Chapter Forty-Six

Birdtalk

I burst from the water and slapped the rock near shore, sending a spray of drops sparkling in the sun.

“Time?” I called, panting.

Back on the beach, Nellie looked up from her watch. “Four minutes, thirty-seven seconds.” She wrote the time in her notebook. “Only five seconds faster. Do it again.”

“What am I aiming for?”

“Four and a half.”

I had cut my time from here to a rock in the strait by half a minute. But Nellie insisted I should be doing it in four minutes flat. She was keeping track of my times in her book. She’d set up what she called a training schedule, so I’d be strong enough to swim off, with a pelt or without. And maybe, just maybe, the Moon would notice. I thought I’d been pushing myself hard before, but it was nothing compared to how strong I was getting with Nellie on my side.

“Come on, lazybones,” she said. “Get going.”

I threw my head back in mock agony. And there, peering down from the top of the rocks, was a puffin. She nodded a greeting.

It was the puffin I’d helped at Maggie’s!

I wanted Nellie to meet her. I stood and called in birdtalk, “Where does the wind carry you?”

The puffin cocked her head toward Nellie.

“She good,” I said. “Friend.”

The puffin flew down and settled on my outstretched arm.

Nellie gasped, her pencil clattering onto the pebbles. But she didn’t jump or shout or do anything to scare the puffin. That was how she was—she just knew.

The puffin bowed her head and grunted, “Me find flock. Good.”

She looked plump and healthy, and her feathers were sleek.

“You alone?” I asked.

“Flock near. Me come find you. Thank you.” She nuzzled my ear.

“Oh!” Nellie said softly. “You’re talking with it!”

I grinned. “Basic birdtalk. Want to learn some?”

She nodded, wonderstruck. I motioned her over. She set down the watch and notebook and waded in, thigh deep, over to my rock. I explained to the puffin what we were doing, and she perched between us.

“What do you want to learn to say?” I asked Nellie.

“Um, how about your name.”

I said my name in birdtalk. Then the puffin grunted it, nodding to show she was glad to know what to call me. Then Nellie tried. But she had no idea which part of the sounds mattered. She sounded like a sick goose. The puffin and I laughed.

“Cut it out!” said Nellie, laughing, too. “Let me try again.”

I said, “Aran.”

The puffin said, “Aran.”

Nellie said, “Eel bottom.”

The puffin chortled so hard, she lost her footing and flapped to catch her balance.

“Stop it!” said Nellie, laughing. “Say it again.”

“Aran,” said the puffin.

Nellie’s brows lowered in concentration. “Flat bottom.”

“Aran,” said the puffin.

“Ar-tom,” said Nellie. “Ar-om. Aran!”

“That’s it!” I cried.

Nellie clasped her hands overhead.

“Good, good,” said the puffin. “More talk.”

I pulled the stone selkie from my pocket. No one else had ever seen it before.

Nellie drew in a breath, then reached over and ran a finger along its smooth stone back. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Selkie,” I said in birdtalk.

“Selkie,” said the puffin, with an encouraging look.

“Sea foot,” said Nellie.

But with every word, she learned faster, sorting out the trills from the chirps, discovering the importance of pitch. She had almost mastered, “Where does the wind carry you?” when the puffin hopped to my shoulder, nuzzled my cheek, and said, “Me go. See flock.”

I translated for Nellie.

“Please tell her thank you,” she said.

We watched the puffin flap away across the water.

Nellie sighed in contentment. “This is the best day ever.”

As usual, I felt the boat before I saw it. This time Nellie felt it, too. It crested the horizon, chugging its way toward Spindle Harbor.

“There goes your chance to make a better time,” said Nellie.

“Just wait until tomorrow.” I waded with her through the water, the pebbles rolling underfoot. “I’m going to break four and a half, easy.”

We ran up the trail, then slowed and walked side by side through the trees until our paths split.

“Good-bye,” I said in birdtalk.

“What did you say?”

“Eel bottom!”

Our laughter was a ray of light, linking us as we waved good-bye.

I walked the long way back to Maggie’s, holding on to the bright afternoon, and the joy of seeing the puffin again, and Nellie’s attempts at birdtalk. I rolled the stone selkie in my hand. “Sea foot,” I said, laughing. I barely noticed when I stepped out of the trees and started walking across the gravel toward Maggie’s door. I was hearing the puffin chortle and seeing the concentration on Nellie’s face—

And then a huge hand clamped down on my shoulder.

“Tommy?” said a deep voice, breaking. “Tommy, is that you?”