He watched the ship for a long time as it melted into the distance, heading toward southern California and Mexico, until eventually it was a speck no larger than his thumb and then gone.

The Spyhopper motored south as the sun curved across the horizon like the hands on a clock. It was the famous Pacific sunset in all its magnificent glory. Birch turned the engine off, and wordlessly, the four of them sat on the boat and drank in the sky.

“Time to stop,” he said. “Tomorrow is when the search begins.”

35

Sea Storm

That night, Rio was too nervous to sleep. Making sure not to disturb anyone, he crept up on deck. Birch had said they were very nearly in the search zone. Could this mean White Beak was close by?

It was too dark to see anything, but he strained his ears the farthest they would go, hoping against hope that he would pick up the faintest call of the whale. That she might suddenly surface right next to the boat. And that he would see her again and know she was safe.

But as hard as he listened, there was nothing except the slapping of the waves. Rio let out a sigh. Tomorrow was a new day. Tomorrow they would find her.

Not feeling sleepy, he lay faceup on the bench in the bow. With no light pollution, the sky was ablaze with stars, reflecting off the surface of the water like glittering confetti. Gazing upward, he had the sense he was staring at the beating heart of the universe.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Marina whispered, putting her fingers to her lips to indicate he should stay quiet. Then she positioned herself on the opposite bench, lying down as he had done, with her face tilted up to the sky.

Neither of them spoke for the longest time, until he heard her sigh and turn toward him. In the darkness, Rio couldn’t see much other than the glint of her hair and the flash of her teeth.

“Did you know you’re quite similar to a gray whale?” she said quietly. “Not how you look obviously. I haven’t seen any barnacles on you yet. But despite all the horrible things the whales have had to get through just to survive, they still they keep on swimming. And that’s like you.”

Rio had never stopped to compare himself to any animal before, let alone one of the biggest on the planet. But at the same time, he knew Marina was right. He had faced more in his eleven years than most people his age.

Something loud rumbled in the far distance as if in agreement.

“Sea storm,” Marina said. “It’s probably miles away, but the thunder echoes over the water.”

Rio couldn’t see anything, but he could sense it. The air felt charged and heavy, as if there were an invisible current electrifying everything—including himself. The hairs on his arms bristled, and his jaw felt tight.