Chapter 110: Jake
The silence that follows Charlie’s little “birthday miracle” declaration is… actually kind of nice.
For twenty straight minutes, it’s just the soft scratching of pens, the tapping of keys, and the low hum of the fridge. The three of us working like professionals — almost convincing, if you didn’t count the bruises.
Then Charlie gasps again.
Not just a gasp — a scream.
Reid and I both freeze mid-motion, but neither of us bother looking up.
I mutter, “What now, another weather forecast?”
Reid doesn’t even glance up from the paper. “Is it raining confetti this time?”
Charlie’s voice goes shrill. “No, check your phones, you idiots!”
We both sigh — in unison, of course — and reach for our phones. There’s a notification in the SWMRI group chat. A new message from Finn.
It’s a video.
The second I open it, I hear her voice.
Madeline’s voice.
She’s laughing, breathless, telling Liam to “Film it! No, use this one, the wide lens!” — and there are tears in her eyes. Finn’s camera jerks, the audio all wind and static and shouting, until—
The sound hits.
A boom of air so loud it rattles through the kitchen. The three of us jerk back instinctively, as if the spout just erupted right next to us.
And then we see it.
A column of mist and light exploding up beside Madeline.
The sheer scale of it — that massive body gliding out of the water like the ocean itself is breathing.
Reid and I both stand without realizing it, leaning closer to our respective screens.
Madeline turns back to Finn, and she’s smiling — radiant — cheeks wet, eyes wild. Pure joy.
Then she looks back, grabs the tagging gun.
“Liam, hold me — I need to put a tracker on it!”
I recognize the bright orange tag immediately, the suction-cup model — a Dtag.
She leans dangerously far over the railing, Liam gripping her around the waist, and fires.
The thunk carries through the speaker a second before Finn screams,
“YEAH! That’s how you do it, baby! HOLY SHIT!”
They’re all jumping, laughing. Even Sloane — Sloane — cracks a smile.
Charlie’s hand flies to her mouth, eyes wide and glossy. “Oh my god—what is it? What whale—?”
Reid and I answer at the exact same time, the same breath, the same stunned awe:
“That’s a fucking blue whale.”
Charlie squeals, almost topples her coffee, and we’re still standing there, staring at our screens, while Madeline’s voice keeps echoing through our phones — laughing, crying, whispering I can’t believe it like she’s the one who discovered the entire ocean herself.
Finn’s phone must’ve slipped onto the deck, because the video keeps going after all the cheering. The image is sideways now, showing just legs and boots and the deck rail, but the sound is still clear — laughter, wind, the low hum of the boat’s engine.
Then we hear it—Finn’s voice, half-yelling, half-laughing:
“You’re a goddamn genius!”
Madeline’s laugh cuts through the wind — that bright, melodic sound that always hits too deep in my chest.
“Put me down, Finn!”
There’s shuffling, some scuffling boots, and then—another sound.
A deep whoosh, low and resonant, close enough to the mic that it distorts the audio. Then another.
Madeline’s voice shoots up an octave.
“Wait—wait. Oh my god. Oh my god!”
Liam’s voice, offscreen: “What is it?”
The phone scrapes against the deck as Finn picks it up again, and the video jerks wildly before focusing—
Another giant shadow in the water, surfacing right beside the blue whale.
Finn’s voice cracks. “Another?!”
And Madeline, practically breathless, says, “No—no, that’s a fin whale!”
There’s silence for a half-second, pure disbelief, before she adds, laughing like she’s about to cry again:
“These are the two biggest whales in the world, you dummies!!”
Liam and Finn both yell, overlapping—
“NO WAY—WHAT—holy—!”
The camera shakes so hard you can’t see anything but blurred water and sky. Someone’s whooping, someone’s laughing uncontrollably, and through it all you can hear her voice again — alive, electric:
“Look at them! They’re swimming together!”
And then the video cuts out.
The house goes silent. Even Charlie, who never shuts up, is frozen, mouth open in disbelief.
Reid and I just stare at each other across the table.
And then he exhales. I can’t tell if it’s pride or something deeper, darker, twisting behind his ribs.
Because yeah — extraordinary.
She just pulled off extraordinary.
Charlie’s scream breaks the silence — a sound so loud Reid actually flinches.
“OMGGGG beach day tomorrow!”
She’s already on her feet, bouncing like she’s just won the lottery. “Two big whales, you know what that means!”
Reid and I both raise an eyebrow at her in perfect unison.
“Uh…” I say slowly, “that they found two big whales?”
She shakes her head like we’re the dumbest men alive. “No! It means you have to go to the beach with us tomorrow!”
Reid blinks. “I’m sorry—what? In what world does that mean that?”
“In my world,” she says, grinning. “It’s a sign. The ocean gave us two whales on your birthday week, so now you two have to celebrate with us.”
I lean back, arms crossed. “I think the team would have a lot more fun without us there.”
Reid adds dryly, “And don’t we get to choose what to do on our own birthday?”
Charlie’s already scooping up her phone, bag, and half the papers from the table. “Nope! You don’t!” she chirps. “See you at the beach tomorrow at eleven!”
We just stare as she bolts out the diner door, curls flying, her little sneakers slapping against the pavement.
A second later she bursts back in, breathless. “Oh, by the way! Bring a change of nice-ish clothes!”
Then she’s gone again, the door slamming violently in her wake.
I glance over at Reid, who’s just staring at the empty doorway. “What was that about?”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “It’s our birthday, Jake. You think she didn’t plan something?”
I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “Of course she did.”
Reid chuckles under his breath — a low, tired sound — and I can't help but chuckle too at our crazy, lovely cousin.