Cry of the Sea by D. G. Driver Page A

bit more relieved.
    “Thank you,” I said to Carter quietly.
    He did the sweetest little half smile. “Not a
problem.”
    The men discussed possibilities of origin and
the likelihood of there being more creatures like this in the ocean
for another fifteen minutes or so before my dad looked at his
watch.
    “Oh boy,” he said. “We’ve got to run. If the
pictures we took this morning are going to do us any good, we’ve
got to rush them to the papers and television news stations. You’ll
take care of the, um, creatures, then?”
    Dr. Schneider nodded, but I thought I could
see his fingers twitching.
    “Please don’t dissect them,” I said. “Not
until we have a better understanding of what they are. Please.”
    Dr. Schneider’s eyes went dark. “We can’t
understand them without dissecting them,” he told me.
    My father stepped in at that point. “I think
June is right on this one,” he said. “We should hold off from
cutting them open just yet. I’ll give you a call later on and we’ll
discuss a plan of action.”
    “We don’t have long, Peter,” Dr. Schneider
said. "The smell is only going to get worse, and you know there
will be more animals coming as soon as the oil spill is
reported.”
    “I’m aware of that,” my dad said. “I just
need a couple hours, and I’ll be back.”
    I followed my dad out to the truck.
    “Dad,” I said. “You won’t have time to drive
all the way home, do business, and get back here in a couple of
hours. It’ll take two hours round trip just to drive.”
    He sighed and put his hand on the hood of the
truck. “No. You’re right. And I really need to get back to the
beach, too.” He looked up at the sun well above the horizon. “I
left my laptop at home.”
    “I’ve got one,” came Carter’s voice from the
door. He had followed us out.
    My dad straightened up at the sight of the
college intern. “With Internet?”
    Carter laughed. “Are you kidding me?”
    I had to laugh too. My dad could be so
outdated sometimes. I still could hardly believe his stories about
going through high school with only an electric typewriter. Half my
assignments at school require work done on computers and research
from the Internet. I had to do a presentation in PowerPoint just
last week for English.
    I groaned slightly. School. I kind of forgot
it was a school day.
    “You okay, June?” Dad asked.
    “Yeah,” I said. “I just remembered
something.”
    I let my dad and Carter figure out the
details of going to Carter’s place and using his computer while I
walked away from them and called Haley on my cell.
    She answered on the first ring.
    “Where are you?” Haley said. “I had to leave
without you.”
    Haley had her own car. She usually drove us
to school.
    “Sorry. I should have called earlier, but I
lost track of time. We’re doing work for the good of all mankind
this morning.”
    “Oh. Well that’s a surprise.” With a tone
like that, I could imagine the frown on her face. Or was it a
scowl?
    I tried to ignore her frustration and
continued explaining. “So, I’m kind of gross and very far from
school. There’s no way I can make it to school today.”
    “Unh-uh,” Haley snapped. “Not today. I need
you today. We’re making our case before Student Council at
lunch.”
    “Oh crap!” I shouted too loudly. Dad and
Carter turned their heads my way. I walked further away from them.
“Today is not a good day. I’ll never make it.”
    “You have to make it,” Haley insisted. “You
know they won’t reschedule it, because they hate us and want to
make our lives miserable. If we don’t appear today, our club is not
going to happen.”
    “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try to be there by
lunch. I don’t know how right now, but I’ll try.” I got off the
phone and went back to Carter and my dad. “I’ve got a problem,
Dad.”
    “What is it?”
    “I need to get to school by 11:30.” I paused,
but when my dad didn’t act like that was a big deal, I added,