The Missing Manatee by Cynthia DeFelice

Author:Cynthia DeFelice
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466893597
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

Ten

We sat for a while talking about the fish and the fight, reliving every moment for the sheer pleasure of it. At around three-thirty, Dan said we’d better head in. I was putting away my rod when I had a sudden idea. “Hey, Dan! Could we get on the radio to Mac and tell him about my fish?”

Dan took a sip from his bottle. “No radio,” he said. “I lost a big tarpon one day when my fly line got tangled on the antenna. I was so mad I ripped the darn thing off.” He grinned. “Much better that way.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. To Dirty Dan’s way of thinking, a radio wasn’t a good thing to have in case of an emergency; it was a possible hindrance to landing a fish. That’s why he was the Tarpon Man.

“No sweat,” I said, thinking I was glad Mom was at work so there was no chance of meeting her at the dock when we got back. If she knew I’d been out all day with no radio, no food, no fresh water, not to mention with a bottle of whiskey and a gun in the boat—well, I didn’t even want to think about how mad she’d be, at me and Mac both. No way I wanted to be the cause of another fight. Plus, I’d never be allowed to go fishing with Dirty Dan again, that was for sure.

Thinking of Mom reminded me that I was supposed to wear a life jacket when we were running. Guiltily, I realized I hadn’t worn one on the way out. I’d have put one on for the ride home, but—no surprise this time—there weren’t any.

I peeked at the bottle of whiskey and saw it was pretty near empty. Uh-oh. Was Dan drunk? He didn’t seem to be. I watched him stow his push pole and let the engine down. He moved around the boat quickly and easily, not stumbling or staggering like drunks in the movies. The whiskey didn’t seem to have any effect on him. So why not just drink water, I wondered.

Dan asked, “Ready to roll, Skeet?” His voice sounded normal, too, not slurry and mumbly like a drunk’s.

I gave a mental shrug and said, “Ready!”

We took off, zooming across the flats, and all my worried thoughts blew away with the breeze. I could hardly believe it: I’d caught a tarpon!

At Larry’s, I helped Dan secure the boat. I was thanking him for the thousandth time when Blink walked up. Blinky was by his side, a ball in his mouth.

“Hi, Dirty Dan! Hi, Skeet!” Blink said. Instead of his usual smile, though, Blink wore a worried expression. His eyes blinked even faster than normal, and his gaze flew anxiously from Dirty Dan to me and back to Dan again. He sounded nervous. I noticed he hadn’t reached into his pocket for the flipping quarter.

“Hey, Blink,” I said, “what’s up?”

Dan smiled and gave his son’s shoulder a pat. “How’s it going, Blink?”

Blink seemed to relax a little at that, but he asked, “Is Dirty Dan mad?”

“Mad?” said Dan.

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