Grace followed, desperately trying to keep up. Her own speed might have increased since she saved Alfie, but it was no match for Minerva’s powers of propulsion. When Grace finally caught up with her mother, all she wanted to do was collapse on the nearest kelp bed.
“Do all merpeople swim as fast as you?” Grace panted.
Minerva slowed. “No. Not many. But you might someday, if you keep practicing.”
“Cool. So where are we going, anyway?”
“First stop, the Sally Mae,” Minerva replied. “There’s something there you need to see.” Minerva took off again, fast, but not as fast as before. “Watch your tail, Gracie,” she called over her shoulder. “Fan coral cuts scales like a knife through butter.”
Grace Minnaugh scowled as her mother glided effortlessly in front of her. Their first swim together as mermaids, and already Minerva was being overprotective. “I’m not a total dimwit, Mom,” Grace called ahead, pumping her tail like crazy. “Remember, I’ve been a mermaid for two months already. I know what I’m doing!”
Minerva slowed by a patch of long green seagrass. She grazed her fingers along the grass, then plucked a blade and held it under her nose. “Ah, don’t you just love this stuff?”
Grace pulled her own piece of grass and took a whiff. “I knew I recognized your smelly shampoo!”
Minerva laughed. “Can you imagine how excited I was when I came across organic sea grass products at the La Toya Market? You should try some.”
They swam the rest of the way in silence, which was okay because keeping pace with Minerva required so much effort that Grace could barely think, much less speak.
Minerva finally slowed as they approached the wooden mermaid at the bow of the Sally Mae. “I take it you’ve met Chrystalia?” she said.
Grace looked from her mother to the statue. “She has a name?”
Minerva nodded. “It’s the name I gave her when I was very young, when I first started coming here with my father. ”
“Nereus,” Grace said. “My grandfather.”
“Your grandpapaeria, if you want to say it mer-style.”
“Hey, I just realized the link!”
“What link?” asked Minerva
“When I was little you called me your babaeria.”
Minerva nodded. “That’s what my mother called me. And maybe if you ever have a kid, you’ll call him or her babaeria too.” Minerva ran a hand over Chrystalia’s wooden hair. “She’s looking a bit worse for wear these days, but I guess that’s what happens after more than a hundred years under water.” Minerva seized Grace’s hand. “Come on, we’re going to the other side.” Together, they swam around the hull to the burned side of the Sally Mae.
As they got closer, Grace realized that what she had thought were charcoal blisters from a catastrophic burning were actually a vast collection of blue-black shiny shells attached in thick clumps to the hull of the Sally Mae. “What is this stuff?” Grace asked, wonderingly.
“Mussels,” Minerva replied. “Your ancestors have harvested this mussel patch for almost a century.”
“Mussels? But these don’t look like any kind of mussels I’ve ever seen. They’re bigger, and they’re all lumpy.”
“These are a special kind of mussel, cultivated and refined by merpeople to provide the most nutritional value,” Minerva explained. “Mussels are a crucial food for merchildren especially. Mussel meat is almost as important as mother’s milk for merbabies.”
“The hull of the Sally Mae is covered with mussels. I had no idea!”
Minerva smiled. “Your great-great-grandpapaeria was one of the first to grow mussels deep under water instead of relying upon intertidal zones. After he started the Sally Mae mussel farm, he realized that something in the wood of this old ship makes the perfect harvesting bed. And of course, it is a much safer place to harvest mussels than in shallow waters where we are more likely to encounter humans.”
“Why is it so dangerous for merpeople and humans to meet each other, Mom?” Grace asked.
“The whole human-merperson issue is one big mess, Grace,” said Minerva. “Or one big misunderstanding, really. But we’ll save that talk for later, when we have more time. For now, the important thing is for you to see these mussels.”
“Okay,” Grace said. “I see them, so what?”
“Put two and two together, Grace. If the Sally Mae is discovered, the mussels will be discovered also. There would be scuba-divers and scientists swarming over the shipwreck. Merfarmers wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near the Sally Mae. Without the mussels, merchildren wouldn’t get the nutrients they need. Many would get sick, die even.”
“Oh no. That would suck.”
“Oh yes,” Minerva nodded. “It would take decades to develop another field as fertile as this one. The local merpeople would have to leave their homes and try to seek refuge in other mer-communities.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. If I had known I would never have started Operation Sally Mae.”
“I know, sweetie, I know.” Minerva smoothed Grace’s hair. “That’s why I had to show you. Come on, there’s more.”
Minerva and Grace swam down along the mussel-clad side of the boat. Midway Minerva stopped, running her hand along a section of the boat that was bare of mussels. “That’s strange,” she murmured.
“What’s strange?” asked Grace.
“It isn’t harvesting time, for one; and for another, someone’s been picking immature mussels in a way they shouldn’t. Do you see this large empty patch?”
Grace nodded.
“You should always pick mussels in rows, not patches like this. It damages the long-term viability of the mussel beds. Minerva stared at the bare patch for a moment longer, then shook her head. “Come on, we’re running out of time.”
“Where are we going?” Grace asked.
“You’ll see,” Minerva answered evasively. She fluttered around to the south side of the Sally Mae. “Shortcut, Gracie. Follow me, ” she said as she plunged through a large hole that led to the crew’s quarters.
As they swam through the wrecked and jumbled innards of the ship, another question came to Grace’s mind. “Hey, Mom, do you have any idea where the gold is?”
Minerva stifled a laugh. “Gold? What gold?”
Grace could tell her mother knew something about the treasure that she wasn’t revealing. “Gimme a break,” Grace groaned. “You’re supposed to start answering questions, not avoiding them. If I am not allowed to tell anyone about the Sally Mae, you can at least tell me what happened to the gold,” she called after her mother’s rapidly disappearing silver tail. Grace fluttered madly to catch up.
Minerva paid Grace no mind and led her down into the hold, where the opened chests of gold rested in their helter-skelter, torn-apart jumble. She stopped by the largest and most intact chest of the bunch. Minerva grabbed hold of one side of the chest and pulled, but the chest didn’t budge.
“Give me a hand, Grace,” she commanded. “This thing gets stuck sometimes.”
“Whatever….” Grace had no idea why they needed to shove a useless crate around in the bottom of the ship, but she took hold of the opposite side and pushed. The chest slid aside and revealed an opening in the bottom of the ship which seemed to lead directly to a deep crevasse in the bottom of the ocean floor.
Grace peered down through the murk, where willowy sea plants lined the walls a few feet from the opening. Beyond the seaweed-fringed entrance, all was pitch-black darkness. “Whoa,” Grace exclaimed. “What is this?”
“This is the way to your future, sweetie,” Minerva said. “You’ll have to paddle with your arms here, Gracie. Tail undulations alone won’t do it.” Minerva jackknifed into the cavernous entrance.
“Wait a minute,” Grace cried, but her mother was gone. Grace looked down the tunnel. The water seemed dense, cold, and forbidding. Omino
us. How could Grace’s future possibly be down there? Grace reminded herself of all the challenges she’d met over the past few months, how strongly she could now swim, how comfortable she’d become around the sea creatures she encountered. She’d saved her best friend from drowning and pulled a rowboat all the way back to shore all by herself. Grace peered down the tunnel, nervous—yes, but also quite drawn to it. Don’t be a weenie, she thought. If Mom can do it, so can you.
Suddenly, a huge silver animal shot out of the tunnel, almost knocking Grace senseless. Before Grace could regain her bearings, another swept past her, then another and another.
“Dolphins,” Grace cried. “Finally!”
Four dolphins surrounded, nudging her in the ribs, and playfully taking mouthfuls of her hair. They made no audible sounds but their message was clear as a bell. Don’t worry. Go. You belong down there.
Grace needed no further encouragement. She paddled as her mother had instructed. She made her way down the narrow tunnel, her tail and skin brushing the smooth grassy sides, still unable to see much of what lay ahead. Luckily the tunnel soon gave way to a large central cavern. Finally Grace could see everything through an eerie greenish glow. The walls and ceiling pulsed with phosphorescence as tiny brilliant organisms crawled over craggy stalactites and stalagmites. Minerva waited by the opening of another tunnel on the opposite side of the cavern.
“This way, Gracie,” Minerva called. “Can’t have you ending up in the Arctic Ocean on your first trip through the caves.” It was then that Grace noticed there were at least five other tunnels leading from the cavern. She had a sudden urge to explore each and every one. Maybe someday she would, but for now, she swam up to her mother’s side.
“Here, grab one of these.” Minerva handed Grace a glowing tube.
“Cool! Underwater flashlights!” Grace took hold of the tube, which was soft and squished in her hand. “Eeew!” she cried as she let go of the thing and it floated toward the ground.
“Oh really, Gracie,” Minerva sighed. “If you’re going to be a fully functional mermaid, you’ve got to get used to touching a bit of slime.” Minerva crouched and picked up the tube. “Take hold again. And don’t squeeze too hard or you’ll kill this kind little sea slug. And believe me, you want its help to light your way.”
Grace took the slug and held it gingerly in her right hand. “Hey, pal,” she said. “Sorry.”
Together with their illuminating slugs, mermother and merdaughter made their way down another dark but much wider tunnel. Every now and then a brilliantly illuminated fish or school of fish shot past them, or an outcropping of fantastical coral or a prickly plant jutted into the center of their path, requiring a cautious detour. After a ten-minute swim, the tunnel opened and suddenly everything changed, as if a storm had ended and the sun had burst through the clouds. Grace and Minerva floated above a steep hill and looked downward. Grace felt as if she were a bird flying high above a sea forest. She saw sandy paths weaving their way through dense leaves and branches, and cave openings dotting boulders like holes in Swiss cheese. The current changed and the towering sea trees shifted. Grace saw dense schools of multicolored fish streaming chaotically along the paths.
That’s weird, she thought. Most schools of fish Grace had seen swam in determined patterns, but these fish seemed to take entirely random routes this way and that.
Grace dove down for a closer look, and gasped when she realized that these weren’t fish at all—they were merpeople and dolphins together, scurrying along like harried pedestrians on crowded sidewalks.
“Whoa!” Grace cried. “Merpeople and dolphins all over the place!”
Minerva settled next to her. “What were you expecting?” she asked. “Some quaint little village? Osariana is a booming metropolis. Come on, Gracie. You’re gonna love it.” Minerva squeezed Grace’s hand, and together they plummeted downward like fallen angels, landing smack dab in the thick of the crowd.
A swirling rainbow of merpeople swished around Grace, as diverse as any crowd on land. Tall, short, fat, skinny, old, and young. Brown skin, white skin, tan skin, and black skin. Blue tails, green tails, purple tails, and silver tails. Dolphins weaved in and out of the crowds of merpeople. A playful young one nudged Grace in the ribs as she floated, amazed at all she saw. The young dolphin “spoke” to her saying: Come on, come on. What are you waiting for?
But Grace was too flabbergasted and fascinated to move. Every one of the merpeople had luscious hair, billowing from their scalps like silken sheets. Mermaids had tresses longer than their tails. Even the oldest mermen had gray manes trailing behind them. And then there were the clothes, or lack thereof. The mermen were all brazenly bare-chested; the mermaids wore scanty strips of seaweed across their chests or bits of torn sailcloth tied around their torsos like halter-tops. It was nearly impossible for Grace to tell mergirls from merboys because all those younger than Grace were topless. If not for a decorative braid here, or a clamshell hair ornament there Grace would have been completely clueless as to which was which. Luckily, the mergirls her age and older were covered up like their elders. Grace would rather be caught dead than topless, even if it was the going trend.
Massive rock formations rose in clusters from the ocean floor. Grace could see that they had been hollowed out to form buildings with doorways edged in shimmering stones and yellow bricks. The gleaming yellow rock lined sea-grass pathways and hung in glimmering threaded beads in cave windows.
“Aha!” Grace cried. “Gold! Very funny, Mom, pretending you didn’t know anything about where the Sally Mae treasure was.” Turning around, Grace realized her mother had gone, but being so distracted by the bustle around her, she was not concerned. Merpeople swam past, carrying net satchels filled with plants, clams, oysters, and tiny crabs. Despite the crowded pathways, there was no pushing or shoving, no exasperated sighs, no pressured scowls. Air bubbles sprayed from gills and mouths as merpeople stopped to chat. A merman holding branches of coral in his arms called out to those swimming by to inspect his stash. One mermaid carried a plump merbaby in a backpack made from woven seaweed and another mermaid pulled a sleeping toddler backward by the tail. Two merteens swatted an empty, spineless sea urchin shell back and forth with their fins. An elderly mermaid used two stingrays for support under each hand as she navigated through the busy streets. A merman floating close to Grace began laughing, and the bubbles he made tickled the back of Grace’s neck like a high-powered Jacuzzi.
Suddenly Grace felt a tap-tap-tap on her shoulder, electrifying her entire body. “Hey, sister,” someone said. “Nice to see you in this neck of the sea.”
Grace turned. Floating before her was none other than Ms. Amelia Karp in full-blown mermaid glory. Underwater, Ms. Karp’s blonde hair was a neon yellow sizzle, radiating like sunbeams from her head. Her skin was the color of dark red clay, and her eyeglass-less eyes were a brilliant shocking blue. She wore a shredded American flag halter top, and rope bangles lined her muscular arms. Leave it to Ms. Karp to have the most flamboyant fish tail Grace had yet to behold—in a brilliant chartreuse, speckled with bright freckles of orange and turquoise, it was almost eight feet long.
“Close that mouth of yours, Grace Minnaugh,” Ms. Karp giggled. “Or you might accidentally swallow someone’s guppy!”
A whole bunch of things suddenly made perfect sense—Ms. Karp’s wild Dolphin Intervention Program attire; her winks and hints; her warning to Grace after the swimming pool mishap. What had Ms. Karp said? Discretion is key. Strut, or rather, swim your stuff, honey. But make sure you’re doing it in the right place at the right time.
“So I guess this is the right place and the right time?” Grace asked.
“You bet your sweet seaweed it is, sister. No place like Osariana for some swim-strutting!” And with that, Ms. Karp fluttered away, swallowed up by the teeming, brilliant crowd.
“Grace, there you are!” Minerva called as she sculled to Grace�
��s side. “I thought you were following me. Stay close, please. Can’t have you getting lost on your first trip to Osariana.”
“Mom,” Grace exclaimed, “I just saw my science teacher!”
Minerva nodded. “Amelia Karp. She’s an old buddy of mine.”
“But you never told…This is…is…is—”
“Okay, silly mergirl. Get your jaw off the ocean floor. There are boatloads of stories to be told, but for now, it’s time to meet the merfamily.” Minerva grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her onward. Grace willingly followed, supercharged to move forward, toward her salty, seaworthy future.
The End,
Or…
The Mer-beginning
The Tantalizing Tale of Grace Minnaugh Page 17
