A Dolphin Wish

by Natalie Grant

  There was the time when she hadn’t made the soccer team. She’d felt just as stormy inside as she felt now, but after they’d prayed—and prayed—eventually, she’d started feeling a little better. And that year her school had put on the play Alice in Wonderland. Mia had gotten to play Alice, something she couldn’t have done if she’d been too busy playing soccer. Or there was the time Leah Jenkins had blamed Mia for telling one of her secrets. No matter what Mia said, Leah wouldn’t believe her. It took two weeks of praying before Leah finally started talking to Mia again. It had taken even longer before they were the kind of friends they’d been before. But then, late in spring, Leah had told Mia another secret, and Mia knew that Leah trusted her again. As long as Mia had insisted on being right, Leah couldn’t let it go. But praying had worked when nothing else had. So, maybe praying would work now.

  Mom and the band struck a chord, and it was time for the last song—the girls’ song. Mia, Lulu, Miss Julia, and Maddie all held hands and swayed to the music. As the last notes faded, boom! Fireworks lit up the night. Red and blue and then the silver ones that burst in hundreds of sparks and fell like water spilling out of the sky. Flash after flash, they rumbled in Mia’s chest, shaking loose the last of her disappointment. She didn’t know how she’d let the mystery go, but she would. She glanced over at Maddie. And as soon as she found the right moment, she’d apologize to her sister, even if she wasn’t the only one who’d done things wrong.

  The fireworks finale began, with color layering over color, flash after flash until finally the sky went dark.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Put on your pjs girls,” Miss Julia said. “Then we can go out on the beach to watch the stars until Mom and Dad come home.”

  When Mia walked out onto the beach, the breeze was soft against her cheeks. Her toes sunk gently into the still-cooling sand with each step. Shhh, the night seemed to say. Peace. Mia tried to settle into the quiet, but inside, she felt more like the sizzle and pop of the fireworks than the steady hushhh-hushhh of the rolling waves. Her list of things to do played on auto-repeat in her mind. Apologize to Maddie. Let go of swimming with the dolphins. Leave the park’s mystery for someone else to solve.

  She wrapped her blanket around her body, sat, and then slowly lay back so she could see the stars. If she wasn’t making them into star pictures, they looked almost exactly like one another. Was this the way humans looked when God watched them from heaven? Like so many identical dots of light? Or did God see each person—Mia with her glasses and blond hair and painted pink toenails? From a long, long way away, maybe the details didn’t matter.

  No. In the quiet, it was as though the word was delivered directly to Mia, right into her mind and heart. No. The details did matter, and not only the outside ones, like glasses, but the inside ones too. Details such as her fireworks-filled heart and her need to make things right with Maddie. Not just-for-now right, but truly right.

  The screen door opened again, and Maddie and Lulu came out. “Where are you, Mia?” Lulu whispered, and then giggled, “Oops!” as she tripped over Mia in the dark.

  “Found me,” Mia said, brushing sand out of her face.

  Her sisters lay on either side of her, wrapped up in their blankets too. “See any pictures?” Maddie asked Mia.

  “Not yet,” Mia answered, and then catching a tiny flash out of the corner of her eye, turned to Lulu. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing,” Lulu said, closing her hand into a fist, and then stuffing her arm back into her blanket.

  “No, really, what was it?” Mia asked, sitting up.

  “Nothing,” Lulu said, sounding defensive now.

  “Let her be,” Maddie said. “It’s probably just a shell or something.”

  “Something flashed in her hand,” Mia said. “Like something glow in the dark or . . . Come on, Lulu, what is it?”

  “I. Told. You.” Lulu said, each word coming out as though it were a sentence of its own. “I don’t have anything.”

  Mia considered tickling her sister until she gave her secret up, but as the screen door opened again and Miss Julia came outside, she decided against it. If Lulu’s secret was no big deal, it was no big deal. If it was a big deal, and Mia forced her to spill the beans, she’d definitely get in trouble. Mia lay back. Immediately, she sat up again with a jolt.

  “Whoa, what?” Maddie said. “What’s wrong, Mia?”

  “Lulu’s secret,” Mia said.

  “I told you, I don’t . . .” Lulu insisted, sitting up too.

  “No, no,” Mia said. “Remember the boy today, the boy with the backpack? We saw him by the parrots. And Lulu wanted to know what he was writing in his notebook. He slammed it shut and stuffed it into his backpack.”

  “Yeah, so?” Maddie said. “What does that have to do with Lulu’s secret?”

  “Nothing,” Mia said, frustrated that her sisters weren’t catching up more quickly. “He acted like that, defensive, because he had a secret, an important secret.”

  “What secret?” Lulu wanted to know.

  “I just heard your parents drive in,” Miss Julia said. “They’ll be out in a second, I’m sure.”

  The unanswered question hung in the air, and Mia wasn’t sure whether to answer it now with Miss Julia here. She’d promised to let the mystery go, so bringing it up right now wouldn’t be popular, she was sure.

  “Girls!” Mom’s voice rang out across the sand as she and Dad came through the screen door. “What did you think of those fireworks?”

  “Awesome,” said Maddie.

  “Double awesome,” said Lulu.

  “Who wants to dip their toes in the ocean with me?” Dad asked.

  “Me!” Lulu and Maddie answered, sitting up to roll up their pj pants.

  They left their blankets behind and followed Dad toward the waves. Miss Julia went too, snapping nighttime pics with her cell phone.

  TWENTY-SIX

  And how about you?” Mom asked, sitting down next to Mia on Maddie’s blanket. “Did you think the fireworks were awesome?”

  “Mom, can I please go back to the park tomorrow?” Mia asked.

  “What’s this?” Mom asked, and even in the dim starlight, Mia could see her frown of concern. “You went yesterday and today . . . I’d think that would be enough, Mia. What’s going on?”

  “I figured out . . .” Mia stopped herself, realizing she was going to have to make this good to convince Mom. “So you know I heard about that problem at the park.”

  “Yes,” Mom said.

  “And then, Lulu found that scrap of paper that turned out to be a clue.”

  “Was it?”

  “Yes, because we realized the animals were escaping their habitats just after their feeding times. So, we knew when we should be watching. But we didn’t see anyone letting the animals out today.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Mom asked.

  “Well, someone let the flamingos out,” Mia said. “But we didn’t see them do it. We helped round them up, though. We held hands and stood in a circle around them until the biologists came.”

  “Sounds like you girls were helpful today,” Mom said.

  “But we didn’t catch Dr. Dolittle,” Mia said.

  “Dr. who?” Mom asked.

  “That’s what we’ve been calling him,” Mia said. “Or her. Actually him. Because now I know who he is.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand,” Mom said. “You know who has been letting out the animals?”

  “We saw him today,” Mia said, feeling exasperated.

  “But you said you didn’t see him?” Mom said, sounding more than a little frustrated herself.

  “We didn’t know we saw him. But tonight, Lulu had something in her hand, something secret. She tried to hide
it, and I knew. I just knew. See, there was this boy, and he was writing in a notebook. Lulu asked him what he was doing and he acted all defensive and walked away. And his notebook, it was the same size paper as the scrap Lulu found in the Chill Zone.”

  “A boy?” Mom asked. “Mia, this sounds like a lot of assumptions. I don’t think a boy could let out the animals. Wouldn’t his parents notice?”

  “That’s the thing. His parents weren’t with him, not all day. I saw him this morning and later this afternoon, and he was always alone.”

  “Well . . .” Mom said. “That may be, but this is still a lot of guesses, Mia. Plus, whatever’s happening in the park isn’t our concern.”

  “But I know who’s letting the animals out,” Mia insisted. “I have to go tell them.”

  “I understand you feel like you need to,” Mom said. “But solving this problem is not your responsibility. We’d need more proof than a boy acting secretive.”

  “Solving the mystery in London wasn’t Maddie’s responsibility either, but look what she did.”

  “Maddie broke a lot of rules in London too,” Mom said. “I’m afraid that solving the mystery in London—even though it was a good thing to have helped—” she added, speaking right over Mia’s objection. “I think solving the mystery made you girls extra sensitive to problems. Not every problem is ours to fix, you know. And I’m concerned that this has become a bit of a competition. Do you feel you need to solve a mystery just because Maddie did?”

  This question was a little too close for comfort. “Why do you treat Maddie and me differently? When I try to do something good, I’m being competitive. And when she does the same kind of thing, it’s courageous. That’s not fair.”

  “Mia . . .” Mom started.

  “You and Dad and Miss Julia all treated Maddie like she was so special because she found the art thief. Sure, she didn’t get to watch movies on the flight here, but mostly, you’re treating her like a hero. And now, I’m doing the same thing, and you’re telling me I shouldn’t.”

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t stand up for what you think is right,” Mom said. “And I don’t mean to treat you and Maddie differently. You are both special in your own ways, and I have unique relationships with each of you. You know how much we all wanted Maddie to be brave. Think about how much more willing she is now to sing with us on stage, for instance. Maybe that’s because she surprised herself with her own courage when she found the thief in London. I’m not proud of Maddie for sneaking out, but I am proud of the way she’s growing . . . and I know you’re proud of her for that too.”

  “It’s wrong to break rules,” Mia said.

  “It is,” Mom agreed.

  “So how come sometimes it’s also right?” Mia asked. “It used to be that right was right and wrong was wrong, but now I don’t know what to think. Or what to do.”

  Mom put an arm around Mia and pulled her close. “Sweet, sweet Mia.”

  Mia relaxed into the hug, knowing that Mom hadn’t heard only the question, but also the frustration beneath it. Finally, finally, she’d been heard. And maybe that was enough.

  Mom squeezed Mia one more time and then drew a line in the sand with her finger. “Sometimes right and wrong are as simple as this line in the sand. Cruelty, for instance, is always wrong. Being kind, sparkling and shining the way my Glimmer girls do, that’s right. But some things—such as speaking up or waiting, or getting involved or not—those things can’t be easily put on one side of the line or the other. Each situation is unique, the way each of you girls are unique.”

  “So how are we supposed to know what to do?”

  “Sometimes the right thing to do is very clear. God puts something on our hearts and we know we just have to follow through. Other times, it’s hard to know.”

  “I need to go back to the park, Mom. I need to tell them about the boy.”

  “I understand you feel that way,” Mom said. “But our flight is tomorrow. We just don’t have time for another visit to the park. We’ll have to pray that if it is this boy you saw, the park officials will discover him very soon.”

  “You don’t believe me,” Mia said. “If you did, you’d let me go.”

  “Mia, I did let you go to the park again today. But you promised that if the mystery didn’t get solved today, you’d let it go.”

  Mia scooped up a handful of sand and let it pour through her fingers. It was true, she had agreed to let it go. What else was she supposed to say? The list was still there, circling through her mind. Apologize to Maddie. Let go of swimming with the dolphins. Leave the park’s mystery for someone else to solve. She didn’t want to do any of these things.

  “How about we sleep on it,” Mom said. “We’re all tired. And if we need to, we can talk again tomorrow. Okay?”

  Mia breathed in the night air, and then blew it out slowly. “Okay. Deal.”

  Mom squeezed her tight again before standing to call to the others. “Bedtime for the Glimmer family.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  One seashell each,” Mom said as she passed by their room to drop off shoes and other items that had been strewn across the beach house.

  “But I have a bunch of baby ones,” Lulu said. “How many baby seashells equal a big one?”

  “I’ll help them figure it out,” Miss Julia jumped in. “I just finished packing.”

  “Oh, thank you, Julia,” Mom said. “Jack and I are far from finished.”

  “Not a problem.” Miss Julia came into the girls’ room and surveyed the mess. “Hmm . . . Maybe I spoke too soon?”

  “I can’t fit my stuff in my bag,” Maddie said.

  “My tiara won’t fit,” Lulu said.

  “Everything fit when we packed in the first place,” Mia complained.

  “But then you added your stuffed animals from the park, and your London sightseeing purchases. And what are these?” Miss Julia fished a handful of rocks out of Lulu’s bag.

  “Rocks,” Lulu said.

  “I can see that,” Miss Julia said, clearly trying not to laugh. “And why are you packing a handful of rocks, Lulu?”

  “They’re ocean rocks,” Lulu said. “All different colors. Purple and green and even red. Look at that one.”

  Mia checked. How had Lulu found a red rock? Turned out the rock was actually gray with only the tiniest tinge of red.

  “It looked redder when it was wet,” Lulu insisted.

  “So, can we at least leave the red one behind?” Miss Julia asked. “As it is, it will take one of those strong men from the circus to lift your bag into the airplane bin.”

  Mia stuffed the last few items into her suitcase and wrestled it closed. The clock read 8:12. The park opened at 9:00. Mom had said no last night, but she’d also said they could talk about it again today. One last chance.

  “Be right back,” she said to the others and hurried to her parents’ room.

  Mom and Dad were in constant motion, collecting items, sorting them, folding them, finding the right bag. Mia knew she’d have to ask her question with extreme caution.

  “Mom?” she started.

  “Mmm?” Mom tucked her concert heels into the suitcase.

  “You know how you said we could talk about going back to the park today?”

  “Mia . . .” Dad said.

  “Not to ride rides or anything, and just for a minute,” Mia rushed on. “I figured out who has been letting the animals out of their habitats. And you want the animals to be safe, don’t you?”

  Dad took in the half-finished packing. “We have plenty to do without stuffing another park trip into our day.”

  “Can just Mom and I go then?” Mia asked. “Our flight isn’t until 3:00, and that’s plenty of time. Please, Mom?”

  Mom scooted a
pile of clothing out of the way and made room for Mia on the bed. “Close the door, will you, Mia?”

  Mia did, a sense of dread growing. She took her time crossing the room to join Mom on the bed.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you asked last night,” Mom said. “You asked how to know if something is right or wrong. A lot of times, knowing has to do with our reasons for our actions. Sometimes we pray for God’s help, and he says no even though we’re asking for something he’d want for us. When that happens, it’s often because we’re asking for the wrong reasons.”

  Mia nodded, not sure where this was headed. Was Mom about to say yes—that she could go to the park?

  “I need to ask you a question, and I want you to think about it, and then answer me truthfully.”

  “Okay.” Mia held her breath. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

  “Do you think you’re competing with Maddie? Are you set on finding this boy because Maddie solved a mystery and you want to do the same?”

  Mia’s shoulders sagged. So, no. She wouldn’t be going to the park today. She didn’t have to think for more than a few seconds to know that she was competing with Maddie. Still, she couldn’t lie. Lying would definitely be the wrong thing to do. She couldn’t make lying right by then doing a right thing and solving the mystery.

  She blew out the breath she was holding. “Yes. It’s partly because of Maddie. If she can solve a mystery, I know I can solve one too.”

  Mia wanted to say, “But . . .” and include all the other reasons she wanted to solve the mystery. Though Mom was right. If one of her reasons—the biggest one—was wrong, the other reasons didn’t matter.