How to Speak Dolphin Read online

  “Okay. Sure.”

  Now what? I think, but Zoe gives him her cell number. She thinks so much quicker on her feet than I do. Her cell has a voice that tells her who’s calling.

  “You know what?” the guy says. “I’m pretty sure Nori’s mother is dead.”

  “No!” we say in unison. Tears swim in my eyes. “That can’t be,” I whisper. The world can’t be that unfair.

  Zoe reaches over, finds my hand, and holds it. “What happened?” she says in her own voice.

  He doesn’t seem to notice. “If it’s the one I’m thinking about, she ingested fishing line, hook and all. That happens pretty often. People feed the dolphins and they get used to following fishing boats, then they graduate from taking fish scraps tossed overboard to snatching fish being reeled in. They get really good at it, leaving just the head and the hook. If they take the entire fish, fisherman usually cut the line.” His voice fades like he’s walked away from the phone.

  “Hello?” Zoe says.

  “I’m here.” His voice returns, unexpectedly loud. We both jump.

  We hear a buzzer like when someone enters or leaves a convenience store. “Hang on. I’ll be right with you,” the kid says to whoever came in, then to Zoe, “We name all dolphins that visit our boats, and I was looking for the list. We keep records of any found dead and of unexplained disappearances.”

  We wait.

  “Sorry,” he says. “Still looking.”

  I hold my breath.

  “That’s funny,” he says.

  “What is?”

  “She never had a name. She’s on the list as Nori’s mom. Found dead August 3, Shell Island. Fishing line, hook, and lure.”

  “Thank you.” Zoe’s voice is a whisper. “I’ll let Dr. Moran know.”

  “The others will be happy to know Nori’s doing well.” There’s a click and a dial tone, but Zoe just sits there.

  I finally tell the JAWS program to end the call.

  “Now what?” Zoe says.

  “I don’t know.” I think about it for a minute and say, “I’m not going to tell Don. The Gulf is where she came from, and she must still have family there. Aunts and cousins.”

  “Do you think it would be the same?”

  “I live with my stepfather. So, no, not the same, but better than the alternative.”

  I know it’s impossible—Adam’s four and a half—but I swear he knows when I’m least able to take one of his tantrums. The minute I put him in his high chair this morning, he starts to cry and twist in his seat. My stomach knots. I know what’s coming.

  “Please don’t, Adam. Not today.”

  I hurry to put his bowl of Cheerios on his tray. He grabs it, pitches it to the floor, then screws up his face and starts to scream.

  The door to Don’s office flies open and he marches across the living room to the kitchen. “What happened?”

  “You always think there’s an answer to that, don’t you?” I’m trying not to cry.

  “Where’s Suzanne?”

  “It’s only seven. She’s not here yet.”

  His expression softens and, by the way he looks at me, I know he’s as aware of what today is as I am.

  He starts to touch my shoulder, but doesn’t. “Go on. I’ll deal with him and clean up.”

  “Thanks.” I blot my eyes on the dish towel.

  Of course, Don’s idea of dealing with him is to put him in the padded play yard and leave him to scream himself hoarse.

  I escape to my room, take my mother’s driver’s license from the drawer under my computer, and crawl into bed to stare at her face. There are other, better pictures of her in the house, but I like this one. She’d just renewed it that February and hated the picture, complaining that she needed a haircut and the woman had taken it before she smiled. I don’t think I could stand it if she’d been smiling. Her license was only five months old when she was killed two years ago today. There’s something about it being good for another eight years that makes her dying even more unfair.

  Every so often, I creep down the hall to check on Adam. This time he’s standing, jerking on the sides of his play yard and shrieking, sirenlike. I put on his dolphin DVD, but he doesn’t see it or me. For a moment, I envy how free he is to vent his unhappiness and frustration. I wonder what he’d do if I crawled in there with him and screamed my head off.

  I couldn’t sleep last night. I lay in bed thinking about my mom and how, now that Nori’s mother is dead, there may not be a home for Nori to return to.

  Adam rarely sleeps through the night, and twice, before I finally fell asleep, I heard him babbling to himself, squeaking, then giggling. Maybe Nori’s mom dying and how happy Adam is with her is the world telling me to butt out.

  By the time I wake this morning, it’s nearly ten. Don’s gone to the hospital; Suzanne’s fed Adam and is bathing him.

  “Hey, toots.” Suzanne smiles, then her lips compress. “Don left an article for you. It’s on the kitchen counter.”

  “What kind of article?”

  “Something he downloaded off the Internet.”

  “Have you read it?”

  “Some of it.”

  “And?”

  “They’re finding a lot of sick dolphins in the Gulf.”

  Suzanne forgets to spell dolphin. Adam squeaks, rolls on his belly in the tub, puts his face in the water and blows raspberries, then kicks water all over her and the floor.

  Lily, read this is scrawled in Don’s terrible handwriting.

  Bottlenose dolphins in Louisiana’s Barataria Bay, which was heavily oiled after the BP Deepwater Horizon spill, have lung damage and adrenal hormone abnormalities, according to a study published in the Journal of Environmental Science & Technology. This is the first evidence of dolphins exhibiting injuries consistent with toxic effects of exposure to petroleum hydrocarbons. The study concludes that the health effects are significant and likely will lead to reduced survival and ability to reproduce. The increase in the number of dolphin strandings now includes more than 1,050 animals that have stranded along the Gulf Coast from the Texas/Louisiana border through Franklin County, FL.

  These findings are in contrast to dolphins sampled in Sarasota Bay, FL, an area not affected by the oil spill. Dr. Lori Schwacke, the study’s lead author, says, “I’ve never seen such a high prevalence of very sick animals.”

  Don underlined Franklin County, FL. I carry the article to my room and turn on my computer and pull up a map. Panama City, Florida—where Nori came from—is located in the toxic area.

  Nori’s mother is dead, and her pod of relatives is in the toxic waters off the northern Gulf Coast. This is just the ammunition Don needs to make a case for keeping her. Even worse, it leaves Zoe and me with no other option.

  The decapitated doll’s head watches as I fling myself across my bed. I sob and can’t stop, so I fuel it by thinking about my own mom. I picture her behind the wheel while the fire department uses the Jaws of Life to try to get her out in time. I only imagine this; I don’t really know what happened because Don won’t tell me, but in my mind she was still alive and frightened. I cry harder. When I feel myself letting go of Momma, I cry for William Penn, and then because my best friend doesn’t even know what I look like.

  “Are you okay?” Suzanne’s in the doorway, holding Adam, who’s wrapped in a towel.

  I sit up. “We’re never going to get you-know-who out of there.”

  “Sure we are.”

  I suddenly hate her perpetual optimism.

  “How?” I snap.

  “I don’t know that yet, but we’re not leaving N-O-R-I in that place.”

  Adam flaps his hand.

  “Did you see that?”

  “I did. He can copy his name at school. Right, big boy?” She jiggles him.

  “N-O-R-I,” I spell.

  Adam squeaks.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Maybe not,” Suzanne says. “I don’t think we have a clue what he understands.”
/>   This Saturday a trainer has joined Sandi, who sits on the dock with Adam. Sandi tries to get Adam to copy the hand signals the trainer gives Nori, and Nori tries to do what’s asked of her. The trainer wants her to bring Adam a beach ball being blown around the pool by a breeze. Nori doesn’t get the ball thing, but swims away when the trainer signals her, then swims back and opens her mouth for a piece of fish, which she doesn’t get because she didn’t bring the ball.

  Adam wants in the water with Nori, but he’s being held in place by Sandi’s grip on the back strap of his life jacket. She keeps glancing at us and smiling like everything is going as well as can be expected. I think she’s desperate to prove this is helping him or she’ll be out of a job again. I’m rooting for a meltdown.

  Don, Suzanne, and I sit on the bench—watching. I’m picking my cuticles.

  Suzanne nudges me. “Go on. I’ll stay here with Adam.”

  I take my cell phone from my pocket and look at the time. It’s 10:25. The upper-deck dolphin show starts in fifteen minutes.

  Before I knew about Nori’s mom, or how toxic the waters she came from are, I had this idea to take Don to see the upper-deck show. I thought if he saw how poorly the dolphins are treated, he’d change his mind about helping them keep Nori. Suzanne agreed. Now, as pointless as it seems, I’m sticking to the plan for lack of a better one. Zoe and I hoped to have a place for her to go before we talked Don into releasing her. Now the plan is to talk him into it, then find a place for her to go.

  Adam is squirming and twisting, trying to get away from Sandi. He flaps his hand at Nori, who comes and presses her beak against his foot. Adam giggles and puts his arms out.

  Adam spoke in Publix and hasn’t said another word. Knowing it happened has perked up Sandi’s efforts. She holds him in place. “Adam, can you say ‘Nori’?”

  He screams and kicks his feet.

  I smile to myself and wonder how much would be accomplished if Don and Sandi—a pair of control freaks—left Nori and Adam to their own devices.

  Don puts his head back and sighs.

  Suzanne pats his arm. “You’ve never seen the rest of this place. Why don’t you and Lily take a walk? I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  Don closes his eyes for a second, nods, then puts both hands on his knees and gets up. “Thanks.” He smiles at me. “I’d like that.”

  “One of the shows starts in a few minutes. Want to go there?”

  “Sure.”

  I glance back at Suzanne after we go through the glass doors into the lobby. She holds up crossed fingers.

  Don’s quiet as we walk toward the show tank.

  “You want to see the stingrays?” I say.

  “Not really.”

  When we get to the dark, echoey tunnel with its row of windows—a submarine view of a concrete tank—Don turns to go up the stairs. I want him to see how barren the dolphin’s tank is: no sand, no seaweed, no fish, nothing except six circling dolphins and three big pipes, but I don’t want to give him a chance to say no. “Come this way first.” I pull him by his sleeve to the center window, which has the best view of the three big pipes.

  Dolphin after dolphin sweeps by the windows. Don watches for a minute, then turns toward the stairs. I follow.

  Upstairs, it’s broiling hot. Don heads straight up to stand in the shade of the awning.

  The girl trainers aren’t in the bow of the pirate ship yet. When the first one arrives, the dolphins all stop circling and gather beneath the bow—heads out of the water, mouths open.

  Exactly like the show weeks ago, the girl wearing the microphone shouts out a welcome. Kiss’s “Rock and Roll All Nite” blares, and the girls signal the dolphins. They all lift out of the water, tail-walk backward across the pool, dive, and race back to get fed.

  I glance at Don. His expression is blank, which is better than if he was smiling.

  The dolphins do all the same tricks, then comes the trivia game. The questions are the same, and when the trainer declares the dolphins the winners, she high-fives the girl next to her exactly like last time.

  They turn the music down, and the girl introduces each dolphin and tells how they are all moms and what a lucky boy Troy is.

  When this doesn’t get a reaction from Don, I can’t stand it anymore. “I wonder where their babies are?”

  “I’m sure they sell them to other aquariums.”

  He knows and doesn’t care. “Don’t you think that’s awful?”

  He looks at me. “I’m hungry. Want something to eat?”

  “No, thanks.”

  On the way back out we stop at a food kiosk, and Don gets a slice of pepperoni pizza and bottle of water. “Sure you don’t want anything?”

  “I’m sure.” I shake my head, but my stomach has a vote of its own and growls loudly. Don smiles and orders a second slice.

  We sit at one of the metal picnic tables. “The killer whale show is next. You want to go there?” I ask.

  “If you do, but I’ve seen enough.”

  It hasn’t worked. He’s seen how the dolphins live and he doesn’t care.

  “What did you think of the show?”

  “I sure wouldn’t pay to see it.”

  “That tank’s pretty bleak.”

  Don’s mouth is full, so he nods.

  I break off a piece of pizza but don’t eat it.

  Don swallows. “Look, Lily, I saw what you wanted me to see, and I’m in full agreement. This place exploits dolphins to make money and their living conditions suck. I get it. That still doesn’t mean Nori isn’t helping Adam, or may, if we keep trying.”

  “Isn’t that exploitation?”

  “Yep, but my motivation is my son.”

  “Do you know how many dolphins have died here?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Sixty-one. I looked at the Oceanarium’s website and came upon an alternate site. It has a list of how many dolphins and seals have died here, including Hugo, their first killer whale, and Carolina Snowball, an albino dolphin. If they kill Nori, what then?”

  “I’ll feel terrible, but without these people, she would already be dead, and you read that article. If we take her back to the Gulf, she could just as easily die of a lung infection. Here she’s got a fighting chance to survive and help your brother at the same time. And while you’re feeling bad about these dolphins and that whale, you should remember that they get better health care than most Americans.” He squeezes my shoulder, but I shrug his hand off.

  “So do inmates in a penitentiary,” I mumble.

  Don smiles. “You’re getting way too emotionally involved with these animals.”

  I get up. “I’d rather see her die free than live her life in this pit.” I’ve gone a few feet when I realize he dropped the “too emotional” bomb. I turn. “Did you call me too emotional because I’m a girl?”

  “I’m sorry, Lily. We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

  “I’ll never agree with you. Every animal in this place—except those pigeons—is at the mercy of people who are only in it for the money.”

  Later that week, with Adam in school and Don at the hospital, I’m trying to decide whether to mope around the house or call Zoe to see if she wants to do something, when my phone rings. It’s Zoe.

  “Do you have ESP, too?”

  She laughs. “Sometimes. Why?”

  “I was just going to call you.”

  “I don’t think it was ESP this time. Mom just suggested this would be a good morning to shop for school clothes. I’m calling to remind you of your promise to go with me so I don’t start school dressed like a suffragette.”

  I laugh. “Let’s go to CocoWalk. We could have lunch at Chili’s or the Cheesecake Factory, then go to the Gap.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s shop first so I don’t have to buy a large in everything.”

  Zoe looked gorgeous in everything she tried on. By the time we go to lunch with a load of shopping bags, I hate her.

  Her new
cane is collapsible and is folded next to her plate, so I know that everyone who glances at her when they walk by our table, especially the boys, are looking because she’s beautiful, not because she’s blind.

  “You’re quiet,” she says.

  “I was just wishing you could see how pretty you are.”

  “I’d rather start with the Grand Canyon or the next full moon.”

  “I’m shallow, aren’t I?”

  “No, you’re not, and you shouldn’t put yourself down. No one is more beautiful than you are.”

  “I’m not pretty.” I tuck the strands of hair that have come loose from my ponytail behind my ear. “My mother was, but I’m not.”

  “You are to me.”

  “How? You don’t know what I look like.”

  She smiles. “You’re right. I don’t have a clue what you look like on the outside. That’s how I know you’re beautiful, Lily. I can’t be misled by appearances.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Do you want my green peppers?”

  “Can’t stand them. Will you pick them out of mine, too?”

  I laugh, but Zoe’s face turns serious.

  “Tell me something about your mother,” she says. “What was she like?”

  A pain spreads through my chest. “She was really nice.”

  “What’s the happiest time you two ever had together?”

  “I don’t know if I can think of just one.” I’ve picked all the green peppers out of my salad, and start on Zoe’s. A woman at the next table glances at me, then away.

  “Well?”

  “Your salad’s safe to eat.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I guess it was my tenth birthday. We were down in the Keys at Ocean Reef. You’re not going to like this part, but they had two dolphins in a … pen. They called it a lagoon, but it wasn’t. It was rectangular, the size of an Olympic swimming pool, blasted out of the coral rock. There was a wooden bridge across one end of it, and they kept a little rowboat tied there because people would throw things in with the dolphins and they’d have to row around fishing the stuff out. Mom arranged for the trainer to let me go out in the rowboat. I got to pet the dolphins and give them fish to eat. If I close my eyes, I can still see Momma smiling down at me from the bridge, clapping like mad.” I pick at my salad. “Now tell me yours.”