Aurora and the Popcorn Dolphin

by Sarah Webb

  Landy’s nice too. He has messed-up dark blond hair, nutty brown skin and he smiles all the time. My friends back home would love him − but I’m not interested in boys. Not in that way. Not yet. Doesn’t stop me noticing them, though, and I can’t deny he is cute.

  “Come on.” Mollie grabs my hand. “We’ll run in together.”

  “No!” I cry, laughing and running away from her. “It’s too cold!”

  “Rory!” Mollie yells, sprinting after me. “Come back here, you chicken.”

  I let her drag me towards the breaking surf. When we run into the water side by side, I shriek loudly. The water is freezing!

  “I can’t,” I splutter. “Too cold.”

  “Don’t stop now, you’re almost there,” Cal shouts from the beach. He’s sitting on the sand beside Landy now, beach towels draped over their bare shoulders.

  “It’s torture,” I shout back. “You guys do this for fun?”

  Cal laughs. “Go on. I’ll buy you both a hot chocolate at Alanna’s afterwards.”

  “What’s Alanna’s?” I ask Mollie.

  “He’s talking about the cafe at the harbour. Our friend Alanna runs it. Her hot chocolate is to die for. It’s worth a quick dip. On three. One, two, three—” She lunges into the water and starts swimming.

  I take a deep breath and force myself to dive in. As soon as my head touches the water, I get brain freeze. I come up after only a few strokes under the surface. My teeth are clenched against the cold. I can only manage to swim a couple more strokes. Usually I power through the sea, but the icy water is making me sluggish and slow. Stay with it, Rory, I tell myself. Keep moving, fast. You’ll soon warm up.

  I pull my arms through the water and kick my legs as hard as I can until I start to get into the rhythm: stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe. The sea here may be cold, but it’s amazingly clean and a beautiful shimmery sapphire blue.

  I swim the length of the strand four and a half times until my fingers are so numb I have to stop. Then I wade towards the shore, annoyed that I have to get out. I’m not a quitter. At home I stay in the water until my arm and leg muscles complain.

  Cal cheers. “Way to go, Rory! That was awesome. Hot chocolate is on me.”

  We’re sitting on a leather sofa in front of the window in the Songbird Cafe, drinking our hot chocolate. It’s actually pretty tasty. Not too bitter and not too sweet. Alanna, who runs the cafe, was busy in the kitchen when we arrived, so Mollie popped behind the counter and made it herself. She works here when Alanna needs extra help.

  The cafe is bright and airy, with shabby-chic blue tables and chairs. It smells of freshly ground coffee, and baking, which reminds me of Magda, who always makes amazing cakes. Mom baked too – her chocolate brownies were delicious – which is funny because she hated cooking proper food. She said it was boring.

  Below us is the harbour, and it’s quite a view. It’s early evening now, but there are still children playing on the small beach. Some boys are cannonballing from the harbour wall and making big white splashes as they hit the water. Seagulls swoop in the air, waiting for a faded red fishing boat that’s chugging towards the island. The whole scene looks like something out of a movie.

  “So what do you think of the island so far, Rory?” Mollie asks.

  “It’s pretty. But the water could be warmer.” I shrug. “I guess I’m missing home a bit.” The truth – that it’s Mom I’m missing – is too close to the bone to talk about.

  “It took me a while to settle in too,” Mollie says with a smile. “I used to live in Dublin, which is much bigger than Little Bird. But I love it here now. You’ll get used to the cold sea and the quiet.”

  “It is quiet, all right. Don’t you guys get bored?” I say.

  “I thought that too at first,” Mollie says with a laugh, but Cal and Landy exchange a glance. They don’t look impressed.

  I shouldn’t have said that − it just slipped out. I didn’t mean to be rude about the island. It’s their home, after all. I can feel my cheeks get hot.

  Since Mom died, I’ve found conversations, especially ones with people I’ve just met, difficult. I often seem to say the wrong thing. I wish I could go back to my old happy-go-lucky, chatty self.

  I stand up and murmur, “Just need to use the restroom”, before walking towards the back of the cafe. I don’t even know if I’m going in the right direction. I just need to get away from Mollie and Cal and Landy for a moment and take some deep breaths. A new place and all these new people − it’s overwhelming, and I don’t want to say anything else wrong. After I use the restroom, I’ll drink my hot chocolate quickly and then tell them I’m jet-lagged and that I need to get back to Cal’s house to rest.

  Thankfully I seem to be going the right way for the restroom. At least, I think I am. There’s a door that says “Mna” on it and another door that reads “Fir”. I stand staring at the strange words.

  “Mna’s the one you want. It means women in Irish.” I look round. There’s a girl in a sky-blue apron standing beside me. She’s small, with dark brown hair hanging in two plaits. Her eyes are emerald green and fixed firmly on mine.

  “Maybe it should just say women then,” I say. Oh no, that sounded rude too!

  “Maybe,” she says easily. “But some of the islanders speak Irish and the tourists seem to like learning a few words of our native tongue. Especially Americans. I’m Alanna, by the way.” There are tiny gold flecks dancing around in her irises and it’s hard not to stare at them. “And you’re Mattie’s relation from Long Island. Rory.”

  My eyes widen. “How do you know that?”

  She smiles. “It’s a small island. Everyone knows everything. You’ll get used to it. And do come down tomorrow evening, and bring your dad with you. We’re having a Fourth of July barbecue.”

  With all the travelling and the time difference, I’d forgotten it’s Fourth of July tomorrow. Mom was big into parties and celebrations, and she loved Independence Day. It’s the first one without her and I’m not sure I want to spend it here, with strangers.

  “I think we’re busy,” I say. “But thank you anyway.”

  Alanna smiles gently. “See how you feel tomorrow. I’d love you both to come. Any time after five o’clock.”

  I use the restroom, lingering there as long as I can, washing my hands over and over.

  When I walk back out, I hear Mollie say, “Maybe it’s jet lag. Mum says long flights can wipe you out. She always needs to sleep after she’s been away.”

  “Maybe. I wouldn’t mind, but Mum told me I had to hang out with her,” Cal says. “I think she’s—” Cal breaks off because Mollie digs him in the ribs. He looks up to see me standing by their table.

  “I’m heading back to the house,” I say, trying to sound normal. “I’m tired and Dad will be worried.”

  Mollie has gone bright red. I can tell she is wondering how much I overheard. What else did they say about me?

  “I’ll walk with you,” Cal says awkwardly.

  “That’s OK,” I say quickly. “I can find it.”

  “Don’t go, Rory,” Mollie says. “We want to hear all about America, don’t we?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Landy nods eagerly. “Do you want a muffin? Or something else to eat?” They’re clearly all feeling guilty for talking about me.

  “Some other time,” I say. I’m in such a rush to hurry out the door that I bang my shoulder on the door frame.

  Once outside, I let out a sigh of relief and stop for a moment, trying to get my bearings. Then I spot Mattie’s house above the harbour and start heading up the road towards it.

  “Rory!” shouts a voice behind me. It’s Alanna. She must have followed me out. “You left this behind.” She hands me my swimming bag. “You all right, pet? I have some cream that will stop that shoulder bruising up, if you’d like it?”

  “Thanks, but I need to get back,” I say.

  “That’s a shame. I have it on good authority that Click wants to meet
you.” She gives me a wink.

  “You mean the dolphin?” Mom told me all about Click. He was young when she knew him so he’d be – I do the math in my head – in his thirties now. Dolphins can live until they’re at least forty in the wild. Mom loved him. She played with him every day. He’s the reason she wanted to be a marine scientist, in fact, so she could find out more about dolphins.

  “He’s waiting for you,” Alanna says. “Over by Whale Rock. Follow me.” She leads me down towards the sea and then she points at a large grey rock that’s shaped like a whale’s back. And then I see him – a grey bottlenose dolphin, his head poking out of the waves just beside the rock.

  “I’ll leave the pair of you to get acquainted,” she says.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “You’re welcome, pet.” She smiles and then disappears back inside the cafe.

  I walk down to the pier wall and leave my bag beside some fishing nets. There are seaweedy rocks leading out to Whale Rock and I use them as stepping stones. I almost slip several times in my eagerness to get to Click, but my balance is pretty good, so I manage to stay upright and dry. When I reach the rock, Click seems to have disappeared. I stay there for a moment, disappointed, before turning back.

  Then I hear a high-pitched whistle. I turn just in time to see Click dive under the water. He pops up again a second later and soars through the air in a perfect arc, like an Olympic gymnast. He’s amazing!

  When he resurfaces, he’s right in front of me. Head tilted, he whistles again. I know all about the different dolphin sounds, because Mom taught me. Some people grow up with a dog, I grew up with dolphins.

  Dolphins make noises at a much higher frequency than humans, but Mom said they’re so smart they can still work out roughly what we mean when we whistle back, especially if we use body language, like they do. She was using the data in her dolphin dictionary to make links between descriptions, or human “words”, and what dolphins were “saying” when they made certain noises or shapes with their bodies.

  So I tilt my head like Click did and make a high-pitched welcoming whistle. If Click were a dog, I’d be saying, “Hello, boy. Want to play?”

  Click whistles back. Then he drops under the water and comes up again to my right.

  I smile. “Are you playing hide-and-seek with me, buddy?”

  He whistles again and bobs his head up and down.

  I wish I could slip into the water as well. I’d love to swim with him and pretend Mom’s beside me, laughing. She was never happier than when she was playing with her beloved dolphins. But I’m too cold right now to get back in the sea again. Besides, I don’t want Mollie, Cal and Landy to see me – not after I told them I was going back to Harbour Cottage to rest.

  Clicks gives another whistle. After sinking his head under the water, he blows a ribbon of bubbles out of his blowhole and pops back up again to look at me.

  I laugh. “You’re quite a character, huh? Do you remember my mom? Her name was Margo Finn and she used to take vacations here a long time ago. She swam with you.” A lump starts to form in my throat and I swallow it down.

  Click moves closer to me like he’s really listening.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes,” I say. “Mom always said dolphins are as smart as people. She wanted you guys to be classified as ‘non-human persons’, so no one could keep you in captivity. I wish Mom was still here. I really miss her. We used to talk about all kinds of stuff. She was my best friend. Everything’s broken now. There’s just me and my dad and we’re not a proper family. I’m really lonely, Click. I just feel so sad all the time. I miss her so much. No one understands.” My eyes fill up with tears and I blink them back.

  Click swims towards me, and I reach my hand down and place it on his head. His skin is cool and firm under my fingers. He feels so solid, so real. We stay there for several minutes before I hear Alanna calling over from the harbour wall. “You found him,” she says.

  As I lift my hand, Click slips under the water again. Within seconds he’s vanished.

  I scramble back over the rocks to join Alanna.

  “Don’t worry, he’ll be back,” she says when I reach her. “He likes you. You’ve made a new friend. Are you all right, pet?”

  I nod wordlessly.

  “I understand how you feel, Rory,” she says quietly. “I lost my own mum a few years ago. I still miss her every day. If you need someone to talk to—”

  “Thank you, but I’m fine.” I grab my bag and start to march up the hill, towards Harbour Cottage, biting back my tears. I know Alanna was just trying to be kind, but I don’t want to talk about Mom. It hurts too much.

  Dad must have been waiting outside the cottage for me, because he runs down the hill to meet me. He doesn’t look happy. “Finally! Where were you, Rory?”

  “Swimming with Cal,” I say. “And then we went to the cafe for some hot chocolate.”

  He looks at his watch. “You’ve been gone hours. And where’s Cal?”

  “Only two hours. And Cal’s still at the cafe. I came back on my own.”

  Dad’s staring at me suspiciously. “Did you guys get on all right?”

  “Yeah, we got on fine.” Cal may have upset me, but I’m no snitch. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me.”

  “Sorry, maybe I overreacted a little. I was just worried about you. It’s my job to keep you safe. If you’re going to be late, can you let me know?”

  I nod. “OK. Can I take my shower now? I’m all salty.” Saying the word salty makes my scalp itch. I hate having salt in my hair. “Is my luggage inside?”

  “Yes, it’s in your room – last door on the right. You have an en suite and everything. And don’t complain about the water pressure. It’s not broken. Irish houses don’t have power showers. It’s actually Mattie’s room. She kindly moved out so that you’ll have a sea view. Please remember to thank her. I know you’re probably tired from travelling, but manners maketh the man, remember?”

  Mom used to say that. She was big into manners. “Please” and “thank you” – or “peas” and “ta ta” − were my first words after “da” and “ma”. I know that because she wrote it into my baby journal.

  Of course I’m going to thank Mattie for giving me her room. Dad clearly doesn’t think much of me if he thinks he has to remind me. “Fine,” I say.

  He tilts his head, just like Click did earlier. “Is that your word for today? Fine?”

  What is up with him? He’s being really picky and annoying. I guess we’re not used to spending so much time together, just the two of us. Back home, I am in my room a lot and Magda’s around too, of course. Recently she’s been popping in at the weekends to check we’re eating properly.

  I don’t have the energy to call him out on his comment about “fine” being my word of the day, so I just say, “Yes, it is.” With that, I walk into the cottage and down the corridor.

  I open the door and almost gasp. My room is … beautiful. There are white curtains with blue butterflies on them fluttering around the open French doors, and there’s a stunning view of the sea through the doorway. There’s even a small paved patio just outside with a wooden bench to sit on. The walls and the bed linen are all a fresh, crisp white. The old-fashioned pine wardrobe and chest of drawers are also both painted white. Even the wooden floorboards are white, with a soft eggshell blue rug beside the bed. It’s like something out of a fancy homes magazine, and it’s wonderfully calm and serene, like a beach hut. Mom would have loved it. Even though she was the messiest person in the world, flinging her bag and jacket on the floor as soon as she got in the door, she loved the idea of plain, uncluttered rooms and pored over magazines featuring pretty houses. Now that she’s gone, our home in Stony Brook is not only too quiet, it’s also too tidy.

  My bags are sitting on the floor at the end of the bed. I should unpack, but I don’t feel like it, so I pull out my wash things and some fresh clothes. I can’t wait to rinse the salt out of my hair. Pity I can’t wash the who
le day out. Scratch that, the last six months.

  “So how was swimming, Rory?” Mattie asks after handing me a plate of quiche and salad, with mashed potato on the side. Magda wouldn’t be impressed − the potato isn’t creamy. It’s thick, with craggy white peaks like icebergs, and it’s dotted with pools of melted egg-yolk-yellow butter.

  “Cold,” I say, instantly regretting it, because Dad immediately says, “I did warn you.”

  Mattie laughs. “Not exactly tropical, I’ll grant you, but you’ll get used to it. I love the way your skin tingles after a dip.”

  “That’s probably frostbite,” I say. “There’s a pool, right? For proper swimming.”

  “Sadly not,” Mattie says. “We’d love an indoor pool for the winter, but the nearest one is on the mainland, in Rossabeg. About twenty miles from Redrock.”

  Dad gives me a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, kiddo. Guess the sea it is.”

  My heart sinks. There goes my training. “I’m not sure I can take the cold,” I say. “But maybe I’ll get used to it.”

  Dad turns to Mattie. “Rory’s on the swim team back home. She’s pretty keen. Likes keeping swim fit.”

  “You could try kayaking,” Mattie suggests. “Cal could get you started. It certainly gives your arms and shoulders and tummy muscles a workout, like swimming.”

  Cal’s concentrating on his plate, shovelling in the food as fast as he can. I remember what he said earlier about his mom making him hang out with me, and I squirm uncomfortably. “He doesn’t have to,” I say. “It’s OK.”

  “No, Cal doesn’t mind,” Mattie says. “Do you? You’ll take Rory out kayaking?”

  He swallows down his mouthful. “I suppose.” He doesn’t exactly look thrilled at the prospect.

  “That’s a plan then,” Mattie says, smiling at Dad.

  I feel about as small as a ladybug. Cal’s only doing it because he has to, like he only took me out swimming earlier because Mattie insisted. This is going to be a long month.