When we heard the news of a dead baby whale on Cape Lookout’s shore my two younger brothers begged Mama to see it with their own eyes. We piled in the car and drove the twelve miles to the edge of the earth. Before my brothers dashed off in hopes of returning with the prize of a whale’s tooth for a souvenir, Mama took their handsaws. “You can’t run with a saw in your hand. You could fall and cut yourself.”

I couldn’t decide if I should unleash my tomboy athletics to run wild like my brothers, or walk at a gentle pace with Mama. At fourteen, brief moments of maturity had a habit of showing up. I walked with Mama.

We made our way onto the beach with sand crawling into our tennis shoes. My eyes traveled the length of the beach until the sand melted into the water and the shimmery blue of the ocean kissed the pink cheeks of the sky. The sun dropped splashes of silvery glitter across God’s expansive canvas, leaving me to stand in breathless wonder.

I narrowed my eyes and followed my brothers short forms moving in a zig zap pattern in search of the beached baby whale. My footsteps made a straight path toward them until the sudden, strong, fowl air stung my nose. After slowing my stride my eyes began their search and discovered a carpet of chunky foreign matter in the distance.

My brothers ran back to us. “We’re too late,” they spoke in breathless unison.

“An old fisherman said the whale was too big to wash out to sea, so the coast guard used dynamite and blew it up early this morning.” Defeat draped my twelve-year-old brother’s tone.

“You’ve got to help us look for a tooth.” My younger brother held onto his optimism.

Maturity kicked me a second time. “I’m not going to hop over big chunks of whale blubber, or touch them, to look for a whale’s tooth. The fat could be loaded with germs and bacteria.”

“Your sister is right,” Mama said. “Did either of you touch anything?”

They shook their heads.

“That’s enough adventure for one day. Lets head back to the car.” Mama’s tone mimicked my brothers long, sad faces.

My brothers sat silent all the way home. They didn’t even comment on the fowl odor following us home. I reasoned we must have carried the smell on our tennis shoes.

Back home, the four of us slipped out of our shoes. I helped Mama scrub and hose them down before we hung them on our picket fence to dry. The smell had traveled inside our house too.

“Boys, hop in the shower and don’t forget to washed your hair,” Mama said.

When my brothers finished in the bathroom I took my turn. Mama followed behind me.

After dinner the stink grew stronger. “Boys let me smell your hair.” Mama buried her nose into their curly heads. “I can’t understand where the odor is coming from?”

Before we settled down to play Monopoly the foul smell grew unbearable and supervened our much anticipated regular game night. We became instant detectives on the hunt to sniff out the source of the stench.

The smell grew stronger down the hall. While my brothers searched the living room and Mama searched the bathroom, I snuck into their room. Their window sat wide open. Maybe the odor came from outside. Before I reached to close the window I spotted my brothers beach clothes under their bunk beds. I scooped them from the floor. A chunk of whale blubber landed on my foot.

My scream brought Mama and my brothers at a run. Together, my brothers dove for the chunk of fat perched on my bare foot. A tug of war began with whale fat squished between two sets of fighting fingers.

“Where did that come from?” Mama glared at the unwelcome glob of fat.

I pointed to the pile of clothes on the floor.

At that moment the whale fat slipped through a tangle of tan fingers and slapped the wooden floor.

I jumped.

Mama screamed. “You boys told me you didn’t touch anything.”

“This isn’t anything. It’s genuine whale blubber. I bet I’ll be the only one in my class with a piece of whale fat for show and tell tomorrow.” My younger brother’s voice punched the air with satisfaction and importance, but it couldn’t over-power the rank stench or Mama’s cold stare.