White Dolphin (16 page)

I get up and brush grass and dirt from my skirt. ‘What time is it?’

‘It’s the end of break,’ he says and frowns. ‘Mrs Carter wants to see us both.’

I guess we’re in trouble for being late this morning, but I’ve gone past caring. There’s only two more days left. Two more days and I can forget all about school. I follow Felix along the corridor to Mrs Carter’s office. He knocks and pushes open the door. Inside the room, Chloe and Ella and several others from our year sit on cushioned chairs around the table. I glance at Mrs Carter. I wonder what they’re doing here as well.

‘Come on in, Kara,’ she says. Her smile unnerves me.

Felix sits down next to Chloe.

Mrs Carter points at a seat for me to sit down, but I don’t take it. I stand beside the door. ‘Felix has been telling us about the dolphin you both helped to save.’

I glance at Felix.

‘We’d all like to offer our help too,’ she says.

Ella’s smiling. Chloe is fiddling with her bracelet, but looks up at me through her fringe.

I don’t want this to be happening. I can’t believe Felix has been telling everyone at school.

‘What do you think, Kara?’ Mrs Carter is still smiling at me, waiting.

‘There are plenty of helpers at the moment,’ I say. ‘And it’s a bit crowded down at the Blue Pool. No one’s allowed to touch her anyway.’

I see Ella’s face fall.

‘Felix suggested a way maybe the whole school can be involved,’ Mrs Carter says.

I shake my head. Angel’s our dolphin. We found her. Now Felix wants everyone to have a piece of her too.

I take a couple of back steps to the door and glare at Felix. ‘Thank you, but we don’t need any help.’

Felix glares back at me. ‘You’re wrong, Kara,’ he says. ‘If we want to save the reef, we need all the help we can get.’

‘We’re fine just as we are,’ I say.

Mrs Carter opens her arms wide. ‘Felix is right, Kara,’ she says. ‘We all want to protect the bay too. None of us want the dredging ban to be lifted. I’ve offered Carl the school hall for the conference he needs. There’ll be everyone from the press and politicians to the trawler men here. It’s our chance to show everyone how much we all care about our bay.’

‘We’re going to make posters and put them up all around the hall,’ says Chloe.

‘Come on, Kara,’ pleads Ella. ‘It’s important to us all.’

Chloe nods. ‘It’s our bay too, Kara.’

I look around them all. ‘D’you really think it could work?’

Felix pushes himself forward on his seat. ‘It has to work, Kara,’ he says. ‘The ban is lifted in less than one week’s time. It’s the only thing left that we can do.’

I
 make sure I get to the school just after lunch on Saturday. I thought I’d be early, but I’m not the first one here.

I hold the main doors open for Greg. He’s carrying a big cardboard box in his arms. I can see rolled-up posters and bits of dried seaweed sticking out of the top. ‘Back at school already, Kara?’ he says with a grin. ‘On the first day of the holidays? You must be keen.’

I laugh and follow him into the school hall. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

I can’t believe how much we’ve managed to do in so little time. We stopped lessons for the last two days and did a school project on the reef instead. Our year made a huge mural of the coral reef along one side of the hall. Year Eights made a timeline of our town with fishing boats and nets and shoals of tin-foil fish. Only Jake and Ethan didn’t get involved. Jake didn’t even come in to school at all on the last day.

‘What d’you think?’ says Chloe.

She’s pinning up the last photo on a display board just inside the doors. There are the first photos Carl took on the day we found her, to new photos Chloe took today.

‘It’s great,’ I say. I stare into the photo Chloe took this morning of Angel swimming on her own in circles in the Blue Pool.

‘She’s eating by herself too,’ says Chloe.

I look at another photo, a close-up of Angel’s mouth. The deep wound has almost healed. Apart from a line of thick scar tissue that dips down at the corner of her dolphin smile, there’s no sign that she’s had an injury at all.

Felix’s dad walks past with a stack of chairs. ‘Hey, Kara, can you give us a hand?’

Felix’s mum is here too, putting chairs out in rows. The chairs almost fill the hall from front to back.

‘How many d’you think will come?’ I ask.

Felix’s dad shrugs his shoulders. ‘We’ll find out soon enough,’ he says.

Felix hands me small postcards with a photo of Angel on the front. ‘Can you help with these?’

I turn one over in my hand. ‘What are these for?’ I say.

‘I made them yesterday,’ Felix says. ‘I thought we’d put them on all the seats. They’re for people to sign on the other side and put in the petition box to stop the dredging.’

I turn one over and see the black lettering on the other side. ‘They’re great, Felix,’ I say, ‘really great.’

Felix looks at me and grins. ‘I hoped you’d like them.’

I walk up and down the rows putting cards on the chairs. At the back of the hall, Carl is setting up the laptop for the big screen up on the stage. It’s less than two hours until the meeting and less than two days until the trawlers can dredge the reef.

More children and parents join us and help stick pictures on the wall and put a display of different shells and seaweeds on a table. When the last picture has gone up, Greg walks in from the kitchens with a tray of drinks.

I take a glass of orange squash and flop down next to Felix. ‘We’re done,’ I say. ‘There’s nothing more we can do now.’

The doors open and swing shut and Mrs Carter walks through. She unrolls a long sheet of paper. ‘I’ve just come across this on the internet,’ she says.

Ella helps to pin it to the board then stands in front of it and reads the words out loud. ‘ “To the dolphin alone, beyond all other, nature has granted what all good philosophers seek; friendship with no advantage.” ’

Mrs Carter nods. ‘Plutarch, an ancient Greek philosopher, wrote that, two thousand years ago. It’s important for today too. Friendship, for friendship’s sake, and not because we think there’s something else we can gain. It’s amazing how dolphins have an effect on people.’

‘The Maoris in New Zealand believe dolphins carry the spirits of their ancestors,’ I say. I stop and look around. Everyone is quiet, listening.

Mrs Carter smiles. ‘I wonder what the Maori name for dolphin is.’

I stare into a picture of a dolphin above Mrs Carter’s head. I try to remember. I know Mum told me once. I remember the name sounds like dolphin breaths bursting above the water.

‘What is it then?’ says Felix.

His question’s so direct. I turn to look at him.

He leans forward and stares at me. ‘Well?’

‘It’s “te . . . pu-whee”,’ I say.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I think so.’

‘How d’you spell it?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Does it matter?’

Felix runs his hand through his hair. He looks at me and then at the clock. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he says. ‘It’s worth a try.’

‘What?’ I say.

‘Tell you later.’

He gets up and pulls his dad away.

‘Carl’s giving his talk in an hour,’ I call after him.

But Felix and his dad have gone. The doors of the hall swing and slam shut behind them.

I help Greg and Mrs Carter clear away the cups and take them to the sink in the kitchens.

‘Goodness, look out there,’ says Mrs Carter.

I stand on tiptoe to look out of the high windows. I can’t believe my eyes. ‘We won’t fit them all in,’ I say.

Greg shakes his head. ‘Some will have to stand.’

The car park is already full of cars, and some are lined up along the road. A long queue of people curls around the playground.

‘Does Carl know?’ I say.

‘He’s gone to get changed,’ says Greg. ‘I don’t think he’ll know what’s hit him.’

I look out along the row of people. There are lots of tourists in bright shorts and beach gear. But I see lots of people I know from the town too.

‘That’s Mr Cooke, our local politician,’ says Mrs Carter.

‘That’s got to be good,’ I say. ‘Maybe he can pass a law to stop the dredging.’

Greg frowns. ‘That’s up to politicians up in London,’ he says. ‘Most of them wouldn’t know a cod from a mackerel if one hit them in the face.’

Then I see who Mr Cooke is talking to. I see Dougie Evans. I see them smiling, sharing a joke. I don’t want Mr Cooke to be on Dougie’s side. I remember what Felix said about not giving up without a fight. There’s less than two days until the dredging ban is lifted. Less than two days before the trawlers can haul their chains across the reef. We might never get this chance again.

This is it.

It has to work.

This is our one big chance to save the bay.

I
 push my way through the crowd of people milling in the entrance and take a seat next to Dad and Daisy at the front. The room is packed. People are lined up along the the walls. I see a group of fishermen a few rows from the front. Dougie Evans is leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, a smug smile on his face.

‘Dougie met some of the trawler owners at the pub at lunch time,’ whispers Dad. ‘He told them all to protest about the petition for the dredging ban, told them it’s their livelihoods being taken away.’

I turn round to look at the sea of faces in the room. ‘I bet loads here will sign the petition to protect the bay.’

Dad shakes his head. ‘It will only be a voluntary ban for now. You know it won’t mean a thing if the fishermen don’t agree.’

The room is hot despite the open doors and windows. The murmur of voices hushes as a journalist and cameraman walk up through the aisle and take a stand in a corner at the front. The local radio is here too, about to broadcast the meeting live.

‘Where’s Felix?’ I whisper. ‘He should be here by now.’ I glance back over my shoulder at the crowded room. Maybe Felix can’t push his way through. I get up to go and look but Dad pulls me back down.

‘Carl’s about to talk,’ whispers Dad.

I watch Carl climb up the steps onto the stage and turn to face all the people.

Silence falls across the hall. Chair legs scuffle and a baby cries somewhere at the back. I watch Carl. He looks so different in a suit and tie. His hair is brushed and he wears thin gold-rimmed glasses. He shifts from foot to foot. He looks pale too. I can hear the rustle of paper in his shaking hands.

I cross both fingers for him.

It doesn’t start well. The microphone doesn’t work and he’s so quietly spoken that I guess people halfway back can’t hear him speak at all. Sunlight slants through the windows and someone has to pull the curtains and switch the lights out to see the screen behind him. People listen when he shows pictures of Angel. There are gasps at the deep wounds in her mouth, and sighs at her taking her first fish.

But then Carl starts to talk about the bay and the project to save the coral reef. He shows graphs and pie-charts on the screen, and talks about the different sorts of rock under the sea. He uses the Latin names of different sea animals and plants and holds up fragments of coral in his hand. I know the people at the back can’t see. No one’s really listening. All they want to hear about is Angel.

When Carl has finished speaking, the lights come on and he asks for questions from the hall. Someone asks where they’ll release the dolphin. Someone else asks if the white dolphin will change colour. But no one is interested in the reef. It’s out of sight, out of mind. Then Dougie Evans stands up. He walks up on the stage next to Carl, his cap in hand. He faces everyone, and I notice he’s wearing his oldest clothes. They look worn and shabby.

‘It’s good to see so many here today,’ he says, ‘tourists and locals too.’

His voice booms out across the hall. An easy smile sits on his face, but he doesn’t fool me.

He opens his arms wide. ‘I hope you’re all having a lovely time. But this lovely town of ours in’t just for sandcastles and holidays. We’ve been fishing from this port for hundreds of years. It’s our livelihood. When tourists go home, we’ve still got to make a living.’