Spirit’s Key (17 page)

Now I have to figure out how to move the kayak myself. I can't believe I was dumb enough to waste time thinking I could be friends with a Hatterask. My anger boils.

I should've had two cups of tea. Maybe the whole pot.

I touch Sky's tag, and he appears. “Please, Sky. Can
you
help me? We have to find Dad. We have to hurry.”

Sky wags his tail as if he'd like that.

A great rope for a great moment.

Then I know: the rope!

I run to get it from my school backpack.

Once I have it, I make a loop in it and try putting it over Sky's head. But instead of catching on his neck, it falls right through him and onto the ground.
Come on, Holden Spirits. Why did you give me this rope if I can't use it?

To unlock the magic of this great rope.

I think about the pheasant and the kibble, and how I had to put them on Sky's grave to make them part of the spirit world.

Sky and I run to his grave. When we get there, I drop the rope on the sand dune where Sky is buried. Then I try again, putting the rope over Sky's neck. This time it catches. I think of the woods, and Sky's friends appear. We run together back to the kayak.

I use the rope to loop all the baldies together. I'm so glad I decided to bury Sky. His grave is like a trapdoor connecting his world to mine.

I encourage the dogs to move forward by walking out in front. For once, I'm the one doing the asking. “Follow me!” I stare intently into Sky's eyes the way he looks into mine when he wants me to follow. It works. They pull the kayak like a sleigh.

We march through town to the beach in a line, and I don't think to wonder what our parade looks like to someone who can't see Sky and his buddies—until I'm spotted.

“Spirit, wait up!” Nector runs toward me, then stops abruptly. He stares at the kayak.

I hook my hand onto the rope so it looks like I'm the one doing the pulling. I'm not sure if he can see the rope or if it looks like the kayak is moving by itself.

“How're you doing that?”

If I tell him, Gomez will be right. I'll always be a dingbatter. So I don't answer.

I march on. I pretend Nector is the one who's invisible.

“Wait!” He catches up.

I can't run away dragging a kayak. So I stop. “Did anyone else see me?” I ask him. I shouldn't have gone through town like that, but hiding with a kayak isn't easy either.

“I'm not sure. Why? Are you on a secret mission?”

I nod.

“Can I come? I thought we could do something together.”

“You want to do something with me?”

“Sure.” He reaches his hand toward the kayak. But he pulls it back when he sees me watching.

I motion to the rope and the dogs. “What do you see?”

“That you're going kayaking?” He looks at me as if I'm Mrs. Dialfield, and he hopes he has the right answer.

I give him a stern glare.

“In a magic boat?” he adds. He grins like he wants the right answer to win him a ride.

“I'm going to find my dad.”

“Okay, I'll come if you tell me how you're doing that with the kayak.”

“I can't tell you,” I say.

“You have to tell me or I won't come.” He folds his arms over his chest. “That's my rule.”

I frown. “I'm warning you … you won't like it.”

“Tell me,” he demands.

“What if I told you the ghosts of the dead baldies are helping me?”

“Really?” He looks stricken.

“Yes. Run away if you like.”

“Why would I run away?” he asks.

“They're baldies,” I say. “Spirits of baldies. Right here next to you.”

“Are they nice?”

I nod.

“They're not devil spirits?”

I shake my head.

“Can I pet one?” He sounds amazed.

I laugh. “You can, but you won't feel anything.”

“Where do I put my hand?”

I move his hand to the top of Sky's head. “This is Sky.” Sky wags his tail. “He's happy you're here. He's wagging his tail. I told you he likes you.”

Nector beams, and inside I'm smiling, too. I'm glad to have Nector join our pack.

 

25

A
N
A
DVENTURE
-F
ILLED
D
AY

When we get to the ocean, Nector and I stop to kick off our shoes. I untie the baldies. The wild ones jump into the water like they understand the purpose of the red banana-shaped object they've been dragging, but Sky runs off down the beach.

“Sky! Where are you going?” I chase after him, because I've realized when he does that he's trying to show me something.

He comes right back, carrying a folded piece of paper in his mouth. He drops it at my feet.

“What is it?” Nector asks.

“A note.”

“What does it say?”

I read it.

Most people are blind when it comes to themselves,

Face your today and you'll see for yourself,

Your key holds tomorrow and a great responsibility,

Never forget the past, present, and infinity.

We hope you enjoy this great gift,

Granted you by the Greats.

“Your key holds tomorrow?” Nector gasps. “Is it talking about you?”

I nod. “My ancestors send me messages.”

“Wowzers. That is so cool. Do they just drop out of the sky?”

“Literally.” I pet Sky's head and tell him he's a good boy for finding it.

“Can I see it?”

I pass Nector the paper.

“What does it mean exactly?”

I read it again. “Maybe it's saying I'll be able to know my own future with my own key. My grandmother could.”

“This is awesome!” Nector says. “Try it. Ask if we're going to make it to Whales' Cove alive.”

I take out my key. “It's warm.” I get excited, because my own key has never been warm before.

But Nector stops me. “If you see something bad, can we change what's going to happen?”

“As long as we have enough information to be prepared.”

Nector nods. “Okay, do it!”

I clutch my key in the hand that's not holding Sky's tag. I ask it to show me what's going to happen. The metal is warm. The jagged edges feel sharp and strong, but I can't
see
anything. There's only darkness, and the smell of smoke.

I pause and try harder, but I don't get any visions. I seem to smell smoke a lot when I do readings. It's hard to
know
if it means anything.

The baldies splash around anxiously in the water. After a minute, they whine and cry, and Sky tugs on my shorts, trying to pull me in the water. “Stop that,” I tell him. Of course, he doesn't listen.

“It's not working.” I push my key back into my pocket. “I can't concentrate. The baldies are crying. They want us to hurry.”

Nector looks at me intently. “Maybe you haven't faced your today.”

“Maybe I haven't faced my ocean adventure!”

He laughs and wades into the water. “I'm ready.”

I wade in, too, until the water is at my knees. I put on the life jacket and pass one to Nector. We pull the paddles out of the seat and climb inside the kayak.

I shove my backpack between my legs. There's barely any space, and I'm wondering how my team of ghost baldies is going to fit. But the dogs hop onto the front of the kayak, stacking into each other like Russian dolls. Despite their ability to pull the kayak with the rope, they're transparent and weightless. It's a relief. Otherwise we'd sink.

Whales' Cove is all the way around Bald Island near the woods. I dip my paddle into the water. Nector puts his in, too, and we're off.

It's hard work getting past the waves near the shore. My bandaged arm is still sore. I doubt I could have done this without Nector's help. Our clothes get soaked almost immediately from the water breaking over the shallow sides of the boat. I should have worn a swimsuit. Even a dingbatter should know you can't sit in the ocean and expect not to get wet. But I don't mind, because we're going toward Dad. Our arms circle around and around in synchronization, pulling the paddles until we're out of the rough tide and into the calm.

We pass where the old pier used to be. There're a few wooden posts—legs that once held up the pier—sticking out of the water without a purpose. Even though the pier has been gone a long time, the space still looks like a house without a door or a face without a nose.

Sky swivels his head, separating a little from the others. It's nice of him. He's checking on me. I relax and point the kayak toward the whale station.

As we get closer, we have to fight the waves again. The ocean shakes the boat, making it hard to direct. The baldies struggle to stay on board. A few fall into the water and have to scramble back up.

We're pushed toward one of the rocks that Mrs. Borse warned me about. Some of the rocks jut out of the water, but others hide underneath and surprise us. I use the paddle to push against them so the kayak doesn't slam to pieces. It takes every ounce of strength we have to shove away from the rocks.

Finally we get the kayak pointed safely and paddle to shore. We jump out of the boat before we hit the beach and push the kayak onto the sand.

“We made it.” Nector grins. “Are the baldies still with us?”

I nod. The dogs shake themselves as if they think they're wet. I laugh, because they don't look wet.

We toss the life jackets into the boat and run toward the whale station. The rusty cauldrons that surround the ramshackle structure are as huge as the whales whose oil they contained. I'm grateful to have the baldies. They can warn us if someone is hiding behind one of the cauldrons.

We walk through an archway made of giant bones. “I think these are rib bones,” Nector says. “My ancestors might have put these here.”

I've never seen a whale in real life. It's hard to imagine a creature large enough to fit bones this massive. I can see why someone might want to make this place into a museum. The dilapidated building in the center of the cauldrons has a large hole in the roof, like a ghost whale seeking revenge took a bite out of it.

There's an open area that looks like a whale garage. It's big enough to fit one. There are gigantic bones in odd shapes everywhere, but no sign of humans.

“It's like a forgotten world of whale ghosts,” Nector says. “Can you see any?”

I shake my head. “Look!” I notice the enclosed part of the whale station. “Maybe Dad's in there.”

We run over to the little shack and call out.

“Dad? It's Spirit!”

“And Nector!”

Inside we hear Dad. “Spirit! I knew you'd find us.”

But there's a padlock, and the door won't open. “Why is it locked from the outside?”

“Dr. Wade thinks we're sick!” Dad says. “He locked us in to save the island.”

“But we're not sick!” comes Mrs. Fishborne's high-pitched voice. “Not anymore.”

“Let us out!” Mr. Selnick bangs impatiently from the inside, but he only rattles the lock.

Nector and I yank at the door, but it doesn't budge. No matter how rotten the wood, the padlock seals the shack tight.

“We're trying!” I say. “We don't have the key!”

We circle the whale station, but there aren't any windows to break or other ways to get inside.

My brain is reeling. I'm not sure what I expected to find, but it wasn't this. I knew something was wrong—that Dad wouldn't willingly leave me. “We might have to sail for help!” I yell to Dad. Why didn't I bring a crowbar or something useful? Instead all I have is a backpack of school supplies. I have a lot to learn from Dad when it comes to being prepared.

“Maybe there's a key to that padlock stashed somewhere,” Nector suggests.

I nod. “If you can't find a key, look for something to pry open the door. I'll check near the water.”

But when I get to the ocean, I see something red bobbing in the water. Mrs. Borse's kayak. Oh no! We didn't pull it onto the beach far enough. We didn't anchor it. The tide pulled it out. I jump in, shoes and all, and swim toward it. But the kayak floats out too far, too fast. I'm a strong swimmer, but the life jackets are still in the boat. The waves push me toward the rocks. One hit, and I could be injured or killed. I swim back to shore even though I know what it means. It's impossible to leave Whales' Cove without a boat or a raft. Strong swimmer or not, the close side of the woods, where I was going to cross with Yasmine and Gomez in the raft, is too far.

I hit shallow water and stand up. My arms are exhausted from paddling and swimming. The only thing left on the beach is the rope. Thank goodness it didn't sail away, too. I snatch it up.

I get back to the whale station and show the rope to Nector.

He smiles, and I'm glad the rope is visible so I don't have to explain. Nector holds up a curved whalebone he found.

I nod. “Together these might work.”

We tie the rope to the padlock and then loop it around the baldies' chests. The ghost dogs line up, excited to play tug-of-war. Nector stands ready to shove the whalebone inside as soon as there's a large enough crack in the door. The baldies yank and pull with all their might. I yell encouragement. “Come on! You can do it!”

The door lifts away from its hinges, but not enough.

Nector groans and pushes the bone into the door, his face twisted and sweaty.

I tie what's left of the rope around my waist, adding myself to the front of the tug line. I dig my feet into the sand and lean.

Nector keeps trying. “I got the bone in!” he yells.

“I see it!” Dad calls.

We've made a small crack. Nector yanks the bone back, and the wood creaks open another inch.