That smells amazing, I tell him. Can I help?

He hands me a turnover. Taste this.

It melts in my mouth: butter that is not butter, perfect flaky crust that tastes nothing like seaweed, fruit filling that reminds me of pears and oranges but is probably from one of Nemo’s botany projects harvested fifty feet below.

If I lived here all the time, my cholesterol levels would go through the roof…. Or did Nemo figure out a way around cholesterol, too?

Delicious, I say. Mary Berry would be proud.

Jupiter calmly signs, I love you. Then he waddles back to the kitchen. I nab a basket of pastries to take to my room—just for my friends, of course. I make a mental note to ask Jupiter if he can bake gujiyas. If not, I’ll have to teach him. Surely Mary Berry would approve.

I find Ester and Nelinha showered and dressed. They don’t seem worried about where I’ve been. They’re used to my morning dives.

“Orangutan pastries?” I offer.

“Yes, please.” Nelinha takes a turnover. She looks me up and down. “I’m glad you didn’t get zapped by any underwater defenses in the lagoon.”

Her comment makes me feel dumb, because I didn’t even think of that.

Ester picks at the crust of a faux-apple tart. She’s wearing her pink blouse and pink leggings today. I assume that means she’s especially nervous, since pink is her comfort color. Her hair, combed back in wet blond coils, is already drying and puffing out in different directions. Like Ester’s thought process, her hair always ends up doing what it wants.

“I was thinking last night.” She stares at my feet. “You remember how I said the Nautilus is dangerous? How I think it killed your parents?”

I nod.

It’s not like I could forget.

“I think I understand now,” she says. “After listening to Luca and Ophelia talk last night, I don’t think you should—”

Someone knocks on our door.

Ophelia pokes her head inside. “Ah, good. You’re all up.”

Her tone makes me suspect that she already knew this. There must be security monitors throughout the base, maybe even in this room.

Ester blushes and looks down. Top sits in front of her protectively, staring up at Ophelia as if to say, My human.

“Ready?” Ophelia asks me. “Are your friends coming?”

It takes my brain a moment to catch up. Of course. She means am I ready to see the Nautilus. Jupiter’s turnover does a turnover in my stomach. “Uh…”

“Yes,” Nelinha answers for me. “We’re coming.”

“I’d like them to.” I look at Ester. “If that’s okay.”

Ester nods. Her ears turn the color of flame angelfish.

Behind her steel-framed glasses, Ophelia’s eyes look sad. I wonder if she’s remembering my parents. “Very well,” she says. “This way.”