The Last Song(106)
“Or how about this? We paint our faces and try to summon ancient Incan goddesses.”
Addicted to those lousy games, she’d probably still be living at home when Jonah went off to college in eight years. “Whatever you want.”
The sound of Will’s laughter was enough to bring her attention back to him. “Did you say something?”
“Your birthday. I was trying to figure out what you want for your birthday, but obviously you’re out in never-never land. I’m leaving on Monday, and I want to do something special for you.”
She thought about it before turning toward the house, noticing again how out of place it was along this stretch of beach. “You know what I really, really want?”
It didn’t happen on her birthday, but two nights later, Friday, August 22, was close enough. The staff at the aquarium really did have the whole thing down to a science; earlier that afternoon, workers and volunteers from the aquarium had begun to prepare the area so the turtles could reach the water safely.
She and Will had helped smooth the sand in the shallow trench that led to the ocean; others had put up caution tape to keep the crowd at a safe distance. Most of the crowd, anyway. Her dad and Jonah had been allowed inside the taped area, and they were standing off to the side, out of the way of the bustling workers.
Ronnie didn’t have any idea what she was supposed to do, other than make sure no one got too close to the nest. It wasn’t as if she were an expert, but when she wore the Easter-egg-colored aquarium outfit, people assumed she knew everything. She must have answered a hundred questions in the last hour. She was pleased that she’d been able to remember the things Will had first told her about the turtles and also relieved that she’d taken a few minutes to review the loggerhead fact card the aquarium had printed up for onlookers. Pretty much everything that people wanted to know was already there in black and white, but she supposed it was easier to ask her than glance at the card they held in their hands.
It also helped to pass the time. They’d already been out here for hours, and though they’d been reassured that the nest might begin to hatch any minute, Ronnie wasn’t so certain. The turtles didn’t care that some of the little kids might be getting tired or that someone might have to get up early to go to work the next morning.
Somehow she’d imagined that there would be only half a dozen people out here, not the hundreds massing all along the caution tape. She wasn’t sure she liked it; it kind of made the whole thing feel like a circus.
As she took a seat on the dune, Will came over to her.
“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing at the scene.
“I’m not sure yet. Nothing’s happened so far.”
“It’s not going to be long now.”
“So I keep being told.”
Will took a seat beside her. “You need to learn patience, young grasshopper.”
“I am patient. I just want the hatching to happen sooner rather than later.”
He laughed. “My mistake.”
“Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I’m just a volunteer. You’re the one who actually works at the aquarium.”
“Yes, but I’m not being paid for my time, and technically, since you’re a volunteer, I think you should man the caution tape for a while.”
“Let me guess—half the people ask what’s going on, and the other half ask questions that are answered on the card you hand them.”
“Pretty much.”
“And you’re tired of that?”
“Let’s just say that it wasn’t as much fun as dinner the other night.”
He’d taken her out to a cozy little Italian place for her birthday; he’d also bought her a silver necklace with a silver turtle pendant, which she loved and had been wearing ever since.
“How do you know when it’s almost time?”
He pointed to the head of the aquarium and one of the biologists on staff. “When Elliot and Todd start getting excited.”
“Sounds pretty scientific.”
“Oh, it is. Trust me.”
“Mind if I join you?”
After Will had gone off to retrieve some extra flashlights from the truck, her dad had walked over.
“You don’t have to ask, Dad. Of course you can.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. You looked sort of preoccupied.”
“I’m just waiting, like everyone else,” she said. She moved over, making room as he took a seat beside her. The crowd had grown even larger in the last half hour, and she was glad her dad had been allowed inside the caution tape. Lately, he looked so tired.
“Believe it or not, growing up, I never saw a nest hatch.”