“Well,” Ronan says, “you’ll find out soon enough. I hope you’ll like it.” Then he tugs at my sleeve. “But come look at this!” He runs and I follow him. And I can’t believe it.

It’s not uncommon to find a lobster trap washed up onshore, but to find a live lobster inside?

“How cool is that?” I say. “Henry will pay us for him, you know. Probably ten bucks.”

“Wait a sec,” he says. “First of all, I found him, so no way is anyone going to eat him. Look at him. He’s beautiful.” He bends over and points at the top of his shell. “There’s even a tinge of blue there. See that?”

“Yeah. Delicious. Blue lobster and melted yellow butter. Mmmmm,” I say to tease him, but crack up over his expression. “I know, I know. You’re going to let him go, aren’t you? I think I’ve seen this movie before.”

“Yeah, I’m going to let him go. I’m not going to save him . . . and then eat him. That’s like one of those horror movies that comes on in the middle of the night.” Then he talks in a creepy voice. “Here. Let me save you. Oh, this butter I’m melting? Oh, that’s nothing. That’s for a giant piece of toast that they’re bringing in with a helicopter.”

My stomach hurts from laughing.

He breaks his way into the trap more easily than I would have figured and grabs the lobster, who starts waving his powerful claws around. “Ah! He’s trying to get me! Oh my . . . No! Stop!”

I laugh. “They can’t get you if you hold the body.”

Ronan doesn’t listen and rushes to the water, falling into a giant wave. It knocks him sideways and spins him around. His feet stick up through the top of the wave. If I weren’t laughing so hard, I’d try to help him.

He comes out of the water looking a little dizzy. “Where is he? Where did he go?”

I point toward the open ocean. “That way, I guess.”

“Aw, man.” He rinses the sand from his face and hair. “It’s awful. I have the grace of a landslide. Flexibility of an earthquake.”

I’m trying not to laugh again. I can’t even count how many times I’ve been flipped over by a wave. “Happens to everyone. Are you okay? It looked like you were caught in a water tornado.”

“I let him go. I meant to bring him out to deeper water.”

“Well, he’s safer in shallow water than out there,” I say, pointing to the lobster traps. “Their most dangerous predators are people. If he’s hungry for bait, he’ll get caught again.”

“Oh no,” he groans.

“Ronan. You do know you’re on Cape Cod, right? And . . .” I hesitate. “I mean, aren’t you the son of a fisherman?”

“Yeah, I know.” He rolls his eyes. “I told my father I was saving my money to buy lobsters at the grocery store. He was happy until I told him I was buying them to set them free. You should have seen his face.”