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  I laughed as Seurat threw himself all the way out of the water, splashing down in a spray of foam and droplets that mixed with the white spots dotted all over him. He was always playful, even by dolphin standards.

  “Show-off!” I called, wiggling my toes to stop my board from drifting sideways with the current.

  I waited for Seurat to leap again, but after that one big effort he seemed content to float around and watch the others.

  I did that, too, paddling with my hands and feet now and then to keep myself from drifting too far out from the beach. Not because I was afraid—I’d been swimming in the ocean since we’d moved here when I was four years old, and I felt as comfortable on my surfboard (or even just swimming) as I did on dry land. More comfortable, actually. Out here, I didn’t have to worry about saying something stupid that would make mean kids like Kady Swanson laugh at me. Out here, there was nobody judging me or thinking I was weird because I didn’t talk much and always had my head bent over my sketchpad. Out here, I didn’t always remember to miss Iggy and Carmen, who’d left me adrift like a ship with no sails or engine when they moved away.

  So being out on the water wasn’t the problem, deep or shallow, but I still made sure to keep myself back from the dolphins. The dolphins were my friends, and I was pretty sure they liked having me around, but they got nervous if I came too close. I could respect that. I didn’t like people crowding in around me, either.

  After a while I noticed the sun was sinking lower out over the sea and realized it would be dinnertime soon. It was my turn to set the table, so I’d better not be late unless I wanted to hear about it from my mother. Reluctantly, I started paddling back toward shore.

  “Bye, dolphins,” I called to my friends. Most of them didn’t pay any attention to me, but Seurat swam along behind me halfway to the beach, his funny spotted face popping up to watch me stand and catch a small wave back to shore.

  When I got there, my sketchpad was falling half out of the bag where I’d dropped it, and I imagined it sending up disappointed feelings at me. I grabbed it and stuffed it back into the depths of the bag, telling myself it didn’t matter if I hadn’t done any work on my sketch today. There was still plenty of time, and I didn’t want to rush it. No, it had to be perfect, and that took as long as it took.

  In any case, it had been worth missing an afternoon’s work to spend time with my dolphin friends. I whistled once in farewell, then grabbed board and bag and started the climb up the narrow, steep, twisting path out of the cove and toward home.

  CATHERINE HAPKA has written many books for children and young adults. She lives in Pennsylvania and enjoys reading, horseback riding, music, gardening, and traveling.

  Also by Catherine Hapka

  Heart of a Dolphin

  Dolphin Dreams

  Copyright © 2018 by Catherine Hapka

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing 2018

  Cover art © 2018 by Michael Heath

  Ferris wheel background image: © martinho Smart/Shutterstock

  Cover design by Mary Claire Cruz

  e-ISBN: 978-1-338-13645-6

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