Two Taps and a Whistle

Two Taps and a Whistle

Rosy stood on the dock with her toes curled over the edge. Her sister Wren stood beside her, pretending not to be nervous. Below them, a gray dolphin rolled in the clear water and looked up as if he was waiting for them to finish thinking.

"Rule one," said Captain Mar, who had a yellow jacket and a very serious eyebrow. "You never grab a dolphin's fin. You ask. Two taps on the shoulder means, may I?" Rosy repeated it twice, because rules were only useful if you could say them backwards too.

Pip's name, Captain Mar explained, came from his notched fin. He answered to a click and a hand held flat. Rosy held out her hand, flat as a pancake. Pip nudged it with his nose, and Wren laughed so hard she nearly lost her balance.

"Wren goes first," said Captain Mar. Wren glided away across the lagoon, holding Pip's side, grinning. Rosy's stomach did something odd. She was seven, and she had waited all week. Now it was her turn, and the water looked very big.

Pip came back and floated by Rosy's feet, patient as a boat. Captain Mar dropped a loop of blue cord into Rosy's palm, and on it hung a small silver whistle. "For emergencies," she said. Rosy slipped it over her head and took a breath. Time to get on.

How does Rosy first try to climb on Pip?