Chasing at the Surface, livre ebook

Sometimes finding your way home takes more than courage. It takes a leap of faith.

Winner, National Outdoor Book Award Winner for Children's Literature
Winner, Children's Book Council Outstanding Science Trade Books
YA Honorable Mention, Sigurd F. Olson Nature Writing Award

"As the orcas' lives become increasingly imperiled, Marisa unleashes her imagination, her compassion, and her courage. . . Moments close to the orcas are breathtakingly described, accentuating the thrill as the whales breach, sound, and vocalize. Basing her story on actual events, the author has created a poignant novel that vividly celebrates the interconnected nature of all living creatures. Like the eerily beautiful voices of the orcas in the ocean, this book will haunt readers."
—Kirkus Reviews

"Mentyka artfully weaves whale facts through this moving drama about family relationships and the natural world. Though what's outstanding is Mentyka's skill at immersing readers in Marisa's wonderful sensory scenes with the whales that could only come from her own first-hand experience. The parallels between the plight of the whales and Marisa's confusion and anger at her mom reinforce that the answers to all of life's questions can be found in nature. Chasing at the Surface is an unforgettable adventure that takes readers along on a heart-pounding, up-close-and-personal encounter with a pod of powerful orcas."
—Midwest Book Review

Chasing at the Surface tells the story of a young girl's courage and the healing power of nature. After her mother unexpectedly leaves home, twelve-year old Marisa struggles with her feelings of loss and abandonment just as a pod of nineteen orca whales—mothers with their new calves following a run of chum salmon—become trapped in the enclosed inlet near her Northwest home. Marisa’s journey to help the whales find their way home brings her to a new understanding of the assaults humans have had on nature, and the complicated meaning of family and home.

I stare out over the inlet. Already, the sky is darkening. Once the sun dips down behind the mountains, the light here goes fast. Dad turns off the water and tosses down the hose. He follows my gaze, then sits down on the grass beside me.

“Any mail?”

I hand over the bundle of magazines and bills, but shake my head no. I know what Dad really means, and for a split second, I feel a rush of guilt but quickly push it away.

Dad takes the mail, but stares at me.

“Marisa, I know what you did.”

I freeze, thinking he somehow knows about the recycled letter, but he couldn’t.

“Lena stopped by. She told me you guys saw the whales yesterday when you were out fishing.” Dad’s lips are pressed together in a pout. His eyes get that hurt puppy-dog expression. “Why didn’t you say anything to me this morning?”

I turn away quickly, and stare at the wooden slats of the dock. Why won’t you tell me the real reason Mom left?

I shrug. “It didn’t seem like a big deal.”

“You see the orcas up close in the inlet and you don’t think that’s a big enough deal to tell me?” Dad sighs a big sigh. I pick at the long grass, ripping out small bits and rolling them into little balls with my fingers. “If you won’t talk to me about a whale sighting—something that you care so much about—,”

“I just didn’t, okay?” I cut him off, aiming the grass pellets out towards the dock in perfect trajectories. When they hit, they relax and lose their tightly wound shape.

“No, Marisa, it’s not okay.” He stands and starts to pace back and forth in front of me. “Look, you know I’m not one to pressure, but a good attitude goes a long way.”

This is so far from what I was expecting to hear that I sit there, speechless.

“I know you’re struggling—but we have to work together,” Dad says. “I don’t know all the answers about why Mom left, and I’m not happy about it either. But I trust her. And you should too. Things aren’t as hopeless as you’re making them out to be.” He pauses, waiting. “C’mon,” he whispers. “Where’s my best girl? I miss her.”

I jump to my feet, the sudden movement shifting something inside me. The wooden dock in front of me is littered now with green flecks.

“I don’t know where she is, Dad. Maybe she’s gone!” My words come spitting out, sarcastic and cruel, hitting him as I turn and walk away. “Maybe she left with Mom.”