The Shark Whisperer (11 page)

“This is Nathan. He seems to have developed an unusual phobia for a clownfish. Ever since he was a baby, he's been afraid of sea anemones. Problem is, it's the partnership between clownfish and anemones that protects both animals. By living in the stinging arms of an anemone, clownfish are protected from predators and the anemone gets a cleaning crew. We're trying family therapy. That's his brother over there in the anemone. He's been trying to coax Nathan in.”

The aquarium they came to next had a two-foot-long green moray eel in it. But it looked more like a ginormous lime green beachball than a long, skinny eel. Ms. Sanchez told the campers it had an overeating issue and couldn't fit into its hiding holes anymore. The moray eel was now on a special diet and customized exercise program. She explained that inside the tank there was a bar just below a water jet. The moray would grab the bar in its teeth and swim against the
water flow. It was a sea creature treadmill. So far, the eel had lost about half a pound, but had at least two more to go before it could fit into its favorite hole.

She then moved to a tank full of small black-striped fish that were frantically swimming in all directions, bumping into each other and the walls. They had lost the leader of their school, but none of the other fish had stepped up so they couldn't get their movements synchronized. The camp was trying to encourage one of the fish to take charge.

From the room filled with glass aquariums, they went to an outside area with larger round tanks, similar to small aboveground swimming pools. There were two sea turtles in one of the pools. One had been caught on a fisherman's longline. It had almost drowned when it couldn't get back to the surface to take a breath. After several days of swimming in highly oxygenated water, it was almost ready to be released back into the wild. The other sea turtle had washed ashore confused and disoriented. They thought it might have been caught in a harmful algal bloom, possibly a toxic red tide. It was touch and go for a while, but after some antibiotics and rest, the sea turtle's health seemed to be improving.

Another of the small pools had what looked like an albino ray in it; a totally white, diamond shaped creature with a long whip for a tail. Ms. Sanchez told them it was a spotted eagle ray that used to be purple on top with white spots. The poor creature had been doused with bleach dumped into the sea by a man cleaning his
boat. Tomorrow several campers were going to start using special eco-friendly purple permanent markers to recolor the top of the eagle ray and give it back its spots.

A slightly chubby woman they had not seen before was at one of the last round tanks. Her frizzy dark hair looked like it was trying to escape from what was once a short braid. She wore a rubber apron over her T-shirt and shorts. Strewn about the table in front of her were parts and pieces from the fish she was chopping up to put into a blender. An eyeball rolled off the table onto the floor.

“Eeuw!” Rosina squealed, nearly stepping on the marble-sized fish eyeball.

“Cool!” Ryder countered.

“Hello, Doctor Jordan. Is it feeding time?” Ms. Sanchez asked as she bent down, picked up the eyeball, and tossed it into the blender.

“Heard you were roaming around. Hi kids.”

“This is our park veterinarian, Doc Jordan. She knows all about keeping our charges safe, healthy, and of course, well-fed. How's Snaggle-Tooth doing?”

“Come see for yourselves,” the woman said.

The Seasquirts gathered around the tank. Tristan got a strange feeling as he approached. Even before he saw what was inside, he
knew
—it was a shark. Thinking back to all the photos he'd seen of different types of sharks, Tristan thought maybe it was a sand tiger shark. It had two triangular dorsal fins, a long upper tail lobe, and a sort of hunched head with an upturned
snout. But something looked wrong—he couldn't see the shark's teeth. All the ones he'd seen in aquariums and photos had ragged spiky teeth that stuck out from their jaws, like they needed some serious dental work.

“Is it a sand tiger shark, Ms. Sanchez?” Tristan asked.

“That's right, Tristan,” she answered.

“But its teeth don't look right.”

“Oh, you know your sharks,” Doc Jordan interjected. “Snaggle-Tooth here had a hook stuck in his jaws. The only way we could get it out and prevent infection was to remove his teeth and part of the jaw. We're letting him heal before we give him replacements. “

“You mean you're giving the shark
dentures
?.” Hugh asked incredulously.

“Yup, pretty much,” the veterinarian answered. “We'll glue them in and then he'll have to spend some time getting used to them. His new teeth won't be quite as spiky as his old ones, but they should still work pretty well.”

Doc Jordan then climbed into the tank about as casually as if it was a warm bubble bath. The Seasquirts were shocked. Tristan was surprised, but even more so, fascinated. He leaned over to see better, his nose just about in the water.

“Want to help me feed him?” the doctor asked Tristan.

“Uh, in there with the shark?”

“Thought you already swam with some sharks,” Rosina scoffed. “You're not
afraid
are you?”

Sam and Hugh gave him an encouraging nudge from behind.

“Uh, okay.”

“Take your sandals off and step into the bucket by the side of the tank to rinse off.”

After a cleansing hop in the bucket, Tristan climbed nervously over the side of the tank.
I can do this
, he thought to himself. The other campers crowded in closer to watch. Tristan stared at the shark swimming slowly by the veterinarian's legs. Then it was like he could hear a voice in his head:
I don't even have any teeth, what kind of a shark am I?

You're a beautiful shark
, Tristan thought.

Beautiful, aargh! I'm a shark, not an angelfish. I want to be fierce, not pretty
.

Tristan laughed out loud. Everyone stared at him. He figured they probably thought he was totally losing it because he was standing in the pool with a shark.

He turned to Doc Jordan. “Says he doesn't feel like a real shark without teeth.”

“We'll fix that, don't worry,” she assured him. “Ms. Sanchez, could you hand Tristan the yummy fish frappé I just whipped up. It's in the large squeeze bottle over there. And then Tristan, how about you come over here to help me feed this guy.”

The shark was swimming slowly around the pool. It was one thing for Tristan to swim with a shark, to stand next to one in a pool, and even know what it was thinking, but feeding it would mean he'd have to put his hand near the shark's mouth.

I don't have any teeth. Man, for a human you're not that bright are you?

Tristan took the blenderized fish from Ms. Sanchez and looked to the veterinarian.

“Okay, I'll hold him. You just squeeze in my special fish-of-the day mix.”

No matter how many times he told himself the shark had no teeth, Tristan could not stop his hands from trembling. He reached down toward the shark's snout with the quivering sport bottle. Tristan saw the shark's eyes follow his hands. He squeezed the bottle a little too early and a blob of fish frappé squirted into the shark's face. Snaggle-Tooth turned to Tristan.
Nice job, lame brain
.

Tristan stuck the bottle in the shark's mouth and gave it a big squeeze, thinking,
how's that, Mr. Gummy?

“Okay, just a few squeezes,” Doc Jordan said.

Tristan finished feeding the shark and climbed out of the tank. All the other campers, except Rosina, congratulated him. He was pretty happy with himself as well, though he could tell the shark was even more miserable, thinking:
How humiliating, what kind of a shark am I?

As they walked to the next round tank, Tristan silently said goodbye to Snaggle-Tooth and that he hoped the shark's new teeth were fierce.

The last pool they came to contained a young pilot whale. An older camper was feeding it an extreme high-fat milkshake through a giant baby bottle and offered to let some of the Seasquirts help. Sam and the
twins were quick to volunteer. Afterward, Ms Sanchez showed them the camp's library next to the Rehab Center and said they had free time until dinner.

Most of the campers decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in the snorkeling streams and water-slides, but Tristan and Sam wanted to go back to the lagoon to practice. Hugh amazingly agreed to go along, no pushing, coaxing, or persuading required.

7

THE SHARKS' REQUEST

D
ARK OMINOUS CLOUDS DRIFTED OVER
C
RANKY
Key as the three teens approached the jungle wall. They were on their way from the Rehab Center to the Seasquirts bungalow to change into their swimsuits. Tristan and Hugh were focused on finding the vine-triggering sea turtle rock when Sam glanced warily skyward. “Uh guys, it's getting kinda dark. Looks like a storm's coming.”

“Just an afternoon squall,” Tristan answered unconcerned. “Happens all the time around here in Florida during the summer.”

“Found it.” Hugh stood proudly on the sea turtle–shaped stone.

As the wall's vines started to move, gusty winds rattled the fronds of nearby palm trees and big drops of rain splattered the ground.

“C'mon, let's get going,” Sam urged. “Maybe we can make it to the bungalow before it starts pouring buckets.”

“You know, that really doesn't make sense,” Hugh noted. “It's not like it ever rains plastic pails or anything.”

“Oh, c'mon Hugh, who cares. Let's get going,” Sam said hurriedly, jumping onto the sea turtle rock with Hugh and then leaping onto the fish stone further into the wall.

Hugh followed at her heels saying how it never rained cats and dogs either. Tristan brought up the rear. He was looking down and concentrating, trying to move quickly across the rocks without tripping.

Inside the jungle wall it was perfectly calm, no wind or rain. But with the sun blocked by storm clouds, it was also unusually dark. At night there were motion-sensitive lights that turned on along with the vines. During the day, the lights were shut off to save energy. Tristan was thankful there was still a weird greenish-glow inside the wall.

Sam was about midway through when she stopped abruptly, causing Hugh to nearly slam into her. He stopped short just in time, squeezing onto the edge of the rock she was standing on. He then turned to warn Tristan. It was too late. Tristan had already leapt toward them aiming for the next rock. He and Hugh collided head-to-head. Hugh managed to remain standing though teetering badly. Tristan wasn't so lucky. He went tumbling onto the grass.

“Hey, why'd you stop?” Hugh asked Sam, rubbing his forehead where a large knot was swelling up.

“I couldn't find the next rock,” Sam replied. “Remind me what it looks like.”

“Aargh! Never mind that, come get me out of here,” Tristan shouted. The grass blades, much like the wall's vines, were now wriggling, growing longer, and wrapping around any part of Tristan touching the ground. With considerable effort he was able to yank his hands and arms free. But from the waist down he was now laced firmly to the ground by long blades of grass.

Hugh reached into his pocket and tossed something to Tristan. “Here, use this, there's a knife in it. If we go off the sea creature rocks, we'll get trapped too.”