To Catch a Mermaid

by Suzanne Selfors

  A clap of distant thunder rattled the single-pane windows. Mr. Broom poked his head out of the kitchen. “It’s coming,” he stated, his gaze flying wildly about.

  “Dad?”

  “Did you hear that? It’s coming, Boom. The twister.”

  Boom remembered the captain’s words of warning and he took a step toward his father, wanting to comfort him.

  “We must find a safe place,” Mr. Broom urged. His eyes rested on the closet door. “We must hide from the twister.” He opened the door and leapt into the pile of coats. “Get your sister. There’s room for us all in here.”

  “Sure, Dad. I’ll get Mertyle,” Boom said. “You just wait in there until the storm has passed.” He closed the door. Yet another aspect of his life he didn’t want the little girls to know about. Hide the stinky mermaid, hide the fatal Ick, and hide the frightened father.

  “We’re not leaving unless you show us that doll,” Daisy threatened from the living room.

  “Did you hear that?” Boom yelled up the stairs.

  “Yes,” Mertyle yelled back. “I’ll figure something out.”

  Like a sentry, Boom took his place under the archway, determined that no one would sneak by and see anything they weren’t supposed to see. Daisy and three other girls sat crammed together on the checkered couch. The two remaining girls nestled in Mr. Broom’s reading chair. Each girl had a ribbon in her hair that matched the ribbon in her doll’s hair. They held their dolls in their laps, with the painted faces pointing out like a little plastic audience waiting for the show to begin.

  Boom started to sweat. He could see no way of pulling this off. It was only a matter of time before the baby started thumping, or shrieking, or decided to go surfing again. Only a matter of time before Halvor tried to kill the merbaby with an axe in the name of Viking revenge. Boom paced, flashing Daisy the evil eye every time she started to squirm off the couch. No Mump would get her hands on the merbaby. When he and Winger sold the Meet the Merbaby tickets, none of the Mumps would get one. He’d make them wait in line, in the rain and snow, and never would they get a ticket. Well, Hurley could get a ticket, but only if he agreed to a rematch. Only then.

  “Boom, fluff the couch pillows for the guests,” Halvor ordered. Boom ran into the living room and gave each pillow a good, solid kick as the girls screamed in terror.

  “Boom, turn up the heat so the little girls don’t get chilled,” Halvor barked.

  Boom pretended to turn up the heat, but he didn’t actually turn the knob. Why should these intruders get to bask in the glow of precious, expensive warmth that he wasn’t allowed to bask in? He ran back to the archway.

  “Why is your house so ugly?” a girl asked.

  “Why would anyone put dandelions in a jar?” a redheaded girl inquired. “Dandelions are weeds.”

  Mertyle must have tried to decorate the room, because more jars than usual sat on the cluttered shelves, crammed with multicolored dandelions. A single paper chain, made of newspaper, hung above the couch. Cutouts from catalogues were taped to the walls. What her attempt lacked in festivity, it made up for in sheer craziness.

  “My mother hired a decorator for my party,” a girl with frizzy hair boasted, plucking at the paper chain with contempt.

  “Appetizers,” Halvor announced. With a grand, sweeping gesture he presented a doily-covered tray of greasy fish -kebobs. Daisy and her cohorts crinkled their noses and pushed the tray away.

  “My Faraway Girl Doll, Adelaide of Australia, gets diarrhea if she eats fish,” the redheaded girl pointed out.

  “My Faraway Girl Doll, Beatrice of Bavaria, thinks that fish stink,” said frizzy head.

  “Where are the finger sandwiches?” one asked.

  “Where are the cream-filled cupcakes?” whined another.

  Halvor tapped his heavy boot on the floor and furrowed his brow, clearly not appreciating the fish comments. “I’ll just put the tray over here so you can help yourselves,” he said, making room on the coffee table. “I’ll bring everyone a nice hot cup of coffee.”

  “Coffee will stunt my growth,” Daisy said matter-of-factly to Halvor, “and I don’t want to grow up and be short and fat just like you.”

  Halvor mumbled something in Norwegian, then left the room. Boom would have bet his last three dollars and all his future mermaid ticket earnings that Daisy Mump would grow up to be short and fat whether she drank coffee or not. A simple glance across the street at her gene pool proved that.

  How in the world could he make these girls go away? Dr. Buncle’s bad gas might have cleared the room. The old guy was probably still shuffling down the walkway.

  “This party stinks,” Daisy complained.

  “Great. Then go home.”

  “Not until we see Molly Mermaid.” The girls nodded and squirmed. It was possible that they drooled as well, because a couple of them wiped their lower lips. How could anyone get so excited about a doll? It wasn’t like a doll did anything. It wasn’t like a good kicking game, where the players had to have skill to survive, where a hot summer day tested endurance, and pouring rain tested dexterity. What did a Faraway Girl Doll test? One’s ability to spend a parent’s money — that’s what.

  At that moment, Mertyle made her grand entrance. Actually, she had probably hoped it would be grand, but it wasn’t. She tripped over the hem of her long skirt and stumbled into the room, plopping herself in the chair that Fluffy the cat had claimed. She arranged her turban and pulled the turtleneck to the middle of her chin. Boom motioned that her fuzzy ankle was showing, so she quickly covered it.

  “You look weird,” Daisy told her. “Where’s the doll?”

  “The doll is taking a nap.” The girls nodded, as if this were a perfectly reasonable explanation. “We will have to reschedule the party for another day.”

  “Then we’ll just wait for her to wake up.” Daisy folded her arms and glared at Mertyle. Mertyle glared back.

  “Do you have anything else to eat?” the redheaded girl asked.

  Mertyle tried her best to be pleasant. “I wish we had cream-filled cupcakes and finger sandwiches, but I didn’t have time to order them.” She reached forward and pinched one of the fish kebobs between her fingers, sticking out her pinky as she ate it. “This, however, is the next best thing,” she lied, licking her lips as if she had just eaten a macaroon. “I have never tasted such a delicious appetizer.”

  “I’m not eating that filth. Wake Molly Mermaid up,” Daisy insisted. “We want to see her right now.”

  “We mustn’t interrupt her beauty sleep,” Mertyle said, scratching under her turtleneck. She grimaced as she scratched her back against the chair. The chair rocked as she scratched harder. “Let’s reschedule for next Sunday.”

  “Get the doll!” Daisy threw one of the pillows across the room. It hit Mr. Broom’s painting of an amber sunset settling over a sleepy harbor. The painting fell to the floor with a loud thunk. Mertyle gasped. Another thunk followed, from upstairs.

  Boom stomped right up to Daisy Mump. “That was my mom’s favorite painting,” he angrily told her.

  “So what? I’ve seen better paintings on fire hydrants.” Daisy stood on the couch, eye to eye with Boom. “My mom says that paintings of the ocean are boring.”

  “They’re not boring,” Mertyle cried. “They’re beautiful. My dad’s a master.”

  “My mom says that your dad is washed up.”

  Boom heard a scurrying sound and turned to find Mertyle charging at Daisy. She wasn’t moving very fast because of the extra-long skirt. He actually had to hold her back. She was crazed with anger. He understood crazed with anger.

  Another thump sounded from upstairs.

  “I’ve got an idea. Let’s go up to Mertyle’s room to see the doll,” Daisy said, shoving her stout self off the couch.

  “No!” Boom and Mertyle cried. Boom felt as though the painting wasn’t the only thing that would come crashing down — like the moment before a pot boils over and scalds the cook. All faces
turned to the ceiling as the thumping continued. What the heck was that baby doing now — swinging from the curtains?

  “Boom,” Mertyle insisted. “It would be rude of me to leave my guests. Please go get the doll.”

  “Doll?” The fuzz had obviously gone to Mertyle’s brain. Sure, no problem, he thought. I’ll just go upstairs and get a doll that . . . DOESN’T EXIST. What a day. Totally nuts.

  He stomped upstairs, conjuring a plan along the way. He’d pretend to look for the doll and then tell everyone it had been stolen. The girls would leave, Halvor would take Mertyle to the hospital, and Boom and Winger would start making the tickets. And when the storm passed, Mr. Broom would come out of the closet.

  Boom paced a bit just inside the bedroom door, guessing at the amount of time needed to pretend to look for something that didn’t exist. A gust of cold air hit him in the back of his neck. Why was the bedroom window open? He went to close it but tripped over something that lay on the floor next to Mertyle’s bed. He picked it up and found himself staring into the painted green eyes of a doll with long black hair and a fabric tail. A tag read, MOLLY MERMAID. That reject fish had granted another one of Mertyle’s wishes. Boom squeezed the doll as hard as he could, hoping its head might pop off. He thought about kicking it out the window, until he noticed that green slime covered the windowsill.

  Peering out the window, Boom found a ladder propped against the outer wall. Hurley Mump was at the bottom of the very same ladder. Boom’s eyes focused like individual magnifying glasses on Hurley’s feet, drawn there by a pair of brand-new fire-red Galactic Kickers. Boom’s heart skipped a beat as he felt, like so many times before, a wave of despair and outrage. He slammed his fist on the windowsill, spraying green slime onto his face. Life was completely unfair. The universe didn’t give a hoot about Boom Broom.

  Only after Hurley had jumped over the broken gate did Boom realize that his obnoxious neighbor was carrying something. A shimmer of blue-green tail poked out from beneath Hurley’s elbow.

  Chapter Twenty-three:

  Hurley Mump

  Boom flew out his front door like the wind — a crazed wind that kicked up dirt and terrified neighborhood cats and made a howling sound that sounded something like I’m going to kiiiiiiiiiill you, Hurley Muuuuuump.

  He leapt over the broken gate, snaked around Dr. Buncle, and narrowly avoided what would have been a painful slip on a banana peel. A family of squirrels chirped at him, their cheeks fat with banana meat. A dog, chewing on a salty corncob, growled as Boom jumped over its tail. He almost bumped into a delivery guy who was unloading boxes labeled . Another wish!

  Hurley ran up the Mumps’ driveway. Those Galactic Kickers gave Hurley a major advantage, what with their arch support and spring-loaded soles. “Huuuuuurley!” Hurley moved, once again, to the number one position on Boom’s enemy list.

  Hurley picked up speed, rounding the corner of his house into his backyard. Boom ran past the Mumps’ vanilla-white picket fence and across their artificial turf. He had never been in the Mumps’ yard before. All those years of living across the street and the Mumps had never said, Hey, come on over for some popcorn or Hey, we just inflated the pool, so come on over for a dip.

  Boom turned the corner and stood in the Mumps’ backyard. It was neat and tidy, with a stand of shiny yard tools and a row of perfectly coiled garden hoses. Two ceramic gnomes sat beneath a blue birdbath. But no thieving blond-haired boy could be seen.

  Where had he gone? Darn it! Hurley Mump was going to ruin everything, as usual. Once Hurley realized that he had stolen the most amazing discovery of the twenty-first century, which would be any minute now, he’d tell the world. He’d sell the merbaby and make a fortune. He wouldn’t care that Mertyle loved the baby or that the baby loved her. He wouldn’t care that in a few days the bill collector would be back at the Brooms’ house. And once again, Hurley would get all the glory.

  Boom was about to open the garage door when a shriek filled the air. At first he thought it was the merbaby’s shriek because it almost burst his eardrums. But this shriek didn’t have the same blood-chilling effect. It didn’t feel like a knife thrusting through Boom’s skull. Boom looked across the yard to the garden shed, from which another shriek issued forth. He opened the shed door to find Hurley Mump holding out a bleeding hand. “It bit me,” he cried, tears pooling along the ridges of his beady eyes.

  The baby lay in a wheelbarrow, hissing and growling and spewing foam like a rabid dog. Hurley backed up against the potting bench, shaking. Boom knew just how he felt. When in viper mode, that baby could scare the fangs off a vampire.

  “Th-th-that’s no doll,” Hurley stuttered. Brilliant observation. “Wh-wh-what is it?”

  Boom slowly edged his way toward his archenemy, careful not to make any sudden movements. The baby continued to hiss. No way was he going to tell Hurley the truth. “It’s an alien from outer space. It’s evil, that’s what it is. And it eats human flesh.”

  Hurley gasped. “Why are you keeping an alien in your bedroom?” The baby raised herself up on her tail, but Boom couldn’t tell which one of them she was going to spit at.

  “It used mind control on me,” Boom said. “And if you tell anyone about the alien, then it will control your mind as well.” That didn’t sound threatening enough. “If you tell anyone, it will suck out your brain.” Hurley would understand brain-sucking because all the boys in their class had once sneaked into the Fairweather movie theater to watch an old black-and-white movie about some aliens that sucked out people’s brains.

  “Get it out of here.” Hurley climbed over a pile of clay pots in an attempt to get away.

  “Baby,” Boom cooed, holding out his arms. The merbaby eyed him suspiciously, her upper lip vibrating in a snarl. “I’m going to take you back to Mertyle. To Mertyle.” That seemed to do the trick. The baby lowered herself and closed her mouth. When Boom took a step forward, she growled a little. “To Mertyle,” he said again. “Mertyle.”

  With all the courage he could muster in the world, more courage than facing Principal Prunewallop, more courage than his first loop-the-loop roller coaster, more courage than that first step taken beyond the dirt circle, he slid his hands under the baby’s tail and scooped her up in his arms. They looked at each other — the baby all squinty and rigid, Boom sweating like a nervous snake wrangler. “To Mertyle,” he said again.

  “Hey,” Hurley said from the corner of the shed. “Now that I think about it, that thing looks kind of like a —”

  “Do you have any idea how painful it is to have your brain sucked?” Boom asked. “Tell no one!” He thrust the baby toward Hurley. Right on cue she bared her razor-sharp teeth. Smart little thing.

  Boom ran from the shed, but he had to hide behind the Mumps’ garbage cans because Daisy and her cohorts were crossing the street, stuffing their faces with cream-filled cupcakes and finger sandwiches. The wind rattled the cans so he couldn’t hear what they were saying until they passed by. “I couldn’t believe it when Mertyle the Turtle’s scarf fell off,” Daisy said. “Did you see how horrid her hair looked? They can’t afford good shampoo.” The girls giggled. “And why was her dad sitting in the closet? So weird.”

  Even in his old sneakers that had neither arch support nor space-age traction, Boom managed to get back to his walkway before anyone noticed the creature tucked in his arms. Mr. Mump backed his truck next to the delivery van, almost running a few neighbors over in his attempt to claim all the delicious loot. Winger ran down the sidewalk in his Sunday suit. “What are you doing with that thing out here?” he asked. “Are you psychotic?”

  “I’ll explain later,” Boom said. “Just help me sneak it back upstairs so Halvor doesn’t see it.” Winger held the ladder as Boom struggled up, one-handed. The baby growled a few more times but clung tightly to Boom’s shirt. “I don’t suppose you care that I saved your life, again,” Boom grumbled as he climbed. “I don’t suppose saving your life, for a second time, means anything to you.” Just
a few more rungs and they’d be at the bedroom window. “Why do you grant all her stupid wishes when you could grant the one wish that matters the most? Why don’t you make the fungus go away?” The baby looked over Boom’s shoulder and whimpered as they climbed higher.

  As soon as they reached the windowsill, the baby leapt from Boom’s arms and landed on the pink comforter. Boom tumbled over the windowsill and fell onto the carpet, with Winger close behind.

  “Hello, boys,” Halvor said.

  Boom and Winger looked up from the carpet to find Halvor holding Mertyle’s turban. Mertyle sat in all her fuzzy glory, on the edge of her bed, crying.

  “Somebody had better tell me what’s going on around here, for sure!”

  Chapter Twenty-four:

  The Merfolk’s Curse

  Anyone who has kept a secret for a very long time knows how exhausting a task it can be. Sometimes the secret percolates like Halvor’s coffee, trying to bubble its way out. Sometimes the secret is heavy like a box of raw cod fillets, weighing down the limbs of its carrier. Sometimes it curdles in the stomach like bad fish stew. Even though Boom had held his secret for only two days, he felt immense relief when he told it to Halvor — like going to the bathroom after a really long movie.

  Halvor listened, eyeing the merbaby now and then. Since he was wearing an apron and no Viking helmet, and carrying a wooden spoon rather than an axe, the baby paid him no mind. She lay curled in Mertyle’s lap, chewing on the hem of the striped turtleneck.

  Boom told it all, from the red circle on his calendar, to kicking an apple through Mr. Jorgenson’s window. From giving seven dollars to Winger, to fetching the fish from the reject seafood bucket. From the cornfield, to the pet store, to Hurley’s theft, he spoke as fast as he could, barely breathing between words as fuzz sprouted from the tip of Mertyle’s nose.

  Halvor took the story in, with no signs of disbelief. After all, he already believed in the existence of merfolk because if Vikings had said they were real, it had to be true.