Manta Rays

“Wyatt, wait up!”

Little Wyatt sped down the hall, determined to arrive in the center of the aquarium. His sister yelled after him to come back, or at least slow down, but he did not stop. Instead he continued to run, turning here and there, until he at last made it to the desired location.

It was late in the evening by the time he and his sister had arrived. Not many people were around, just the two of them and a few wandering workers. He’d been begging to go all day just to see these five little tunnels.

Usually, a boy his age would be more interested in sharks or electric eels. But he had an utter fascination for manta rays. He thought they were the most amazing creatures ever to swim in water.

And nothing could stop him from seeing them.

The brown-haired boy ran mindlessly by countless other exhibits– the jellyfish, the penguins, the sharks– not even remotely curious about any of them. He didn’t even stop to look at a large sea turtle, which stared at him thoroughly while he trotted on by. It seemed that the turtle was more aware of him than he was of it.

Wyatt continued to scramble. His sister called desperately behind him, forgetting that his deafness would make him incapable of hearing her, wandering throughout several of the hallways and occasionally stopping to peer at a dead-looking fish. The aquarium apparently needed more workers to monitor the poor water creatures. Many of them seemed dead.

If only Wyatt wasn’t deaf. Then Mearyn wouldn’t have to worry about him so much.

After a long while of breathless sprinting, he finally made it to his destination: the manta ray tunnels. In the brochure his family had received on their first day here, pictures and maps listed every destination inside the aquarium, and Wyatt instantly jumped at the invitation to go. However, they’d been so busy going to every other place on their weeklong vacation that they almost forgot.

All of a sudden, it was the night of their return, and they were yet to go back to the aquarium. Wyatt, realizing that they hadn’t gone, begged Mearyn for it, and finally they decided to go. By themselves.

Maybe it was a good idea. Maybe not.

But nothing could deter Wyatt’s excitement as he entered the hall. The walls turned into glass the further he went in. Lights shone brightly in the blue water, illuminating every little object; a still starfish, an underwater shipwreck, the ruins of a long-lost city. He stared around in amazement, his big azure eyes wide, but he didn’t see anything interesting.

No sea creatures. No live animals. Occasionally, a statue of something would catch his attention, but when he walked over to look at it he’d see that it was just a ceramic.

He searched endlessly for something that moved. Even an itty-bitty clownfish would excite him at that point. Yet nothing showed itself.

Disappointed, he wandered to the end of the corridor, ready to give up. Wyatt pushed open the doors to the main room and stared at his feet as he walked along, knowing with a sad certainty that he would go home from vacation without even getting to see a manta ray. Traveling to Myrtle Beach would be fun, his sister said, they’d get to go to the beach and watch summer movies and eat ice cream on the boardwalk…

He didn’t remember what she was telling him after that. It was quite difficult to keep himself focused when he was so excited. Interrupting her, he’d blurted, “And go to the aquarium?”

It was a frequent mention. His entire excitement about the trip was going to the aquarium. That was all he wanted to do.

His hopes fizzled as he dragged his shoes across the floor. There was nothing he could do. His summer vacation was going to be useless if he couldn’t…

A shadow flashed by his feet.

Wyatt jumped, disturbed. He watched another shadow flash over his bright sneakers. Then another. Then a bigger one, this one moving slower. And then he looked up to see manta rays swirling just above his head.

This room had a giant glass dome in the ceiling. Blue water shimmered from the inside out. Manta rays opened their gills and spun in large circles above Wyatt, and his mouth went wide open. He never thought that meeting a manta ray would be so utterly epic.

It was the highlight of his whole life. His whole silent life, in which he’d never heard music or his own voice or the sounds of the seashore. He’d never heard birdsong or his kitten’s gentle purring or the rambunctious bark of his dog Wehn. He’d never heard anything.

And yet somehow, in some miraculous, incredible way, he felt that he could almost hear the manta rays. He stood there, numb and stiff with awe, almost hearing their fins splash in the water and their open mouths sing a silent song.

Wyatt, little deaf Wyatt, had always wanted to see a manta ray. Now, he finally has.