Oscar and the Night Whale

"Wait for me!" called Oscar, and he ran down the sand in his trainers.

He was a small boy with a big wish. Every night, a whale came to the bay and lay still on the water. Oscar had never seen it up close. Tonight he wanted to sit on the rock at the end of the pier, right at the very end, and say hello.

But someone was there first. A fat grey seal lay on the flat top of the rock, with her chin on her flippers.

"Excuse me," said Oscar. "I would like that spot."

"Arf," said the seal. She did not move. She had come for the warm stone, and she liked it.

Oscar tried asking again, nicely. "Please?"

"Arf," said the seal, and shut her eyes.

Oscar tried a trade. He held out his biscuit. The seal sniffed it, but she stayed put. Oscar sighed and sat on the cold wet sand instead. From down there, he could not see the water at all.

Then he noticed something. The rock was wide, much wider than the seal. There was a whole empty edge beside her, the shape of a small boy.

"Can I share?" he asked.

The seal opened one eye. She shuffled over a little, with a grumble. Oscar climbed up and sat down beside her, his knees tucked in.

The water began to shimmer. Out of it rose a great dark back, shining like a wet stone. Then, whoosh! A fountain of mist shot up and fell on Oscar's head, and on the seal's nose.

"Arf!" said the seal.

Oscar laughed so hard he nearly slid off the rock. The whale rolled a little, as if she were laughing too. Stars shone all over her back.

"Hello, whale," Oscar whispered.

The whale sang one long, low note that hummed in the rock beneath him. The seal leaned against his side, warm as a hot-water bottle. Oscar broke his biscuit in two and gave her half, and the stars went on shining.