when her dad told the story.
This big bloke from Texas told me to have more bacon. Had to oblige before he drew his pistols!

She could reach the scrambled eggs from where she was, but she held off. If she put them on her plate now, they’d just get cold. She could already tell the other man was just like her father: a big talker. There was no telling how long this would go on. She let out a long sigh. It contained as much annoyance as air, but no one heard it. The man was talking again.

“How about you? That’s not a Liverpool accent you’re slinging around, is it?”

Oh no, now he’s done it
, thought Drew.

“I’m no bleeding Liverpudlian!” bellowed her father. She could practically hear heads all over the dining room turning to look. So embarrassing. “I’m a Mancunian to the core!”

“You live in … Manchester?” said the man.

Her father raised his eyebrows. He was impressed. “Just outside,” he said. “Manchester’s not a place you live. It’s a place you come from and go back to for football.”

Drew watched as the man nodded. She could tell he was still picking the words out of her dad’s thick accent.

“That’s soccer to you,” he added, but it wasn’t necessary.

“United or City?” said the man.

Here we go
, thought Drew.

“United!” thundered her dad. She risked a look over her shoulder. There weren’t that many people in the dining room yet, but they were all either looking over or, worse, making an effort not to. “When I die, my face’ll turn red, not blue!” her dad was saying, referring to the colors of the two teams.

Drew picked her plastic tray up off the metal railings. This had gone on long enough.

“Seen a few games myself,” said the man. “They show them here on —”

Drew dropped her tray down onto the railings.
BANG!

The man looked over. “Looks like the natives are getting restless,” he said.

Drew had no idea what that meant.

“This one’s always restless,” said her father. He reached over to ruffle her hair, but she ducked him. She wasn’t ten anymore! “This is my daughter, Drew.”

“David,” said the man. “I was just telling your old man here to have more than one slice of bacon.”

“You can bet I’m going to,” she said. Then she bumped her dad’s tray with hers.

The men laughed. Her dad took two more strips of bacon.

“There you go,” said David. And amazingly, there they went, filling up their trays with bacon and eggs, some sort of potato thing, and the odd piece of fruit.

“Come on over and sit with us,” said David, as they neared the end of the buffet. “My wife and I have that big table all to ourselves.”

“Right,” said her dad. “Go get your mum, will you, luv?”

Drew looked over at her mom, sitting alone at another table. She’d had the good sense to beat her husband to the buffet line and was already halfway done with her food. Drew headed over.

“Dad’s made a friend,” she said. “From Louisiana.”

Kate chuckled. “I heard.”

“Whole room did,” said Drew. But now that she had her food, she really didn’t mind. She waited as her mom gathered up her things. Then they went over and sat at the new table. Introductions were made all around.

Drew began eating immediately. The bacon was wonderful. She didn’t worry about talking. She knew it would be taken care of. There were two men at the table who very much enjoyed the sound of their own voices. She wondered who would go first. Maybe her dad would want to keep talking about Manchester United. It was by far his favorite topic.

But no, it was David who began. He wanted to talk about a missing boy.

“Just up and vanished from the room this morning, apparently,” said David. “Just gone. Poof! And now his parents are out circling the island, calling his name.”

“His name is David, too,” added the wife, Julia.

“Yes, that’s right,” said David. “Just a little guy. Very sad. His parents, even his little brother, they’re out there asking if anyone’s seen him.”

Drew put down her fork. More dropped than put down, actually. It clattered against the plate.

“Yes, luv?” said Kate.

Drew looked around the table and realized everyone was looking at her.

“Think I saw ’im,” she said.

Big Tony looked at the empty air ahead of him, as if he kept all his memories floating there. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said. He nudged Kate. “Remember?”

She nodded slowly and looked over at her daughter. “You’re right, luv,” she said.

But they were talking about two different boys.

Davey clung tightly to the water cooler bottle. It wasn’t that he thought it would go anywhere; it didn’t look like either of them would. It just felt reassuring to have something else that was solid in all this endless water. A little swell came and he let the bottle carry him up and down again. His legs hung down, pointing straight into the deep. The sun was hitting him square. It was hitting everything out here.

Now that he didn’t have to work constantly just to stay afloat, he could think more clearly. Mostly, he was thinking about rescue. He was sure his family had noticed he was gone by now. He was wondering if they would find his things on the beach, or if someone else would.

He ran over other ways that people might figure out what had happened to him. Someone else could get caught in the same rip current. It would have to be someone who knew what to do and could make it back to shore. Then they might report it. Then people might search the beach more closely, might find his things. Might, might, might.

The odds were bad. He knew that. He wasn’t stupid. But he floated there stringing together events that could lead to his rescue. He did it for the same reason he hugged the bottle. It was comforting. And if he thought about it hard enough, he could almost believe it.

He scanned the skies for rescue planes. He listened closely for a helicopter. For one amazing moment, he thought he heard one. But it was only the gentle churn and chop of the ocean.

He scanned the horizon. His eyes were too weak to see land in the distance. But now that he had something solid to hold on to, he thought he could feel himself drifting. Maybe he’d drift into range. Or maybe he’d see a boat. A big tanker, a fishing boat, a Navy ship … He wasn’t picky. But he saw nothing.

Davey was nearsighted, which meant he could see things close to him. He looked down and was surprised to see a little fish. It was the size of a goldfish, but a plain gray color. It was hanging in the water just in front of him, a foot or two below the surface. As he looked, he saw another. As he watched that one, he saw a third, partly hidden by his shadow.

“Little guppy guys,” said Davey. He was speaking mostly to himself, but to tell the absolute truth, partly to the fish. It came out as a raspy croak. He knew his mouth was dry, but he had no idea his voice was so bad. He gathered up some spit. It tasted like salt. Somehow, he’d even gotten some sand in his mouth.

He spat into the ocean. One of the fish came up to investigate.

“Gross,” said Davey, and he sounded better this time. He made a mental note to use his voice every now and then. He needed to keep it in working order in case that Navy ship arrived.

The fish dipped its head and flapped its tail, powering back down to its friends. Davey watched them for a while. He’d spotted a fourth now. They were hanging out under the water cooler bottle.
For the shade
, he thought,
or maybe the shelter
.

The truth is, small fish follow floating objects in the open ocean for both reasons. These ones had probably been following the bottle long before Davey showed up. But it was even better now. Much of the sunlight shined through the bottle, but Davey cast solid shade. And there were other advantages.

Davey felt a little tickle on one of his toes. He didn’t think much of it. He’d been in the water for a long time now, and his whole body felt a little weird. His fingers were beyond pruned. But then he felt another little tickle. He looked down through the crystal clear water and saw one of the little fish in front of his foot.

Davey pulled his foot away. The little fish advanced slowly, maintaining about an inch of distance. It looked like it was locked in a staring contest with his big toe. And then it swam up and took a quick nibble. Davey felt the familiar tickle.

“Dude!” he said.

He kicked his foot hard. The fish retreated, its tiny mouth still working on the flake of dead skin it had scavenged. The fish stayed under the bottle for a while, but a few minutes later he felt another tiny mouth at work. It was on his other foot this time. He couldn’t tell if it was the same fish or if that one had somehow told the others about the new restaurant in town.

He shooed them away, pumping the water cooler bottle up and down over their heads like a piston and unleashing a few quick, choppy kicks. The fish swam off in a little diamond formation.

They stopped a few feet away. They just hung there in the water. Fish are not the smartest creatures, and it was quite possible that they’d already forgotten the whole thing. Then one of them saw the bottle again. The bottle and the boy and the little floating island they formed.

They all swam back to it. This time they approached in an uneven line, two slightly ahead, two slightly behind, like pawns advancing up a chessboard. Davey pumped the bottle again — down, up, down.

The little fish retreated and returned.

Davey gave up. He went back to thinking about rescue. But beneath him and all around, the percussive plastic thumps he’d made with the bottle were still carrying through the water. It was an odd sound out here, the sort that would attract attention.

David and Julia had quickly worn out their welcome, but Drew’s family still hadn’t been able to shake them. Now they were all leaving the restaurant together. Drew gave her mom a quick, worried glance:
Are they just going to follow us around all day?
It seemed possible.

Finally, her dad executed a daring escape move. He walked several steps past the elevator bank. David didn’t so much as look over at it. He didn’t break stride, and he certainly didn’t stop talking. He’d barely stopped once he’d gotten going. It was a mystery how he’d been able to clean his plate without spraying the table with egg bits.

“Oops, just got to pop back up to the room,” said Big Tony.

Drew smiled.
Well done
, she thought, and it was. David and his better half had already walked past the elevators. They couldn’t claim they needed to use them now, too. It was a clean break. Almost.

“All righty,” said David. His tone was breezy but forced. He was struggling to come to terms with the loss of his audience. “We’ll just be at the concierge desk. We’ve got some questions for that lady.”

Good, go talk her ear off
, thought Drew.
At least she gets paid for it
.

Julia flashed them a quick, slightly desperate smile. It was like she was secretly being held hostage and trying to communicate the fact with her teeth and eyes. She’d barely said a word during the meal. But now she surprised them all with some actual information.

“Oooh,” she whispered. “That’s them!”

She pointed over toward a group standing near the computer and printer set up along the wall for guests to use. She and her husband both made exaggerated bug-eyed expressions at exactly the same moment.
How about that?

She’s no hostage
, thought Drew. And then, mercifully, they walked away. Drew and her parents stayed put, pretending to wait for the elevator.

“Gah, I thought he’d never leave,” said Big Tony.

“Thought he’d never shut up,” said Drew.

“Still hasn’t,” said her mom. She nodded over toward the concierge desk, where David was already peppering a stylishly dressed young woman with questions. In sharp contrast to the scene a few hours earlier, the lobby was fully staffed now, bustling with activity.

Their eyes landed back on the family of the missing boy, still waiting for the computer to free up. A quick look at their body language made it clear how impatient they were. A man with headphones on was seated at the lone computer, completely unaware. He was video chatting with what looked to Drew like a ball of frizzy hair in a dark room.

Drew was the first to figure out what they were doing. “They’re waiting to print out a picture,” she said. “Like a missing person advert.”

Kate gasped.

“Shame, isn’t it?” said Big Tony.

“We should say something,” said Kate.

“Right thing to do and all that,” said Big Tony. “Should we, uh, should we all go, then?”

“You go,” said Kate, waving him on. It had always been understood that he was the most social, the one to talk to strangers. He was the one who’d gotten them trapped at a table with David, after all. Now he had to make good.

The elevator dinged and opened up. No one got out, and they let it close again.

“Go on, then,” said Kate.

He walked slowly over.

Drew turned to her mom. “Bit awkward, isn’t it?”

*  *  *

Brando stared at the back of the man’s head.
How clueless can this guy be?
he thought. It was bad enough he was chatting away with this frizzy-headed, Muppet-looking woman. It was much worse that they had to hear him do it. Brando fantasized about walking over and plucking the man’s earphones right off. He couldn’t decide what he’d do after that. Strangle him with the cord, maybe.

Brando looked around the lobby for what felt like the eighty-fourth time. This time, he saw a man heading straight for them. He was a big guy, and kind of tough-looking. He had a head that was either shaved or bald, maybe some of each, and a gut just shy of sumo-level.

Good
, thought Brando.
If he wants to use the computer, too, maybe he’ll body-slam lover boy here
.

“Pardon,” he said.

Tam and Pamela turned around. Brando gave him a closer look. The man raised a big meaty hand and gave them a surprisingly dainty wave.

“Yeah, sorry to bother you,” said Big Tony. His accent was so thick that all of the vowels seemed to be off by one. “My family and I …” He motioned over to two people standing by the elevator. Brando looked and saw a lady about his mom’s age and a girl who looked like she might be in high school. He thought he could just see her bathing suit top through her shirt. He missed the next several sentences.

“… so when we heard that, we thought we should let you know,” Big Tony was saying when Brando tuned back in.

“Let us know what?” said Pamela.

“We saw the boy. Well, we saw
a
boy, anyway.”

“When? Where?” said Tam.

“He was by himself,” said Big Tony. Brando was paying close attention now. They all were. “He was down by the dock. Where the boat comes in, know what I mean? Just waiting there.”

“Waiting for the boat?” Pamela said, a hint of panic rising in her voice.

Big Tony looked at her. “Couldn’t say. Could be. He was just sitting there. We didn’t think much of it, know what I mean? Called him a little pirate.”

He had no idea why he’d added that part, but he couldn’t unsay it now. Tam and Pamela looked at each other.

“Well, anyhow, thought you should know,” he said, wrapping up.

“Yes, thank you!” said Tam. “Thank you so much.”

Big Tony gave another little wave and started to retreat. At the last second, he changed his mind. He took a few quick steps forward. He reached down toward the man sitting at the computer and pulled the headphone away from the man’s right ear.

“Hey! Chatty!” said Big Tony, louder now. “Time’s up.”

He let the headphone snap back. The man looked up, his expression shifting quickly from surprise to fear.

“Cool,” said Brando, as Big Tony walked back toward the elevator.

*  *  *

“Did you tell ’em where he was?” asked Drew when her dad returned. In her mind, that was sitting under a tree by the bar stand, reading.

“Course,” said Big Tony. In his mind, that was by the dock.

“Well done,” said Kate. She meant ousting the man from the computer.

They were all on their own page, really. They didn’t stick around as the missing boy’s family printed out pictures from the newly available computer. They’d done their part. When the next elevator came, they took it.

On the short trip up to the fourth floor — the top floor of the hotel — Drew saw her opening. “We should take that boat into Key West today.” She said it casually, as if the thought had just popped into her mind. “You know, just for a few hours. Then we’ll know if we like it or not.”

She thought they’d shoot her down immediately, but they didn’t say anything at first. She held her breath as her parents looked at each other. As the elevator door dinged open, her dad shrugged. “Guess we might,” he said. “Kind of depressing around here, kids disappearing and all that.”

“I don’t know,” said her mom. “I was hoping for some quiet today.”

Drew had an answer for that. “Good way to get rid of that David, isn’t it?”

Check and mate. Kate conceded with a nod.

“Just don’t you go vanishing on us!” said Big Tony, and then they all disappeared into their suite.