“You have no proof of that,” Mr. Chamberlain muttered through gritted teeth. “Not anymore,” he whispered so only I could hear and patted the breast pocket of his blazer.
“Oh really?” I turned to the crowd. “Mr. Chamberlain here doesn’t think we have any proof that his Environmental Assessment is a fake. How many of you out there are from the Butterflies versus Boutiques Facebook page?”
A round of applause filled the night air, causing a wide grin to cross my face.
“Then,” I continued, trying to speak loudly and clearly in the microphone so everyone could hear, “would you all be so kind as to check out the page and let me know if we actually do have proof?”
A murmur rippled through the crowd as people fumbled through their pockets and purses for their phones. Then one by one, once they found the pictures I’d hurriedly posted on the Butterflies vs. Boutiques page as I stumbled up the stage’s stairs, they held their lit-up phone screens in the air. It was only a few at first, then dozens, but soon hundreds of glowing cell phones dotted the darkened beach. The beginnings of a chant began to form.
“Green means green! Butterflies not Boutiques!”
“Green means green! Butterflies not Boutiques!”
By then, Lainey had found the pictures on Facebook too and was holding up the screen for her father to see.
“Daddy!” she cried. “That’s why you wanted me to get that paper for you? Well, then you can take Cedric back!” She held out her bag, then reconsidered when Cedric whined for her. “Well, no. You can’t have him back, but now I want a horse.”
Mr. Chamberlain looked from me to Lainey, to the audience, then to the mayor, and gulped.
Good thing his helicopter was waiting nearby; otherwise, I’m not sure he would have made it off the beach alive.
Hundreds of people came up to me afterward to thank me and congratulate me for finally putting a stop to the mall construction. I was mostly on the edge of tears the whole time, overwhelmed by everyone’s support. Little did they know that saving that part of the coast not only helped the Monarch butterfly, but eventually, when the tides cleared the muddy waters away, mers who needed the tidal pool would be able to use it to become human.
The crowds finally thinned out as people spread out along the beach to enjoy the warm summer evening.
Cori spread her beach blanket onto the sand and dumped her stuff. “We’re going to get a couple hot dogs to celebrate. The works?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said.
“What about Luke?” she asked.
“I dunno. I kind of lost track of him.” I bobbed my head up and over the crowds to see if I could spot him.
“I think he went to get something from the car,” Trey said.
“Just call him on his cell,” Cori suggested as they headed for the barbecues.
“Good idea,” I replied as I watched them go. But all of a sudden I felt unsure again. Yes, Luke was back and Mom was back and life was normal again—as normal as it was going to be, anyway. But what did that mean for him and me? Were we friends? More than friends? I had to know. I took a deep breath and dialed his number.
“Hey, Luke?” I said when he answered.
“Hi,” he replied. “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet, but you were really awesome up there.”
“Thanks to you!” I paused before continuing. “Listen, Luke. I was wondering…” I left the sentence hanging, not knowing what exactly I was wondering. Wondering if he’d like to hang out? Vague. Go out on a date? Lame. Be my boyfriend? Scary.
Whatever the question is, the answer is yes. I heard the ring coming from over my right shoulder.
Luke. I looked over and spotted him by the lifeguard tower again, holding his phone to his ear. His guitar strap was slung across his chest.
“Will you guys stop with the squealing and hang out like two normal people already?” Cori returned with an armful of hot dogs while Trey carried the drinks. She nudged me and winked as they laid the food out on a blanket.
When he saw I’d noticed him, Luke slipped his phone into his pocket and smiled—that curvy-lipped adorable smile that turned my legs to jelly. Was I ready for this? Ready to take the next step? Who knew? Maybe I wasn’t ready to jump in with two feet, but would it hurt if I just dipped in a toe?
I was going to ask you if you’d finally play that guitar for me, I said, walking toward him.
I dunno. My concerts usually sell out. There may not be any tickets left. Luke held out his hand for me as I approached.
Darn, I replied. I was hoping for front row seats.
Luke took my hand in both of his and held it to his chest.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” I whispered.
“Glad to be back,” he replied. “I kinda missed you.”
I took a deep breath and drank in the salty ocean air, then took a leap of faith…and kissed him.
Was Luke my dream guy? My soul mate? My boyfriend? Only time would tell. But right then, the moment, the guy, the kiss—it all felt right.
“So, about that concert,” Luke whispered in my ear, “would you settle for a seat on a piece of old driftwood overlooking a puddle?”
“That, my friend”—I took his hand and led him toward the point—“sounds absolutely perfect.”
Snacks at sleepovers are a must.
Try this one next time your parents
forget to stock the snack cupboard.
Supplies:
brown paper lunch bag
stapler
measuring cup
microwave
Ingredients:
¼ cup popcorn kernels
2 tbsp brown sugar
2 tbsp chocolate chips
2 tbsp butter or margarine
pinch of salt
Pour the popcorn kernels into a brown paper lunch bag then fold the top of the bag ¼ of an inch, twice. Secure two staples (trust me, I Googled it!) at the folded part to seal the bag shut. Lay the bag flat in the microwave and cook on HIGH for about 1:45 (one minute and forty-five seconds, people!). Each microwave is different, though, so you may need to adjust the time.
Meanwhile, add the brown sugar, chocolate chips, butter/margarine and salt to a microwave-safe measuring cup. Cook on HIGH for about 15 seconds or until the gooey buttery-chocolaty mixture is melted. Mix well with a fork then pour it over the popcorn.
Toss like a salad and ENJOY!
You. Are. Welcome.
:) Cori
Writing a book is a lot like making an enormous ice cream sundae but it is a process made much easier with a drizzle of keen-eyed critique pals, a sprinkle of super-patient friends, and a big glob of family.
Much thanks to my agent, Lauren MacLeod, who scooped me out of her slush pile and kept me from going nuts through all of my writerly efforts. Thanks also to my editor, Aubrey Poole, who never waffled and provided the cone of truth I needed to tell this story as genuinely as possible.
Marcelle, Charlotte, and Gord: you are the cherries on top of everything and my constant sources of support and inspiration. None of this happens without you.
Hélène Boudreau never spotted a real mermaid while growing up on an island surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean, but she believes mermaids are just as plausible as giant squids, flying fish, or electric eels. She now writes fiction and nonfiction for kids from her landlocked home in Ontario, Canada. Her first book of this series, Real Mermaids Don’t Wear Toe Rings, was a 2011 SCBWI Crystal Kite Award finalist.
You can visit her at www.heleneboudreau.com.
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Real Mermaids 2 - Don't Hold Their Breath Page 17
