Benny the whale swished his tail and zoomed through the bright blue sea.

Whoosh!

He rolled, bobbed, and made a fountain from his blowhole. Splash! Tiny silver fish zipped around him like living sparkles. Benny laughed his deep whale laugh. It sounded like a song and a yawn at the same time.

This was Benny's favorite morning game. He lived in a warm part of the ocean where sunbeams danced through the water and sea grass waved like green ribbons. Every day he sang to the sea and listened for its answer.

Tucked beside his fin was his most special treasure, a little shell with a pearly pink swirl. It was not the biggest shell in the sea. It was not the shiniest either. But Benny loved it because his grandmother had given it to him.

"When you feel small in the big, big world," she had told him, "hold this shell and remember that Earth is one great home, and every sea is connected."

Benny often listened to the shell. He said it held tiny whispers from faraway waters.

That morning, Benny leaped high.

Whoosh! Splash!

He came down with such a happy flop that a bubbly wave spun around him. The wave twirled his shell right out from beside his fin.

Plip!

Benny froze.

His eyes went wide. His heart felt droopy.

"My shell!" he cried.

He swam in circles. He peered into waving grass. He nudged under smooth rocks. He even looked inside a barrel sponge, though all he found was a sleepy shrimp who blinked and said, "Too early."

But the pink shell was gone.

Benny felt sad. His chest felt heavy, as if a cloud had somehow sunk into the sea. He wanted his shell back. More than that, he wanted the feeling it gave him, the feeling that the big world was friendly and full of songs.