Chapter Thirty-Five

Blue

The next morning I was still out on my sleeping ledge when I smelled coffee. There was a light on in the kitchen window. Maggie was never up this early! As quietly as I could I crept to the side of the house, eased my window open, and climbed in. I tiptoed to the bed, then jumped out again so my feet hit the floor with a thunk. I opened a dresser drawer and slammed it shut. Then I walked to the kitchen.

Maggie sat slumped over a steaming mug.

“Morning, Aran.” She was trying to sound cheerful, but she looked so hollow, a puff of wind could have carried her away. “Listen, I have to go to the mainland today.” She paused and took a sip. “Jane’s husband is taking me across to the big island to get the ferry.”

I didn’t answer. All I could think about was getting to Nellie’s. I rushed to pour myself a bowl of cornflakes and gulped it down. I rinsed the bowl at the sink, flicking the curtain aside to check the height of the sun. I glanced at the door.

Maggie shook her head with a crooked smile. “I know, I know, you’re off for your daily dose of sea. But you be extra careful, okay? I’ll be back before dark.”

I ran off without saying good-bye.

Nellie met me at the bluff. This time I watched our path carefully so I’d be able to find my own way home. At sea, finding a route was easy, with currents and wave patterns to guide me. Here I had to memorize markers: a tree with two trunks, a boulder shaped like a whale. And I was on the alert for people. It was bad enough that Nellie’s grandfather had seen me. He was absolutely the last human who could know I was here.

We reached the house and Nellie led me inside. The walrus stood staring out the window. He turned and limped over to a chair. No wonder he was so fierce; he had to be, to survive predators with a leg like that.

He picked up the cold tusk from the table and cradled it in his palm. “I need blue,” he barked.

I glanced at Nellie to see if she understood. But she looked confused, so I asked, “What kind?”

“Every kind. Robin’s-egg blue. Evening blue. Sun-on-the-water blue.” He leaned back in his chair and gestured toward the window and the sea beyond. “How can I paint if I can’t get close to that? My blasted knee is so bad, I can barely walk. I need to rest it for a few days and hope it stops screaming at me with every step. In the meantime, I need to keep working. So bring me blue.”

I followed Nellie outside. I was glad it was misty here. Humans went outside less when it was wet, probably because their clothes got clammy.

“Hold on a second,” said Nellie, spinning around. “I’ll get my backpack.”

Blue. How hard could that be? This shouldn’t take long. We’d find our blue, and then somehow I’d sneak up to the aerie and figure out how to listen to the books. The trick would be doing it without letting the walrus know. And I couldn’t let Nellie know my plans, either. She and her grandfather were close. No, I had to find my way up the stairs when no one was watching—

Nellie touched my elbow and I jumped. Then she was racing ahead. I ran after her, winding downhill around fir trees and leafy trees, bushes and brush. We leaped off rocks and crunched down on a pebbled shore. It was a beautiful little cove, peaceful and sheltered.

“I’ll look here,” said Nellie, bending to the base of the cliff behind us. “You check the beach.”

I picked up handfuls of stones but tossed most of them away again. When we met to share what we’d found, only two were good enough to keep: a shiny, black pebble flecked with blue and a blue-gray shard.

We shook our heads. It wasn’t enough.

A boat puttered into view. I dashed back up the trail, crouching under the leafy trees at the top. Something rustled in the branches high above me. I glanced up in time to catch a flash of pure, bright blue.

Nellie came running up and I pointed. For a moment, nothing. And then, from behind the leaves, another flicker of blue and a burst of song.

“A bluebird,” she said.

She jumped up and grabbed the lowest branch, pulling herself up easily. Then she disappeared into the thick, swaying green. A moment later, the bluebird burst from the leaves and flew to a fir, scolding crossly. I waited for Nellie to come down. Instead, the leaves rustled higher up the tree.

She peeked out near the top, small and far away, and called, “Come see!”

On the rocks where I was raised, trees were bent and stunted by the wind. This one was taller than I’d ever climbed before. I grabbed the branch and pulled myself up, the bark rough under my hands, and then I was climbing high into a dark, cool, whispering world. The leaves brushed gently against my skin. The thinner the branches got, the more they swayed, until it was like riding waves. I almost forgot why I was climbing until I reached Nellie.

She pointed to a hole in the trunk. Inside was a snug nest made of grass, fir needles—and feathers, like slivers of summer sky.

We chose two and left the rest for the bird. Nellie scampered down like a squirrel. I followed, branches bouncing under my weight, and landed in a crackle of brush.

Nearby, we found a cluster of dark blue berries and a sprig of flowers, a soft purple-blue. We spread out our whole collection. The mist had deepened to rain. Nellie’s dark hair dripped around her face.

She sighed. “It’s not enough.”

I scuffed at the ground. She was right. This wasn’t enough to make the walrus welcome me back. I could see it now: a dismissive wave of his hand, a gruff snort, and there went my chances of sneaking up to the books. Colors on land were so feeble compared to those under the sea.

I started walking.

“Where are you going?” Nellie fell in behind me.

“Back to the cove.”

“But we already looked there.”

“We only looked on shore,” I said. “No wonder we didn’t find anything good.”

I jumped down to the pebbles, waded in thigh-deep, and dove.

A silver-blue fish swished past. I let it go. A fish would be hard to carry back alive, and the dead ones lose their shimmer. I swam deeper.

At the bottom, next to a sun-red sea star, lay fragments of mussel shells. I gathered a handful, kicked up, and lobbed them ashore. I dove again. It didn’t take long to find a colony of live mussels nearby. I twisted off a few, hoping their insides would be brighter than the fragments. Besides, I was hungry, and mussels sounded good. As I swam off, I saw some oysters, so I grabbed one of those, too.

I splashed back up on shore. Nellie was looking through the shell fragments.

“These three are best,” she said, holding them out.

They were good, but not great. I cracked open a mussel and offered the meat to Nellie. When she shook her head, I slurped it down. Then I held out the glistening inner shell so Nellie could see. It swirled with layers of blue, from bold and dark to pale and mysterious. The center glowed like a pool of silver-blue moonlight.

We grinned at each other.

“That’s it!” said Nellie, bending to put the treasures in her pack. She headed up the trail.

I was still hungry, and I wasn’t going to let the oyster go to waste. I grabbed a sharp rock and pried it open—

There, atop the meat, nestled a pearl, as round and shining as the Moon. It almost looked like it belonged in the night-blue sky of the mussel shell. I slipped it into my pocket. Then I swallowed the oyster and ran after Nellie. Toward the walrus, and the house made of windows, and the aerie full of secrets.