The Fires Beneath the Sea ebook by Lydia Millet Page B

waves. Those little critters turn bright green, and there are billions of ’em….”
    They moved away from the window as Cara stood there, frozen. This was it.
    “Just fries, please,” she said, distracted.
    She had her fries in one hand and was holding her handlebar with the other, bumping slowly back through the gravelly lots behind the row of buildings, when she stopped and whispered it to herself.
    “The fires. Green fires beneath the sea.”
    “No,” said their dad at dinner, which was frozen lasagna since Lolly didn’t cook for them on Sundays. “I haven’t heard of a red tide this year. Not around here, anyway, or not yet. Why do you ask, Cara?”
    “I heard some men talking about it, is all,” she said.
    “Speaking of men talking,” said their dad, “I have to be away tomorrow, and the next night, too. Now, I’ve been thinking about it, and I can certainly ask Lolly to stay here with you at night, if you’d like. Or one of your old babysitters. But the thing is, most of the ones that are still around are barely older than Max—the older ones have gone off to college. And I was thinking we might try it without a sitter, because I’ve been impressed lately with your maturity. All three of you, actually. Now, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be nervous. And I’d need you to check in by phone frequently. This would be a first time for us, and it’s been a tough summer. But I do know Max is perfectly capable of watching Jax, and Cara, for the most part, can take of herself. Still, if you have any doubt about going it alone, I’d feel better if there was a grownup here with you.”
    “What are you going away for?” asked Jax.
    “I’m supposed to give a paper in Chicago,” said their dad. “It was scheduled way back, before … you know. They plan these academic conferences for years in advance. And actually, if any of you don’t want me to go—I mean, given the situation, I was thinking of canceling anyway.”
    “No way,” said Max and put down his glass of water. “I can watch Jax. We’ll be fine. Really.”
    “Go,” said Cara. “We’ll be OK.”
    “Definitely,” said Jax.
    “What’s the forecast?” asked Cara suddenly.
    It had struck her: the three of them alone in the house, at night.
    With rain falling.
    “I haven’t checked,” said her dad with a quizzical look. “Why so meteorological?”
    “Oh, nothing,” she mumbled and stuck her fork into the remains of her lasagna.
    Rain again. The rain that brought him .
    “Lolly will come to make you dinner, anyway,” their dad went on. “That much I planned with her already. Both nights, on Monday and Tuesday. But if you’re comfortable with Max as a babysitter, she’ll just go home after that.”
    “I promise,” said Max and raised his hands like he was surrendering. “No wild parties.”
    “And no girls over,” said their dad, and then coughed discreetly.
    Usually he didn’t even go there; it was their mother’s job to have the embarrassing conversations with them about safe sex and responsibility. She’d just had one with Cara this spring. Even though she was pretty easy to talk to, it still made Cara cringe to think about it. Ugh. Why did they even bother?
    “Scout’s honor,” said Max, nodding.
    Jax had pulled out his phone and was typing away on it. His fingers were small, and he could go incredibly fast, even over the miniscule buttons. Cara could tell he was on the Web; the house had wireless. Then he put it away again.
    “The forecast,” he told them, “is for storms.”

Five
    “See, the bioluminescence associated with some red tides, or algal blooms,” said Jax to Cara the next morning, while they were out walking Rufus, “is caused by phytoplankton.”
    They’d waved their dad off to catch the boat for Boston; Max had gone with him on the twenty-minute drive to the ferry dock and would bring the car back. Then they’d headed out on their morning dogwalk, toward the general store that was beside