The Cottage at Glass Beach by Heather Barbieri Page B

have experience?”
    â€œOf course,” Ella replied, as if there were any question. “We’re McGanns, aren’t we?” She thought of how she’d canoed at Camp Miniwaka last summer. Her team won first place in the race between the docks. She had a badge at home to prove it. She would have been there this summer too, if she were still friends with Sophie, and her mother hadn’t decided to go to Burke’s Island.
    â€œYes,” he said. “You are.”
    They busied themselves, drawing maps of the oceans and continents in the sand, the routes they would travel, across the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Coral Sea. Owen returned a short time later with paddles and two faded orange life jackets Maire and their grandmother might have worn when they were girls. “You sure your mother won’t mind?”
    â€œWe do this all the time.” Ella pinched Annie’s arm, so she wouldn’t disagree. “She was going to get us paddles anyway. This will save her the trouble.”
    â€œYou’d best stay in the cove,” he said, dragging the boat to the tide line, holding the sides while they climbed in, the water pleasantly cool that afternoon. “The currents in the channel can be strong.” He pushed them off.
    The land fell away. They were weightless, free. “Hooray! We’re part of the ocean!” Annie exclaimed.
    Ella plunged her oar into the water, the paddle gliding backward, cutting through the waves like a knife.
    Annie wasn’t paddling. She gazed around her, awestruck.
    â€œWho are you looking for?”
    â€œNo one,” she said quickly. “We’re floating. We’re really floating!”
    â€œYeah, and we’re going to end up beached if you don’t do your job. I ought to fire you.”
    â€œYou can’t fire me. I’m your sister.”
    â€œWant to bet?” Ella said. “Paddle harder, will you? On my count.”
    â€œWhy does it have to be your count?”
    â€œListen for once,” she said. “It’s about working together, having the same rhythm.”
    â€œDoes that mean I get a promotion?”
    â€œTo what?”
    â€œSecond in command.”
    â€œShow me you’re ready. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.”
    They paddled back and forth across the cove, zigzagging at first, then straightening. Ella scooped up a palm-size jellyfish and threw it at Annie. “Got you!” She seemed disappointed when Annie didn’t get upset.
    Annie liked the jellyfish. She liked most of the sea creatures she’d met. She reached for another jelly. Ella ducked, but Annie bided her time. The back of Ella’s head made a nice target. She knew Ella didn’t like getting things in her hair, especially slightly slimy things. The jellies didn’t bother Annie. This type had no stingers, nothing to cause harm.
    Ella turned forward to see where they were going, casting glances over her shoulder. “I know what you’re up to.”
    No, you don’t. Not everything. Annie dropped a small stone she’d been carrying in her pocket over the side. Let Ella think it was the jellyfish, that she’d disarmed herself. Her sister relaxed then, and when she did, Annie lobbed the jelly at her head. It clung for a moment, then slid into the water with a plop.
    â€œUgh!” Ella swiped at her hair, frantic. “Is there anything there?”
    Annie smothered a laugh. It was funny to see Ella so worked up.
    â€œI’ll get you back. I swear I will.”
    â€œLook,” Annie said. A porpoise leaped at the mouth of the cove, its body making a perfect arc over the water. Another followed, then another. Annie counted four in all, the same number as their family, or their family, as it used to be.
    Ella directed them to a sunken rock shelf, teeming with anemones, starfish, crabs, and fish. “It’s an undersea garden.”
    Another eel lived there. Mr. Eel, Annie called him. She