Typically, Talise spent Saturday mornings with the ocean.

Sometimes she studied tides or examined tide pools. Other times, she put on her wet suit and flippers and buoyancy vest and everything else and went for a dive in the deep sea—just not the deep-deep sea, since she wasn’t allowed to dive that deep without a buddy.

But the ocean had told Talise to build a boat. So today, she wanted to go to the boat supply shop.

First, Talise had to ask her parents. Fortunately, she was quite fluent in their dialect: Loving/Concerned, usually with a dash of Mystified. She started with her mother, who worked as a consultant. That meant people paid her for expert advice.

“I have never built a boat before, and I am feeling apprehensive,” Talise said. “I would like to consult an expert.”

She turned to her father, who worked as a controller. That meant he controlled . . . Talise wasn’t entirely sure.

“I think that will help me take control of the situation,” she continued. “Along with some boatbuilding supplies, of course. I’ll just need you to accompany me with your credit card—”

“Talise,” her mom said. She had white skin and dark blond hair. “But we had something else in mind for today.”

“We know you’ve been spending a lot of time by yourself lately,” Talise’s father said. He had dark brown skin and black hair.

“Lately?” Talise repeated.

“Especially since Clara is visiting Puerto Rico for the next few weeks,” her mother said. “So we arranged for you to spend the day with Runa!”

“Runa?”

Perhaps Talise looked as upset on the outside as she felt on the inside, because her father patted her shoulder. “She’ll meet you at the pier. I’m sure you’ll have a great time!”

Talise was not so sure.

She squeezed her sea blob as she walked to the beach. She’d really been looking forward to visiting the boat supply shop! Or at the very least, spending more time with her boat schematic. Instead, she was stuck with Runa, the kid Talise had the least in common with.

“She wouldn’t be interested in boat supplies,” Talise muttered.

The air was approximately 71 degrees Fahrenheit, while the ocean was closer to 58 degrees. She’d nearly reached the endless pier when something caught her eye. Her feet tripped, her heart skipped, and she stumbled to a halt, staring at the familiar collection of odd bubbles.

Wiggling her fingers, Talise stuck her hand into the pleasantly mucky sand and grabbed something hard. She wrapped her fingers around it and tugged.

SHLERPP!!!

It was another bottle, even crustier than the first one. Talise pulled out the cork and coughed at the musty smell. She shook out a rolled-up piece of very thin paper, or maybe it was tree bark.

The ocean had sent her another message!

Like the first message, this one had writing on it. Some words were blurry, but a few were legible.

Talise pictured the first message the ocean had sent her. Hull, she thought. Engine. Luff. Maybe propeller. And this one says b—

“BOOM?!”

Talise turned to find Runa standing behind her. “Oh, hullo,” Talise said.

“You found another message! But why does it say boom? Was there an explosion? Once, I saw an explosion at the fireworks factory, and this one sparkler shot all the way up to the moon and nearly blew it to pieces. . . .”

“I don’t think that’s what boom means in this context,” Talise said.

“Then what does it mean?”

Talise tried to explain, even though she still wasn’t sure of Runa’s dialect—was it Lively/Whimsical? Or maybe Upbeat/Batty? “On a boat, a boom is a pole that helps control the angle of a sail,” she said. “I believe this is a boat schematic—like a diagram.”

Runa tilted her head. “Ooh, you’re right! It’s all smeary and blurry, like a watercolor painting.”

“Something like that.” Talise rolled up the message and tucked it into her pocket, then buried the empty bottle back in the sand. Her heart was still pounding. The ocean must really want her to build this boat.

“Hey, isn’t that Quincy?”

Runa pointed down the beach, to where Quincy knelt in the sand with a pail. His parents and little sister, Roxy, sat on a blanket nearby.

The girls walked over to join him. “Are you collecting shells?” Talise asked.

“So far I’ve only found teeth.” Quincy rummaged around in the pail he was holding. “Like this wisdom tooth!”

“Ooh, it looks extra wise,” Runa said. “But you’ll never guess what Talise found! Another—”

“BARNACLE,” Talise yelled.

Then she winced. That was one reason Talise was no good at lying—anytime she tried, she had trouble controlling the volume of her voice. Runa gave her a questioning look. But fortunately, she said nothing.

“Um, barnacles are pretty exciting,” Quincy said. “Roxy found a really old conch shell earlier.”

They glanced at Roxy, who was gnawing on the end of something large and white.

“Roxy’s been very interested in conchology lately,” Quincy’s mother said.

Roxy grinned, then blew into the small end of the shell. The honk made everyone giggle.

“Or maybe she’s interested in the physics of sound,” said Quincy’s second mother. “Like me.”

Both his parents were scientists, which Talise found very impressive. One was from Nigeria. The other was from Los Angeles. They both had dark skin, like Quincy and Roxy and Talise’s father.

“Perhaps she is interested in bathymetry,” Talise said.

The whole family smiled at her. “She does love tide pools,” Quincy said, ruffling his little sister’s hair. “And they’ve been extra interesting lately, with so much really old stuff washing up.”

“That’s true,” his mother agreed. “The last time that happened was right before a Wildcard Tide.”

Both Quincy and Roxy shuddered.

“We don’t like Wildcard Tides,” Quincy confessed. “Or any unpredictable tides, really. Hey, want to collect more teeth with me?”

“SORRY, WE—” Talise cleared her throat. “Sorry, we are unable to, but thank you for the invitation.”

“That’s okay,” Quincy said. He and his family waved goodbye.

The girls continued down the beach. “Talise, slow down,” Runa said. “What’s the matter? Are you mad at Quincy?”

“No, I like Quincy,” Talise said.

“Then why didn’t you want to collect teeth with him? Or show him the message you found?”

“Because . . .”

Talise frowned. She didn’t want to tell a lie. Not only was Talise no good at lying, it also made her very uncomfortable.

But other things made Talise even more uncomfortable. Like Jules rolling her eyes at Talise’s boatbuilding book. Like her parents worrying about her being lonely. Like the entire class staring at her when she found the first bottle and announced that the ocean wanted her to build a boat.

“I would like to analyze this message further,” Talise said. It was the truth, just not the entire truth. “Before I show it to anyone else. Is that okay?”

Runa smiled. “Are you asking me to keep a secret?”

“Well, yes. I suppose I am.” Talise cleared her throat. “Runa, I would like to go to the boatbuilding store. And I would like that to be a secret, too.”

“Absolutely!” Runa said. “You know, my little sister Lina told me a great secret a few weeks ago. She went to the fridge to get a snack, and when she opened the cheese drawer, all the cheese was glowing. . . .”

Talise half listened as they walked. Was Runa’s dialect Fun/Quirky? Or Joyful/Flaky? It took so much energy to determine what was true and what was a lie—or a story—that Talise gave up and squeezed her sea blob instead.

“Oh, look, there’s the dentist’s office,” Runa was saying. “I could use a checkup—I’ve had a really bad sweet tooth lately. The other day, my clam chowder tasted like a bowl full of sugar! Of course, my mom had substituted clam-shaped marshmallows for clams. Some were conch-shell-shaped, and a few were saber-tooth-shaped. . . .”

Talise wasn’t even half listening now. Barnacle-covered bottles, conch shells, saber teeth—all kinds of old, peculiar items had been washing up on the beach. The last time that happened was right before a Wildcard Tide, Quincy’s mother had said.

That made Talise feel a little worried. The wrong kind of tide would really mess up her boatbuilding plans!

The girls reached the town square. Talise’s eyes went straight to one sign.

Whatever Floats Your Boat!

But Runa’s eyes went straight to the shop next door. Or rather, the shaggy-haired boy walking inside.

“Davy!” she shouted, pulling Talise along with her.

Davy turned. His cheeks turned pink. “Oh, hi, Runa. Hi, Talise.”

“Hello,” Talise said. She couldn’t help glancing at the boat supply store again. Unfortunately, Davy noticed.

“Are you here to get supplies for your—” he began.

“COMIC BOOKS,” she shouted. A nearby flock of seagulls took flight, scattering mail all over the square. “We’re here to buy COMIC BOOKS. I love COMIC BOOKS. I’m sorry for shouting, but I love them so much that I can’t help it.”

Davy blink-blinked. “Really? I mean, I love them, too, but I thought—”

“Me three!” Runa cut him off. “They’re stories and art combined. My two favorite things. Shall we go inside?”

As she passed Talise, she gave her a great big wink.

Talise felt relieved. Runa’s dialect might be confusing, but at least she was good at keeping secrets.

Inside the comic-book store, Davy and Runa immediately started browsing. Talise pretended to browse, too. But really, she was thinking about the tides again. As a very skilled diver, Talise didn’t feel worried. But as a very unskilled boatbuilder, she felt very worried.

“Ooh, this one looks scary.” Runa held up a comic book called The Haunted Mini-Golf Course. The cover featured a picture of a clown’s face. His mouth was a door, and his tongue was a ramp for golf balls.

Talise did not think it looked particularly scary. Most mini-golf courses had a clown obstacle of some sort.

“That’s almost as creepy-looking as the prize booth in the arcade!” Davy said.

Runa smiled. “Your spirit would probably be the only one brave enough to go in there, too.”

Davy smiled back. But when Runa wandered to a display of pop-up books on Cubism, Talise saw his smile fade. In fact, Davy’s expression did not match his dialect at all. His dialect was Brave/Eager, as usual. But his expression was Worried/Guilty.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Davy blink-blinked. Then he blurted out: “I shouldn’t have won Spirit Day.”

“Why?” Talise asked. “Your spirit got Nia’s flag first. Principal King saw it.”

“I lied about having a spirit,” Davy said glumly. “Spirit Day at my old school didn’t include actual spirits. I couldn’t find one—I didn’t even know where to look! So I pretended to have a spirit, just to fit in.”

Just to fit in. Talise studied Davy’s face. He looked sad now, and a little embarrassed. She’d always thought Davy had learned Topsea’s language really quickly. But apparently sometimes, he was only pretending to speak it.

“Fake it till you make it,” Talise said.

“Huh?”

“It’s an expression Carla told me once. It means that sometimes, if you pretend to know what you’re doing, you’ll feel more confident. And then you’ll really be able to do it.”

“Oh.” Davy sighed. “Well, I faked it, but I didn’t make it.”

“Actually, I believe you did,” Talise said. “Your spirit captured the flag, after all. Principal King saw it.”

“You think that was really my spirit?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course. It was your first Spirit Day. Your spirit found you.”

“Wow, thanks, Talise!” Davy’s dialect was no longer Worried/Guilty. It was back to Brave/Eager. Talise felt pleased with herself.

They paid for their comic books (somehow, Talise ended up with two copies of The Haunted Mini-Golf Course) and said goodbye to Davy. At long last, Talise and Runa walked next door to Whatever Floats Your Boat.

The name of the shop had always bothered Talise. Water floated a boat, obviously. Not whatever!

Now it made her feel optimistic. So did the second sign, written on a thin piece of tree bark:

We Sell: Hatches, Booms, Jibs, Hulls, Engines, Luffs,Propellers, Masts, and More!

But then she saw the third sign, hastily scrawled on a thick piece of paper:

Closed Today For Boat Repair Emergencies, Please Send a Request by Express Seagull

Talise’s optimism was replaced by impatience. “Drat,” she said.

“Request by Express Seagull,” Runa read. “I saw one of those once! It was a really colorful seagull, almost like a parrot, all blue and red and yellow and green and—”

“But I don’t have a have a boat repair emergency,” Talise said. “I don’t even have a boat yet.”

“You will,” Runa said. “And yours definitely won’t sink!”

“Hmm,” Talise said.

The ocean had told her not once, but twice, to build a boat. That’s what she intended to do. But even skilled, experienced boatbuilders who had read all the library’s books on boatbuilding failed sometimes.

If Talise tried to fake it, she definitely wouldn’t make it.

She squeezed her sea blob.

LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER ON VACATION?

by Jules, Fifth-Grade Star Reporter

Thanks to a pair of super-powerful, super-expensive bird-watching binoculars, the Gazette can report with confidence that the lighthouse is still completely empty. According to this reporter’s stepsister, the first stage in a missing person investigation is to interview people close to the missing person. So this reporter headed to the beach, where the clam boats have been running up on the rocks. Is the lighthouse keeper to blame for Topsea’s continuing clam shortage?

“Of course the lighthouse keeper is to blame for Topsea’s continuing clam shortage,” said Gaspard, a clam boater this reporter found duct-taping the bottom of his boat. “Everyone knows night’s the best time to hunt clams. Well, without any light from the lighthouse, how am I expected to see these rocks? She picked a rotten time to take off work!”

According to Gaspard, this isn’t the first time the lighthouse keeper has vacationed.

“She took one about a decade ago or so,” Gaspard said, shooing a few rock cats away from his net. “Wasn’t gone for this long, though. Look at this, would you? This net should be crammed full of clams. Instead, I’ve got canines and buckteeth and bags of oolong tea. All sorts of peculiar things.” He paused, untangling a tusk from his long, gray beard. “When peculiar things start washing up like this, that’s a sign something BIG is coming.”

This reporter knows better than to doubt the wisdom of someone with such a long beard. But the lighthouse keeper is usually very responsible, and it seems unlikely she would take an extra-long vacation and leave the clam boaters high and dry. This reporter vows to uncover the truth. That is, as soon as she’s ungrounded for borrowing her father’s binoculars without his permission.

NURSE’S NOTES

Listen up, kids: the flu is going around Topsea. Symptoms are often unpredictable and may include stuffy nose, fever, and fiery sneezes. This virus comes on very quickly, and it clears up within a few hours. Teachers are advised to stock their classrooms with tissues and fire extinguishers.

Stay healthy,

Nurse Xavier

THE POETRY CORNER

Seasonal seaweed

Seems silly, or even sad

Sometimes sinister

—Davy

Cafeteria Menu

~ MONDAY ~

Snack

Orange Smiles and Lemon Frowns

Lunch

Clamburgers* and Fries with Clam Chowder*

~ TUESDAY ~

Snack

String Cheese or Yogurt Yarn

Lunch

SHH! It’s a Surprise!

~ WEDNESDAY ~

Snack

Grapes

Lunch

Yam Fritters and Clam Fritters*, Mystery Meat

~ THURSDAY ~

Snack

Pigs-in-a-Blanket with Seaweed Ketchup

Lunch

Baked Beans or Bacon Beans or Baked Bacon (with Beans)

*due to the clam shortage, all clam entrées will be replaced with the student’s choice of ham or “clam,” a tofu-based clam substitute

~ FRIDAY ~

Snack

Chocolate Milk or Chocolate Tea

Lunch

Corn Dogs and Cats with Stewed Spinach