Moby

Chapter 1

One

Darla

Islide down the side of the whale watching boat until my butt lands on the deck, gathering my bent knees to my chest. Ocean spray dampens my face as the vessel pitches sideways, dipping down low between two waves, then high again, like a diabolical seesaw.

Thanking God I took two motion sickness pills before my parents dragged me on this horrific expedition, I close my eyes and imagine the dry, stable land.

I’ll never take it for granted again.

The only good thing I have going for me right now is that my travel companions are gathered on the other side of the ship, where I don’t have to listen to them.

I’m on “vacation” with my wealthy parents, plus another, equally rich family, and their pissing contest about who has the more superior yacht docked in Monte Carlo has sent me as far away from them as possible, being that we’re confined to a small commercial boat.

In fact, whale watching is not my parents’ style at all. They’re more of a canapes on the sundeck type. But the other family, the one who accompanied us on our annual trip to Hawaii, have a son who wanted to see the whales.

He’s the main reason I’m hiding.

I tilt my head back and rest it on the hollow, white metal wall, breathing in deeply through my nose, trying to quell the helplessness of being in the middle of the ocean, miles from the sanctuary of my hotel room.

The helplessness that comes with knowing my parents didn’t bring me on vacation to spend time with me.

They set me up.

My right knee begins to protest my position, and I straighten it out in front of me with a groan.

A pitiful sound that not many eighteen-year-olds make.

Not many eighteen-year-olds have survived a head-on collision with another jet ski, either.

Yet another reason I’m not exactly thrilled to be pitching side to side on the surface of the ocean, but at least the odds of us crashing into anything in the middle of the sea are low.

Right?

There’s a collective exclamation on the opposite side of the boat, and I smile lightly, despite the loneliness weighing down my chest. They must have spotted a whale. I should probably head over there and share in their excitement.

I don’t move a muscle.

Gosh. I wish I had someone to talk to.

I was going to use this vacation as an opportunity to gather inspiration for Beautiful Scars, but when I arrived and realized my parents had a totally different goal in mind, all my motivation seeped straight out through my pores.

Closing my eyes, I wish for a speedy end to this whale watching trip.

When I open them again, I blink twice. Thrice. Five more times.

Surely, I’m seeing things.

That isn’t a whale head sticking up out of the water.

No, wait. It totally is. That’s an honest-to-goodness blue whale, if I’m not mistaken.

It’s gigantic—and I can only see the top of it! The giant creature’s mouth follows a natural curve that is reminiscent of a smirk, his single eye trained on me.

Rather impatiently.

“Uh. Whoa.” I sit up straighter, wondering if I should yell or sound some kind of alarm?

I’ve never been whale watching before, but I’m pretty sure you’re only supposed to catch glimpses of the enormous mammals.

This kind of prolonged contact can’t be typical.

Whales don’t just pop out and stare at the boat passengers, like they’re trying to communicate something.

And if this one is trying to communicate something, it’s attitude.

“Um. Are you supposed to g-get this close?” I stutter, lamely, scooting my knees back tight to my chest, despite the spears of pain in my knee. “Should I…get someone who knows what they’re doing?”

Is it my imagination or does the whale roll his eye at me?

“Oh, you’re annoyed? My parents brought me on this vacation under false pretenses. We were going to take sunset hikes and make our own grass skirts, but what they really wanted was to set me up with Leonardo, the son of their rich friends.”

The mouth of the mighty creature stretches open and closed.

Was that a yawn?

I’ve just been yawned at by a blue whale.

“You know what? Just go away.”

Using my elbows, I push myself up the wall of the boat, attempting to stand, but my knee has been bent too long and doesn’t cooperate. I slip back down and land on my butt again with a thud. Great. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of this dickhead whale.

Don’t ask me how I know it’s a male. I just know. Oddly, though, he is now watching me now with a solemn air, rather than an impatient one.

“Don’t you dare feel bad for me,” I say, massaging my knee, which has long, curving puckered scars from multiple surgeries.

They’ve been connected by a tattoo in the form of a star constellation.

My very first project for Beautiful Scars was my own.

“It’s just stiff,” I explain to the whale. “It’ll loosen up in a minute.”

Soundlessly, he dips back down beneath the blue, shimmering surface, then rises again, that serious gray eye trained hard on me. A gust of air and sound releases from his blowhole, as if he’s trying to talk to me. Which can’t be true. That would be crazy.

Still, it’s nice to have someone to confide in.

Even if he can’t understand a word I’m saying.

“I do have friends I could have gone on vacation with, you know. My parents weren’t my only option.

We’re just…” I try to shrug off the burn in my chest. “My friends and I haven’t been as close since my accident.

” The sound of metal crunching, blood in the water.

People screaming she’s dead. “It’s my fault that I let myself drift from my friends.

I wasn’t really the same after my accident.

Not into the same things I used to be into, like going to parties or shopping or being adventurous.

I really like the quiet now. I like who I am in the quiet. Is that ridiculous?”

Gone is the irritation the whale was exhibiting upon arrival.

His smirk has softened. He absorbs my words with quiet intensity, the waves lapping at the top third of his mighty body. Another loud cheer reaches me from the other side of the ship, and I laugh silently to myself. They have no idea what they’re missing.

Unless, of course, I’m hallucinating and none of this is real.

“Anyway, you probably have some whale activity you must get back to. Like migrating or eating krill.” Wait. Did he roll his eye at me again? “You didn’t sign up to listen to my problems.”

Air blasts out of his blow hole.

Is he…responding to me?

I saw an internet video once where a dolphin returned someone’s cell phone after they accidentally dropped it from the side of their boat. Maybe I’m underestimating the whale’s abilities?

“Do you understand me? Blow twice for yes, once for no.”

Two blasts of air, with no hesitation, have my jaw hinging open.

“Oh my God.”

The thick skin above his eye lifts upward, like an eyebrow raise. As if to say how do you like me now? Slowly, he bobs down below the water, before rising again, the saltwater coasting down his huge body, trickling into the sinew and tendons of his throat. His thick fins.

There’s that eye again. Watchful. Serious.

Memorizing me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my tone suspiciously hoarse.

“If I’d known you could understand me, I probably wouldn’t have unloaded on you like that.

But it’s nice to have someone to talk to, nonetheless.

” I cast a quick glance in both directions to make sure no one has discovered the prime whale viewing opportunity on this side of the boat and rushed over to take pictures.

“The children of my parents’ friends are my only option for companionship on this trip.

They have twin daughters who freak me out.

I’m pretty sure they communicate through telepathy.

Then, there’s Leonardo, who I mentioned before.

I think he’s in cahoots with my mother to make an honest woman out of me.

He’s very rich, you see, and that’s all that matters to my parents.

The fact that he travels with a lightsaber and calls my business venture a ‘hobby’ are inconsequential details to them. ”

The whale is back to looking annoyed.

I’m choosing to believe that irritation is aimed at Leonardo.

“In my family, the women marry young. I’m only eighteen and my mother is already like, tick tock.

Time to have babies. With Leonardo.” I press my palms to my cheeks and squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure I overheard him telling his freaky sisters that he brought a diamond ring on the trip to formally propose.

How am I going to say no without royally ticking off my parents?

He’s the son of their best friends. The insult will not go down well. ”

The whale opens his mouth wide and snaps it shut, creating a hefty wave that rocks the boat, forcing me to claw at the deck for purchase.

“I know,” I say. “I’m in a pickle. My plan is to avoid him. I’m way too young for babies.”

Weirdly, the whale seems to disagree with that point.

But I’m probably imagining his considering head tilt.

All right, I need to confess a thought I’m having.

As far as whales go, this one must be the most attractive one of his kind.

Right? Is that a strange speculation? It’s just that, he’s so…

cocky. Quick-witted. Powerful. That gray eye is wise and thoughtful, while also being kind of…

reluctantly interested. In me. And unless I’m locked in a psychosis, that gray eye travels downward and hesitates on the tight seam of my jean shorts, his extra-large body expanding with a low, churning sound.

If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was sizing me up for a meal.

“Um…” I push up the side of the boat once more, intending to escape my wayward thoughts about the whale. They’re verging on inappropriate. “My knee feels better now. I should probably go join my family—”

Before I can finish my sentence, I hear footsteps. A quick glance to the left tells me that none other than Leonardo himself is ambling down the pathway that runs along the side of the boat. Right toward me.

Perhaps because the whale remains so still, Leonardo doesn’t seem to notice him.

Or maybe because he’s solely focused on me, rubbing his hands together.

The whale’s eye ticks in Leonardo’s direction, narrowing.

He sinks down a few feet into the waves.

“There she is. My sweet Darla.” Leonardo jerks his chin in the direction from which he came. “You’re missing all the action, love bug. Are you scared of the great beasts?” He reaches his hand out, wiggling his pale fingers. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

I am trying not to be obvious about cringing backward and when his fingertips brush my shoulder, I close my eyes and prepare to blurt that I feel seasick.

But before I can issue that bald-faced lie, there’s a loud thunderclap and a shock of wind that stumbles me sideways.

My eyes fly open just in time to see my whale’s massive tail slam down onto the surface of the ocean, sending a wave toward the boat that rocks Leonardo back.

Away from me.

Holding on to the side of the boat, I try not to laugh.

“Whoa nelly! I’m going to tell the captain to head back to shore,” Leonardo says, visibly alarmed. “We’ve got an angry whale on our hands.”

Moments later, the vessel has turned around and is speeding back toward the resort dock.

I should be relieved that the expedition is over early and I’m no longer confined to the boat with my parents and their awful friends.

But I can’t help but feel like I’m leaving a friend behind.

I can’t help but watch for any sign of him as we pick up speed, the wind tearing at my hair.

And I can’t help but wonder about the sense of loss in my chest.

Something tells me that as long as I live, I’ll never forget my whale.