So not happening.
As we make our way to the shore, I see that half the palace is already out on the water. Including the prince, king, and queen. All three of them are windsurfing.
“Let’s take Windsurfers out instead,” Jonah begs, his eyes following them with longing. “It looks fun!”
The three royals are being pulled by the wind in all directions. Suddenly, the king flies headfirst into the ocean.
It does not look like fun. It looks terrifying.
“Not a chance,” I snap.
“Enjoy,” the boatman says as we step into the rowboat and sit side by side. He pushes us out into the water, and off we go.
Five minutes later, sweat is dripping down the sides of my face.
The sun is beating on our heads.
“Push! Pull! Push! Pull!” I order.
It turns out that oars are really heavy. Who knew?
The massive yellow life jackets we’re both wearing over our bathing suits do not help the heat. Between the next push and pull, I catch Jonah trying to take his life jacket off.
“Don’t you dare!” I warn.
“But I know how to swim.”
“I don’t care. You’re my baby brother, and it’s my job to make sure you don’t drown.”
We push-pull for another ten minutes before I call out, “Enough.” The water is somewhat calm and we’re away from the other boats. Might as well stop here. Also, I’m too tired to go on. My arms feel like rubber. I guzzle water from my canteen and motion for Jonah to do the same. I made sure we both filled up before we left. No getting dehydrated on my watch. Still, I feel like there’s something I forgot. But what?
Anyway, it’s time to find the Little Mermaid. “Oh, Little Mermaid!” I call. “Are you there, Little Mermaid?”
I do not see the Little Mermaid. I just see a lot of blue water.
“We’re not going to see her from up here,” Jonah says, putting on one of the pairs of goggles. “Let’s jump in.”
My heart races. “No, Jonah, that is not the plan.”
“That’s my plan,” he says.
“But … but … but…. the water has sharks!”
He stands up and looks like he’s ready to cannonball in. “It also has mermaids. And it’s not like I’m going to drown. I’m wearing a life jacket.”
He swings his arms back and forth.
“Jonah, you’re going to flip the boat!”
“I won’t,” he says. And then he hollers, “Geronimo!” and launches himself over the edge.
Water splashes into my face. “You’re so annoying!” I yell.
He ignores me and waves. “Come on in! It’s so warm!”
What choice do I have now? I can’t let him be in the water by himself. What if he needs me? I hug my life jacket to my chest. At least I can’t drown with this on.
I can’t, right?
Okay. I can do this. My legs shake as I adjust the goggles on my nose. I carefully — very carefully — dip my big toe in. Anything could be hiding underwater. Not just mermaids. But sharks and stingrays and jelly fish and barracudas and crocodiles, and did I mention sharks?
“Just jump!” Jonah yells. “Don’t be such a scaredy-cat!”
My face burns. “I am not a scaredy-cat!”
“You are, too,” he says. “You’re scared of everything. Sharks. Jumping in the water. Flying by yourself.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not afraid of flying by myself.”
“So why don’t you go see Nana on your own this weekend?”
Is he crazy? “I can’t go by myself!”
“Yes you can! My friend Isaac flies by himself once a month. His dad lives in Miami.”
I pause. “They let a seven-year-old fly by himself?”
“Yup. He’s a UM. Unaccompanied Minor. If he can do it, you can do it.”
Flying by myself does sound a little scary. What if I got lost at the airport? What if there was turbulence on the plane? “Mom would never let me,” I say, my heart hammering.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” he says. “Scaredy-cat.”
“I’m not a scaredy-cat!” I snap. And then, before I can change my mind, I jump into the ocean.
I did it! I jumped in! Hurray! Who’s a scaredy-cat now, huh? The water is cold. But considering how hot it is outside, it feels good. Really good.
I scream. Something swam by my leg. I take a deep breath. Just a minnow.
I make sure my goggles are on tight, take a deep breath, and peer into the murkiness.
A school of shiny red fish swims by us at top speed. They are very pretty. They are not mermaids.
“Oh, Little Mermaid!” Jonah calls. “Where are you?”
She does not answer.
We watch as all kinds of fish swim by us. Neon-orange ones. Bright-blue ones. A pink one that looks like a balloon with porcupine needles. Lots of fish, but no mermaids.
“We should head back,” I say eventually. “This isn’t working. We’ll have to think of another way.” I help Jonah climb into the boat and then heave myself up behind him.
We both drip water everywhere.
“Where are the towels?” Jonah asks, rubbing his wet arms.
Crumbs. I knew I forgot something.
Dejected, we row our way back to the palace.
“I’m hungry,” Jonah whines.
“We’re almost there,” I say. “You can ask Carolyn to make you a grilled cheese.”
“I’m not having a grilled cheese without ketchup. That’s just sad.”
That morning Carolyn made us delicious omelets. And served them with a side of mustard. Jonah had almost started to cry.
“You’re crazy,” I say.
“Crazy about ketchup,” Jonah says.
“Can we focus on rowing, please?” I ask. “The shore is right there! Then I have to figure out a Plan B.”
“Maybe she’ll come to us,” Jonah says.
“Push, Jonah, push! Why would she do that?”
“She loves the prince, right? She probably wants to see him.”
“You know,” I say, “I think you’re right. I remember something in the story about her swimming by the shore and trying to get a glimpse of him. Pull, Jonah, pull!”
“I’m pulling,” he snaps. “More than you’re pulling.”
“I guess we’ll have to watch the water as much as we can,” I add as the bottom of our boat smashes into the sand.
As we’re towing the boat to shore, the queen waves us over to join her for lunch.
“We should change first,” I say.
“Don’t be silly,” she says.
So we join the king, queen, and prince at the oval table outside for lunch. There’s a yellow silk tablecloth, and the dishes and silverware are all made of gold. I put my yellow silk napkin on my lap like you’re supposed to. I elbow Jonah to do the same.
It seems silly to be so formal when we’re all in our bathing suits, but whatever. The king and prince aren’t even wearing shirts — they’re just in bright-yellow trunks. The queen’s swimsuit is pale yellow with a little skirt.
Carolyn serves bowls of squash soup, followed by lemon chicken and yellow rice.
“How was rowboating?” the prince asks while chewing a mouthful of rice. For a prince, he doesn’t have the best manners. I’d mention it, but you know. He’s a prince. He could probably have me beheaded.
“Hard,” I admit. “We were looking for the Little Mermaid, but we didn’t find her.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” they all laugh. “A mermaid! You two are so funny!”
Sigh.
Carolyn gives me a knowing look as she serves me a bowl of banana sorbet.
After lunch, Jonah and I head to our balconies to try to catch a glimpse of the Little Mermaid from there.
Jonah starts to fidget.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“We don’t both have to sit here, do we?”
“Why, do you have other plans?”
He smiles
sheepishly. “I was going to play with Russell. Wanna come?”
“I have to look for the Little Mermaid!”
“Oh,” he says. “Okay.”
“If you really want to go, you can,” I say, but I don’t really expect him to leave me alone.
Jonah jumps up. “Great! I’ll see you later!”
I can’t help but feel annoyed. He still thinks this is a vacation! We have work to do.
As I stare at the ocean, I wonder if I’m wasting my time. The water is so busy with all the boats and swimmers. We know the Little Mermaid doesn’t want to be seen — so then why would she swim close to the surface during the day? She probably does it at night.
I get to my feet. Maybe instead of watching the water, I should spend the day searching the palace grounds for portals to get back home. Make that: Jonah and I should spend the day searching the palace grounds.
I find my brother playing Ping-Pong with Russell outside. “Jonah, I need your help. We have to find the portal home.” I whisper the last part so Russell doesn’t hear. I don’t know anything about the kid — I’m not going to trust him with our situation yet.
“Let me just finish this game.” Jonah leans over the table and tries to return a shot.
“Jonah! Now!”
“Okay, okay,” he grumbles. “Sorry, Russell. Wanna come help us knock on all the furniture to find our way home?”
I purse my lips. I guess we’re not keeping our situation a secret.
Russell wrinkles his nose. “Not really. My mom doesn’t like when I touch the furniture.”
I lead Jonah back inside.
“How great is it that Russell gets to live in the palace?” he asks. “Imagine getting to be here every day.”
“Don’t get too comfy,” I say. “We need to go home eventually. And remember: The portal can be anything. Any object.”
We step into the main hallway and Jonah looks around. “So it could be a — door?” he asks.
I nod. “Or a mirror. Or a fireplace. Or a table. How are we supposed to know?”
Jonah motions to all the frames on the wall. “Maybe it’s a painting.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Let’s try knocking on them to see if any of them make any sounds or start spinning. But don’t let them take you yet, ’kay? Stand back.”
I start with the full-body portrait of Prince Mortimer. He’s wearing his crown and a yellow wet suit. It’s really lifelike. His eyes seem to follow me around the room. I knock on the painting three times. It’s creepy, but I don’t think it’s enchanted.
It takes about an hour, but we knock on at least a hundred portraits and paintings.
“Guess it’s not the paintings,” I say.
“Are we done?” Jonah asks eagerly. “Can I go windsurfing?”
“No, Jonah! We have to check the doors and mirrors.”
We hurry around the palace knocking on all of them. We are almost done when —
“Come in!” Vivian yells when we knock on one of the spare bedroom doors.
Oops. “Hi,” I say. Inside, I head to the mirror over the dresser and knock three times.
“What in the world are you doing?” Vivian asks, putting down her duster.
I give a small smile. “Um, knocking? See, the way we got here was through a mirror, so a mirror might be our portal home.”
“Well, stop it!” she barks. “You’re making the frames uneven. Go play outside!”
“I agree,” says Jonah.
“Sorry, Vivian,” I say. I pull Jonah back downstairs. We’re never going to be able to knock on every object in the house. The palace has a lot of stuff. And Vivian is going to kill us.
“What we need,” Jonah says, sitting down on a marble step, “is a fairy.”
“This story doesn’t have a fairy!” I cry. “The only magical person in this story is the sea witch, and we can’t go see her since she lives underwater. And I don’t happen to have any mermaid spit on me.”
“We should try a bat signal.”
“Huh?”
“You know how in Batman they put up a signal in the sky when they need Batman? That’s what we need. A bat signal. But in our case, a mermaid signal.”
I’m confused. “For the sea witch?”
“No, for the Little Mermaid. Something to get her to come faster.”
“But what would draw the Little Mermaid to us?”
“There’s only one thing,” Jonah says.
We look at each other and both say it: “Prince Mortimer.”
We try to convince Prince Mortimer to hang out on the beach that night, but he says he’s too tired from his day of windsurfing. So we use the next best thing we can find.
Prince Mortimer’s wet-suit portrait.
We wait until the middle of the night.
Then we sneak downstairs and very, very, very carefully lift Prince Mortimer’s portrait up and off the wall.
“Careful!” I whisper as it leans toward Jonah and almost turns my brother into a pancake.
It’s a good thing Vivian lives in the basement with Carolyn and the other staff, or she would definitely hear us right now.
“Got it?” I ask. “Lift on three and then we’ll carry it out. One! Two! Three!”
We lift. But it’s so heavy that we end up dragging it across the foyer and out the back terrace to the sand, as close to the water as we can get.
“Do you really think this is going to work?” Jonah asks when we’re finally outside.
“Hopefully the Little Mermaid will see this and want to swim right up to it,” I say. “She is madly in love with him.”
“Unless she hates him now that the story’s already different,” he says.
“Then all of our problems would be solved,” I say. “But I doubt it.”
“I just hope she can see it,” Jonah says. “I could figure out how to build a fire.”
I snort. “You could not.”
“I could so,” he huffs. “You just need the sun and a piece of glass. How hard could it be?”
“Hard, considering it’s the middle of the night.”
“Oh, right.”
Luckily it’s a full moon, so we don’t need to rely on my brother’s nonexistent fire-starting skills. Everything on the beach is lit up. Including the portrait. Including the water lapping at the base of the portrait. Wetting the paint.
“Quick! Jonah! The prince is losing his feet!”
We hurry to move the portrait back a few feet. I doubt we’d be the royal family’s welcome guests if we ruined one of their prized paintings.
“So, what now?” Jonah asks.
“We wait. She’ll see the portrait and swim up to us and we’ll talk to her. I’ll sit behind the painting and hold it up while you keep watch.”
At least an hour passes. Jonah’s eyes are drooping.
Another hour.
Jonah’s eyes are closed.
“Jonah, wake up!” I yell. “I can’t do both jobs at once!”
“Not sleeping!” he announces, and opens his eyes wide.
“Let’s switch,” I say. “That way you can pretend not to sleep while you balance the portrait, and I’ll look for her.”
We switch. Jonah dozes. I scoop sand from one hand to the other, keeping watch.
When I feel my own eyes start to droop, I decide it’s time to call it quits. This is getting us nowhere. I’ll give it ten more minutes, and then we’re going to —
Splash.
Did I just hear that? Or is it my imagination? I spring to my feet and run closer to the shore.
I see her! I see her! Long green-and-orange tail. Really gorgeous blond hair. It goes down to her waist and is almost the color of butter.
She’s treading water by a rock, gazing at the wet-suit portrait of Prince Mortimer.
I want to yell, “Hello!” but I’m afraid of startling her and sending her back under the water. She’s not too far out — maybe twenty feet. The water is calm.
If only I could swim out twenty feet. I
f only I had on a life jacket.
Maybe I can swim out a little. Not too deep. Just to where I can still stand.
Luckily I’m wearing my bathing suit under my sundress. I slip off the dress and wade into the water. Slowly. Carefully. Without making a sound. Without making a splash. Wow, the water is cold at night. I wish I had a wet suit.
I almost reach her when the water hits my waist. That’s as far as I’m going to go.
“Abby?” Jonah’s voice echoes along the beach. “Where are you?”
Uh-oh.
Jonah stands up on the shore, still holding the painting. “Abby!” he yells, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Where did you go?”
I want to yell, “SHHHH,” but I don’t want to scare the Little Mermaid.
“Abby! Abby!”
The Little Mermaid sinks her shoulders and tail under the surface.
“Wait!” I cry. “Little Mermaid! Please don’t go! We want to help you!”
She disappears under the water.
I lunge toward her. “No! Don’t go! We know you love the prince! That’s why we brought his painting! To get your attention!” Suddenly my feet no longer touch the ground. Oh, no.
“Abby!” Jonah hollers. “I see her! She’s in the water.”
“No kidding, Jonah! Can you lend me a hand here, please?”
“You’re the girl from the other day, right?” a voice asks timidly. The Little Mermaid! She’s talking to me!
“I am,” I say, frantically doggy-paddling to stay afloat. “Don’t be afraid. We want to help you.”
Her face peeks out from behind the rock. “Is that your brother?”
“He definitely is,” I say, finally finding the sand with my tiptoes. “You only have sisters, right?”
She nods.
“Lucky.” I laugh. “And you’re the youngest, huh?”
She nods again and runs her fingers through her wet hair. “How did you know that?” she asks. “Humans never know anything about me.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve read your story. That’s what I want to talk to you about. I know that you’re a mermaid and that you love the prince and that you want to trade your tail for two legs.”
She gasps. “I haven’t told anyone that.”
“I read it. In a book.”
“You know how to read?”
My eyes widen. “You don’t?”
Splash. I turn to see Jonah swimming toward us.
Sink or Swim Page 4
