“I don’t get it,” Arthur said, confused.
“She left because . . . because she was in trouble,” Tom said. “And she didn’t want you and me . . . especially you . . . to be in trouble, too.” He pushed the fork toward Arthur, who picked it up in his right hand. The boy stuck the fork into the pan and swirled some pasta. “Glad to see you got your appetite back.”
“We should help her.”
Tom thought for a second. “I wish we could, kid,” Tom said. “But it’s more complicated than that. I . . . I’m not explaining it very well, am I?”
The two sat in silence for a moment as they continued to eat their dinner from the same pan. Arthur rubbed his nose, then looked at his father. “Why couldn’t she bring us with her?”
“Sometimes . . . sometimes people go places where we can’t follow, Arthur,” Tom said.
“Are you gonna go?”
Tom looked at his son and shook his head. “You’re stuck with me,” he said.
He couldn’t breathe.
Struggling to take in a breath, Arthur found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t inhale. It was like the air was a solid, or a liquid.
A liquid?
Water.
The ocean.
He was in the ocean, but it wasn’t blue or green. It was dark. Very dark. And Arthur knew that he was deep below the ocean’s surface. His hands, arms, and legs were in motion, as if treading water to keep in place. But it required almost no effort. Arthur felt as if his limbs were unencumbered, as if there was no resistance.
It was impossible to tell how long he had been there, treading water, or how he got there. Peering through the darkness, Arthur could see small fish swimming his way, then suddenly scattering. He looked around and saw a long, dark shape coming closer. It was the size of a person, maybe larger.
As it grew closer, Arthur saw that the shape had eyes.
And teeth.
Shark.
He felt something brush against his back, and he whirled around in the water. His eyes caught a glimpse of a tail and another shark.
Then another.
And another.
They were circling him now, the sharks.
Arthur felt his pulse throbbing in his temples, his throat seizing up.
And still the sharks circled.
What were they waiting for? Why didn’t they attack?
Spinning around, Arthur watched as the sharks swam, keeping their distance. They were close but didn’t seem interested in him, Arthur realized. It was almost like they were there to . . . protect him? Growing bold, Arthur decided to swim toward one of the sharks. With the pull of his right arm, he tried to swim ahead, only to find the sharks suddenly receding. He pulled harder with both arms, kicking, but the sharks grew farther and farther away.
And he screamed, but no sound came out.
“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’m here!”
Arthur felt himself shaking, only he wasn’t the one doing it. It was his father, hair looking crazy, bleary-eyed. The boy looked around his bedroom and saw the alarm clock—2:13 a.m. His father’s hands were on either shoulder, now holding Arthur steady.
“You got a set of lungs on you, kid,” Tom said. “You started screaming, and I came running. Must have been some dream.”
“I was screaming?” Arthur said, as if he hadn’t heard anything his father had said.
“You were screaming.”
“I . . . had a weird dream.”
“How about you tell me all about it after we both get some more sleep?” Tom said, standing up. He grabbed the blanket that had been balled up at the bottom of Arthur’s bed, unfurled it, gave it a shake, and placed it over his son.
“Yeah, okay,” Arthur said.
“G’night, Arthur.”
“G’night, Dad,” Arthur replied, and watched as his father disappeared behind the closed door.
Chapter Four
“OKAY, CLASS, LET’S HEAR IT ONE more time.”
“No talking.”
“No touching.”
“No shoving.”
“No having fun.”
Mrs. Lewis craned her neck, looking down the aisle of the bus and over the heads of her fourth-grade class, trying to see who’d lobbed in that last comment. Her eyes drifted to a seat occupied by two of the taller boys in the group, Matt and Mike. They both barely stifled their laughs, easily heard among the murmuring students.
With a sigh, Mrs. Lewis continued, “Field trips are a privilege, not a right. If you act like buffoons, I will treat you like buffoons, and we’ll stay on the bus and head back to Amnesty Bay.” The bus fell silent, with Matt and Mike attempting to wipe the smiles from their faces and failing miserably.
Arthur looked out the window of the bus at the Boston Aquarium. Ever since he could remember, he’d loved visiting the place. There was something about all the sea creatures that fired Arthur’s imagination. He could stare at them for hours, watching them, wondering what their lives must be like. His father would bring him there at least two or three times a year, sometimes more, if Arthur begged enough.
He usually begged enough.
“All right, then. Now that we understand each other, let’s get off the bus and assemble by the entrance. Remember: stick with your assigned partners.”
The students stood up from their seats and, front to back, began to file out of the bus. Arthur, sitting in the back, watched everyone leave until it was his turn to stand and exit. As he shuffled along the aisle, waiting to depart, he looked out the windows and saw the other students pairing up. Mrs. Lewis had assigned each student a field-trip partner, and Arthur was unhappily surprised to find out that he was stuck with Matt. In addition to being a self-styled “class clown,” Matt was also a straight-up bully. And he liked to direct all that bullying toward Arthur.
The last one off the bus, Arthur hit the parking lot, and saw that Matt had already paired off with his fellow bully Mike.
“Hey, we’re supposed to be field-trip partners,” Arthur said, halfheartedly.
“Yeah? Well, I already got a partner,” Matt said, and he gave Arthur a little shove to emphasize his point. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find your mom inside, fish boy.” Then he laughed and walked away with Mike.
“You can stick with us, Arthur,” said Mrs. Lewis, who was standing with another student, Claudia. She was a little taller than Arthur, with brown hair and round, freckled cheeks, and one of her front permanent teeth had yet to come in. The teacher shook her head and muttered, “Matt and Mike deserve each other.”
“All life came from the seas,” the tour guide announced, “so if we want to understand ourselves, we must journey to where we began.”
The guide gestured to the enormous glass wall behind them, which contained the tropical coral reef exhibit. It was stunning, and Arthur was transfixed. The coral was teeming with life. Fish of all shapes and sizes darted in and out, their vibrant colors a blur. Arthur saw stingrays and eels swimming along, following no discernible path.
“The tank you see behind me holds approximately two hundred thousand gallons of salt water, simulating an ocean environment. The various fish in this tank can all be found in the Caribbean, and the Boston Aquarium has spared no expense to make them feel at home right here,” the tour guide said, waving her hand along the glass, showing off the tank.
Arthur stood, feet planted, looking through the glass at the mass of life that thrived beyond. He saw a moray eel and tried to predict the path it would follow. Impossible. The eel wriggled, its body rippling. A shark swam past and caught Arthur’s eye. He shuddered. He’d had dreams about sharks. Had ever since he was six. Arthur didn’t know why, but he did.
“What’cha lookin’ at, freak?”
The next thing Arthur knew, a hand was palming the back of his head, and his face was shoved against the glass tank. Arthur winced.
“Fish boy’s checking out his only friends, the fishes!” Matt said, laughing.
“I’m not a fish boy!”
Arthur snapped. Matt always called him “fish boy,” and he hated it. Arthur couldn’t decide if Matt was doing it just because he thought he was being funny, or if he really did think that Arthur was part fish. Matt wasn’t exactly the brightest fly in the tackle box.
“Oh yeah?” Mike added. “Then where’s your mom, fish boy?”
“Leave me alone!” Arthur said, his lips mushed against the glass.
“Yeah, leave him alone!”
The voice came from behind Matt, and Arthur saw Claudia standing there, her right hand balled up in a fist. “Let him go, jerk!” Claudia said.
“What, is fish boy your boyfriend now?” Matt said, his hand still pressed against the back of Arthur’s head.
“I’m gonna give you five seconds to let go of him, and then I’m gonna get mad,” Claudia said, and everything in her voice said she was serious.
“Claudia, why don’t you go join the rest of the class,” said a stern voice. “And Matt, Mike—why don’t you leave Arthur alone,” Mrs. Lewis interjected, jabbing a finger in Matt’s chest. The bully let go of Arthur. Mrs. Lewis put a strong hand on the backs of both Matt and Mike and guided them away from Arthur. “I’ll be talking to your parents,” she said. “And coming up with some incredibly difficult homework assignments for you both.”
Arthur took a deep breath. Why did Claudia do that? Matt and Mike were such bullies. Why would she make herself a target, too?
He didn’t have an answer. And he wasn’t used to someone having his back at school. It felt . . . good.
Turning back to the tank, Arthur watched as the fish swam behind the glass. They seem curious about the human looking at them, Arthur thought. Maybe they’re just as curious about me as I am about them?
The sound of laughter interrupted Arthur’s thoughts, and he turned to see the rest of his classmates cracking up as Matt and Mike made goofy faces at the fish in the tank, and knocking on the glass.
“Today we have better maps of Mars than we do of our own seafloor,” the tour guide said, then noticed Matt and Mike. “Boys, stop that. Come along . . .”
The rest of the class moved away, following the guide, with Mrs. Lewis and Claudia right behind.
Swiveling his head from the class to the tank, Arthur was stunned to see a large sea turtle staring right back at him, its head only inches away.
“Whoa!” Arthur said out loud. He leaned in to get a better look. To his surprise, the sea turtle did the exact same thing. It was almost as if the creature was mimicking Arthur. “This is unreal,” Arthur said in a voice just above a whisper.
The staring contest continued for at least a minute before Arthur became aware that they had company. Other sea life in the tank had joined the sea turtle. Now a small school of rainbow fish were staring at Arthur, and he, back at them. If he swayed left, they swayed left. If he swayed right, they, too, swayed right.
No way . . .
As Arthur watched, the sounds of the aquarium seemed to fade away to nothingness. In their place, there was a low thrumming sensation in his head. It wasn’t a sound, and it wasn’t mechanical, it was . . . it was something else. Like a feeling. Organic. Alive. Was it his imagination, or was it . . . coming from the tank?
At once, the thrumming sensation in his head stopped, as Arthur found himself thrown up against the glass.
“Let me go!” Arthur shouted, Matt grabbing his shirt and banging him up against the glass. Arthur noticed that the crowd of classmates and other aquarium visitors were now staring at him.
“You’re such a freak, Arthur!” Matt sneered.
His back was pressed against the glass as Arthur watched Matt and Mike continue their taunting, their name calling, their bullying. Their words were painful and hurt Arthur. But mostly, they made him angry. He felt something inside him begin to boil. His fists clenched, the thrumming sensation in his head started again, the strange feeling that he had earlier returning. He saw Matt’s eyes go wide. Mike’s eyes went wide, too. Arthur wondered what was going on. Then he heard it.
WHAM!
Arthur felt the impact, and the vibration running along and down his back. He whirled around, only to see a shark . . . all ten feet of it, its head floating right next to the glass, its black, unblinking eyes staring right at Matt.
“What the . . . ,” Matt muttered.
The crowd let out an audible gasp as the shark circled around, building up momentum, and struck the glass again in the exact point it had hit before.
WHAM!
The creature hit the glass wall of the tank with such force that a crack at the point of impact began to spider across the entire container. Then another crack. Then another. They, too, began to spider in various directions.
And water began to trickle out from the cracks.
“What’s going—”
Arthur turned to see the tour guide running back, a look of shock on her face as she saw the damaged glass.
“Get back!” the tour guide shouted. Mrs. Lewis was right behind her, her mouth wide open, horrified.
“Arthur!” she called. “Are you all right?”
The tour guide stood slack-jawed, not knowing what to do. A crowd had now assembled around the tank, and no one seemed to know what to do as the shark circled around, and started for the glass once more. A hush fell over the room as everyone waited for the inevitable, half expecting a rush of water and a hungry shark to come spilling into the aquarium itself.
Then, just before the shark could strike, Arthur held up a hand as if telling the shark to . . . stop. Was it instinct? Was it something else?
Whatever it was, to his and everyone else’s shock, the shark stopped before it could strike the glass again. And like the sea turtle before, the shark now hovered in the water, looking into Arthur’s eyes, Arthur looking back.
Once again, Arthur felt the strange thrumming sensation, a feeling he just couldn’t place. The feeling grew stronger and stronger, as Arthur realized that they were not alone. The shark had been joined by an incredible assortment of tropical fish, octopi, mantas, and eels. They were all facing forward, looking at Arthur.
Arthur felt someone grasp his arm, and turned to see Claudia, looking at him in wonder. “You . . . you calmed them down,” Claudia said in awe.
Chapter Five
WHAT A WEIRD DAY.
The rest of the field trip was a blur for everyone. All they could talk about was the “shark attack” at the aquarium, with students swearing up and down that the shark was THIS CLOSE to escaping, and how it would have eaten everyone. On the bus ride back to school, it was like a game of telephone, as kids in one seat would relate some aspect of the day’s events to the kids behind them, and then those kids would add something as they told their version of the story to the students behind them.
Arthur sat on the bus, next to Claudia. He didn’t say a word, and she didn’t, either. But he felt like everyone on the bus was staring at him.
Maybe I am some kind of freak . . . some kind of . . . fish boy, he thought.
And the whole way back to school, Matt and Mike sat next to Mrs. Lewis, as she laid out the incredible amount of homework the two would be doing from now until sometime in the next century.
When they got to the front of the school, Arthur waited until Matt and Mike got off the bus, and their not-too-happy parents picked them up.
“Are you gonna leave sometime today?” the bus driver asked Arthur. Then he walked down the aisle and stepped out into the school parking lot.
“Your dad coming?” Mrs. Lewis asked.
Arthur shook his head. “Working in the lighthouse today.”
“An important job,” Mrs. Lewis said, trying to shore up Arthur’s spirits. “You’ll be okay walking home?”
“Yeah,” Arthur replied. “Thanks for the field trip, Mrs. Lewis.”
“You’re welcome. Get home safe,” Mrs. Lewis said, as Arthur walked through the parking lot and down the street in front of the school.
Arthur kicked a rock to see how far
it would go. Launched from the toe of his left sneaker, the rock hit the Myerses’ mailbox, ricocheted off, and missed their front window by an inch. Arthur winced just thinking what would have happened if it HAD hit their window.
“Nice shot.”
Whirling around, Arthur saw Claudia, her book bag slung over her right shoulder, a strap dangling behind her, dragging on the ground.
“Uh, hey,” Arthur said shyly.
“Can I walk with you?” Claudia asked, but she wasn’t really asking. She had already caught up to Arthur, matching his stride. “Were you trying to break that window?”
“No,” Arthur said, defiant. “It was just an accident. I kicked—”
“Relax, I’m kidding,” Claudia said. “Y’know, sometimes I watch you and . . . and you’re so serious.”
“I guess nothing’s very funny,” Arthur answered.
“Like Matt and Mike?”
There was a brief pause. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” Arthur said. “Whatever. It’s over and done with.”
Claudia shrugged her shoulders as they walked along the side of the rock-strewn road. “Then what do you wanna talk about? Like how about all those fish at the aquarium? That was freaky, right?”
“Yeah.” Arthur nodded. “Freaky.”
“All those fish, just looking at you . . . You’re like the fish whisperer or something,” Claudia said, laughing at her own joke. When Arthur didn’t join in, she stopped. “Are you—all right?”
“I’m fine, okay?” Arthur said, his temper beginning to flare. “I just don’t want to talk about it! I just wanna be left alone!”
Arthur walked ahead by himself.
A few seconds later, he had the weird feeling that someone was right behind him.
“You could say ‘you’re welcome,’ y’know,” Claudia muttered.
“What?” Arthur said, kicking a rock. He turned around and looked at Claudia, who stared at him briefly before looking away, shaking her head. Then he realized what she was talking about.
The aquarium. Matt and Mike. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed.
Undertow Page 2
