by Amy Cross
Suddenly she flicks her tail again, tapping the inside of the glass with the tip. The glass shudders and I instinctively take a step back, but now the mermaid is already swimming up to check another part of the tank.
“Hey there, kiddo.”
Turning, I find that Mother has come over. She sits on the ground, crossing her legs just like I was doing a moment ago. I'm not quite sure what to do, but I feel slightly embarrassed at having been caught looking so closely at the mermaid, so I go back and sit next to her and then we both watch as the mermaid swims along the top of the tank and inspects another section where the glass plates are joined together.
“She's intelligent,” Mother continues. “You can see it in her face, can't you?”
I don't reply. I'm too busy watching as the mermaid presses against the tank's glass roof. There's a pipe running into the tank near that point, blowing bubbles into the water just like in a fish-tank.
“She's examining her surroundings,” Mother explains. “When she first arrived, she hid. We had to force her to show herself. Once she'd done that, I suppose she realized there was no point being coy any longer.”
“What does coy mean?” I ask.
“Quiet. Shy.”
“Do you think she's shy?” I ask, watching as the mermaid suddenly flips back and turns in the water, swimming gracefully over to the tank's far end. She makes it look so easy.
“I think she's in an environment she doesn't understand,” Mother replies. “She spent all her life in the waters of the Pacific. This must be a big change for her. It's natural if she's scared, but she'll learn soon enough that she's in no danger.”
“Why did you bring her here?” I ask.
“Why wouldn't I want to bring her here? She's magnificent.”
“But couldn't you just have gone to see her where she lives?”
“It doesn't work like that.”
“But why did you bring her all the way to London?”
“It's complicated.”
“But why -”
“It's complicated, Sylvia,” she adds, and now she sounds a little irritated. “You wouldn't understand.”
I know better than to ask again, so instead I watch the mermaid for a moment longer. She's examining another section of the tank's glass wall, and slowly I start to wonder whether she's trying to find a way out.
“Do you think she feels sad?” I ask. “Maybe she doesn't want to be kept like that?”
“She didn't have a chance in her natural waters,” Mother says. “There was so much pollution, and an oil company's moving in next month to perform some fresh drilling. From what my team has seen of them, these beautiful creatures don't like leaving their natural habitats. Even when faced with problems in their breeding grounds, they persisted until eventually they began to die out. Doctor Collier thinks that's a sign of limited intelligence, but I'm not so sure. I keep wondering whether they're simply stubborn. Maybe they didn't want to leave their home.”
“But what if she's lonely?”
I wait for an answer, before turning to Mother.
“What if she's lonely?” I ask again. “Couldn't you have got a friend for her?”
“She had a friend,” Mother replies, still staring at the tank. Waves of reflected light are rippling across her face. “It's a long story, Sylvia, but I did try to bring a friend here for her. Unfortunately that didn't work out.”
I pause, before turning back to look at the tank. I know better than to try pressing Mother. After all, she decides what I do and don't need to know, and she always has my best interests at heart. If there's something she's not telling me, then it's for my own good.
“Maybe you're ready,” she says suddenly.
I turn to her again, and this time she meets my gaze.
“I feel like you've grown up so much in just the past twenty-four hours,” she continues. “Or maybe I'm seeing you in a new light now that things are changing. You've always been a very timid child, Sylvia, but now you seem more mature.”
I don't know what to say to that, so I look back at the mermaid and see that she's over at the other side of the tank now. She's no longer examining the glass, though. Instead, she's looking out across the room, and when I glance over my shoulder I realize that she seems to be watching Doctor Collier as he works at the terminals. I watch him too, for a few seconds, until he gets up and heads through a door that I suppose leads into some other room. I wait to see if he comes back, before turning back to the Mother and finding that she's still watching me.
“You're curious about things,” she says.
“What does that mean?”
“You want to know. You want to see. Don't be sorry, it's a good thing.”
“I don't know.”
“I saw you at the glass. You wanted to see the mermaid close up. That's good, that's what I wanted you to do when I asked you to come down here. I wasn't ignoring you, Sylvia. I just wanted to see what you'd do if you were left alone without direction.”
“Did I do the right thing?”
Smiling, she nods and reaches out to ruffle my hair. Then, suddenly, she gets to her feet.
“I have some things I need to check,” she explains, “so will you be alright here for a little while?”
“Where are you going?” I ask, worried that she might leave me alone.
“I'll just be in the next room.”
“Can I come with you?”
“Not quite yet.”
“But -”
“You'll be fine, Sylvia. You're my brave girl, aren't you?”
I hesitate, before nodding. I only nod because I know it's what she wants me to do.
“I'm doing this for you, you know,” she adds, with a hint of sadness in her voice. “For me too, but mostly for you. You can't understand, not yet, but you will one day. Just trust me for now. I have a plan and I'm going to see it through, and it's going to work. I promise.”
And then, as she turns and walks out through the same door that Doctor Collier went through, I look back over at the mermaid and see to my surprise that she's right up close to the glass, and that she's staring straight at me. More than staring, really. It's as if she's looking into my soul, as if she's been waiting to get me alone. My initial reaction is to feel scared, and to want to run after Mother, but then I feel a sense of calm starting to rest on my shoulders.
I feel safe.
Slowly, I get to my feet and start walking toward her. Her eyes are fixed on me, and somehow I feel certain that when I get over there, she's going to say something to me. So I walk all the way over and finally I stop right next to the glass, right in front of the mermaid, and I stare into her beautiful eyes for a moment before opening my mouth and surprising myself by uttering one single word:
“Hello.”
Chapter Twelve
I wait, but she's simply staring at me. Her eyes are the most vibrant greeny-blue color I've ever seen, and she looks ever so kind, but I still feel as if she's waiting for me to do or say something else. Finally I decide to try again:
“My name's Sylvia,” I tell her, although my voice is trembling slightly. “I... My name's...”
The words fall away.
“Do you like it here?” I continue, figuring that I should try to say something. “I know you don't have much space to swim in, but I think Mother's going to make it better for you. London's not so bad, it's... You're in London. Did you know that?”
The mermaid stares at me for a moment longer, and then slowly she turns her gaze and looks at my right arm.
“What is it?” I ask after a moment, before realizing that she's looking at the exact spot where – under my shirt – I have the scars. It's almost as if she knows they're there, although I know that's impossible. At the same time, she seems really interested, and I suppose it's possible that maybe she overheard Mother and Doctor Collier talking about what happened to me.
I wait, but she seems totally focused.
“Do you want to see?” I ask.
When she still doesn't answer, I start rolling my right sleeve up until I've exposed the lower section of the scarring that starts just below my elbow.
“There was a fire,” I explain, holding the scars up for her to see. Sure enough, her gaze follows my arm. “It was such a long time ago, I don't even remember. I was just a baby, but it was quite bad. I still have to have a special ointment put on it so that it doesn't get too dry. Even after all this time, if I miss the ointment, my skin starts drying out again. Weird, huh? I have to have the ointment every evening. It doesn't hurt, though. It's just annoying to have to have it night after night.”
Again I wait, but again she doesn't really respond.
“Are you scared?” I ask finally. “Do you miss someone?”
As soon as those words leave my lips, her eyes turn to look at me again.
“Do you understand me?” I continue. “Can you speak? Are you -”
I stop suddenly.
“Sorry about all the questions,” I add. “I don't want to annoy you.”
She continues to stare, and after a moment I realize she doesn't seem to blink. I suppose maybe that's because she's underwater all the time. A moment later I spot movement further down, and I notice that her tummy muscles are flexing as she slowly swooshes her tail back and forth. And then, with no further warning, she slowly turns and starts swimming away.
“Hey, come back!” I call out, knocking against the glass as a rush of panic runs through me. I don't want her to go away. “Please come back!”
I watch as she swims past the sunken shipwreck, and then she turns and makes her way along the tank's back wall and past the bubbling vent before swimming back this way and whooshing past me. Startled, I watch as her magnificent tail flicks in the water, but she's already back over by the shipwreck again as if she's determined to swim around and around in circles.
I can't believe something like this is real.
Seconds later she swims past me again, and this time I stare at her tail as it rushes along just a few inches past the other side of the glass. I can see small particles getting blasted out of the way in the water, but already the mermaid is now making her way around the rear of the shipwreck. She is swimming in circles, and a moment later she comes rushing past again, faster than ever. I can't help smiling as I realize how fast she can swim, and I watch in awe as she circles the boundaries of the tank over and over again, picking up speed until suddenly she twists around at the far end and rushes straight toward the front.
At the last second, she flicks her tail around and smashes it hard against the glass, causing the huge wall to shudder. I instinctively let out a gasp and step back, but the glass hasn't even cracked.
The mermaid inspects the spot where her tail struck, and then she starts circling the tank again. She's picking up speed just like the first time, and I watch with a growing sense not only of awe that she's so powerful, but also fear that she's trying to smash her way out of the tank. Sure enough, after she's completed maybe ten or twelve more circuits, she once again comes rushing toward the front of the tank and slams her tail against the glass, this time striking a little more with her hips. She instantly flicks away and starts circling again, but there's still no sign of a crack on the glass.
I take a step back, still worried about the wall maybe breaking, but I can only stare in stunned silence as the mermaid swims around and around. She seems faster than ever, and she spends long circling before finally twisting and coming straight this way. I brace for the impact, and this time I see the expression of pure fury on her face as she spins around and slams her tail against the glass with such force that I instinctively take another step back.
Yet still the glass doesn't crack.
“What's going on in here?” Mother shouts, and I can hear her rushing through from the other room.
“She's trying to get out,” I stammer, wide-eyed and shocked as the mermaid starts once more swimming around the edges of the tank. “She's using her tail to try to smash the glass!”
“Well, that won't work,” Mother says, and I turn to see her going over to the computer terminals. “I've got to stop her before she does herself some damage.”
She taps at the screen, and a moment later I feel the hairs starting to stand up again on the back of my neck. I turn and look at the tank, but now I'm feeling the same nausea I felt yesterday and I start wincing as I step back from the tank and watch the mermaid completing another circuit.
“She'll learn,” Mother says firmly.
“What's happening?” I ask, rubbing my arms and feeling the hairs starting to stand up there too. “Make it stop!”
“She'll be fine,” Mother replies. “She's had it before.”
Still the mermaid swims around and around, and now she seems to be taking longer than ever. If she swam around fifteen times before the last strike against the glass, she must have managed twenty by now and she seems to be getting even faster. At the same time I can feel a sharp pain starting to tighten in my tummy, as if something's squeezing on my guts. I think I'm about to be sick.
“Make it stop,” a voice whispers in my head.
“Make it stop,” I whimper, with tears in my eyes. “Mother, please, make it -”
Suddenly the mermaid swims at the glass and smashes her tail harder than ever, so hard that I actually hear the glass shake and I feel the ground shudder beneath my feet. Gasping, I step back while still holding my tummy, but now the mermaid has stopped swimming around and she's simply floating back from the other side of the glass. She looks exhausted and defeated, but her face is filled with anger.
A moment later, the nausea fades and the hairs relax on the back of my neck.
“There,” Mother says calmly. “I think she learned her lesson. If she tries that again, I'll run an even stronger charge through the water.”
The mermaid looks past me for a moment, fixing Mother with an expression of pure hatred. And then, with no warning, she opens her mouth and something small and thin shoots out, striking the other side of the glass harmlessly. The mermaid keeps her eyes fixed on Mother for a few more seconds before turning and swimming toward the back of the tank. She slips behind the shipwreck, and then she's out of sight.
“I was expecting something like that,” Mother says, as I watch the thin stick start sinking down to the bottom of the tank. “Good job I made sure the glass was triple-reinforced.”
She stops in front of the tank and runs a hand across the glass.
“Perfect,” she continues. “Not even so much as a crack.”
Kneeling down, I stare in awe at the stick as it reaches the bottom and rests on the floor.
“A defense mechanism,” Mother says. “A poison-tipped barb that they can shoot from their mouths at up to ninety miles an hour. Impressive, isn't it? Fortunately they don't have many, and it takes a while for fresh ones to regrow once they've been used up. I suppose this pretty lady saved one or two after she was captured. We lost several good men hunting these creatures down.”
I stare at the barb for a moment longer.
“I'm sorry, Sylvia,” Mother continues. “You must be upset. That was scary.”
“It wasn't scary,” I whisper, before getting to my feet and looking over at the boat. I know the mermaid is hiding there somewhere. She might even be watching me right now. I should probably be terrified after seeing how strong she is, but instead I keep thinking about how powerfully she hit the glass. I'm sure she can't have been far from breaking through.
“If it wasn't scary,” Mother says, stepping closer, “then what was it?”
I pause, before looking up at her.
“It was really pretty,” I reply.
She smiles. “The perfect answer. That's my girl. You're just like me.”
Reaching down, she takes my hand in hers.
“Now come along, Sylvia,” she continues. “I've got something else, something very different, to show you in the next room. You've seen the beauty. Now you need to see the rest.”
&nb
sp; Chapter Thirteen
“It's okay to be scared sometimes,” Mother says as she leads me along another corridor, toward a set of plastic curtains that are covering the door ahead, “but not all the time. You have to manage your fear, Sylvia, and use it to your advantage. You have to turn a negative into a positive. Do you understand?”
“I'm tired,” I reply, feeling as if it must be lunchtime already. “Can I take a nap soon?”
“Not yet,” she replies, her voice filled with excitement. “If you thought the mermaid was beautiful, Sylvia, then what you're about to see... I can't even describe it for you. You'll just have to see it with your own two eyes.”
“But -”
“Don't dawdle. Doctor Collier is ready to get started.”
Before I can ask what she means, she parts the curtains and leads me through into a room with white tiles all over the walls. Doctor Collier is washing his hands at a sink, and it takes a moment before I see that there's something under a sheet on a big table in the middle of the room. The smell in here is strange too, slightly fishy and salty, and I can't help feeling nervous as Mother leads me to the side of the table and then stops.
“What is that?” I ask, staring at the sheet that's covering something large.
“Are we ready?” Mother asks, turning to Doctor Collier.
“I still think -”
“Are we ready, Doctor Collier?” she says firmly, clearly wanting him to agree with her.
“I suppose we are,” he replies, stepping around the table and taking hold of the sheet, before pulling it away to reveal a man.
Or at least, half a man.
Gasping I step back as the sheet comes away to reveal another mermaid, except this one has the upper half of a man. He's flat on his back with his eyes wide open, and his whole body is so long that the end of his fishy tail is hanging over the bottom end of the table. The man's chest is big and muscly, but his skin is very pale and I can't help noticing that he doesn't seem to be moving at all. After a moment, filled with a sense of fear, I step back behind Mother for protection.
