Fish Kid and the Turtle Torpedo, page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Crab Race
Chapter 2 Finding a Floater
Chapter 3 Fully Sick
Chapter 4 Lost
Chapter 5 It’s Not Fair
Chapter 6 Morning Mystery
Chapter 7 Titan Attack
Chapter 8 Spinning Out
Chapter 9 Party Pooper
Chapter 10 Spy Mission
Chapter 11 What’s His Name?
Chapter 12 Wheely Fun
Chapter 13 Keeping Promises
Chapter 14 Baby Shark
Chapter 15 The Escape
Chapter 16 Deep Trouble
Chapter 17 Surprise!
Chapter 18 One Last Look
Chapter 19 Luna!
Chapter 20 Goodbye
Chapter 21 Turtley Awesome
“Go, Hermie, go!” I whispered.
“No, mine’s going to win!” said my best friend, Emely. She clapped, and my crab hid under his shell. He was definitely the fastest, but he stopped moving every time Emely made a noise.
“Hey, stop that. You’re cheating!” I growled.
Emely’s crab had almost made it out of the circle we’d drawn in the sand. I blew on her tiny legs and she hid too.
“Bodhi!” said Emely, frowning at me. Her crab soon took off again, but in the wrong direction.
“Yes!” I cheered.
“Not fair!” yelled Emely, slapping at the sand.
Hermie scuffled over the line. He’d left a perfectly straight pattern behind him, like a miniature bike track.
“Champion!” I called.
“You cheated!” said Emely, stomping off down the beach.
I watched the hermit crabs a little while longer. They were so cute. I loved the way they’d poke their little eyeballs out from beneath their shells.
Further up the beach, Emely sat on the sand with her arms and legs crossed. How could anyone be grumpy in a place like this? I thought. Soft white sand, crystal-clear water – it was the kind of paradise you only see on postcards.
We were staying on a small island in the Maldives. When our seaplane arrived, the resort staff welcomed us by playing bongo drums. Our island had a few restaurants, a gift shop, a dive centre and that’s about it. The roads between the villas were just sand tracks, and most people walked along the beach to get around.
Everyone except us and the resort staff were there on holiday. Well, Emely and I were on holiday, but our parents were on a job. They had come to study dead coral – the shore was lined with broken sticks of it. Dad is a marine biologist and he said most of it died in a heatwave.
I stood up and dusted the sand off my butt. Emely was still sulking. It seemed silly that she’d be so cranky over a hermit crab race. I left the crabs and walked over to her.
Is something else bothering her? I wondered. Maybe she was tired from flying all night and day – we missed a whole night’s sleep, after all.
“Hey Emely, want to go for a swim?” She didn’t answer, just kept staring out to sea. “At super-speed?” I whispered. I knew Emely would never say no to a Fish Kid zoom. Would she?
“Okay,” said Emely smiling. She was constantly begging me for rides. She was there when I first discovered my powers – the day I stayed underwater for as long as a marine iguana. And she was there the first time I swam super-fast. She was the only kid who knew about my powers.
“Let’s go to that little sand island,” she said, pointing to a white dot in the sea.
“Sure,” I said.
There are over a thousand islands in the Maldives, and we could easily see a few of them from the beach where we stood. One had tall palm trees like ours, another was covered in shorter mangroves, and the smallest was nothing but sand.
“I’ll get the snorkels,” I said, running back to our beach villa. I wished we were staying in the cool over-water villas, but Mum said they were for honeymooners. I had no idea what honeymooners were, and imagined beekeepers floating about in space.
“We’re going for a swim,” I called from the front deck, grabbing my mask and snorkel. There was no need for wetsuits; the water was as warm as bathwater.
“Which direction?” asked Dad. I could hear him tapping away on his computer.
“The little sandy island,” I said.
“Be back in an hour, okay? And don’t let anyone see you-know-what,” he said.
My parents used to freak out about my fish powers. They’d only let me use them if they were with me. Since I went to Ningaloo, however, they seemed much more relaxed. That’s when we found out my nan and great grandpa had fish powers too.
“Can’t waste a gift like his,” Pops had told Dad. “You gotta let the kid practise.”
I took Emely’s mask, snorkel and flippers from the deck next door and met her back down on the beach.
“Let’s go,” I said. We snorkelled together, behind the over-water villas and towards the outer reef. We saw a spotted eagle ray and some big schools of tiny fish. There were small patches of colourful coral, but the reef was mostly rocky. It ended with a drop-off, steeper than a cliff edge, then the reef disappeared down into dark blue nothingness. Ahead was more blue, as far as we could see. I checked above the surface to make sure no one else was around, but the coast was clear. Emely held onto my shoulders, and off we went.
Arms pointed, legs kicking, fast, faster . . . whoosh.
Water rushed past us as I hit maximum speed.
“Woohoo!” cried Emely.
After a few minutes Emely squeezed my shoulders.
“Stop!” she cried. I thought she must have seen a boat, but when I slowed, she pointed to a plastic bottle. “Who would just throw that in the ocean?”
Emely tucked the bottle into the back of her shorts and we zoomed off. We’d almost reached the shallow water around the sandy island, when Emely squeezed my shoulders again. This time I saw something brown and crusty floating ahead.
“Eeeuw, what is that?” said Emely, and I slowed to a stop. Emely let go and we cautiously swam towards the bobbing lump.
“It’s a turtle!” I said, recognising the rounded shape of its shell.
“Is he dead?” asked Emely, giving him a quick prod. The turtle lifted his head for a breath, then began flapping his flippers.
He tried to dive, but just bobbed about on the surface like a fully inflated pool toy. The turtle soon gave up and floated motionless again.
“Something’s wrong,” I said.
“Yeah, I think he’s sick,” said Emely. We couldn’t see any injuries or anything obviously wrong with him.
“I’ll swim him down a little way, see if that helps.” I gently tried pushing on the turtle’s back until his head was just under water. He flapped furiously, but bobbed straight back up.
“He needs a vet,” I said. We pushed the turtle into the shallows. The sandy island was the size of a football field. We couldn’t see anything useful for a turtle emergency, just shells and broken coral.
“Maybe we should take him back to our island,” said Emely. “The resort staff might know a vet.”
“Good idea,” I said.
I positioned him in front of me, holding the back end of his shell. Emely stood behind me and grabbed my shoulders. We tried kicking off, but I got turtle-slapped across the face by its flapping back flippers.
“Ahhh!” I said, letting go at once.
Emely laughed hysterically as I rubbed my stinging cheeks.
I didn’t think it was funny at all.
“I can’t carry you both,” I snapped, and Emely stopped laughing.
“What should we do?” she asked.
“I’ll take him over, then come back and get you.”
“What! You’d leave me here alone?” said Emely, sounding concerned. But I couldn’t see any other way.
“I wish I had fish powers,” she complained.
Emely stomped ashore as I tried to launch off again. Just as we started moving, the turtle stuck its head right down. We almost flipped over, and my face smacked into its butt.
“Ouch!” I cried. I nearly broke my nose!
Finally, both the turtle and I chilled out enough to get going.
“Be back soon,” I called.
“You’d better!” said Emely, sitting on the shore.
Swimming with the turtle was slow and awkward. When we finally reached our island, I pushed the turtle forward until its belly rested on the sand. Small waves lapped over the back of its shell.
“Stay there, turtle,” I said, then ran up the beach, puffing.
“Mum, Dad, come quick!” I yelled, ripping open the door to our villa.
My parents followed me to the water’s edge, where the turtle had begun to float off the sand. Dad waded in and held onto its shell.
“This is an olive ridley,” said Dad, looking him over.
“What does that mean?” I asked. Dad explained that it was a different species to the green sea turtles that resided in our bay.
“He’s floaty and can’t swim down,” I said.
“Looks like he has float syndrome,” said Dad.
“Is that bad?” I asked.
“It’s not good,” said Dad. “Turtles become buoyant when air gets trapped inside them. If they can’t dive, then they can’t hunt for food or escape predators.”
“And they risk being run over by boats,” added Mum.
A few people began to gather around us. The skipper arrived too, and I suddenly remembered I’d left his dau
“I’ve got to go get Emely,” I said.
“I thought she was with you?” said the skipper.
“She is – I mean, she was,” I said. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her now.” I ran along the beach until I was past the over-water villas. Diving in, I headed straight towards the sand island. As I swam, I wondered how turtles actually got air stuck inside them, and how they were supposed to get it out. Maybe he just needs a good fart, I thought.
When I’d almost reached the island, I slowed down to look for Emely.
I could see a beach umbrella and two people sitting on the sand. But neither of them looked anything like Emely.
I waved to the two strangers as I walked ashore. The lady wore a yellow bikini and a straw hat, and the large man was dressed only in red, super-tight swimming undies.
“Hello,” I said, trying not to stare at the man’s eye-catching undies. “Have you seen my friend Emely?” They smiled and said nothing. “She’s my age, with dark brown hair,” I added. The man shrugged, then said something I didn’t understand.
“A girl,” I said. “Have you seen a girl? She was right here.”
“Err,” mumbled the man, “no . . . ing-lish.”
I used my hands to show Emely’s height. Then I pretended to be a girl, by flicking my long make-believe hair. The couple giggled and I felt my face burn with embarrassment.
I waded back into the water.
“EMELY,” I called. “WHERE ARE YOU?” But there was no reply.
Surely she hadn’t tried swimming back? It was way too far for anyone without fish powers. I swam a slow loop around the island, but found no trace of her.
Looking out, I saw another white bump in the ocean. Maybe I’d gone to the wrong island? I zoomed off, forgetting that the couple under the umbrella were probably watching.
On the next island I saw a plastic bottle on the beach. Was it the one Emely had picked up? I rushed ashore to grab it, but on closer inspection, saw it was full of shells. They were hermit crabs, I realised! There were hundreds of them, all dead. They must have crawled in and got stuck, the poor little things. I looked around and saw more bottles, odd shoes and fishing nets tangled in driftwood. This was definitely not the island I left Emely on. Where could she be? I started to feel panic. I hoped I hadn’t lost her.
I zoomed back to our resort to alert the skipper and my parents.
They weren’t on the beach any more, so I raced up to our villa.
“Mum, Dad, I can’t find Emely!” I said, bursting through the door.
“Out!” said Mum. “You’re dripping wet.”
“But Mum . . .”
“OUT!”
Before I could get another word in, Emely stepped into the hallway.
“How did you . . .” I mumbled.
“I flew,” she whispered, pushing past me. I followed Emely down to the beach, like a seagull chasing hot chips.
“What do you mean you flew?” I asked.
“Shhh! Let’s just say I finally found my own powers,” said Emely, smirking.
My mind started to race. Could Emely really fly?
Impossible! I thought, of course she can’t fly. But then, once I would have thought fish powers were impossible too.
“You mean you have bird powers or something?” I asked. Emely gently shoved me and laughed.
“Ha ha, no, I was joking, silly!” she teased. “Two people arrived on the island, so I got a lift back with their boat driver.”
“He didn’t ask how you got there, did he?”
“No,” said Emely. “Apparently people get dropped at the little sandy island all the time. He said it’s popular with newlyweds and couples on their honeymoon.”
So they’re honeymooners, I thought, trying not to picture the man in the tight red swimming undies.
“What took you so long anyway?”
“It was hard work swimming with that turtle!” I said. “Where is he now?”
Emely crouched down beside a hermit crab. The tiny animal quickly ducked under its shell.
“Our dads have taken it to a turtle sanctuary,” said Emely. “There’s one on an island nearby.”
“Will it be okay?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” said Emely. “Guess we’ll find out when they come back.”
“I wish I knew where the sanctuary was – I’d zoom there right now!”
“Me too – if I had fish powers,” said Emely. “It’s not fair. I want to save sea creatures too,” she said, still staring at the tiny crab.
“Well, you probably saved a hundred hermit crabs today,” I said, “when you picked up that plastic bottle.” I told Emely about the dead ones I’d found when I was searching for her.
“It’s not the same,” she said with a sigh.
I was dying to know what had happened to my turtle.
“Let’s go wait for our dads down at the jetty,” I said.
We walked along the beach to the main jetty. Every time a boat arrived, I ran towards it, hoping Dad was on board. Finally, I spotted him on the front of a boat pulling in.
“Is my turtle okay?” I called as he threw me a rope.
“You mean OUR turtle,” said Emely, catching up.
Dad stepped onto the jetty and tied off the boat. “I’m afraid your turtle is very sick,” he said giving me a hug. “The sanctuary staff are doing all they can to save him though.”
“What made him sick?” I asked.
“We don’t know yet,” said Dad, “but the sanctuary staff are trying to find out. They’ll call me as soon as there’s any news.”
I knocked on Emely’s door, but there was no answer.
I noticed that her snorkel gear was missing from the plastic tub. I knocked louder, but no one answered.
It seemed strange that Emely was up already; she wasn’t an early morning person.
Back at my villa, Mum was washing her face in the bathroom.
“Mum, do you know where Emely is?” I asked.
“How would I know?” said Mum. “Probably still sleeping.” I explained that she wasn’t in her villa or on the beach.
“Well, maybe you’ll see her at breakfast,” said Mum. “Go wake Dad and we’ll head over.”
I ran in and jumped on my parents’ bed. Dad was already awake and looking at his phone.
“Any news about my turtle?” I asked, tapping him.
“Not yet,” said Dad.
“Can you call them?”
“It’s too early, Bodhi,” said Dad, getting up. “The sanctuary won’t be open yet.”
We got ready and walked along the beach to the restaurant.
At the breakfast buffet, I stacked three pancakes on my plate, then drizzled syrup all over them, pretending it was lava spilling down the sides of a volcano.
“Can I please go and see my turtle today?” I asked, sitting down next to Dad.
“Well, I’m heading over this afternoon to see their coral growing program,” said Dad. “You can come with me if you like.”
“Yes!” I said, biting into a rolled-up pancake. Syrup ran down my chin. “Can Emely come too?”
“Of course,” said Dad.
“I really hope the poor turtle is better today,” I said.
“Well, he’s lucky you found him when you did,” said Mum, sitting down.
I was busting to tell Emely we were going to the sanctuary, but she didn’t turn up for breakfast. She wasn’t in her villa or on the beach when I ran back, either.
I changed into my rashie and grabbed my mask and snorkel. Walking down the beach, I noticed a bunch of people gathering on the main jetty by a boat.
I jogged towards them, but they had boarded the boat by the time I got there. As I stood on the jetty watching them I suddenly spotted Emely on the boat, sitting towards the back.
“Emely!” I called, waving as the boat pulled away. She quickly ducked down and I could no longer see her. That was weird, I thought. Did she just hide from me?
I wasn’t completely sure it had been Emely.
But if it was, where would she be going without me?
I spent the morning snorkelling alone in the bay near the jetty. I saw two huge green sea turtles, lazing in water no deeper than a swimming pool. The patterns on their shells reminded me of bursting fireworks. Their heads and flippers were tiled in little round discs, a bit like the mosaic sculptures we made in art class once. They looked different to my brown, olive ridley turtle, and seemed much more used to people.
