by Greg Weisman
The Fourteen Warriors found the bohio of Aycayia on Punta Majagua. They found Aycayia bathing with her Sisters. She smiled at the Fourteen Warriors and sang them a song that taught them that only the strongest might have Her. Thus enthralled, each Warrior did battle against friend and brother. And by nightfall, all Fourteen lay dead on Punta Majagua.
Guanayoa, the old crone, was one of only ten witnesses to the crime. She cursed Aycayia. “There is no land safe from your magicks, First Witch! But I have magicks too! First Magicks! And if no land is safe from you, then you will never be safe on land.”
Frightened, Aycayia and her Sisters fled to First Ocean, hoping to escape Guanayoa’s wrath. They stumbled through the water, trying to reach the canoes of the Fourteen Warriors. But Guanayoa’s curse reached them first. The Six Sisters were transformed into dolphins. And the First Witch Aycayia was transformed into a hideous manatee.
But the magicks of Aycayia the Cursed are still strong. And it is said, she can still become beautiful to lure men into the water with her song, never to be seen again …
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ORDER SIRENIA
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 14
Primed and ready, Rain staked out the lobby and intercepted the elder Kims, who sent their kids ahead into the dining room. Mrs. Kim, with only the slightest edge of desperation in her voice, said, “Is everything okay? Are we still on?”
“Of course. I just want to make sure we’re clear on … things.”
Taking the hint, Mr. Kim asked the going rate for a day’s babysitting on the island.
Rain pretended to consider this on the spot—though, in fact, she had thought about little else since arranging the gig the night before. “Hmm. Three kids for about eight hours? I’d say a hundred and forty dollars’ll cover it.”
He balked. “A hundred and forty?”
“Plus, I’ll need expense money to pay for their lunch and dinner.”
Mrs. Kim said, “We’ll be back in time to take them to dinner tonight.”
“Oh, well, then I’ll only need twenty for lunch. But I need that in advance.”
Mr. Kim stared at his wife. She stared right back, giving him a clearly legible do not mess this up look. He agreed to Rain’s terms.
Rain smiled, quite pleased with herself and more than a little relieved. The going rate on San Próspero for three tourist kids was twelve dollars an hour. At eight hours, that meant ninety-six dollars, but Rain had correctly estimated the Kims would go for the one-forty. If Rain also cheaped out on lunch, she could toss in most of the extra twenty. Add in the forty she already had, and just like that, the camera was paid for. Or it would be. All I have to do is get through this one day, and all my problems are solved.
(Of course, it seemed to me Rain had a host of problems neither money nor a camera could possibly solve. The way humans prioritize has always confounded my sensibilities.)
Just to make conversation—and to move Mr. Kim’s mind off the unexpected cost—Rain asked Mrs. Kim how she and her husband were planning to spend their day.
“We’re going to a place called Smuggler’s Cove,” Mrs. Kim said. “It sounds very mysterious and romantic.”
“It’s very a lot of things,” Rain said. She felt a little guilty for not warning them away from the biggest tourist trap on the Ghosts, but she couldn’t risk them canceling altogether. And who knows? They might like it. Someone must. Or else tourists wouldn’t go there, right?
The Kims entered the dining room to join their children at breakfast. Rain followed. Though Wendy, John and Michael had only been alone for a few minutes, their table was already a disaster area. Michael had spilled his milk, and some of it had splashed into Wendy’s lap, causing her to throw a fit of the hissy variety. John thought it all quite funny, until Wendy picked up his cereal bowl and turned it over in his lap right in front of their parents and Rain.
This action was, perhaps, extreme, even for a Kim kid, and it was followed by a moment of stunned silence. Even Wendy looked a little shocked over what she had done. Then, inevitably, John erupted. Strangely, his tantrum seemed to be more about the ruination of his Lucky Charms than the dampness of his lower half, but that made him no less voluble. The adult Kims hustled their trio of demon children upstairs to change them into fresh clothes, leaving Rain behind to sponge up the mess and wonder what she had gotten herself into.
Minutes later, Kims and Kimlets were back downstairs. Fred Kim handed Rain a twenty-dollar bill to cover lunch, wished her luck, and got the hell out of Dodge with his wife.
Wendy, John and Michael stared up at Rain. John said, “She’s not the one you said.”
Wendy crossed her arms huffily. “I know. I like the other one better.”
Rain offered, “Miranda and Charlie will meet us at the beach. They’re probably there now.”
Michael said, “I don’t like the beach.”
Wendy whispered loudly, “He’s afraid of the water.”
“I am not!”
“Well,” Rain said, “I promise you we’ll have a great time.” She didn’t actually believe this, but it seemed like a worthwhile lie to smooth things over.
John asked, “Will the womanatee be there?”
“Anything’s possible on the Ghosts,” Rain said, not really believing that either. (Though she should’ve.)
John shrugged. He was in. Wendy and Michael were also enticed. For the moment, Rain had peace.
Said peace was brief—lasting only until the kids realized they were walking to the beach and at last found a theme they could unify around: heel dragging.
Charlie, standing in the Próspero Beach parking lot with Miranda, was stunned to see Rain emerge from the Big Blue Beach Bus, dragging the three Kims and a large canvas beach bag. “You took the bus?” he asked incredulously.
“I paid to take the bus,” she growled. “Four dollars down the drain. I better get free shipping on that camera.”
“What camera?” Wendy asked with a suspicious squint to her eye.
“Never mind,” Rain said quickly.
“I want a camera,” John said.
“If John’s getting a camera, I want one too!” Michael screeched.
Rain’s head dropped. Charlie turned to Miranda and said, “It’s gonna be a loonnng day.”
No kidding.
Michael was, indeed, afraid of the water, and as much as he loved that yellow plastic shovel, he had a real knack for dropping it, burying it, throwing it, etc. It was practically a full-time job for Rain just playing fetch, and I don’t believe she enjoyed it quite as much as I would have.
John complained about the sand. He said it was too scratchy. Plus it tasted bad, got in his eyes, under his shirt, in his hair, swimming trunks, etc. Charlie was awarded the thankless task of trying to keep the boy sand-free on a beach.
A couple of college-aged girls were lying on their stomachs, soaking up the sun and listening to indie pop at a volume loud enough to bleed from their earphones. Wendy laid out her towel in emulation. Within minutes, Miranda could see that the girl was frying. “Wendy, didn’t you put on sunscreen this morning?”
Wendy didn’t answer. (The college girls weren’t talking either.) So Miranda slathered sunscreen on Wendy’s back and legs. Then the college girls turned over. So Wendy turned over, and Miranda slathered her front. Then the college girls went in the water. Wendy followed with Miranda as her shadow. Then the college girls came out of the water. Wendy came out of the water, and Miranda tried to get her to reapply the gunk. Then the college girls left the beach, and that was it. Wendy declared it was time to go, and Miranda was at a loss how to change her mind.
It was Charlie to the rescue again. He spotted Ramon Hernandez and Linda Wheeler playing tetherball at the top of the beach. Linda wasn’t in college, but she was a “big girl,” and Charlie managed to convince Wendy and John to observe the older teens at play. Rain and Michael joined them, too, and soon all six of them were sitting cross-legged on the sand, watching the white orb
swing through the air on its long tether, round and round the pole. Even with Ramon basically ruining any chance he might have with Linda by slaughtering her mercilessly, taunting her lack of skill to boot, there was an elegance to the circular motion that enthralled the Kim children and even their chaperones. When Linda stomped away—with a belatedly sorry Ramon trailing after—it wasn’t hard to convince the kids to take up the game. In fact, it looked as if a little tether-tournament might fill the rest of the day.
John certainly enjoyed the planning stages. He used a piece of chalk and the pavement to diagram a bracket displaying who would play against whom and in what order. This required some negotiation, but it remained remarkably civil once everyone conceded Wendy could go first against Charlie (this combination being the closest she could come to copying the Linda-Ramon dynamic). But the planning wound up being the fun part, and once they started playing, it was all downhill from there.
Start with Wendy getting rope burn. Move on to John hitting it so high that a crying Michael could never even touch the ball. Mix in Rain attempting to intervene and taking a tetherball right to the nose. End with John stubbing his toe on the metal pole. Sixteen minutes into the tournament, all three Kimlets were either crying or trying very, very hard not to, and it was only 11:00 A.M.
Rain spent six more dollars of Mr. Kim’s money buying the children ice cream—just to bring a stop to their tears. Half the twenty gone now, and she hadn’t even paid for lunch. So when Michael dropped his ice cream in the sand and demanded another, it was all Rain could do not to cry along with him—especially when buying him a new cone.
John thought he deserved another cone too, and threatened to drop what remained of his in the sand to force the issue—at least until Rain made it perfectly clear that such a course of action would result in less vanilla-chocolate swirl, not more. He ate the rest of his confection in brooding silence.
Five minutes later, with the ice cream consumed, Miranda used the sated lull in the hostilities to suggest they all build a sand castle. Charlie upped the ante to “a huge sand fortress!” As this gave Michael an excuse to use his shovel, he agreed to dig in. As did John, who, despite hating the sand, enjoyed planning things. Wendy said she would only participate if Miranda did too. So the six of them went to work.
As locals, Rain and Charlie had chosen a section of Próspero Beach known as the Alcove, because it was semihidden from the main strip by an outcropping of rocks. Outside of High Season—when every inch of Ghost sand was packed—the Alcove tended toward the deserted. At this moment, there were only a few people around: a lifeguard in his squat white wooden tower; a couple of twenty-year-old Italian surfers, sitting in their wetsuits in front of their boards; two tenth graders, Connor Kelty and Conner Ellison; and Wendy, John, Michael, Miranda, Charlie and Rain.
The sun was pulling into position directly overhead in a cloudless sky, and the temperature was climbing. Everyone was thirsty. The ice cream truck left the parking lot to find a more profitable location, and John watched it drive away and muttered, “I’m still hungry.” On cue, Charlie’s stomach growled loudly, which at least made the boys—and even Wendy—laugh.
Rain said miserably, “I better get everyone lunch.” She pulled the remaining eight dollars from her pocket, knowing there was no way she could feed six people on that amount of money this close to the ocean. (Prices dropped precipitously as one moved inland, but by the beach, a bag of chips could easily cost $5.95.) What was I thinking, only asking for twenty?
Miranda put her hand on Rain’s and said, “I can get this.” Rain looked up at her. “I can use my credit card to buy food. My dad won’t think twice about that, and you won’t have to spend your camera money. At least I’ll be contributing a little.”
Spontaneously, a grateful Rain threw her arms around Miranda. “You think you’re not contributing? I could never have managed this without you and Charlie.” She pulled back from Miranda but still held onto her arms. “I take him for granted; it’s kinda our thing. But I’m really grateful you’re here.”
Rain was emotional due to lost-camera stress, but it was Miranda who pulled an arm away to wipe at her eyes. She said, “Don’t get me started. I cry like at everything.” Both girls laughed.
Charlie saw all this, smiled and continued to dig the moat per John’s instructions.
Miranda took off to buy lunch. Wendy, temporarily engrossed in her own princess tower, didn’t immediately notice the departure. Once she did, it was all Rain could do to prevent the eight-year-old from taking off after Miranda, who was by that time out of sight. Wendy stayed, begrudgingly, but clearly resented being stuck there without the older girl. Rain scowled—I’m a girl, too!—but she was already too exhausted and overheated to maintain her own resentment.
She desperately wanted to go in the water to cool off but knew she couldn’t leave Charlie alone with the Kimlets. She stared out at the ocean wistfully.
That’s when she saw the dolphin. Right there. Just offshore. Its long head poking up out of the water. Smiling. The Italians noticed it too, pointing and laughing.
Rain stood, fascinated. She’d never seen a dolphin this close to a public beach … this close to any beach. Could it be? The dolphin dove down out of sight—and then popped back up with the camera strap in its mouth. Rain started running toward the water. (Charlie and their charges were now forgotten.) The dolphin swam backward quickly, rising up on its tail to dance away as before and swinging Alonso’s camera around its head like a tetherball. Rain dove into the water and swam.
Charlie stood. He had to fight the impulse to ditch the Kimlets and follow. Then Michael said, “Look.” And then …
Rain swam furiously, for all she was worth. The dolphin dove down with the camera and waited under the water for Rain to follow her beneath the surface and pull close. Very close. Rain was almost within reach of the floating camera. Almost there … Almost … At the last second, the dolphin took off like a shot. Rain followed until the beast was again out of sight. She became aware of a strange sound, something almost musical, singing perhaps, muffled by the seawater. Curious, and, in any case, needing air, she surfaced. And then …
Miranda approached with a shopping bag of deli sandwiches, chips and cookies in one hand and a six-pack of bottled water in the other. She turned into the Alcove and stopped short. The Manatee-Woman, torso discreetly wrapped in seaweed, stood on the shoreline, her human feet washed by little waves. Her mouth was open and her head bobbed slightly, but no sound came out—at least no sound Miranda could hear. Yet somehow this soundless cry evoked pain and longing in Miranda. Then this strange and beautiful creature crouched gracefully and beckoned with one hand. Miranda turned: the three Kimlets, smiling goofily, walked slowly toward Her. Charlie stood near the sand fortress, doing nothing, his jaw slack. Miranda looked around for Rain but didn’t see her. She did see the two Italian boys, the two local boys and the adult male lifeguard, all staring at Her, all motionless. The Kimlets had nearly reached the Manatee-Woman, her arms opening wide to accept them. Finally, Miranda snapped into action, dropping food and water and racing down the beach. She leaped between the Kimlets and the Siren, wrapping her arms protectively around all three children. They struggled slightly. Anger flared in the Manatee-Woman’s eyes. Her mouth snapped shut.
Miranda was terrified, but she squeaked out, “No.” Then, shouted, “NO!” The Manatee-Woman advanced two steps.
Behind her, Charlie felt like he was coming out of a daze. He shook his head. Rubbed his eyes. Tried to focus. He had a vague memory of the most beautiful song he had ever heard and, more than anything, longed to hear again. Longed to hear Her again.
Rain emerged from the surf, calling out, “Miranda!”
“She’s trying to take the kids!”
First Witch! Rain thought. Aycayia the Cursed! Rain ran toward them, shouting Aycayia’s name. Aycayia’s head whipped around; her dark eyes flashed, glaring at Rain. She took one last longing glance at the Kimlets, still gathe
red together in Miranda’s protective arms, and then turned to dive into the water. By the time Rain reached Miranda and the kids, Aycayia had disappeared beneath the waves.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
EXTRA CREDIT
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 15
“Smuggler’s Cove was a nightmare. Like spending an entire day trapped on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride—without any of the drama, humor or animatronics.”
Rain nodded as she poured more tomato juice into Mr. Kim’s glass.
Concerned her husband might have insulted a piece of Rain’s cultural heritage, Ms. Kim said, “It wasn’t that bad. Just not what we were hoping for.”
“And what a rip-off! I spent all my cash buying tickets and lunch. I know I owe you for yesterday, but I need to hit an A.T.M.”
“You mentioned that last night,” Rain said with surprisingly little attitude. On the one hand, she still needed that money for the camera. On the other, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling she was personally responsible for exposing the Kimlets to Aycayia the Cursed, the murderous First Witch of the Taíno. It made money-grubbing now seem particularly distasteful.
Rain glanced at Wendy, John and Michael. All three glared at her, still angry she had chased away the beautiful Manatee-Woman. They had barely touched their breakfasts. Even John’s bowl of Lucky Charms had gone unmolested. Rain held up the orange juice pitcher in her other hand. “O.J., anybody?” As one, the Kimlets—in full huff—turned their backs on her.
Esther Kim observed this and shook her head. “I’m sorry they’re being this way. It sounds like you did a great job yesterday.”
“Did—did they tell you why they’re mad at me?”
“Yes.” Esther didn’t even try to suppress a smile. “You and Miranda wouldn’t let them swim away with the mermaid.”
