They returned to Mosman Bay with no trouble. The mystery boat had not given chase, and Mr. Roberts, fortunately, knew the sea and shoreline so well he was able to find his way back even though the antenna was useless.
They’d turned over Data’s theories and Sarah’s photographs to the Coast Guard and told them about being fired on by the mysterious fishing boat. The Coast Guard promised they’d look into the matter immediately.
There was nothing else for the Owls to do. There was no point in just waiting around to see what the Coast Guard could find out. It might take days.
Besides, the Games were about to begin.
As soon as they were off the ice, the Screech Owls became the underdogs.
Whoever had set up the Mini-Olympics had done a wonderful job. There were roughly ten Australians for every Screech Owl, but everything was evened out by turning the first six places in each event into points, and multiplying by ten each time a Screech Owl placed in the top six.
Fahd took silver in archery. Sarah took a gold in the 200-metre, a silver in the long jump, and a bronze in both the high jump and the hurdles. Wilson took a silver in weightlifting. Derek and Jesse came fourth in tennis doubles. Andy took bronze in the javelin, and Simon took a bronze in wrestling. Travis came fourth in the 400-metre and fifth in the pole vault, an event he’d never even tried until this day.
The best story, however, was in the pool, where Sarah and Wiz seemed to be stepping onto the podium every few minutes. Wiz was a wonderful swimmer, and took three golds in different events. Sarah took two golds and a silver. Liz took a silver and a gold in the butterfly – the only Owl who could do the difficult stroke – and Jesse came fifth in the backstroke.
The final scheduled event of the day was diving. Players, parents, and competitors packed into the Olympic pool for the windup to what had already been a wonderful day. Two Aussies – a girl from Melbourne, and a teammate of Wiz’s on the Sydney Sharks – dominated the events and took the top medals. Sam, diving in the individual events, took a silver and a bronze, and Sarah took a fourth in the one-metre competition.
Just before the synchronized diving event, the organizers called a time out.
“Just thought you might all like to know the running tally,” a man wearing an Australian team tracksuit said over the public address system. “With the scores weighted to take into consideration our special visitors from Canada, we have the day’s standings at Australia 211, Canada 209.”
A huge cheer went up from the mostly Australian crowd.
“Can you believe it?” Sarah said, turning with her hands pressed to the side of her face. “We’re almost tied.”
“Down to the final event,” Muck chuckled. “Sudden death overtime in the Olympics.”
“But, but,” Sam sputtered, “we only entered synchronized diving as a joke!”
“Well,” said Mr. Dillinger. “Looks like the joke’s on us, then. Which reminds me. Where is our other diver?”
Everyone looked around for Nish.
“He went back to the hotel around noon,” Andy said.
Sarah looked stricken. “He wouldn’t bail on us?”
“Sure he would,” said Sam, shaking her head. “He’s chicken – we all know that.”
“I saw him a few minutes ago at the snack bar!” Fahd announced.
“He’s here?” Sam shouted.
Travis jumped in. “I’ll get him,” he said to Sam. “You get ready.”
Travis ran up through the stands, and into the corridor where the snack bars were located. He turned right, then left, following his instincts: the fancier snack bar was to the left. He ran down the corridor, past parents and young hockey players who were happily buying up souvenirs and waiting in line for ice-cream bars. Down around the corner and towards the far exit he ran, hoping, praying, that Nish would be there. The Screech Owls’ Olympic hopes lay with him.
It seemed ridiculous to Travis. None of the Owls had taken the Mini-Olympics very seriously, believing that, on average, the Australian kids would be far superior to them at almost anything but hockey. But no one could have predicted how dominant Sarah would be in her events – inspired, no doubt, by Wiz’s equally impressive performance. No one could have predicted that all the Owls would get so caught up in the competition. And now it was all down to one event that they had considered little more than a joke.
Nish, with his great fear of heights, diving from the high tower.
Travis turned the corner and could see the large snack bar in the distance. A bulky body was sitting at one of the tables, his back to Travis, but unmistakable all the same.
“Nish!” Travis called as he flew into the snack bar so fast his sneakers skidded and squeaked on the floor. “You’re on! You’re up! They’re calling the diving event.”
Nish appeared completely calm, but he had a disgusted look on his face. He was sitting before a bowl of soup, a small plastic bag on the table to one side, and he was slowly spooning the remainder of the soup into his mouth.
How can he eat at a time like this? Travis wondered.
“Just give me another minute,” Nish said.
Travis sat, waiting, while Nish carefully finished off his soup, pulling a face for every spoonful.
“If it tastes so awful,” Travis asked, “why finish it?”
Nish grimaced. “Always clean up your plate, Travis. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
Travis shook his head. A lecture on good manners from Wayne Nishikawa was the last thing in the world he ever expected to hear.
“Hurry up!” Travis urged.
Nish tilted the bowl, filled the spoon, and slotted it into his mouth, swallowing quickly.
He burped and set the spoon down.
“You’ll have to run!” Travis warned.
Nish looked at him, then down at his table. “Clean this up for me, then,” he said. “I’ll go ahead.”
“Sure, sure – whatever. Just hurry!”
Nish pushed himself up, the chair growling across the polished concrete, and began hurrying off in the direction Travis had come from. Travis gathered up the bowl and spoon and tray and began heading for the garbage can.
He’d forgotten the plastic bag.
He stepped back and grabbed it. It felt empty, except there was the sound of fine grains of salt or sand running inside.
He set the tray down, opened the bag, and peered in.
Whatever it was, it was very dry, and flaky.
He sniffed at the bag.
He knew that smell!
The ocean … the smell on the boat … a fishy smell …
Nish hadn’t!
He couldn’t have!
Travis sniffed again, his mind racing. There was no doubt about it. He recognized the smell now.
The seadragon. Sarah’s dried-out seadragon. The little creature with the mythical ability to give a man courage.
Sarah’s seadragon ground into powder and mixed in a soup.
And now in the stomach of Wayne Nishikawa, tower diver.