Stranded

By Catherine Bosworth

From the moment she arrives in the Florida Keys, twelve-year-old Carly knows shes found her true home. She loves everything about the place, from the gaudy sunsets to the shimmering water of Florida Bay. Because shes new to the Keys, though, she doesnt know its against the law to feed the wild dolphin she discovers when she paddles her kayak to a mangrove island near her house. Youll make him dependent, a local vet warns her. Youll make him vulnerable.

When the dolphin gets sick, Carly feels terrible. She reaches out for help, first to her friend Fin, a twelve-year-old conch who knows everything about the local waters. Fin gets the neighborhood grandmas involved, and they draw in their friend, a marine mammal vet. As Carly assembles her team, the first clue appears a strange odor in the water at a nearby campground. Using all her sleuthing powers, Carly struggles to track down the evil polluters and stop them. Along the way, though, she realizes the dolphin she loves doesnt really belong to her. Hes a wild creature, after all, and he needs to be free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483617916

Catherine Bosworth

Catherine Bosworth began her career in education and she was teaching high school English and journalism when she realized she really wanted to be a writer. She began writing feature articles for the Miami Herald and studied mystery writing at Florida International University. A mom and grandmom, Bosworth lives in Islamorada in the Florida Keys, enjoying the sunsets and the reefs and all things blue and beautiful.

Book preview

Chapter One

C arly beached her kayak in the sandy shallows and pulled on her snorkel gear. The first thing she shot with her underwater camera was a pancake-flat butterfly fish that skittered by and ducked into the mangrove roots. She tilted her mask up to check the angle of the sun. She couldn’t wait much longer.

Then she heard the sound she’d been waiting for—the whoosh of a dolphin surfacing for air. Silver and gray, sleek and shiny, he was just a calf, the same size as she was when she stretched out next to him in the warm, salty water. She called him Biffle.

She swam out to meet him and took a few stills. His black eyes followed every move she made. Letting the camera dangle from the strap on her wrist, she dove and surfaced. Biffle usually dove along with her, but today he just watched. Strange.

Moving closer, she touched him on the belly. His skin was a little like silk, a little like rubber. She was used to how warm it felt, but now his skin seemed almost hot, like he had a fever or something. She ran her hand up and down his sides. No scratches or cuts. He did seem a little pale, though, more silver where he used to be gray. Or was she imagining that? She pulled her camera to the surface and scanned through the pictures from last week, then from the week before. Biffle did look different now. Thinner, weaker.

What’s wrong with you, Biffle? she whispered. He answered with a bunch of clicks and whistles, like he was trying to explain. Too bad she didn’t speak dolphin.

She picked up a long piece of sea grass so Biffle could try to pull it out of her hand, but he didn’t want to play their game today. When she dropped it, he let it float away.

After a while, the dolphin drifted toward the deeper water and kind of hung there, one eye partly open, the other eye shut. Carly took more pictures and started to worry. If she had a dog or a cat, and it was acting all weird like this, she’d take it straight to the vet. But what could she do for her sick dolphin? Did vets make island calls?

She floated next to him, stroking his silvery skin. Hey, Biffle, she murmured. What am I going to do about you?

A sharp, high-pitched whistle made them both jump. She knew that sound. Biffle’s mother was calling him. Biffle whistled back and surged away with one sweep of his powerful tail. Carly could see other dolphins waiting for him in the distance. Behind them, the orange sun was sinking into the bay.

Oh, no, she whispered as she watched the sun disappear. She had stayed too long. Florida Bay got really dark after the sun went down. Nobody knew she was out here, and she had forgotten to bring a life jacket. If she tipped over, if the kayak floated away…

Her throat felt tight, and she forced herself to swallow. She could do this. She stowed her gear and pushed off from the beach. She could still make out the shadowy, tree-lined shore, so she picked a spot, hoped it was the right one, and started paddling.

The glow from the sunset was gone soon. If not for the silvery moonlight, it would be pitch black dark. She peered at the long strip of mangrove trees that bordered the shore. They all seemed to merge together, and she couldn’t tell where to go through. Then something moving across the hazy tree line caught her eye. Another kayaker.

Where did he come from? she mumbled. As she watched, he turned toward her and waved his kayak paddle over his head. This way, he seemed to be saying, come this way. He stayed put as she paddled closer. She recognized him. Fin.

He was in the sixth grade with her. His real name was Phineas, but everybody called him Fin. He was a real conch. That meant he belonged in the Florida Keys, the same way the coral reefs and the awesome sunsets did. She wondered how long it would take for her to be considered a conch. She knew one summer and eight months of school wasn’t enough.

He made the follow me sign again and paddled away. So she followed, watching as he glided through a break in the trees. Her inlet! She dug her paddle in and tried to go faster, but it felt like she wasn’t getting any closer. Now that she knew she wasn’t going to be lost at sea, a new worry took over. Was her dad home from work already? He wouldn’t like it if he found out what she’d been doing. Kayaking all by yourself? You know how dangerous that is? he would say. Then he’d ground her for sure. She wouldn’t be able to go see Biffle, wouldn’t be able to find out what was wrong with him.

Her shoulders and legs ached like mad when she finally pulled the kayak onto the shore and stuck it back under the bushes. She looked around the moonlit beach for Fin, but it was like he’d disappeared. Instead, she saw the two old ladies who lived across the street. They jogged off the pavement and onto the hard packed sand, right toward her.

Out a bit late, aren’t you, Carly? the taller one wheezed. She held her side and gasped for air like a fish did before you threw it back. Old people really shouldn’t jog.

Carly tried a smile. Yeah, I guess so. Time sort of got away from me. She edged away from them toward the street.

Don’t want to be out there past dark. You could get lost, the chubby one said. Her cheeks were as red as her hair. In fact, a youngster like you should never be out on the bay alone. Not even in the daytime. I wouldn’t have let my daughters do that, would you, Sherry?

Alarm bells went off in Carly’s head. They were going to tell on her! My dad said I could. He’s probably waiting for me to get back. I better go.

The taller one, Sherry, seemed about to laugh. She shook her head. You’re safe for now, Dear. I didn’t see his truck in your driveway.

Out in the channel, a huge tarpon leapt out of the water and flopped back in with a spectacular splash. The two women looked toward the noise. A perfect time to run. Carly did.

Chapter Two

H er hair was still wet from the shower, but she was at the kitchen table, math book open, when her dad’s truck chugged into the driveway. Talk about cutting it close.

A park ranger, her dad spent his days on a boat, watching over the national marine sanctuary. When the sun went down, he docked the boat and headed for home. Lucky for her, he was late tonight.

He tossed his hat onto the table next to her. It was covered with salty ocean spray. Hi, Carly. Sorry I’m late. How was school?

Fine, she mumbled.

He stuck his head in the refrigerator. Looks like a stir-fry night to me, he said.

The spicy aroma filled the kitchen as she moved her books and set out the plates. While they ate, he explained why he was late.

Owen asked me to meet him. You know where the campground used to be?

She nodded, picturing her dad’s friend Owen. He had a bushy fire-colored beard and a bunch of kids. The oldest was Delilah, a year ahead of her in middle school. Blond hair, pale green eyes. Kind of a bully. The rest of Owen’s kids were wild, red-haired boys.

Why’d he want to meet you?

He fishes there sometimes. Claims the water smells funny lately. I checked it out. He’s right. It stinks like crazy. So I took a sample.

Biffle. That stinky water could be what was making him sick. She was about to say something, then swallowed the words, afraid to tell him about swimming with the dolphin. Afraid to get grounded.

After dinner, she stacked the plates in the dishwasher and filled the sink with soapy water for the frying pan. Is Mom coming down this weekend? she asked as she scrubbed.

Mmm. Don’t think so. She can’t make it.

"Again?" Carly couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.

This isn’t working, is it? her dad said. When I quit my job in Miami and took this park service job, I thought we’d be living here together.

We were going to. Then Gabby had to go and spoil it. She scrubbed harder at the pan.

Without telling anybody, her sister had forged their parents’ signatures on an application to the New World School of the Arts, a la-di-dah magnet school in Miami. Lugged her cello onto the Metrorail to travel downtown for the audition. Got accepted.

Carly, she’s talented. She can’t give up this opportunity.

Should you give up being out on a boat all day? You love that.

I thought we could do both.

She put the pan on the rack to dry. Guess you were wrong.

She couldn’t sleep. What her dad had said about the water at the campground had scared her. She had to see for herself. About a half hour after her dad started snoring, she slid her bedroom window open and slipped out, her camera in her back pocket.

Her bike was in the carport, leaning against the wall. She pushed it across the damp grass and hopped on when she got to the street.

It was spooky dark at the campground, but she didn’t have time to be scared. She had to get back fast, in case her dad got up to check on her.

She pulled her camera out and switched it on. The closer she got to the dock, the stronger the stink became. But how did you record a smell? She panned across the rippling water on both sides of the dock. It looked normal. Maybe a sheen, a film floating on the surface.

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