“No worries, luv,” Jack’s mom shouted. “We’ll get this sorted out directly.”

“Don’t move,” Jack yelled. “Don’t make any decisions or come up with any plans!”

Loco marched down to the beach. Jack raced past him and muttered, “Don’t even pretend you’re shocked,” then sprinted up to the cave and grabbed his snorkel gear.

Jack gripped the rope and swung into the water. He had to get to the channel before the boat sank. Jack did not want to even imagine what kind of plan his parents might come up with if that happened. They might decide to try to swim back to Lee Beach.

His dad’s muffled voice drifted over the water. “Did he just jump off a cliff?”

Jack paused in front of the channel. The waves were higher than they had been the last time. He looked underwater.

The passage through the reef to open ocean dropped down thirty feet, surrounded by dead, colorless coral. A few scraggly plants clung to the channel walls, swaying back and forth with the surge.

A dark shadow appeared. As it moved closer, Jack realized it was Tom.

The whale shark’s tail fin waved gently in the center of the channel.

Jack did not know the rules of engagement for grabbing a whale shark’s tail fin, but he supposed he was about to find out. He took a deep breath and kicked.

Jack grabbed the end of Tom’s fin. The whale shark moved slowly forward. Jack held on, coasting up and down on the waves.

The shark pulled Jack through the passage. Blue, bottomless water appeared beneath him. He was through to open ocean. Jack let go of Tom’s fin.

The shark’s tail fin gave a powerful swish, and Tom disappeared into the depths.

Jack kicked over to his parent’s boat.

“Look at you, rascal,” his mom said, hauling Jack onto the wrecked boat. “Jumping off cliffs and swimming around with whale sharks …”

“We’ve got to get off before the boat sinks,” Jack said, panting. He pointed to the life jackets tucked under the seat. “Put those on. It’s rough in the channel.”

“That’s one idea,” his dad said. “But wouldn’t you rather take the raft?”

“What raft?” Jack asked.

His mom pointed to a heap of rubber at the bow. “That one, luv. It’s an inflatable. We just work the foot pump and off we go.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before I swam out here?” Jack sputtered.

“You didn’t give us a moment, Son,” his dad said. “You just jumped right into the water. Bit of a shock, really.”

“How did you even think to bring a raft?” Jack said. “I mean, that’s not … like something you would do.”

“Ah,” his dad said, rubbing his hands together. “In between searches for you, we did an awful lot of thinking about checklists. You know, since that first one went amiss. We decided a raft should be on the list. And also, a hairbrush for your mom. The wind does terrible things to her hair.”

“Oh, but, Richard,” his mom said, glancing at his dad, “one item on the list won’t do us any good.”

“What?” Jack asked.

Jack’s dad pointed to a red plastic container tucked beneath the console. “The spare petrol. And we thought we’d been so clever. Just put the petrol on the skiff, and off we go. Now this boat is wrecked, and you’ve lost the skiff. We’ve gone from two boats to no boats. We didn’t see that coming.”

His mom glanced at the rubber raft and said, “It’s going to be a long paddle home.”

“I didn’t lose the skiff,” Jack said. “It’s in the lagoon.”

“Well, really, Jack,” his dad said, “it’s a miracle we found you at all. We’ve been racing around looking for the skiff. Naturally we thought, you find the skiff, you find the boy.”

“Why would you hide it?” his mom asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “Don’t you see? I have a boat, and you have gas. That’s how we get home.”

“He’s on to something, Claire,” his dad said.

They inflated the raft, loaded the spare gas container, and paddled hard through the waves in the channel. On the beach, Loco marched over to Jack’s dad, shouted, “Bad dog!” and bit his sneaker.

“Ow,” his dad cried. “Oh, hello, you! Jack, you saved the bird. Well done.” He turned and said, “Claire, here’s something odd. My stomach ailment is cured.”

“Mine too!” his mom said.

“What was wrong with your stomachs?” Jack asked, searching the sea for Tom.

“Your dad and I caught a terrible stomach virus,” his mom said.

“Absolutely wretched,” his dad said, “it came on directly after the … drift snorkeling mishap. Almost as if we’d breathed it in. A terrible, twisting knot. Enough to drive you mad.”

“And now it’s gone,” his mom said. “Gosh, Jack, I hope we weren’t contagious. I wouldn’t like you to get it.”

“It wasn’t a virus,” Jack said. “You were worried. That’s why your stomach hurt. It happens to me all the time.”

“Does it?” his mom asked.

“That’s awful,” his dad said.

“Yes,” Jack answered, “it has been.”

“Richard, I think Jack’s right,” his mom said. “Remember what we said right before the pain struck? If it had been us drifting away, it would’ve been a bit of a laugh. But somehow, because it was Jack, it wasn’t.”

“True. And every time we talked about what might have happened to him, the ache got worse,” his dad said.

“It did!”

“Well,” his dad said, “it’s a happy day that our worries are over. Let’s get the petrol on the skiff, and off we go.”

“We can’t leave now,” Jack said. “It’ll be dark in an hour!”

“Richard,” his mom said, “this sounds like something that should be on the checklist. Time of day.”

“Very sensible,” his dad said. “Right then, let’s huddle under a tree and wait for daybreak.”

Jack shook his head. “Sitting under a palm tree is like playing Russian roulette with coconuts. C’mon, follow me.” He picked up Loco and headed back to the cave. His parents scrambled up the rocks behind him.

“Look at this,” his mom said. “Just as cozy as can be.” She pointed to the shelf. “It even has a makeshift kitchen.”

“Are those crisps?” his dad asked.

“Don’t touch the potato chips,” Jack said. “We’ll divide them up for dinner.”

His mom picked up the dive slate “Ooh, Jack, you’ve been writing …” She trailed off, then whispered, “Richard, come look at this.”

“At once, luv,” his dad said, giving the potato chips a wistful glance. “Ah, very resourceful, Jack. Writing to keep busy. What? ‘Things trying to kill Jack’? ‘Parents … as usual.’”

They turned to Jack.

Jack had forgotten about the list of things trying to kill him. He was about to tell them it was just a joke. But it wasn’t a joke.

“I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings,” Jack said. “I probably should have written ‘accidentally’ instead of ‘as usual.’ I know you don’t do dangerous things on purpose, but you still do them.”

“Jack,” his mom said, “you don’t really think we meant for this to happen?”

“No, but it happened anyway. You weren’t careful, and I had to live with the consequences.”

“Bad dog,” Loco said.

“Richard,” his mom said, “has the master plan failed?”

“Impossible,” his dad answered. “It’s the master plan. The plan to end all plans.”

“But look at him. Jack should be happy by now, and he doesn’t seem like he is.”

His dad furrowed his brow. “Should we tweak the master plan?”

“What master plan?” Jack asked.