The Things You Find in Rockpools (Rockpools, #1)

by Gregg Dunnett

This book is set on the fictional Lornea Island, located somewhere off the east coast of the United States. It doesn’t actually exist, but a rough map follows this note.

THERES A MAP!!!! I LOVE MAPS!!!

And how often do I get a chance like this? For someone like me this is an amazing opportunity. I mean it's sad too of course, but there's no point being too sentimental about these things. Mostly it's an amazing opportunity. So I feel a bit bad about it, but right away I know I'm not gonna tell Dad.

I'm Billy, by the way. I'm eleven-years-old, but I'm a bit more interesting than most eleven-year-olds. Or at least, I am judging by the others that go to my school. I'm pretty sure you'd agree if you met them.

I always go with him, but I never actually surf. That would mean going in the water, and I don't go in the water.

It's just me and Dad who live in our house. I don't have any brothers or sisters. Or a mom, not anymore. And Dad won't let me have pets, not after what happened with the seagull chicks.

I met her, the girl who went missing: Olivia Curran.

After all, if she hadn't gone to the disco that night, then she couldn't have disappeared from the disco.

But then, she wasn't a very good detective. She can't have been, since she didn't notice when I lied to her.

But I guess that explains why I've felt kind of involved in the whole Olivia Curran thing somehow. Right from the very beginning.

"I know a lot about all the animals on Lornea Island," I tell him. "I'm going to be a marine biologist when I'm older. I'm already doing experiments." I'm suddenly feeling confident, so I ask the policeman, "What time is the whale expert coming?"

You remember Dan Hodges, the lifeguard? Well, there was something I didn't tell you about him. He's sort of dating Emily. I guess that might be a little bit why I don't like him much. It's not serious, though. She's only with him because there's no one better around here.

It's like people have gotten kind of obsessed with the Olivia Curran case. I don't really know why. It's not the first time a tourist has drowned.

People don't normally talk about Olivia Curran to me, though. It's like a conversation that only adults are allowed to have.

"Maybe you should turn your investigative powers to the Olivia Curran case, Billy? After all, you've solved the mystery of the dead whale in about five minutes." She smiles, to make clear she's kind of joking.

I know it's only a throwaway remark that she's made, but already I'm starting to think about it. Maybe I should turn my investigative powers onto the Olivia Curran case. The thought of it has kind of floored me.

The police don't seem to be getting anywhere, and I know from personal experience how incompetent they are. Maybe I can be the one to solve the mystery?

If they'd waited until the expert got there, he could have measured the wounds, and taken samples and all sorts of things that would have been useful to science. But now, they can't. They threw away the biggest piece of evidence they had.

In a funny way, I think me being a child might help too. Look at the way Mr. Matthews and the policeman were talking on the beach today - they moved away from all the other adults because they didn't want to be heard, but they hardly noticed I was there.

Hes so smart and attentive

So that's what my hermit crab project is all about. I did tell you it was serious scientific research. And actually, because it's so important, I've decided I'm not going to investigate the Olivia Curran mystery after all. It would get in the way of my scientific work, and I'm sure Dr. Ribald would be disappointed by that. She says I've got an "unusually persistent approach".

Something happened today to change my mind. I wouldn't want you to think I'm indecisive, but I am going to investigate what happened to Olivia Curran.

Because I know something else about him. Something that's directly relevant to Olivia Curran. I know he was there the night she went missing. I know this because I was there too, and I saw him, hiding in the darkness.

And youre just saying this NOW??????

So that's what made me finally decide I was going to investigate. All those thoughts I was sort-of-having about who might be a likely suspect, and suddenly I had one. A real suspect. A suspect who really might have kidnapped Olivia Curran.

And there’s another thing. Up to now this all felt just a little bit like a game. Or one of my scientific experiments. Important, obviously, but maybe not something totally real. But that’s changed now.

"Jesus, boy." He carries on as soon as I shut the door. "What did I do so wrong with you?”

head,“You know Craig's son James?" He asks, and I don't get a chance to say I do, "he goes surfing with Craig every weekend? Even when it's big, he gives it a try. He tries. But you? I can't get you anywhere near the water." Dad shakes his head again. "Where did I go so wrong?"

Soo bc he doesnt share the same hobbies as you somethings wrong with him???? jfc

And anyway, Dad's got lots of friends to go surfing with, so why is it so important I have to do it with him?

The best thing to do when Dad's like this is to go along with whatever he comes up with.

Sometimes, when Dad's driving me to Newlea, I spot a tree or a building on the side of the road, and I count how many seconds we take to reach it, and I imagine what it must have been like for Mom. When she hit the brakes and nothing happened, except the car skidding forwards on the wet road. I wonder if she knew. And how that felt.

Oh. And I think dolphins are one of the most overrated animals in the sea. Just so you know.

I'm sort of wondering, too, whether I should become a detective and a marine biologist when I'm older. I think I'd like to, but I don't know if you're allowed to do two jobs. I don't know anyone who does.

I don't know what it is at first, but it's flashing in the light, almost like a tiny mirror. It's something small, whatever it is, caught between the side of the truck and the floor.

Dad's driving too fast. I rub my head and blink. I almost give up on the thing, but then it flashes at me again. Something shining and sparkling in the light.

I can't even touch it, let alone pull it out to examine it. But now I'm a little closer, I realize why it looks familiar. Why it looks so out of place. It's a girl's hairclip. The part flashing in the light is the diamond on one end.

You always get strange things washed up when the waves get big. All the flotsam that's floating around in the ocean gets pushed in. And the jetsam too. (The difference is that one is accidentally put in the ocean, and the other is dumped from ships. I don't know why they need separate words for that.)

One time after a storm, the beach was covered in dozens of plastic butter-containers, and the butter was OK to eat too. I collected tons of it, and we ate it for weeks. They must have come off a container ship. That's flotsam, I guess, although it makes more sense to just call it butter. Or plastic.

Mr. Foster's van is in the driveway, though. I was hoping it wouldn't be, because it would be easier to switch over the memory cards that way. But no one said being an investigator would be easy.

"Tide's got too high. We're gonna grab some breakfast, then head out again when it's lower," Dad says. Or he says something like that. The important thing is the word ‘breakfast’.

I've found Olivia Curran. I've really found her.

"I know you're right, but it still doesn't feel great to have failed at my first real case," West said. "Leaving when we don't know what happened to her." Rogers shrugged. "That's the job, Detective. You work a case. Maybe you crack it, maybe you don't." "So it doesn't bother you, even a little?" she asked. "Nope. And it shouldn't bother you, either."

"I never cleaned out my fridge," she said thoughtfully. "Before I came here, I mean. I'm dreading what civilizations I'll find in there."

My heart is beating like a drum as I sit and stare at the image on the laptop. I've got the image paused on the screen so she's frozen there, staring out at me. The girl the whole of America is looking for. Olivia Curran.

Dad keeps trying to talk to me; like he's pretending that suddenly he's really interested in everything I'm doing. It's weird. It's kinda creepy.

His tone changes. There's a false cheeriness now, like he's pretending that everything's OK, when really, the last few days have been horrible.

"We won't get too many days this late in the year when it's OK for you. So we're going to do it. OK? You and me." I regret having my breakfast now, just the sight of it makes me feel sick. I slowly put the spoon back down.

No more running around on your own. No more crazy projects. You're going to come out with me today, and you're going to come surfing. And you know what? You're gonna enjoy it. You and me. Together.

"Billy. Get your suit on!" Dad says again. He throws the suit at me and then he goes to his seat to put his on. I do what he says, but as I pull the rubber suit over my legs, what I'm actually doing is scanning the floor around me for a piece of wire, or a nail, or anything I can use to dig that hairclip out. I don't even know why I suddenly think it's so important. Actually, that's not true. I've got a horrible feeling I do know.

The same clip Olivia Curran was wearing. But what's worse, now that I've gotten it loose, I can see what was keeping it stuck in place in the truck. On the other end of the clip is a small but recognizable clump of hair and skin, colored black with dried blood.