“He’s a nice guy,” Rhodes remarked.

  “Yeah,” Caddie said after a moment. “He is.”

  She worked for another hour, identifying a dozen nudibranchs, until she’d labeled every image on the card. She was reaching for a new one when her father appeared in the doorway. “Ready for lunch?” he asked her.

  “Sure,” Caddie answered. She looked at Rhodes. “I’ll see you in a while,” she said.

  “Where are we going?” she asked her father as they walked back toward his office.

  “I thought we’d meet Hudson at the Bulldog,” he said. “It’s an Irish pub. How’s that sound?”

  “Fine,” Caddie said. She was surprised to hear that Hudson would be joining them; she’d assumed they would be having lunch alone. She was even more surprised to find that she was a little annoyed. Let it go, she reminded herself. You’re starting over.

  By the time they reached the Bulldog, she was in a better mood. It didn’t matter if Hudson was there or not. Besides, she thought, he’s easy to look at.

  Hudson was already there, seated at one of the pub’s few tables. They joined him, Caddie sliding in next to him and her father taking the seat across from them.

  “They have the best fish and chips here,” her father announced as they looked at the menus.

  “With such a rave recommendation, I guess I’ll have to try it,” Hudson said, shutting his menu.

  “Me too,” said Caddie, although fried fish made her think again, unappetizingly, of Rhodes and his pimples.

  They ordered, and as they waited for their food, Hudson and her father began talking. Caddie listened, only half-interested, as they discussed Hudson’s upcoming first dives in the ocean.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been free to do it,” her father said. “But I promise, we’ll go tomorrow. The conditions should be perfect.”

  “Your father is determined to see me drown,” Hudson said to Caddie.

  She watched her father as he laughed. “You’re a natural,” he said, looking at Hudson and grinning. “You’re practically half otter.”

  Something about the tone of his voice and the way he was looking at Hudson caught her attention. She’d never seen him like this before. He was happy, almost annoyingly so. It reminded her of something, but she couldn’t think what it was.

  Then, as the waiter appeared and set their plates in front of them, it hit her. He’s flirting, she thought. And she knew what he reminded her of—herself. He was acting the way she did when she wanted to get a guy’s attention.

  She sat, stunned, and watched the two of them. Her father was talking quickly, waving his hands and laughing. Hudson, too, was laughing. Caddie looked from one to the other. What was going on with them? She couldn’t imagine.

  “How come you’re not eating?” her father asked.

  “I need ketchup,” Caddie said quickly.

  Hudson handed her the bottle, and she busied herself with pouring ketchup over her fries. She did the same with the malt vinegar, dousing her pieces of fish in it as she tried to regain her composure.

  She ate slowly, only just picking at her plate. Oblivious, her father and Hudson talked animatedly. She didn’t even listen to the words; they weren’t important. It was everything else that captured her attention, the way they shared an enthusiasm for whatever it was they were going on about, the way they were focused on each other. The way they’re ignoring me, she thought, not without a little irritation.

  Something was going on, and she wasn’t sure what it was. Were they really flirting? It was such a weird—such a disturbing—thought that she couldn’t imagine she was right. They’re just friends, she assured herself. She didn’t allow herself to consider anything beyond that.

  “Caddie.”

  “It’s great,” she said, thinking her father had spoken to her again. But when she looked up, it was Brian who was looking at her. He nodded a greeting at her father and Hudson. “Hey,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” Caddie asked him, sounding more accusatory than she wanted to.

  “Same thing you are,” said Brian. “Getting lunch. Aren’t the fries killer?”

  Her father and Hudson agreed. Caddie, trying to stop her father before he could ask any embarrassing questions, said, “Brian works at the aquarium. That’s where we met.”

  “Really?” her father said. “What do you do?”

  “I’m just summer help,” Brian said. “Nothing major.” He turned his attention back to Caddie. “Are we still going diving later?” He looked at her father. “I promised her I’d take her on her first night dive,” he said.

  Caddie felt her stomach knot. She felt her father and Hudson both staring at her. Then came the inevitable question. “Since when do you dive?” her father asked.

  “Oh, I showed her,” Brian informed him.

  Ben looked at him. “You’re an instructor?” he asked, sounding doubtful.

  “Nah,” said Brian. “But I’ve been diving for a couple of years.”

  Caddie tried to shrink into the bench. She was horrified, both because she’d been caught in a lie by her father and because Brian was about to find out that she wasn’t everything she’d pretended to be. Even though she’d pretty much decided she didn’t care about him, she hated to be found out.

  But her father didn’t betray her. “Maybe we’ll all go together one of these days,” he said. “I’m about to certify Hudson.”

  Brian beamed. “Cool,” he said. “Well, I should be getting back. I just came to pick up an order. Call me later,” he added to Caddie.

  “He seems nice,” Hudson said.

  “He does,” her father agreed. He looked at Caddie.

  “I was going to mention the diving thing,” she said, trying to head him off.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We can talk about it later.”

  Relieved, she resumed eating. But she felt as if she’d been reprimanded. Her father had used that tone with her, the one that meant, “You’re in big trouble, young lady.” It was the same tone her mother used. But at least her mother had been around long enough to earn the right to scold her.

  You haven’t, she thought, glancing at her father. But he was talking to Hudson again, as if nothing had happened. He doesn’t even know how to be mad at me right, Caddie thought. Her mother would have had it out with her, demanding to know who Brian was and what they were doing together. Her father didn’t seem interested in anything other than the fact that she’d gone diving without telling him. Big deal, Caddie thought. Of all the things she’d done for him to be annoyed by, that was the least of them.

  She looked out the pub’s big front window. The day had started off so well. Now everything had changed. I knew it was too good to last, she thought. It always is.

  Her father waited until they were alone in the car before getting back to the topic of diving.

  “I know it seems like diving is easy,” he said as Caddie leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes, groaning inwardly. “But it can be really dangerous. This boy ...” His voice trailed off, and Caddie realized he’d already forgotten Brian’s name. She didn’t help him out by reminding him.

  “Anyway, it isn’t as easy as it looks,” her father continued. “A lot of things can happen. You can die if you do it incorrectly.”

  There was silence following this pronouncement, and Caddie knew she was supposed to be impressed. “You can die walking across the street,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “You can die riding a bike.”

  “The point is, this guy isn’t an instructor,” said her father. He sounded annoyed, and this secretly pleased Caddie. Finally, he’s acting like a normal father, she thought. At least sort of.

  “You can’t just go diving,” her father said.

  “Why?” Caddie asked him. “Is there a law against it?”

  “Well, no,” said her father. “There’s no law. But you’re supposed to be certified.”

  “Says who?”

  She heard her father sigh. “You’re just supposed to,” he said. “A certification card says that you’ve had enough training to know how to dive safely. It’s like a driver’s license. You wouldn’t drive without one of those, would you?”

  Caddie started to remind him that, technically, she was supposed to have an adult with her in the car while she was driving, but he didn’t seem to care if she obeyed that rule or not. Then she thought better of it. If she brought the matter to his attention, he might actually tell her she couldn’t drive anymore. Instead, she said, “But there’s a law about that. You said there’s no law that says you have to be certified to dive.”

  “It’s an unwritten law,” her father said. “And it’s common sense. You could really hurt yourself.”

  “It’s just the Breakwater,” Caddie said. Brian says that’s like skiing the bunny bowl at a ski resort.

  “Well, I doubt Brian has ever had to perform CPR on someone who’s drowned at Breakwater,” said her father. “Has he?”

  “I don’t know,” Caddie admitted.

  “I have,” her father informed her. “And it wasn’t pleasant. Every year there are two or three deaths at Breakwater because people think they know what they’re doing and they don’t.”

  Caddie opened her eyes, blinking against the bright sun. Her father was staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “I’m not going to die,” she said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Her father didn’t answer. Then, while they were stopped at a light, he turned and looked at her. “I thought you were smarter than this,” he said, shaking his head.

  Caddie felt her cheeks flush. “Meaning what?” she demanded.

  Her father didn’t answer. He sat, silent, until the light changed. Caddie, growing more and more angry, crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window. Smarter that this, she repeated to herself. Is he still talking about diving, or does he mean hanging out with Brian? she wondered. Either way, she couldn’t believe her father would say something like that to her.

  He’s the one who’s acting like a fool, she thought, remembering how he’d acted around Hudson during lunch. He’d behaved like a love-struck teenager. It had been embarrassing to watch. She almost said so now, but she knew her father would have no idea what she was talking about. He was so oblivious that it wasn’t even funny. It was just sad.

  He thinks I should be smarter? she thought. He’s the one who needs to get a clue.

  CHAPTER 33

  Hudson looked down at the compass strapped to his wrist. The arrow end of the needle was just shy of being centered in the notch on the bezel, which he’d set to ninety-five degrees. He adjusted his path, and the arrow locked in place. Now he just had to remember to hold his wrist level.

  He swam, counting ten kicks, then stopped. To make a right turn, he needed to add ninety degrees to his current heading. He did the math, then set the compass to a new heading of one hundred eighty-five degrees. Another ten kicks, another right turn, this time going out at two seventy-five. The final turn required trickier figuring. Eighty-five gives me three hundred and sixty, he thought. Plus another five to make it a full ninety-degree turn. He turned the bezel to fifteen degrees, cursing Ben for starting him at such an odd number, and swam. If he had done everything correctly, he should be swimming right back to where Ben was waiting.

  After eight kicks he began to panic. Nothing looked familiar. He looked at the compass again. Had he failed to hold it level? Had he added or subtracted incorrectly? He couldn’t remember what numbers he’d used. Even if he could, he would already be so far off course that he would never be able to retrace his steps. Maybe you should just surface, he told himself.

  Then another kick, and ahead of him he saw Ben kneeling in the sand. When he saw Hudson, he clapped his hands together and gave him the okay sign. Hudson, overjoyed, returned the sign and finished the final leg of the square. He’d done it. He’d been dreading the navigation test more than anything else and was relieved that he’d passed it on the first try.

  Now all that was left was the out-of-air ascent. He ran over the steps in his mind, trying to remember everything Ben had taught him. They’d done it in the pool several times, but because of the shallow depths, it hadn’t been an accurate representation of what it would be like doing it in the ocean. They’d barely had to kick to get to the surface, and the skill was over before it had even begun.

  Now Ben knelt, facing Hudson. Then he slashed his hand across his throat and pointed to himself, indicating that he was going to take the role of the diver who was out of air. Hudson gave the okay sign to show that he understood. He took a breath and waited. Ben repeated the out-of-air hand signal, moving his hand horizontally beneath his chin, then bringing his fingertips to his lips and away, imitating the sharing of air.

  Hudson reached for his alternate regulator, putting it in his mouth as he simultaneously removed his primary regulator. This he handed to Ben, turning it so that the mouthpiece was facing away from himself. Ben took it and, letting his own regulator fall gently to his side, placed Hudson’s in his mouth.

  They were now sharing the air in Hudson’s tank, breathing together. Hudson then moved closer to Ben and took hold of his BC at the waist, so that they were face to face. He gave Ben the okay signal and waited to see it mirrored back at him. Then he pointed surfaceward with his thumb, and they began to swim up.

  It was awkward. The regulator hoses seemed to get in the way, and Hudson had a difficult time looking at his computer to monitor their ascent rate while still controlling the release of air from his BC. Also, Ben was kicking hard. Hudson knew it was on purpose; he was simulating what a panicked diver would be most likely to do in this situation.

  Hudson let more air out of his BC, slowing them down. He looked at Ben and saw that, behind his mask, his eyes betrayed his amusement. He was enjoying watching Hudson try to do everything at once. Then they were at the surface. Ben handed the regulator back to Hudson and inflated his own BC so that he was bobbing easily.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Neither of us has the bends. Good work.”

  “Do I pass?” Hudson asked him.

  “One more dive,” said Ben. “You have to plan it and lead it. So decide where you want to take me, and we’ll get it done.”

  Hudson looked around. “How about over there?” he suggested.

  “You’re the dive leader,” said Ben. “I’m just the poor guy who’s following you.”

  Hudson gave him the finger. “Oops,” he said, turning his fist so that his thumb was pointing down. “I meant to say I’ll see you on the bottom.”

  Forty minutes later the two of them surfaced not far from shore. “Congratulations,” Ben said. “You are now a certified scuba diver, courtesy of the good folks at Scuba Schools International.”

  “I feel like there should be some kind of initiation or something,” said Hudson as they headed in.

  “Didn’t I mention the part where we make you wrestle with a wolf eel?” joked Ben.

  They emerged from the water, walking up the beach to one of the freshwater showerheads mounted on a pole nearby. Ben held the button down while Hudson rinsed himself and his gear, then they switched places. When they were both mostly free of saltwater, they continued on to Ben’s car and began the process of taking everything off.

  “You never told me how your talk with Caddie turned out,” Hudson said as he removed the weights from his BC. “Did that guy really take her diving?”

  “He did,” Ben said.

  “And that’s bad, right?” Hudson asked.

  “He’s not an instructor,” Ben explained. “Technically, there’s nothing that says you have to be certified to dive. But no dive shop operator in their right mind will rent you gear or fill your tanks without seeing a c-card first. I guess Brian just borrowed a bunch of gear for Caddie.”

  “And you’re okay with her diving without any formal training?”

  “No,” Ben said. “I quizzed her a little, and she doesn’t know half of what she should to be out there. But there’s really not much I can do to stop her if she’s determined to do it, so I offered to teach her the right way to dive.”

  “Let me guess,” said Hudson. “She said no.”

  Ben nodded. “That girl’s as stubborn as ...”

  “As you are?” Hudson suggested.

  Ben, sliding the tub with his gear into the back of the car, didn’t answer, but Hudson knew he’d said exactly what Ben was thinking. “I thought we were starting to get along,” said Ben.

  “At least she’s talking to you,” Hudson reminded him. “You can’t expect miracles overnight.”

  Ben helped him lift his gear into the car. “I’d settle for just knowing what she’s thinking,” he commented.

  “Ah,” said Hudson as Ben closed the hatch. “I’m afraid that will never happen. You’re a dad; she’s a daughter. You’re different species.”

  They got in and drove back to Ben’s house. When they walked in, Caddie was sitting on the couch, reading a book. She looked up, then went back to her book without saying anything.

  “Hey, Caddie,” Hudson said brightly.

  She muttered an unintelligible greeting but didn’t look at him.

  “Hudson just finished his certification dives,” Ben said brightly.

  “Good for Hudson,” said Caddie.

  Hudson saw Ben stiffen at the girl’s tone. He knew Ben was trying hard to keep things light, but he also knew that Caddie wasn’t going to make it easy for him. In some ways she reminded him of himself when he was her age—moody, craving independence, but still wanting to feel that someone was watching out for him. Those years were hard. Not that it really gets all that much easier, he thought.

  “Have you dived at the Breakwater?” he asked Caddie.

  She nodded. “A bunch of times,” she said.

  “It’s amazing,” Hudson continued, refusing to let her air of superiority quiet him. “Who knew all of that stuff was under the water? It’s like an alien world or something.”