Maggie Malone Makes a Splash Read online

  I feel like I’m watching a movie, only without the delicious buttered popcorn and supersize Sprite. I watch as the big boat ties itself to the Sea Angel and slowly swings to the side. When it does, I can make out the words “Coast Guard” on the side. I want to cry with relief. They’re the nice guys who come to help you when your boat is sinking or tell you when a big storm is coming. Grandpa Winston was in the Coast Guard—that’s where he fell in love with the “Great Big Blue” as he liked to call the ocean.

  I watch as three uniformed men step from the Coast Guard boat onto the Sea Angel. Lexi and Captain Jack rush to greet them, and now they’re all smiles. Maybe I watch too many movies. I mean, why does my brain always race straight to the dark side? I should probably work on that. Captain Jack and Lexi were probably just cleaning up the place for unexpected guests.

  I give Skipper the arm wave I’ve already learned means “Let’s go!” and we race back to the Sea Angel. Again, I’m amazed by my grace and skills. (I can say that because they’re technically not “mine.”) I really am incredible! I sure wish Coach King—better yet, his bratty daughter Brianna—was here to see me!

  “Do you folks have any idea how lucky you are?” one of the uniformed guys is saying as I reach the boat. “I mean, there are exactly two permits in the whole world to be anywhere near this reef, and you guys have one of them. Do you know who has the other one?”

  Lexi and Captain Jack shake their heads.

  “The Coast Guard!” The guy laughs. “Us! That’s it. Just you and us, the only two boats who are allowed to be here for any reason, under any circumstances. We trust you won’t abuse that privilege, right? Because it is a privilege. A pretty incredible one.”

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” I say, pulling myself up the little ladder that hangs off the aft deck. (That’s a dive platform attached to the back of the boat. I heard Zac call it that before. I’d have surely called it “that little wooden-deck-thingy-on-the-back” so I was happy to have this information.)

  “Miss Tide,” one of the men says, nodding in my direction, obviously aware of who I am. I nod back and give him my best Miss Universe smile.

  “As I was saying,” the other man says, clearing his throat. “Command is doing some maintenance on our radio communication this week, so we’re switching call signs. You can get us on 1111 if you need anything.”

  Eleven-eleven—that’s my favorite time of day. Stella and I make a wish every time we catch it on a clock. Speaking of Stella, I make a mental note to thank her for sending me the link to those Flynn Tide videos. I spent a whole weekend watching them, and I know the Tide family legacy inside and out, back to Great-Great-Great Grandpa Milton “the Marlin” Tide who was a First Sea Lord—that’s like the tippy-top guy—of the British Royal Navy. It feels great to be prepared when you’re put in a sticky situation.

  The thing is, I have no idea how sticky this particular situation is about to get.

  Chapter 12

  When I Start to Get into the Swim of Things

  I swing through the salon and down the stairs to Marina’s stateroom like it’s something I do every day. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull a cute pair of avocado-green terry-cloth shorts with an elastic waist over my rainbow-striped swimsuit. Then I find one of those button-down long-sleeved sun shirts that says Sea Angel on the pocket and put that on. I figure that’s perfect.

  I hear two short knocks on the door to my room.

  “Hey, Mare, your dad’s tying up and I think he could use a hand from his best girl,” Lexi calls through the door.

  “Be right there!” I yell back. She really seems great. I love that I picked a drama-free life this time.

  I tie my wild mane into a loose braid and head up the stairs. I recognize Flynn “The Fin” Tide as soon as I see him. I know he’s at least as old as my dad, but I have to say this guy’s got kind of a superhero or movie-star quality to him. Dark hair and skin, a big, white toothy smile, and he’s got a big, square chin that would make Superman jealous.

  “Marina!” he yells when he sees me and tosses me the line to his boat. “Today’s the day! Your favorite—Acropora cervicornis!”

  Say what? I don’t remember anything about Flynn speaking a different language. I try to think fast.

  “Oh! Um, yeah, Dad! You know nothing gets me fired up like a big, juicy bowl of…” I trail off because I’ve got nothing. What in the world is he talking about? Luckily, he’s distracted by Lexi, who starts going over the shoot schedule with him as soon as he steps on the boat. He gives me a huge smile and a little tug on my braid, and goes back to listening to Lexi.

  “Would you like some kelp milk on your big, juicy bowl of exotic coral?” Zac says with a laugh. He’s inside the cabin lining up gear on a long table.

  “Sprinkled with extra-sharp shark’s teeth, please,” I reply with a wink. I just winked at a super-cute boy! I bite the inside of my cheek—because that’s what I do when I get nervous around a boy—and pretend to be extremely busy coiling and recoiling the dinghy rope into a perfect circle on the deck. At least I know what Acropora cervicornis is now!

  “Hey, Marina?” Zac hesitates and then continues. “Would you mind taking a look at my creative writing essay with me? It’ll only take a few minutes and I have to submit it online today. You’re such a great writer, and I’m just not sure…”

  “Of course,” I say. Because for one thing, I happen to be pretty darn good with words, and also because Zac has the sweetest puppy-dog face.

  He rushes to his stateroom and returns with a folder. We sit side by side on the banquette in the salon and I read his essay while he waits, obviously hoping I like it. I laugh out loud when I read the part about him riding on the back of his buddy’s moped, holding a burrito in one hand and a slushie in the other.

  “I think it’s great!” I say, handing it back to him when I reach the end. “It’s funny and really honest when you make fun of yourself—I love that part. You might wind up being a famous writer. An oceanographer-writer, of course!”

  Zac shoves the paper aside and grabs both my hands. “You really think so?” he asks, looking me straight in the eye, and then he gives me a huge hug.

  Just to be clear, I’ve never had a boy grab my hand before—let alone both my hands—and then give me a big bear hug. I think I might melt like a snowman that showed up in the wrong season.

  “What about you, Marina?” Zac asks, collecting his papers.

  “What about me?” I say, willing my brain to stop feeling so fuzzy.

  “Well, I mean, I guess it’s pretty clear that you’re going to take over for your dad someday,” Zac says. “I just wondered if there was anything else you wanted to do…or something you would do if your future wasn’t already set in stone.”

  It’s so sweet that he wants to know this about me—well, about Marina—but I’m afraid to answer for her! Like, what if I said, “Oh, I’d love to be an astronaut or an Olympic sprinter or a goodwill ambassador to Africa,” and Marina’s secret fantasy is to be a kindergarten teacher or a drummer in a rock band? That could make for some seriously awkward conversations between these two, and I’d hate to be the cause of that. Zac would be all, “But you said you wanted to be a fill-in-the-blank!” and she’d be all, “Uh, I never said that!”

  “I guess I’ve never really thought about it,” I tell Zac. “But I love that you asked me that! I’m going to start to think about it for sure.”

  “You should,” he tells me, nodding his head enthusiastically. “Because you’re amazing, Marina. For real. You could do anything you wanted. You know that, right?”

  I’m flustered by his sweet words for a second, but then I remember something my mom always says: It’s just as important to be able to accept a compliment as it is to give one.

  “Well,” I tell Zac, whipping out the best compliment response I’ve got, “coming from you, that means a lot
.” We sit there grinning like fools together, and it’s all I can do not to tell him how glad I am that I picked a day in Marina Tide’s shoes.

  Chapter 13

  When Things Get Fishy on the Sea Angel

  “Sandwiches will be ready in five,” Captain Jack announces. No fish tacos? Rats! I’d sort of gotten my heart—and my taste buds—set on having a couple of those, what with all the fish swimming around here, but maybe oceanographers don’t eat fish. I guess that would make sense.

  We all sit around the big wooden table on the aft deck, and Captain Jack serves everyone a turkey sandwich the size of an entire loaf of bread. I eat every last bit of mine—even though he put those spicy pepper flakes that make me sneeze on it—because that swim made me crazy-hungry.

  “Look at Mare go!” Zac laughs as I inhale my sandwich. “You might sink straight to the bottom of the ocean this afternoon with that much food in your belly!”

  “Oh, don’t worry. She’s going to work it off,” Lexi says. “There’s still plenty of scrubbing to do around here. All of the vent screens need to be washed. The fluids need to be checked and topped, and every valve cover bolt needs to be inspected and tightened.” Zac groans but he’s smiling when he does it. You can tell he loves everything about being on this boat.

  Maybe it’s because they’re different chores than I do at home, or maybe it’s because I have Zac alongside me, whistling all sorts of silly, made-up tunes, but the time seems to fly. Zac makes a great chore partner and I find myself wishing—especially after that little chat we had before lunch—that I had some guy friends like Zac back at home. Not that I’m looking to replace Stella or Elizabeth or Alicia or anything, but there’s something just plain cool about hanging out with a guy. I decide I’m going to work on that.

  “Not half bad,” Zac says, inspecting my work.

  “Thanks,” I say shyly, turning away. When I do, I see Captain Jack climbing the ladder onto the stern. He’s wearing full scuba gear and being super quiet for the big guy he is, until he accidentally trips over a rope I just coiled. He stumbles and flails, and instead of freeing himself, he gets all caught up in the rope. Captain Jack tries to steady himself by grabbing on to a bunch of life vests hanging on hooks. I cover my mouth when he pulls the whole mess of them down with him when he falls. The commotion brings Flynn and Lexi running.

  “Jack, are you okay?” Lexi asks, all out of breath. Jack nods and shakes his head, which sends water flying everywhere.

  “You’ve been diving this afternoon?” Flynn asks, helping him up. “You know we have a limited number of dives in the area so that we keep our disruption of the ecosystem minimal.”

  “Surface dive only, Flynn,” Jack explains, hanging the life vests back on the hooks. “This mask was leaking and I had to test the regulator—valve’s been acting up. We’re all set now.”

  “Relax, Flynn,” Lexi says to Flynn in kind of a baby-talk voice. You know, that voice where it sounds like somebody’s being really sweet to you, but really they think you’re kind of dumb. Why would she speak like that to him? He’s only one of the most famous oceanographers in the world. He doesn’t seem to notice. “Captain Jack knows what he’s doing.”

  “Oh, of course. Right,” Flynn says, shaking his head and focusing on Lexi’s clipboard. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous or excited, I don’t know. It’s my little girl’s first solo shoot and…”

  “I know,” Lexi says, comforting him. “I’ve watched her for a year and a half, and I can tell you that she’s absolutely ready. I don’t think anybody in the world knows more about staghorn coral than Marina Tide. And in the post-dive interview, she’ll be able to explain, in words that kids across the country can understand, how important it is to protect this endangered species.”

  “You’re right,” Flynn agrees. “It’ll be great. Zac, why don’t we go down to your stateroom and go over your notes for the shoot one more time?” Zac nods and follows Flynn.

  As soon as they’re gone, Lexi turns to me.

  “Marina, this is a deep dive today, so get your full suit and booties on, okay?” she says.

  “You got it!” I tell her, hoping I can find the right suit down there. Then I remember Marina’s microscopic closet and figure it won’t be too tough of a task.

  “Jack, I need to talk to you for a second,” I hear Lexi say as I tuck into the main cabin. I know it’s not polite to eavesdrop, but I’m still a newbie in Marina Tide’s life and I need some inside scoop on my dive and shoot plan here. I crouch below one of those little round windows and listen.

  “What was that?” Lexi whispers to Jack. “You were supposed to be back on the boat making lunch before Flynn got back!”

  “We agreed the kid shouldn’t handle the dynamite, right?” Jack says. “It had to get down there somehow.”

  Did I just hear dynamite?

  “I’m scared, Jack,” Lexi says. “I just don’t know if I can go through with it.”

  Go through with WHAT?

  “It’s a little late for that, Lexi.” Captain Jack’s voice turns angry. “Listen to me. We joined this team and came here for one reason: to find that buried treasure. The treasure that my father spent his whole life searching for and died trying to get his hands on.”

  “But do we really have to blow up the reef?” Lexi pleads.

  “We’ve tried everything else, Lexi. You know that,” Captain Jack says. “We’re talking about my father’s legacy, and I’m not leaving here without it. We stick to the plan. Got it?”

  GULP! What. Is. Going. ON?

  Chapter 14

  When I Realize the Timer Might Be Ticking

  My head is swimming—pun intended—when I get down to Marina’s stateroom. Buried treasure? That somebody DIED trying to find? And stick with the plan? WHAT plan? If ever there was a genuine, full-blown, I-need-a-genie crisis, this would be it.

  “Frank!” I whisper into the tiny mirror on the back of Marina’s stateroom door. “Earth to Frank! More specifically, big, huge ocean to Frank! Frank the Genie, please come in! This is a maritime EMERGENCY! S.O.S!”

  “Well, if it isn’t Maggie-Marina-Tide-Malone,” Frank says, his face coming into focus in the mirror. “You sound like a girl who just found a family of ants camping out in her pajamas! Or should I say a cluster of sea slugs in her wet suit?” Frank says this with a belly laugh, but I am not in the mood.

  “Frank, something crazy is happening,” I tell him, ignoring his joke—and the fact that he’s wearing what looks like a bullfighting costume.

  “Crazier than diving into somebody else’s life midstream, you mean?” Frank laughs again, neatly adjusting a fringy gold tassel on his shoulder. Of all of the genies in the world, I had to get one who thinks he’s the star of his own one-man comedy show.

  “Like, major big-time crazy,” I tell him. “I think Lexi and Captain Jack are planning something…something bad.”

  “Maggie, remember what I told you about Brianna, because it applies in this life too,” Frank says with a sigh. “You can’t control what other people are going to do. Worry about your own self.”

  “I am worrying about my own self, Frank,” I say nervously. “I’m worried that these other people are planning to do something really scary and dangerous that’s going to kaboom my own self!” My heart is pounding inside my chest.

  “Well, if that’s true, then I guess you have to ask yourself what Maggie Malone would do. I think Maggie Malone would find someone she could trust and tell them about this majorly scary business you speak of,” Franks says, distracted, leaning back and forth in a cloud of smoke.

  “I mean, I think I heard them say… But what if I’m wrong? They seem so nice… I don’t know,” I explain, confused and hoping for a good genie answer.

  “Look, Mags, I’d love to chat more but they’re about to release the bulls,” Frank shouts. “Go with your gut! Do some
digging. Ask some questions. Remember, you’ve got this! And let’s hope I’ve got this too, or you may be in the market for a new genie!” I watch in frustration as Frank’s face bounces up and down and fades away.

  I can’t control what other people are going to do? No kidding! Worry about my own self? Yeah, that’s not hard to do right now. This is not exactly a first-rate genie revelation. He wasn’t even listening to me! Why, oh why, oh why did I pick this life? And why don’t MMBs come with some sort of warning? You know, like Be careful what you wish for, or something—anything—that might make you think twice before jumping into something that might not be at all what you expected.

  I really have no choice, so after pacing around the tiny stateroom a few times, I finally pull the thickest, longest wet suit out of the closet and try to step into it. Now I know what a sausage feels like when it’s getting stuffed! You know how when you’re still wet from the shower and you try to pull your jeans on and those things are all “Yeah, that’s not happening, sister”? Well, if this wet suit could talk, that’s what it would be saying to me right now. Was I supposed to spray myself with cooking spray before attempting this?

  I manage to get both feet into the ankle holes, and then I pull and I tug and I do about thirty-seven frog squats until finally I have the wet suit up to my waist. When I try to get my arms into it, I realize I’ve got the thing on backward! Who puts a zipper in the back of something, anyway? I peel it off and start the whole process all over.

  I’m dripping sweat by the time I get the thing zipped up—which is no easy task itself, because I have to dance and shake all over the place to reach the long zipper strap in the back. That was not fun—but at least it distracted me for a few minutes from the mess I’m in. Uncle of a salty sea urchin, the mess I’m in! I take a gigantic breath to steady my nerves before heading up the stairs, because what else am I going to do?