A Shell for Silas

Silas had lived in the same shell for as long as he could remember.

It was a good shell. Pale pink on the outside, smooth on the inside, just the right curve for sleeping. He had moved into it when he was small, and over the years the two of them had fitted together perfectly, the way comfortable things do.

But this spring, the shell had become too small.

He could feel it — the way his legs were crowded and his back pressed awkwardly against the ceiling when he tried to settle. Every morning was a little more uncomfortable than the last.

He knew what he had to do, and it filled him with a feeling like cold water.

The rock pool where Silas lived was full of shells — tucked in the crevices, nestled in the sand, caught against the rocks by the tide. But choosing one meant crawling out of his old shell and moving around exposed, soft and unprotected, until he found the right one. And finding the right one meant trying many wrong ones.

Silas didn't like being exposed. He didn't like trying things that might be wrong.

He mentioned this to Pearl, a small periwinkle who lived on the rock above him.

"Then we'll all look," said Pearl.

"You don't need to—"

"I know we don't need to," said Pearl. "We want to."

By the next morning there were four of them: Pearl, two shore crabs named Fitz and Dot, and an elderly limpet called Old Barnabus, who moved very slowly but said he had an eye for shells.

They spread out across the rock pool. They prodded each candidate shell and reported back. Old Barnabus rejected three on the grounds of structural weakness. Fitz rejected two more for being too narrow at the opening. Pearl found a beautiful spiral one that Silas had to admit was the wrong shape for a hermit crab entirely, but was very beautiful.

Then Dot found it.

It was at the far end of the pool, half-buried in sand: a creamy-white shell with a gentle spiral and a round opening exactly the right size, and when Old Barnabus examined it he declared it sound all the way through.

Silas came and looked at it for a long time.

"You don't have to decide now," said Pearl.

"No," said Silas. "I think — I think I do." He took a breath. "Look away for a moment."

His friends looked away. There was a rustling, and a pause, and then Silas said: "All right."

They turned back. He was wearing the new shell. It was larger than the old one, and the light caught it differently, and it looked like exactly the right shape for a hermit crab who still had a lot of growing to do.

"How does it feel?" asked Pearl.

Silas moved his legs. He settled into it. He turned in a slow circle.

"Like mine," he said, sounding surprised.

"Good," said Old Barnabus, and began his long slow journey back to his rock, satisfied.