Page 60 of What You Wish For

“It’s a ghost net,” Clay said.

The kids perked up at the word “ghost.”

“That’s the name for nets that have been abandoned and end up floating free in the water,” Clay explained. “They’re made of nylon, so they don’t disintegrate, and they kill wildlife all the time. Fish, and sea turtles, and pelicans, and dolphins—they all get caught in them and suffocate. Or starve.”

“Well, notthisnet,” a little girl named Angel said, marching over to Mad Dog with a trash bag. Mad Dog got her meaning and started stuffing the net in the bag. Soon it was disposed of.

“Thanks, Brainerd,” Mad Dog said, and then a bunch of other kids chimed in, high-fiving him and cheering the demise of the ghost net.

Such a hard moment to read: the nickname seemed mean, but the thanks seemed genuine. I decided to follow Clay’s lead on it—and he seemed happy, so I concluded it was a win.

And just at that moment, when I was feeling glad we were there, and proud we’d snuck the kids to their rightful beach cleanup, andhappy to have learned so much beach trivia from my brainy little pal, and maybe just a little triumphant over the disposal of the ghost net myself, I looked up to see a figure standing on the seawall, looking down at us.

A male figure, backlit by the cloudless sky.

Duncan.

He came halfway down the concrete steps and surveyed us all—kids and teachers alike—as if we were the most shameful batch of heartless rule breakers.

“What’s going on here?” he said at last, in a low, none-too-pleased voice.

The teachers all looked around at each other. Alice seemed to hunch a little shorter.

Finally, I stepped forward. “Just cleaning up some beach trash.” Then I pointed at the trash bag full of the net, and said, as if it would make any sense, “Just being heroes and saving the ocean.”

The kids cheered, and Duncan turned to stare at them.

Then he looked at me like I was very naughty. “Didn’t you get my memo?”

I nodded.

“Did youreadit?”

“I did. All nine single-spaced pages.”

“So you know that all field trips have been suspended.”

“I do.”

“You’re not here by mistake, is what I mean,” like he was offering me an out.

I guess I could have taken it. But I didn’t. “We’re not here by mistake.”

“You knew this field trip was canceled, but you came here anyway?”

“Correct.”

Duncan looked me over. “Did you think I just wouldn’t notice thatthe entire third gradewas missing?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t,” I said, with a shrug. “If you weren’t taking attendance.”

Duncan turned to the teachers. “Start packing up. We’re going back.”

But I motioned to Duncan to come the rest of the way down the steps. “Can I talk to you please?”

When Duncan stepped onto the sand, after taking a second to adjust to the cognitive dissonance of a man in a gray suit, in recently polished black oxfords, standing on the beach, I added, “Privately?”

I started marching away from where the kids were, and Duncan, to my relief, followed.

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