Out of Season

Out of Season

Kari Jones

ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

Copyright © 2012 Kari Jones

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Jones, Kari, 1966-
Out of season [electronic resource] / Kari Jones.

(Orca currents)

Electronic monograph.
Issued also in print format.
ISBN
978-1-4598-0098-4(
PDF
).--
ISBN
978-1-4598-0099-1(
EPUB
)

I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents (Online)
PS
8619.05328098 2012      
JC
813'.6     
C
2011-907789-2

First published in the United States,
2012
Library of Congress Control Number:
2011943723

Summary:
Fourteen-year-old Maya uses her kayaking skills to save a family of sea otters from poachers.

Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has printed this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council
^®
.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Cover photography by Getty Images
Author photo by Ryan Rock

www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.

15  14  13  12  •  4  3  2  1

To Wyatt, in welcome

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

I hear Dad's motor roar off across the bay, and I know it's time. I close the back door with a click and wait to make sure I didn't wake Mom, then tiptoe across the yard to the dock. My life jacket fits easily over my head. I slide the kayak into the water. In the early morning gray, the boat looks like a seal slipping off a rock.

I dip my paddle into the water and glide away from shore, keeping to the shoreline to hide under overhanging tree branches and behind rocks. When I'm far enough away from the house that I can make some noise, I dig my paddle into the water harder. The kayak surges forward. On a calm day like today, I can be out of Oyster Bay and around Rugged Point in ten minutes. Then it's only another ten minutes to Riley Bay, where the sea otters live in the kelp beds. I can spend an hour with them before Mom notices I'm missing.

Mom would have a fit if she knew I was doing this. She'd worry I'd get hurt. She'd imagine rogue waves carrying me out to sea or angry sea lions biting my boat in half. She's like that, my mom. Dad's not. He taught me to kayak. I'll tell him about these trips soon, but for now, this time with the sea otters is all mine.

I round the headland, leaning into the sudden wind. I curve the boat tightly around the rocks and into Riley Bay. As soon as I'm in the bay, I relax and paddle more slowly.

I've been coming out here for five days now, and every morning I wonder if the sea otters are still going to be here. So far, I haven't heard anyone at school or in town mention them. I hope I'm the only one who knows about them. If someone finds out, the sea otters could die.

Last year a fisherman shot a sea otter farther up the coast. He said it was destroying the catch. That's what happens to animals that eat fish around here. No one has time for them.

Having sea otters is a gift. They're so beautiful, and rare.

There is no way I'm letting anything happen to them, even if I have to check on them every day for the rest of my life.

Riley Bay is full of rocks and tiny islands and a long kelp bed. The sloping hills block the sun, so I don't see the sea otters until I'm almost on top of them. Their black heads look like bull kelp bulbs. Their flippers are like waving seaweed. Most people wouldn't notice them at all. They are the most beautiful animals I've ever seen. They have black eyes and teddy-bear snouts, and they curve and twist in the water like acrobats when they play in the waves. They're smart too. They use rocks to crush sea urchins.

Today they're resting in the kelp.

“Hey, guys,” I say. They know I'm here. I'm sure of it. They're relaxing, so I relax too. I balance my paddle across my cockpit and lean forward.

Two of the otters swim toward me. They lie on their backs, looking up. One is bigger than the other, almost as big as me. They've wrapped their flippers together like they're holding hands.

“Hi, Gertrude. Hi, Oscar,” I say. They look at me but don't swim any closer. “How's the fishing?” I want to reach out and stroke their cute noses, but I know better than that, so I splash the water next to the kayak instead. Lilly, the smaller otter, slaps the water with her tail.

I could stay here forever watching these guys play, but it's not long before a shot of sunlight sprays over the hills of Riley Bay, and I know I should head home.

But Gertrude is eating another sea urchin. I have to watch her smack open the shell against a rock on her tummy, then scrape out the flesh by holding it to her mouth with her flippers. She uses her teeth as fingers to grab the meat inside. When she's done, I look up to see the sun is too high in the sky.

If I don't hurry, I'll be late.

I put my paddle in the water and take a stroke. The otters back away and watch me. I take one last look, then turn the kayak toward home. As the kayak glides forward, I glance up to the hillside, and my stroke falters. Someone is standing at the top of the hill. I can't tell who it is, but they're watching me play with the sea otters.

Chapter Two

What have I done? With two strokes I move behind the shelter of a rock. My heart races. Who was that? What did they see? I pray that it's not the same fisherman who shot the sea otters last year.

I can't leave now. I sneak between two rocks in the middle of Riley Bay so I can get a better view of the person on the hill. I've never seen anyone up there before. Why would someone be at the top of the hill early in the morning? We're far from town, and no one lives around here. There are no roads. The only access is by boat. There is nothing out here except trees and rocks—and sea otters.

My stomach clenches. Have I given the sea otters away? Are they in danger now?

What should I do?

I'm going to be late. If I'm late, I might be grounded, and I won't be able to watch out for the sea otters. I look up again. The person walks along the ridge to the crest of the hill, then disappears into the trees.

“Arghh…” I shout into the bay. I turn my kayak and race home.

When I get close to the house, I see Dad's boat at the dock. Mom must have called Dad and Saul home. That means she noticed I was missing. There isn't any point in pretending. I pull my kayak up onto the dock, take off my life jacket and walk in the back door.

I'm not happy when I see everyone sitting around the table. There's no doubt about it, I'm in trouble. Dad and Saul only come in for breakfast if there are no fish, or if something bad has happened. I guess I'm the something bad today.

Saul smirks when he sees me. He's four years older than me, and now that he's out of school, he's Dad's fishing partner. He thinks that makes him better than me. Dad lifts his eyebrows. Mom says, “Where have you been? I thought you were still in bed.”

Before I can answer, Saul says, “Kayaking.”

Thanks, Saul. Sometimes having an older brother is frustrating. I was going to say, “Out walking.” Too late now.

“Kayaking? Alone? Maya, how could you? You know how I feel about you being out there alone. Anything could happen. Gerry, did you know about this?” Mom turns to Dad. So do I.

Dad will understand. He taught me how to kayak so I could explore. He gets why I kayak in the mornings. I want to say, “Tell her it's okay, Dad.”

Before I can open my mouth, Dad lifts his fork and waves it at me. “You stay away from that kayak, Maya.”

“But…”

“No buts. Your mother doesn't want you out there. You stay off the water or there will be consequences.” He lowers his fork and spears some egg.

Tears hit the back of my eyes. “Dad?” I say.

He doesn't look at me as he eats his eggs. I glance at Saul, but he's nodding like he agrees with Dad.

“Stay away from the kayak, Maya,” Dad says, glancing up from his food. There's something funny about his face. This is so unlike him. It's so unfair. My face burns, and I have a lump in my throat from trying not to cry.

“What were you doing out there anyway?” asks Saul.

I don't want to answer, but Mom and Dad are watching me. I would have told them about the sea otters. I would have. But now I'm not going to. “Looking around. There are seals on Princess Rock,” I say.

It's not a lie, but it's not the truth.

My voice cracks as I say, “I need to get ready for school.”

For the rest of the morning I have to think of other things, or I want to cry. Why did Dad turn on me? I know Mom worries. I'm okay with that. But I thought Dad was on my side. Why did he betray me?

Chapter Three

I lie awake. Why did Dad tell me to stay away from the kayak? He's being such a jerk. It's not fair. He'd never say something like that to Saul.

He taught me to kayak. He knows how much I love watching animals. With each thought, my breath grows sharper. I want to f ling my pillow across the room. What will happen to the sea otters if no one watches out for them?

Nothing. I won't let it.

By morning I'm worn out, but I've made a decision. I can't abandon the sea otters now that someone knows about them. I can't stop now, no matter what Dad says. Dad's wrong. That's all there is to it. I'm going to have to be more careful, that's all.