The Shark Whisperer (4 page)

Jade ignored his question, pointing to a checkerboard of large flat rocks and grass that began where the walkway ended. It extended to the sides of the wall and disappeared beneath it. “These rocks are the key to getting through. Each time you step on the right one, the wall will open up, showing you the way through.”

Tristan nodded his head like he understood what she was saying, but he still had no clue what she was talking about. Maybe her ponytail was pulled too tight.

“Okay. The first rock is the sea turtle,” Jade said, pointing to an oddly-shaped rock to their left. “Now watch what happens when I step on it.”

Jade hopped onto a rock that reminded him of the shape of a sea turtle—if he squinted and cocked his head to the left.

She stood looking at the wall of interlocking plants in front of her, “Seems a little slow today.”

Tristan stared at the rock Jade stood on and at the green plant wall. The girl's ponytail was definitely too tight, or maybe she'd spent too much time underwater and the seawater had affected her brain.

Then, right in front of Tristan's eyes, the jungle wall came alive. Its vines started to slowly wriggle and squirm. Like thick green snakes, they began to slither away, unfurling their grasp around each other and the massive tree trunks. Soon there was a hole in the wall. It was a shadowy entrance into the jungle wall's interior.

“How'd you do that? A trick switch or something?” Tristan asked.

Jade stepped off the sea turtle rock onto the path and the vines moved again, this time stretching forward and weaving around to reform the impenetrable jungle wall. The entryway had disappeared.

“Okay, now you try,” Jade instructed. “Just step on the sea turtle rock and give it a moment.”

“If you say so,” Tristan said, stepping onto the rock.

And just like before, the snake-like vines slowly slithered away, opening the way into the wall.

It was both creepy and cool at the same time. Tristan wondered how it worked. Maybe there was a camera somewhere with some new high-tech image recognition software and they were robotic vines.

Jade hopped to the rock Tristan stood on then onto another one about a foot deeper into the jungle wall. “C'mon, let's go through. Just follow me and step on the rocks I step on. This one's the fish. Next is the whale.”

Tristan followed behind Jade. He leapt from one sea creature rock to the next. She moved quickly and smoothly over the stones, while he had to steady himself between each long step. Inside the wall, the light was dim with a strange greenish glow to it. And as Tristan stepped off each rock, the opening into the dense jungle vanished behind him.

“Now you're going to have to remember which rocks to step on. One time a new camper forgot. Got stuck in here for hours before anyone found him,” Jade
warned in an oddly happy way. “Just look for the sea creature rocks and don't step on the grass or the wrong rocks.”

“What happens if you do?” Tristan asked.

“You
do not
want to know.”

“Great . . .” he replied. “I feel
so
much better now.”

“We're almost there,” Jade went on. “Really it's only seven rocks in all, just seems like more. First time I did it, I kinda freaked out too. Just aim for this last rock. It's jagged on one side, forked on the other. We call it the
Jaws
rock. When you see it, you're through.”

Tristan stepped onto the shark-shaped stone and the dark jungle gave way to bright sunlight. Looking back, he caught the last wriggling of the vines as the wall transformed back into a thorny green barrier.

Jade glanced down at the information sheet on her clipboard. “You're in the first bungalow of course, Seasquirts, room number two.”

Tristan had been about to ask how the jungle wall worked, but staring at the view ahead, he completely forgot what he was about to say. It was as if he had on-the-spot amnesia. Tristan just stood there speechless and stared ahead. A wide turquoise lagoon stretched out for as far as he could see. Its surface sparkled like a field of diamonds with reflections from the afternoon sun. In the distance were patches of deep, deep blue and a line of white, where small waves were breaking. A beach of sugary sand surrounded the lagoon and palm trees laden with coconuts hung out over the water.

Just then, about a hundred feet off the beach, two dark triangular fins broke the water's surface. Moments later they submerged, disappearing from view.

“Are those . . . are they sharks?” Tristan asked eagerly.

“No, just a couple of dolphins.”

As if to confirm this, one of the large gray dolphins jumped high out of the water, twirled, and landed on its back. The splash was fantastically high and wide, as if a giant had done a cannonball off the high dive.

“C'mon. Let's get you settled. There's a lot more to see.”

They walked along the shore on a path of flat white rocks imprinted with shells and corals. As far as Tristan could tell, there were no sea creature shapes this time or moving vines. They were just cool-looking rocks, almost like fossils. Soon they came to a row of five small bungalows along the shore. Each bungalow was on pilings raised up about ten feet off the rocks and sand below.

Jade walked to the first bungalow, gracefully climbing the stairs to the doorway. “Here you go.”

Tristan followed, taking each step with much greater care. A wooden
Seasquirts
sign hung over the entrance. Like the other buildings in the park, the bungalow was constructed of white stucco, dark wood beams, and bamboo.

“This way,” Jade called from inside.

Tristan swung open a door made of thick bamboo poles. He stepped into a large, airy room with a high,
beamed ceiling. Several cushy couches and comfy-looking chairs were scattered about and there was a rectangular dark wooden table with matching benches. But what really took his breath away—again—was the view. The entire back wall of the bungalow had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the turquoise lagoon. It wasn't the rundown log cabin or tent he'd expected. This was definitely unlike any summer camp he'd ever heard of. Tristan heard girls' voices coming from an adjoining room to the right. He headed that way.

“In here,” Jade shouted from the opposite direction.

Tristan followed her voice to a small bedroom. Inside, there were two sets of bunk beds, one against each wall. Jade stood next to one of the bunks where a dark-haired boy about Tristan's age sat cross-legged on the lower bed reading from an iPad.

“Tristan, this is Hugh. He got here earlier.”

They nodded at one another saying, “Hi.”

“Well, that's it for me. Be at the Conch Café in an hour. It's on your maps,” Jade instructed happily. “And don't be late. The director really hates it when we're late. Okay, see ya.”

Tristan watched Jade jog out the room, her ponytail bouncing the entire time.

“Are the people here all like her? So, uh perky?” Tristan asked.

“I certainly hope not,” Hugh said from the shadows of the lower bunk.

Tristan looked at the pile of clothes on the other
lower bed then warily eyed the top bunks. He was about as good at climbing as he was at walking without tripping, stumbling or running into something.

“You'll have to take one of the top beds,” Hugh told him. “You can take the one over me, if you want. Ryder's the guy in the other lower bunk. Well, let's just say it might be easier climbing over me than him.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Tristan threw his backpack onto the top bunk.

Hugh poked his head out, pointing to a tan towel embroidered with “Seasquirts” hanging off the end of the top bunk. “That's yours and there's more in the closet in the bathroom. There's also a drawer under the bunk for your stuff and some shelves you can use.”

“Where's the other guy, what's-his-name?”

“Ryder, he went to catch up with some of the older kids he says he already knows. I think he said they're in the Squids bungalow. Better than being a Seasquirt, that's for sure.”

Tristan nodded. “Yeah, who came up with that name?”

“Guess it's supposed to make us work hard to move up to the Snapper bungalow or something.”

Tristan spent the next ten minutes or so unpacking his things. Hugh sat quietly reading, saying little. When there was just a small hill of clothing left on his bed, Tristan took the map out of his welcome packet. It showed a detailed layout of the Sea Park. “So where's this Conch Café we're supposed to go to?”

“I tried looking it up using my map app, but the satellite
link doesn't seem to work here. Must be in a dead zone or something,” Hugh replied. “We'll have to go the old-fashioned way. A paper map—how low-tech.”

Hugh got up to get his copy of the map out of a backpack on the floor nearby. Whereas Tristan was long and lean, Hugh was short and a bit pudgy. His dark hair was neatly combed, cut to just above his ears. He wore a navy blue IZOD shirt and knee-length, well-pressed khaki shorts with a matching canvas belt.

Tristan wondered if they were supposed to dress up for the first day of camp. He had on his black board shorts and a T-shirt his mother bought him during their last visit to the aquarium. It was gray with the black silhouette of a shark wrapping around from the front to the back where it said “A Shark Ate My Homework.”

“Looks like this Conch Café is on the other side of the park, between the wave pool and theater,” Tristan noted.

“Yes, that appears to be correct,” Hugh confirmed, looking at the map.

“Does that mean we have to go through that wall thing again?”

“Yeah, but I've done it a couple times. It's not too bad.”

Tristan wasn't so sure.

3

THE GIANT SLIMY SNAIL CAFÉ

T
RISTAN AND
H
UGH WALKED THE SHORT TRAIL
back to the jungle wall. Luckily, there was a steady stream of kids making their way through. The older campers were about fifteen to seventeen years old. They nearly ran through, testing how fast the vines reacted as they stepped on each rock. The younger teens were less confident, hopping from rock to rock more hesitantly. Twelve-year-olds Tristan and Hugh were among the youngest there. They happily followed on the heels of an older boy with flaming red hair and a face full of freckles. He smiled at them, subtly encouraging them through the wall, without making a show of it. Tristan went slowly, but still stumbled a few times. Fortunately he never did a full face-plant or fell completely off the sea creature rocks.

By the time they got through the wall, most of the other kids were long gone. Tristan and Hugh figured the few campers left were also going to the Conch Café. Only problem was they seemed to be going in two different directions. Some kids headed down a path to the left, while the others were taking a walkway that went straight through the middle of the park.

“Which way should we go?” Tristan asked.

Hugh took out his map. “Either direction will get us efficiently to the Conch Café. One way goes along part of the lagoon. The other goes through the streams and rainforest area. By my calculation, there isn't much difference in distance between the two. If we walk at the same pace, we should get there at an equivalent time either way. If I had my map app . . .”