Winter's Tide by Lisa Williams Kline Page B

laughed.
    â€œHey! Oh, my gosh. What’s that?” Diana suddenlysaid, pointing. I looked down the beach and saw something huge and black, like a giant tree trunk, lying on the beach a few yards from the water. We raced toward it.
    As we approached, my breath caught in my throat. Shiny, black skin; a big anvil-shaped tail slowly flopping. I glanced at Diana. She braked to a noisy stop, jerking me forward, and leaped out.
    Covering her mouth with one hand, she pointed with the other to the wilting triangular fin on top. A jagged nick.
    â€œOh no! It’s Nick! He’s stranded again!”

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D IANA
    I knelt by Nick’s head and stared at the slightly open mouth with its neat row of teeth. And then, just above and outside the mouth, I saw his eye. Surrounded by wrinkles, it was dark blue and three times the size of a human eye. The wrinkles made the expression in the eye seem amazingly wise and sorrowful.
    The same kind look I saw in Commanche’s brown eyes.
    And then the eye blinked. And Nick gave a plaintive, sad cry that sounded like a bird.
    â€œWhat are you doing back up here, buddy?” I said, stroking the round knob of his forehead. “Why did you do this again?” I stood up, feeling breathless and panicked. “Stephanie! What can we do? He’s stuck on the sand this time.”
    Stephanie came around to stand beside me. I could tell she was scared. She stayed a good distance away from Nick.
    And then we heard a whoosh of air, a sound like a giant sigh, coming from a spot on the top of Nick’s head. Stephanie jumped with surprise.
    â€œIt’s breathing!” she said.
    â€œSteph, we have to help him!”
    â€œWhat can we do? I bet he weighs five hundred pounds or more! We can’t move him.”
    I looked all around. The surfers had gone in. There wasn’t another soul on the beach. “Maybe we can call someone. Did you bring your cell phone?”
    â€œYeah.” Stephanie reached in her pocket and pulled it out. “Who should I call?”
    â€œThe police, I guess. Here, I’ll talk.” I took her phone and dialed 911. When the dispatcher answered, I said that we’d found a stranded whale on the beach. The dispatcher asked for my location, and Stephanie told me Grammy’s address, since we weren’t that far away. The dispatcher said she’d contact the Marine MammalStranding Network and that someone would be here in thirty minutes to an hour.
    â€œMeanwhile,” she said, “do you have wet towels or a bucket? You need to keep the whale wet. Keep pouring water on the whale, and put wet towels on it to keep its skin from drying out.”
    â€œThanks!” I hung up and got the shell bucket from the back of the golf cart. “Someone will be here in about an hour. We’re supposed to keep the whale wet,” I told Stephanie. “Can you drive the golf cart back to the apartment and get some towels?”
    She hesitated, and I knew she was going to say she’d never driven a golf cart before. “Listen, it’s easy. Just press down on the gas and steer.”
    Stephanie got back on the golf cart, tentatively pushed on the gas, and headed off slowly. While she was gone, I took the bucket down to the surf again and again, filling it and bringing it back and pouring it gently over the whale’s skin. The freezing water sloshed on my hands and pants and coat. After a lot of trips, I was out of breath and had to sit down next to the whale’s head to rest. I touched his large, smooth forehead.
    â€œWe’re working on it, Nick, buddy,” I told the whale. “I don’t know how we’re going to get you back in the water.” I gazed into his large sad eye as I spoke. Thewinter wind whistled as it blew over us. “But we’re going to try.”
    Nick blinked. How long could Nick live out of the water? As if reading my thoughts, he gave another squeaking call that almost sounded