How to Outswim a Shark Without a Snorkel

by Jess Keating

  Soon, Patricia appeared to rein in the crowd, waving her arms to get everyone’s attention.

  “Hello and welcome!” she announced. Her usually frizzy hair was tamed for the day, wrangled together in a long braid down her back.

  The crowd cheered in response, then quieted again as she spoke. The first few minutes were dedicated to Grandpa, as this whole exhibit was his idea in the first place. Cameras flashed nonstop as he took a bow from the side of the room and gave a little speech with shining eyes. It would have been a cool moment, if I hadn’t been so distracted gawking around the room like a jumpy ostrich looking for Ashley.

  Where was she?

  My question was answered a moment later, when Patricia took the microphone again. “I’m happy to announce that we have a new student volunteer for the Adventure Zone, and she will be leading our marine presentation!” She beamed to the audience, who clapped excitedly.

  Ashley appeared beside her, giving the crowd a wave. Another pang of déjà vu swam through me as I remembered the feeling of my own big presentation a couple months ago. The clammy hands. The roiling stomach. The endless sets of eyeballs eagerly waiting for you to mess up.

  Was Ashley feeling the exact same way I was back then?

  I sucked in a breath as she took the microphone.

  She was wearing the green shirt we’d bought at Aviana’s together, and her hair had little starfish pins in it. She looked like a star, but it didn’t take a genius to see that she was super nervous. Her eyes were blinking double time, and her smile was pinched at the sides even though she was trying to look relaxed.

  “Hi, everybody!” she said, her voice sounding strained. The crowd seemed happy to listen to her and were starting to quiet down again.

  “Welcome to the new Marine Adventure Zone,” she said. She was speaking clearly and slowly now, just right. “As you can see, there are lots of amazing creatures here. Today I’m going to tell you about some of them.” She pointed to the surrounding tanks and started to name them for the audience. She breezed through the moon jellies, the sea horses, and the species in the tide pool, giving the audience an interesting nugget of info about each one.

  She was doing a good job, despite the nerves.

  The heat in my cheeks began to cool, just a touch.

  Then she moved on to the big mangrove tank in front of her, filled with rays and epaulette sharks. “As you can see, these animals are safe to touch, as long as you’re very gentle.” She demonstrated the proper way to reach into the tank as the little kids in the crowd looked stunned.

  “These are epaulette sharks,” she said. “They’re named that because they have big marks on their shoulders, like they’re wearing a military uniform.” The audience reacted loudly to the word shark, despite the fact that the ones in the tank were smaller and harmless. Ashley didn’t miss a beat.

  “I know,” she said, nodding to the crowd. “When I first started working here, I was afraid of sharks too. I thought they were all nasty man-eaters.” She leaned over to stroke one of the sharks in the tank. “But sharks have bad reputations that started years ago. Once you’ve got a bad reputation, it’s hard to get rid of it. Sharks are actually quite harmless, and only a few species have ever hurt people. Really they want to live their lives in peace, like any other animal.”

  Just then, I felt a strange twinge.

  No, it wasn’t Nair this time.

  It was like two puzzle pieces clicking together in my head. Ashley had a reputation as a Sneerer, just like sharks had horrible reputations as man-eaters. Sure, she was mean sometimes. And sometimes, she sort of wasn’t. Nice people don’t call other people “Scales,” you know?

  But then…technically, don’t I call her a “Sneerer”? Which was worse?

  I gripped my cold hands together as another dark question grew inside me.

  I’d wanted to teach Ashley a lesson by switching the notebooks, but did that mean I would start to have a bad reputation too?

  Instinctively, I looked to the table set up behind her, searching for the blue notebook. It was there, sitting on top of a pile of books, next to Ashley’s bottle of water. Two halves of my brain seemed to be battling each other as I stood there, riveted on that innocent-looking notebook that held some of the worst things I’d ever written.

  I wanted Ashley to see it because maybe then she’d realize how much of a jerk she was. But what if she did?

  That’s when the horrible truth hit me: switching the notebooks wasn’t acting like a shark. It was acting like a Sneerer.

  Sharks were just going around being themselves, which happened to be sharks. It wasn’t like they set out to be mean or steal people’s notebooks. No matter what Ashley had done to me, being more like her was the last thing I wanted to do. In fact, I realized with a pang of regret, I’d practically spent the whole summer trying to deal with everything by acting like someone else.

  Someone mean.

  I hadn’t adapted to all these crazy changes at all. I’d just become someone I didn’t even want to be.

  My vision tunneled as the past few weeks came rushing back, forcing me to lean against the wall for support. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to kiss Kevin yet, and I had gone ahead and tried to act all aggressive and sharky to do it because of Liv, and what had happened? Head-butting, that’s what.

  Then I get stuck with Ashley here, and how do I deal with her trying to sabotage me? By acting like a Sneerer!

  None of those things are me.

  The sinking feeling finally settled into my feet, cementing me to the floor. Desperation clawed at me with its tiny, sticky fingers.

  Oh no.

  Surrounded by dozens of people, shark tanks, and a television crew, my “act like a shark plan” was unraveling by the second, biting me in the butt. My heart hammered in my ears as I checked the table again, with Ashley’s voice sounding more and more muffled as I panicked. She still faced the crowd. And she hadn’t used the notebook yet or seen my horrible list.

  And now I knew the truth: I didn’t want her to.

  I didn’t want to be known as a Sneerer. I didn’t want to have anything to do with mean bullies that ruined people’s presentations. I wanted to be me, and I might not know everything about what that means, but I did know I wasn’t a horrible jerk who ruined people’s days on purpose.

  How had I been such a colossal idiot?!

  Tuning out the crowd’s commotion, I instantly knew what I had to do.

  I snaked through the throng of people directly beside the tank, making my way to the front of the group, next to the gate that opens into the middle of the horseshoe where Ashley was presenting.

  It was my only chance: I had to get that notebook before she saw it.

  “What do you feed the sharks?” someone piped up, interrupting my mental game plan. I darted a look at Ashley, my heart filling with hope.

  She smiled easily. “These sharks eat mostly bottom-feeding invertebrates, like crabs,” she said. “That means animals without backbones,” she added quickly.

  Yes! Keep on knowing those answers, so I can get that dumb book. I cheered her on in my head.

  Reaching my hand around the gate, I felt beneath the inner knob. I could grab the notebook and hide it, and if she happened to not know any of the answers, I would help her like a nice person, instead of being a total jerk. She would never know about the notebook, and I could pretend I’d never come up with this whole mess in the first place.

  Jimmying the small sliding bolt, my breath caught in my chest.

  It was stuck.

  Patricia must have locked it for real, from the inside, to stop visitors from coming inside during the presentation. Noooo.

  Dread seized my heart as I peeked up at Ashley again. She was still holding the crowd’s attention, but now there were more hands in the air. They were eager to ask her questions, wiggling t
heir fingers to get her to choose them. I prayed to the shark gods they all had super-easy questions. Then a spiky blond head of hair caught my attention at the other end of the horseshoe.

  Daz!

  He was standing directly across from me on the right side of the tank.

  Right beside the gate.

  It was the side Patricia and Ashley had entered the tank through, and if they hadn’t locked the door coming in, it would still be open. I still had a chance to fix everything.

  New hope flickered as I tried to focus all of my attention on Daz. Clenching my fists, I tried to telepathically scream in his mind. We were twins, right? So maybe we had some sort of magical twin ability?

  Look at me, Daz! LOOK AT ME!

  I crushed my stomach into the gate as I leaned as far in as I could. Come on, Daz, look up!

  And then, the shark gods paid attention.

  He looked!

  Well, sort of.

  He was actually looking at the teenage girl with the pink dress and flippy ponytail beside me, but eventually I did get his attention.

  “Daz!” I mouthed, practically bursting with excitement that my telepathic plan had actually almost worked. “Dazzzz!” I tapped the gate erratically.

  He cocked his head and lifted his shoulders. Classic Daz “sup?” face.

  Forcing as much determination in my eyes as possible, I pointed to Ashley’s notebook, miming with my hands opening and closing a book. Around us, the crowd laughed at something Ashley was saying. I stared hard, waiting for Daz to clue in.

  Daz glanced at the table, then his eyes widened. “Notebook?” he mouthed. He did the same notebook sign with his hands.

  “Grab it!” I mouthed. I mimed yanking something out of the air and holding it to my chest.

  Daz screwed up his face, then seemed to get it. “Oh!” He pointed to the book, then to me, and gave me a thumbs-up.

  He thought I was telling him I’d switched it. That his Mission: Impossible–plan had worked.

  Guh.

  “No!” I shook my head. “I need it back! Grab it now!” I mouthed the words slowly and clearly as Ashley kept talking over the crowd’s excited buzz.

  Daz frowned, then pointed to himself. “Me? Grab?” He pointed to the book. I could almost see the question marks floating above his head.

  I nodded insistently. “Yes!” I grabbed at my gate and shook it, demonstrating to him my side was locked with a frown.

  In a flash, he knew what I wanted. He gave me another quick thumbs-up and reached inside the gate for the lock. Neither Patricia nor Ashley noticed him as they continued with the presentation.

  Wringing my hands together, I glanced back out over the crowd again. Why couldn’t the questions stop already?! So far, Ashley had been a total pro and hadn’t even needed her notebook. Maybe this would all be fine and she’d never even need to know about my horrible plan?

  One final hand was still in the air, a little boy who was waving with excitement.

  I sucked in a breath as Ashley pointed. “Last one?”

  “Where do the epaulette sharks live?” he asked, scratching at his buzz cut.

  I jerked my head back to Ashley, overwhelmed by a surge of relief. An easy one! She knew where everything lived. She had this! I bit my lip in anticipation.

  But Ashley frowned. Her eyebrows knit together slightly as she blinked at the crowd, silent. Finally, she smirked. “They live right here, of course!”

  Nice save.

  Boosted by her gutsy move, I stared back at Daz’s end of the tank, expecting to see him standing triumphant with the notebook in his hands.

  But he was still outside the gate, and instead of a look of victory, his shoulders were slumped with defeat.

  My heart fell as he shrugged and shook his head in one slow, sad movement, pointing to the gate.

  It was locked too.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  The notebook was still sitting on the table, like a rattlesnake poised, ready to strike. Terror raced through me as Ashley smiled again at the crowd, edging toward it.

  “Hang on one second,” Ashley said, returning to the question. “I can tell you!”

  She reached toward the table as I clutched the gate, torn between wanting to scream and wishing I could launch myself X-Men style across the fifteen-foot space to wrangle the notebook from her hands.

  Why couldn’t I be a mutant?!

  She picked the notebook up.

  The rushing in my head grew like a million bees, swarming with frantic desperation, as her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

  She began to flip open the cover.

  No!

  I pictured the Anti-Ashley list waiting for her, ready to explode like a mean-girl grenade and ruin everything. All because I was trying to be someone I didn’t even want to be.

  Don’t!

  I couldn’t take it.

  My eyes flitted down at the tank. All the sharks were gathered by their mangrove rocks, shying away from the noisy crowd. A reckless thought began to unfurl inside me.

  Time slowed to a halt as Ashley’s eyes drifted down to the page. I willed her to drop the book, to sneeze, to stumble—anything—to keep her from seeing one those scribbled block letters I wished I could unwrite.

  I couldn’t let her see it.

  I couldn’t let this happen.

  I couldn’t be a Sneerer.

  So I jumped.

  Or rather, I dove.

  Leaping over the low wall of the tank, the entire audience scattered back in surprise the moment I hit the water. A giant wave splashed over the edge, raining down on the kids in the front row.

  I was a breeching whale, decked out in a lime-green zoo shirt and the most desperate look in the history of mankind. Cameras flashed wildly, and the last image I could make out before my eyes blurred with salt water was the notebook falling to the ground, and Ashley’s eyes widening with shock as she saw me.

  I’d done it. I’d stopped her. She hadn’t seen the notebook.

  Then there was nothing but blue.

  Well, that and the sharks.

  Chapter 21

  California sea lions have a thick layer of blubber to insulate them from cold water.

  —Animal Wisdom

  I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I had blubber right now. Because shark tank water was freeeeeezingggg.

  “Ana Jane Wright!” Mom’s voice sounded like it was being strained through a can of gravel. “What in God’s green earth were you thinking?!”

  I pulled the towel closer around me. After they’d fished me out, pretty much everyone in the crowd was eager to see that I was still alive. The crowd watched and hushed whispers filled the exhibit as Mom dragged me into the back room, while Grandpa stepped into the spotlight to get some of the attention away from us.

  It had been only a couple feet of water, but man, that can sure create a splash if you’re trying. I’d shooed away the paramedic a hundred times, promising him I was more embarrassed than anything.

  And it was true. Being dripping wet in my clothes in front of a crowd of strangers was embarrassing. But a part of me was proud I’d done it. Did I wish that maybe I’d thought of something else to distract the crowd, like screaming “Fire!” so I didn’t have to jump into the tank?

  Big yes.

  But sometimes when you really need it, your brain just decides to check out and you aren’t left with a lot of ideas.

  Try explaining that to my mom.

  “It was an accident!” I pled. But I was pretty sure my mom knew better. She had those special mom powers and could read me like a book.

  “I was looking right at you!” she exclaimed. “One minute you were up there watching Ashley looking like you were having a coronary, and the next”—she clapped her hands togethe
r hard—“you jumped! I saw you! What would possess you to jump into a shark tank, young lady?”

  “Mom, stop! It was an accident!” I pulled the towel tighter around my shoulders. “It was only the touch tank. I couldn’t have gotten eaten or anything,” I pointed out.

  She glared at me. “Ana, you have told me the truth about everything in your life so far, and you are not going to start lying to me now. Now spill it.”

  Daz shifted on his feet beside her. He had crept in while she was interrogating me, and now he was staring at his shoes and looked as guilty as a monkey in a banana farm. But he wasn’t saying anything. I had to hand it to him—he was doing his best to cover for me, even though he knew about the notebook and the truth behind my dip in the tank.

  “I…”

  Was there any way to get out of this without outing myself as a horrible person? Could I make up something sort of true, without telling her the whole truth about Ashley and that stupid notebook?

  “Um…”

  The salt water must have numbed my brain because nothing came to mind. All I could hear was the rushing of water still in my ear. I tapped the side of my head with my palm, trying to shake it out. Ashley stepped through the door and stared at me. Worry was written all over her face. It made telling the truth that much harder.

  “I was trying to distract the crowd,” I said finally. “I mean, I wanted to get Ashley’s attention.” I couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  Mom perched her hands on her hips. “Why exactly would you want to do that? It wasn’t your turn to present. It was Ashley’s,” she said. Her eyebrows knit together. “Is that what this is about? You wanted to be the center of attent—”

  “No!” I said. “Honestly, it wasn’t! I was trying to help her.” Ashley’s head cocked as she listened, doing her best to look like she wasn’t. Her cheeks were red.

  There was no way out of this.

  “Help her by jumping into a shark tank? Ana, you could have been hurt! You know that the circumstances when you’re allowed near the touch tank are very specific, and if you don’t respect that, you can be hurt!” She was still wringing her hat in her hands, twisting the fabric.