1
There I was, two hundred feet under the sea.
I was on the hunt of my life. The hunt for the Great White Stingray.
That’s what they called him at Coast Guard Headquarters. But, me, I called
him Joe.
The giant stingray had already stung ten swimmers. People were afraid to step
into the water. Panic spread all up and down the coast.
That’s why they sent for me.
William Deep, Jr., of Baltimore, Maryland.
Yes, William Deep, Jr., world-famous twelve-year-old undersea explorer.
Solver of scary ocean problems.
I captured the Great White Shark that terrorized Myrtle Beach. I proved he
wasn’t so great!
I fought the giant octopus that ate the entire California Championship
Surfing Team.
I unplugged the electric eel that sent shock waves all over Miami.
But now I faced the fight of my life. Joe, the Great White Stingray.
Somewhere down deep under the sea, he lurked.
I had everything I needed: scuba suit, flippers, mask, oxygen tank, and
poison-dart gun.
Wait—did something move? Just behind that giant clam?
I raised my dart gun and waited for an attack.
Then, suddenly, my mask clouded. I couldn’t breathe.
I strained for breath. No air came.
My oxygen tank! Someone must have tampered with it!
There was no time to lose. Two hundred feet down—and no air! I had to
surface—fast!
I kicked my legs, desperately trying to pull myself to the surface.
Holding my breath. My lungs about to burst. I was losing strength, getting
dizzy.
Would I make it? Or would I die right here, deep under the ocean, Joe the
Stingray’s dinner?
Panic swept over me like an ocean tide. I searched through the fogged mask
for my diving partner. Where was she when I needed her?
Finally, I spotted her swimming up at the surface, near the boat.
Help me! Save me! No air! I tried to tell her, waving my arms like a maniac.
Finally she noticed me. She swam toward me and dragged my dazed and limp body to the surface.
I ripped off my mask and sucked in mouthfuls of air.
“What’s your problem, Aqua Man?” she cried. “Did a jellyfish sting you?”
My diving partner is very brave. She laughs in the face of danger.
I struggled to catch my breath. “No air. Someone—cut off—tank—”
Then everything went black.
2
My diving partner shoved my head back under the water. I opened my eyes and
came up sputtering.
“Get real, Billy,” she said. “Can’t you snorkel without acting like a total
jerk?”
I sighed. She was no fun.
My “diving partner” was really just my bratty sister, Sheena. I was only
pretending to be William Deep, Jr., undersea explorer.
But would it kill Sheena to go along with it just once?
My name actually is William Deep, Jr., but everybody calls me Billy.
I’m twelve—I think I mentioned that already.
Sheena is ten. She looks like me. We both have straight black hair, but mine
is short and hers goes down to her shoulders. We’re both skinny, with knobby
knees and elbows, and long, narrow feet. We both have dark blue eyes and thick,
dark eyebrows.
Other than that, we’re not alike at all.
Sheena has no imagination. She was never afraid of monsters in her closet
when she was little. She didn’t believe in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy,
either. She loves to say, “There’s no such thing.”
I dove underwater and pinched Sheena’s leg. Attack of the Giant Lobster
Man!
“Stop it!” she screamed. She kicked me in the shoulder. I came up for air.
“Hey, you two,” my uncle said. “Be careful down there.”
My uncle stood on the deck of his sea lab boat, the Cassandra. He
peered down at Sheena and me snorkeling nearby.
My uncle’s name is George Deep, but everybody calls him Dr. D. Even my dad,
who is his brother, calls him Dr. D. Maybe that’s because he looks just the way
a scientist should.
Dr. D. is short, thin, wears glasses and a very serious, thoughtful
expression. He has curly brown hair and a bald spot at the back of his head.
Anyone
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