“Dolphins!” Fernanda yelled excitedly. “There!”

As if conjured up out of a magic box hidden just below the surface of the water, a dolphin emerged, its sleek gray body arching out of the waves before it dived back in.

“Bottlenose!” Marina shouted. “See the pointy shape of its snout?”

“There’s loads!” Rio cried. Suddenly, the water was alive with them, writhing and dancing and jumping in every direction.

“They want to play!” Birch shouted, roaring the engine into life as the boat surged forward.

“Look down!” Marina said.

Just beneath the surface, four dolphins swam alongside the Spyhopper, keeping pace with the speed of the boat effortlessly.

Rio screamed with laughter. The faster the boat went, the harder the dolphins raced, leaping joyfully through the water right next to the bow. There were no words. Just this wondrous feeling rushing through his blood like magic.

It was better than any roller coaster, better even than the time his mom had taken him to the fairground. It was all of that. And yet more. Marina let out a loud scream, pure joy etched into every part of her face. The kind of joy Rio hadn’t felt in such a long time. Had maybe never expected to feel again, and yet being out here, it zipped and coursed through his veins like electricity.

Just as quickly as the dolphins had appeared, they disappeared, and the boat slowed down to its normal speed before Birch cut the engine altogether. Rio pulled himself upright, rubbing his elbows. Behind them was the coastline, indistinct and blurry. Hardly real at all.

Without the engine noise, the sound of the waves slapping against the hull was much louder. A steady thwack-thwack sound.

No one on the boat spoke. But that didn’t mean it was silent. Because it was the sound of anticipation. The kind an audience makes before the concert begins. Something trembling and alive.

“We’re looking for the gray whales now,” Marina whispered. “This is the spot where we usually see them. Just keep your eyes peeled. They could be anywhere.”

This was it. Even though there was no guarantee they would see White Beak, Rio’s heart quickened, and he had a sudden, fierce desire for his mother to be here with him. An urge so powerful, he gripped on to the side of the boat to steady himself. She might not be here. But he was. And he would be her eyes.

“How long do we wait?” Rio whispered back, not really sure why they were whispering, but only that out in the ocean, he sensed loud voices didn’t belong.

“There’s no way of telling,” murmured Marina. “We just have to be patient.”

The couple from Philadelphia had pulled out the largest camera Rio had ever seen and were busy scanning it across the horizon with a series of rapid clicks. The twins and Fernanda were on the other side of the boat, leaning over the edge and peering into the distance with bright, hopeful expressions and wind-coarsened cheeks. And even though Birch must have taken the boat out hundreds, thousands of times before, he too had an expression on his face that was full of wonder. Rio wondered if that was how he looked too. As if being out here had rubbed away some earthly essence of his.