The first rule for a giant squid in trouble is to get the hell out, and fast.
But I was never any good at following the rules.
#
I’ve jetted up from the deep water to score some pufferfish for a post-practice toss-around with the boys. I shouldn’t be in this part of the ocean at all, and definitely not alone, but Coach gave me hell for inking the spectators after I won the last heat, and I need to blow off some steam. I poke around the reef, dazzled. Up here in the danger zone I’m half blinded by bright blue. Hard to see puffers; harder to see bogeys. I’m doing my best-efforts recon but to be honest, I can’t see for shit.
And boom, out of nowhere, the fucker is all over me. Forty tons of hungry sperm whale and no time to think. I wrestle open that long, toothy jaw and lay into its ugly block of a mug with my sucker-clubs. It’s a pretty good fight until the water goes black and somebody grabs me by the mantle, jetting me back down. It’s Ksh, aka Coach, aka the guy with a bogey-sized hard-on for my ass. I can tell from his colors he’s itching to sign me a lecture. And when we get back down Gwyl, last year’s champ and expert rule-follower, is hovering right beside him, itching to join in.
“Qzl,” Coach signs. “What’s the first rule?”
“Girls don’t want a squid who jets off at the first sign of trouble,” I sign. “Girls want the best of the best.”
“Females want a squid who survives,” signs Gwyl. He turns to Coach. “Is he DQ’d or what?”
“What’s your problem, Gwyl?” I can’t afford a DQ. If I don’t compete, I don’t mate. Like, ever. I’m three-and-a-half. Lots of squids don’t see their fourth birthday, and hardly anyone lives past five.
“You’re every squid’s problem, Qzl,” Gwyl signs. “The shoal isn’t safe with you around. You’re dangerous.”
But I don’t think Gwyl’s problem is that I’m dangerous. I think Gwyl’s problem is that I’m fast. Faster than him, faster than anyone.
#
Nmy’s munching on cuttlefish and watching the boys without looking like she’s watching the boys, if you know what I mean. She’s twice my size and cute as hell. I’m about to sign something clever but cool when Gwyl shows up again.
With a puffer.
“Scored it in the zone,” he signs.
“We didn’t ask,” I flash.
“Awesome!” Nmy signs. “How?”
“Frp kept watch while I went up. Had to bug out when he spotted a bogey, but we came back up later and got ‘em.” He’s facing Nmy like the story’s for her, but I know it’s really for me.
“You know what, Gwyl?” I sign to him. “You’re right. I am dangerous.”
And I jet out of there without looking back.
#
Ksh pulls me out of the toss-around, tells me the only reason he could rescue me today was the shallow reef I was in; bogeys need more water to maneuver properly.
“Too shallow for you too,” he signs. “Never saw me coming, did you?”
“I could’ve taken it,” I sign.
“No squid has ever taken a sperm whale,” he flashes. “You see a whale, you bug out. If you can’t bug out, flash some camo and ink it good. Then you bug out, because a whale hunts with sound, and ink won’t confuse it for long. No fighting. You fight a whale, you die.”
But I think he’s wrong. I can do it. And if I take a bogey down, it’ll feed the shoal for the rest of my life, or longer. Then Nmy will know that dangerous or not, there’s no other squid like me.
#
We’re lining up for sprints when Frp spots the shining trail of a bogey diving down at speed. “Scatter!” he flashes. “Run!”
The other squids jet off, but I stay where I am. That bogey’s coming so fast I can feel the force of its descent pushing against the water between us, but I hold my ground. I’m waiting to see that skinny jaw open wide. I can take it. I know I can.
Another cloud of black. Goddamn Ksh.
When the ink clears, the bogey’s gone.
But so is Ksh.
And he never comes back.
#
Without Coach to ride my ass and give me shit, I lose every heat I enter. I quit the races and sink all the way down to the deep.
#
The first squid to find me is the last I want to see.
“I need to show you something.” Gwyl jets off in the dark before I can sign back. It’s hell to keep up, but finally he slows down, spreads his arms, and then I get a good look at what’s lying there on the seafloor.
“Whoa,” I flash. It’s the biggest skeleton I’ve ever seen. “What was it?”
“Bogey,” Gwyl signs. “Looks different without its blubber, huh? Skinnier, but just as mean.”
“Are you sure?” The skull is unexpectedly pointy. Nothing like a live bogey’s massive block of a head.
“Before he died, Ksh told me we did it.”
“We?”
“Squids like us. We took this bogey down.”
The bones are picked clean. It’s been here a while. “So?”
“So, asshole, Ksh brought me here when he was pushing five. He wanted somebody to know about it, and he didn’t trust anyone else.” Gwyl floats, quiet for a moment. “But I think he should have showed it to you.”
#
Most squids say hell no to our plan, but Frp and Lbt sign on quick. Four squids is just right, anyway. Frp will hang back at look-out like usual, and Lbt and Gwyl will attack.
And me?
I’m the bait.
In case you were wondering, hell yeah, I’m scared. The blue will make it tough to see if things go sour. But I trust Lbt and Frp; they want this as bad as I do. And I trust Gwyl too because what other choice do I have?
I’m trying to float casual. I see a nice golden puffer but let it be. An eel, a tiny octopus. They look tasty but I hold my position. Then I see Frp out of the corner of my eye, signing like a bastard.
I turn and fuck-a-doodle-doo, there it is, the bogey, charging me hard. I flash some crazy shit, everything I’ve got, but it keeps coming. I squirt my payload of ink but the bogey bursts right through and now I’m jetting full out but this fucker is fast and I can’t outrun it, not today, not ever, game over, baby, we’re done.
So much for the first rule.
But when I turn to face my destiny, it’s gone. I creep back to the reef and see three beautiful squids wrenching open that nasty jaw and clubbing every soft part they can reach. I join in and yeah, together we do it, together we take that Coach-killing bogey down.
#
We’re headed back to show Nmy and the other girls what the best of the best have been up to today when I pop another idea. Frp and Lbt are game, and even Gwyl agrees when he’s done rolling his eyes. Breaking one of Coach’s precious rules is the best way I can think of to show how much we miss him. We form up tight, trigger-happy and payloads full, ready to jet past the girls like the pack of bogey-busting devils we are and always will be. And then we get to it. Inking the shoal never felt so good.