Free Out of Season by Kari Jones

Chapter One
    I hear Dad’s motor roar off across the bay, and I know it’s time. I close the back door with a click and wait to make sure I didn’t wake Mom, then tiptoe across the yard to the dock. My life jacket fits easily over my head. I slide the kayak into the water. In the early morning gray, the boat looks like a seal slipping off a rock.
    I dip my paddle into the water and glide away from shore, keeping to the shoreline to hide under overhanging tree branches and behind rocks. When I’m far enough away from the house that I can make some noise, I dig my paddle into the water harder. The kayak surges forward. On a calm day like today, I can be out of Oyster Bay and around Rugged Point in ten minutes. Then it’s only another ten minutes to Riley Bay, where the sea otters live in the kelp beds. I can spend an hour with them before Mom notices I’m missing.
    Mom would have a fit if she knew I was doing this. She’d worry I’d get hurt. She’d imagine rogue waves carrying me out to sea or angry sea lions biting my boat in half. She’s like that, my mom. Dad’s not. He taught me to kayak. I’ll tell him about these trips soon, but for now, this time with the sea otters is all mine.
    I round the headland, leaning into the sudden wind. I curve the boat tightly around the rocks and into Riley Bay. As soon as I’m in the bay, I relax and paddle more slowly.
    I’ve been coming out here for five days now, and every morning I wonder if the sea otters are still going to be here. So far, I haven’t heard anyone at school or in town mention them. I hope I’m the only one who knows about them. If someone finds out, the sea otters could die.
    Last year a fisherman shot a sea otter farther up the coast. He said it was destroying the catch. That’s what happens to animals that eat fish around here. No one has time for them.
    Having sea otters is a gift. They’re so beautiful, and rare.
    There is no way I’m letting anything happen to them, even if I have to check on them every day for the rest of my life.
    Riley Bay is full of rocks and tiny islands and a long kelp bed. The sloping hills block the sun, so I don’t see the sea otters until I’m almost on top of them. Their black heads look like bull kelp bulbs. Their flippers are like waving seaweed. Most people wouldn’t notice them at all. They are the most beautiful animals I’ve ever seen. They have black eyes and teddy-bear snouts, and they curve and twist in the water like acrobats when they play in the waves. They’re smart too. They use rocks to crush sea urchins.
    Today they’re resting in the kelp.
    â€œHey, guys,” I say. They know I’m here. I’m sure of it. They’re relaxing, so I relax too. I balance my paddle across my cockpit and lean forward.
    Two of the otters swim toward me. They lie on their backs, looking up. One is bigger than the other, almost as big as me. They’ve wrapped their flippers together like they’re holding hands.
    â€œHi, Gertrude. Hi, Oscar,” I say. They look at me but don’t swim any closer. “How’s the fishing?” I want to reach out and stroke their cute noses, but I know better than that, so I splash the water next to the kayak instead. Lilly, the smaller otter, slaps the water with her tail.
    I could stay here forever watching these guys play, but it’s not long before a shot of sunlight sprays over the hills of Riley Bay, and I know I should head home.
    But Gertrude is eating another sea urchin. I have to watch her smack open the shell against a rock on her tummy, then scrape out the flesh by holding it to her mouth with her flippers. She uses her teeth as fingers to grab the meat inside. When she’s done, I look up to see the sun is too high in the sky.
    If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late.
    I put my paddle in the water and take a stroke. The otters back away and watch me. I take one