Real Mermaids Don't Wear Toe Rings

by Helene Boudreau

  • Our salty tears and sweat probably meant we had been ocean-dwellers at one time, just like Mom had said.

  • Human sweat may act as a waterproofing system.

  • And some other stuff about hooded noses and vernix caseosas that I had no clue about.

  3. And the Webbed One stuff was definitely true, since Mom was the one who’d mentioned it in the first place. Some stuff I wasn’t so sure of:

  4. I hadn’t decided if that Schroemenger guy was a kook or not, but maybe Dad’s trip would uncover the truth.

  5. Did any of this matter if we never found Mom again?

  I shut the book and looked out over the water. Dundee may have only been five miles north of Port Toulouse but Talisman Lake looked totally different here. Instead of the narrow bay by the boat lock, the water was about two miles across in this area. Cottages dotted the shorelines of several islands a short boat ride away. Others poked out along the lakeside amid the crooked pines and granite landscape.

  For an evening in late June, the lake was unbelievably quiet. But that would soon change since the only thing standing in the way of summer was the next day’s school-end reports. I considered skipping the whole thing and calling the school secretary to fake a deadly wood tick bite or porcupine attack, but I’d chickened out.

  Thankfully, it was a morning dismissal since it was the last day, plus, faking a deadly wood tick bite might raise suspicion.

  I could make out the whirr of a Jet Ski farther down the lake. Sounded like someone was getting a jump on summer after all.

  Lucky them.

  I scraped the last bit of cake from the bottom of the mug with my spoon, contemplating what the summer had in store for me. But a whole summer without Mom or my best friend bordered on unbearable.

  I hated to admit it but maybe Dad was right. Maybe it was time to take the pause button off life and start making plans. No amount of obsessing would bring Mom back, but I could do something about the Cori situation. Yes, the conversation in the cafeteria hadn’t gone so well, but I should at least give it one last shot.

  I set my mug down and fished my new cell phone from the pocket of my hoodie, then dialed Cori’s number before I could change my mind.

  “Cori?”

  “Jade.”

  Was it too late to apologize?

  “Um, we didn’t really get a chance to finish talking the other day. I was wondering if we could meet at Mug Glug’s after school tomorrow. I’d really like to see you.” I’d keep the apologies for when I could do it properly, face to face.

  “Yeah, sure. I think I could swing that.”

  Easy as that.

  “Okay, see you tomorrow.” We said our good-byes and I clicked the phone closed.

  Huh. That wasn’t as bad as I’d built it up to be in my imaginary obsessive world. I’d just apologize and offer to pay for the dry cleaning. Anything to make up for my super loser Gatorade maneuver.

  Did it make me a bad person if I hoped Lainey didn’t show up? Either way, I wasn’t going to let Lainey Chamberlain get in the way of apologizing to Cori this time.

  I leaned forward in my chair and gazed down the lake past the islands to see if I could spot the Jet Ski coming around the bend. Maybe it was the Hendersons from the next cove. Or maybe the Beckers were already at their island cottage. Dr. Becker’s daughter, Chelse, went to private school and usually got out a week early.

  Yep. The Beckers were here. A plume of smoke curled up from their chimney and I could see their canoe tied up at their access dock next to Gran’s property.

  Oh! Maybe Chelse would teach me how to use their Jet Ski this year.

  The excitement about learning to Jet Ski caught me off guard, but between that and meeting Cori to look forward to, I was already feeling more hopeful than I had been for the last few weeks combined.

  Whoever was on the Jet Ski didn’t seem to be getting any closer though. In fact, its engine just whirred steadily, without the usual revving sounds Jet Skis made when they sped up and slowed down.

  Although…was that a whirr or a ring?

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE MUG AND SPOON clattered onto the deck as I sprung from the deck chair and raced to find the boat shed’s key under the rubber mat by the door.

  I jammed the key into the lock as my thoughts raced with memories of doing the same thing with Mom every summer when we’d go for our middle-of-the-lake rides in the rowboat. But this wasn’t one of those lazy July afternoons with nothing to worry about but reapplying sun block and wondering what Dad was burning on the barbecue.

  If that sound was what I thought it was though, maybe we’d see those days again.

  I ran inside and pressed the buttons for the boat lift and the overhead door. Pinkish-orange light from the setting sun flooded through the boathouse as the garage door opened. The rowboat traveled down from the rafters along rattling chains and settled into the water. I scrambled in, unhooked the pulleys to release it from the lift and grabbed the oars.

  The boat shot out of the shed with three massive strokes of the oars. I felt like some superhuman she-force, driven by the massive dose of adrenaline gushing through my veins. In that moment, I was sure I could lift a car off a family of four or save a kitten from a burning building. And if Mom was out there, I would find her, rescue her from those scary mer-dudes and bring her home.

  Once the boat neared the first group of islands, I let it drift. Water dripped from the oars in plinking drops, so I pulled them inside to listen.

  Yes. The ringing. It was still there. It was louder.

  “Row, row, row your boat…” I sang as loud as I dared, hoping Mom would hear. I couldn’t very well shout out her name.

  A screen door slammed shut from the direction of the Beckers’ island cottage. The squeak of a pulley carried across the water. Someone must have been hanging laundry on the clothesline.

  “Gently down the stream…” Dr. Becker would book me for a whole new round of head shrinking if she figured out what I was trying to do. I really didn’t want to spend another four months “getting in touch with my grieving” and “verbalizing my pain.”

  “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…” I drew the rowboat near the Becker’s island, following the ringing sound. I dipped the oars into the water just enough to hug the island’s shore. Thankfully, the crooked pines bowed over the water, keeping me well hidden from the cottage at the top of the steep hill. The ringing grew as I approached the dock.

  “Mom?” I whispered.

  A wave emerged from within the dock’s crib. Was that just the current from the rowboat reflecting back toward me? “Mom?” I tried again.

  I glanced up to the cottage. The screen door slammed again. Hopefully, whoever was hanging laundry had gone inside.

  Waves continued to fan out from within the dock. Was Mom under there? I pulled the oars in and caught the side of the dock with my hand. The ringing in my ears was deafening. I tried to channel the noise into a word, like we’d done a couple of weeks before.

  Mom, if you can hear me, tell me where you are.

  I waited. I thought I heard something, then the word was gone. Was it really a word or was I just willing it to happen? Then, finally, I heard it again.

  Here…

  Mom! I ducked my head and peeked under the dock. The sun caught the green glint of the scales on her tail. It was Mom! Really Mom! My whole body sighed in relief. But there was another feeling too. One that surprised me.

  I went back to the creek with Dad and you were gone! The words came out harsher than I intended.

  It reminded me of the time Mom lost me at the mall. She’d yelled at me to never leave her side again before suffocating me with hugs and kisses.

  Exactly like that.

  Only this wasn’t the mall with a kind security guard feeding me lollipops. And just like Mom had done at the mall after chewing me out, I broke down, crying with relief.

  Mom lifted her hand through the water. No…so… sorry…But her arm slac
kened at her side before she could finish her sentence. Was she hurt?

  I jumped from the boat to get closer and shivered as the water met my chest. Then I saw Mom through the water. All of her.

  Her body lay like a wet towel on the rocks, lining the bottom of the dock. Her eyes were dark pits against her almost transparent complexion. Blue veins ran in random cords along her arms.

  Ohmigod! Are you okay? My anger turned upside down. What did they do to you?

  Mom didn’t answer. Then I remembered. The water. I licked a wet finger. It was completely fresh. How long had she been stuck here, without salt?

  I grasped the rowboat before it began to drift away.

  Wait here. I tied the boat’s bowline to one of the crooked pines close to shore and stole a glance at the cottage. Who was up there? They probably couldn’t hear us since we were speaking in rings, but if anyone caught me, what would I say?

  What would Dad say? Oh, crap. My cell phone. I pulled it out from the pocket of my hoodie and flipped it open. Damp, but still functional.

  Ja…

  I tossed the phone on the boat’s seat and rushed back to the dock. I’d call Dad as soon as Mom was safe.

  I’m coming! I rang.

  But I couldn’t get to her. Logs spanned across the dock’s wooden supports. Well, not exactly logs, but fallen trees with snapped off branches.

  Trapped. Mom managed to say.

  They’d locked her in.

  How long have you been in here?

  She lifted her hand and held up three fingers. It was obvious from the look on her face and the slowness of her movements; it hadn’t been three hours or three days.

  Ever since the day in the creek?

  She nodded.

  That upside-down anger for the Freshies turned to full-on spitting nails with a side order of lethal poison darts. How could they do this to her?

  Where are those idiots? I rang out the words and clawed at the logs. I swear: if I ever get my hands on them, I’ll rip their hairy arms off!

  I pulled with all my strength, but the logs didn’t budge. I waded around the dock and tried from the other side but Mom’s dock prison was rock solid.

  Hunting…back soon…Mom tried to lift her head to warn me.

  Don’t worry. I splashed back to the rowboat and grabbed an oar. A door creaked from the direction of the cottage and slammed shut. Was someone coming? I pushed the boat under the cover of the pines and ducked under the dock with the oar. I had to move fast.

  No…Jade…Mom shook her head.

  I’m not leaving you again!

  Mom’s eyelids fluttered as she struggled to stay conscious. Jade…the Freshies…not long…The ring of her voice disappeared along the current of the water.

  This isn’t going to take long.

  I plunged the oar underwater to wedge it between the logs and forced it down. The log budged an inch, then shifted back into place.

  I’m getting you out of here.

  Grunt.

  Then I’m taking you to the ocean.

  Urgh.

  The oar flexed under my weight. Thanks to my love of waffle fries, Wigwags, and Chocolate Mug Cake, the log shifted.

  Then you’re going to become human again and come home.

  The log pulled free and tumbled to the bottom of the lake, barely missing my foot. I reached in and grabbed Mom to yank her out into the open lake.

  And if those hairy-armed mer-morons have anything to say about it, they’ll have to go through me!

  Mom managed a feeble smile and let herself be carried along, too weak from her weeks in fresh water to resist even if she wanted to. Was I too late? Could she even make the trip to the ocean?

  Step one. I’d get her to the boathouse.

  Can you swim to Gran’s? But I already knew the answer.

  Mom shook her head from underneath the water.

  I couldn’t pull her into the boat. She was barely conscious already; there was no way she’d survive outside of the water. Maybe I could tow her to the boathouse with the bowline. If I rowed backward, it might work!

  Here, so you don’t get chafed. I pulled off my hoodie and reached underwater to get Mom’s arms through the sleeves. Once the rope was around her chest I splashed back to the dock to get the oar.

  Oh! And call Dad. I needed to call Dad.

  A twig cracked.

  “Jade! I thought that was you.”

  “Dr. Becker!” My head shot up. I whacked it against the dock.

  “Oh, are you okay?” Her hand flew up to her head. She winced. Probably some kind of head-shrinking, mirroring technique.

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my head and crawled out from under the dock. “Totally fine.” But inside, I was panicking, big time. How long had Dr. Becker been standing there? Did she know something was up? Could she see the outline of Mom’s mermaid body under the water?

  I held up the oar. “I, er, just lost this overboard and it drifted over here. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, in fact, I’m happy you’re here. How have you been?”

  I waded back to the rowboat, avoiding her gaze.

  “Oh, just hunky dory! Peachy keen, that’s me.”

  Dr. Becker laughed and walked the last few steps to the shore. I straightened the boat to hide Mom as she floated underwater on the other side.

  “Well, it’s lovely to see you.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice to see you too.” I pasted a smile on my face and waded to the middle of the boat to climb in. Hopefully Mom was okay and the rope would hold while I towed her to the mainland. “I’ll just head on back to Gran’s now!”

  “Jade, wait!” Dr. Becker called after me.

  I froze. Did she know what was going on?

  I turned slowly. “Yes?”

  “I was just wondering…”

  Wondering what? If I was trying to hide the existence of my mermaid mother from a clinical psychologist? Surely, that had to qualify me for one of the more serious mood disorders.

  “…if you could you give me a lift to my car on the mainland.”

  Phew.

  “Sure!”

  Gah! Why had I just agreed to that?

  Dr. Becker smiled and started for the seat in the stern. I was so preoccupied with the thought of hiding my cargo that I shoved the boat into the water and started rowing before she even had a chance to sit down.

  “Whoa!” Dr. Becker caught herself against the side of the rowboat and settled into her seat.

  “Hang on, it’s gonna be a rough ride!” I joked as I rowed toward the Beckers’ access dock next to Gran’s cottage, towing Mom from the bowline.

  “Why are you rowing backward?” Dr. Becker asked, in her probing, therapist, “let’s explore this behavior” kind of way.

  “Oh, I just like to mix things up a little. Forward, backward…I’d row sideways if I could.” Rambling. A sure sign of mental instability.

  She craned her neck to look over my shoulder. “Your bowline is dragging.”

  Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

  I needed to turn this conversation around.

  “You’re a bit of a rule follower aren’t you, Dr. Becker?” I narrowed my eyes as I continued rowing. “Is that a behavior you’d care to explore?”

  Dr. Becker laughed. “I guess you got me on that one. Here you are, doing me a favor, and all I can do is badger you.” She chatted about how Chelse brought her boyfriend up for a visit and how they’d taken the canoe, leaving her stranded, and how Mr. Becker wasn’t back from the marina with the speedboat yet. “So, thanks for the lift,” she continued.

  I turned to check the bowline and noticed a flicker of splashes near the dock we’d just left behind. Were the Freshies back? I rowed faster, putting my back into it. Maybe it was the crazed, furtive glances I was stealing from the dock to the bowline to Gran’s boathouse, but all of a sudden, Dr. Becker stopped talking and stared at me.

  “Are you sure everything is okay?” she asked. “You seem distracted.�
��

  “Me? No…” The rowboat approached the mainland shore. “…watch yourself, coming in for a landing!”

  Dr. Becker’s head snapped back as the boat ran aground, stern first, near their dock. Her hands flew to the sides of the boat to brace herself. “Oh! That was quite a boat ride.”

  If those were the Freshies back at the Beckers’ dock, I needed to hurry and ditch the shrink to get Mom to the boat shed safely. Especially since the sun was starting to disappear behind the trees.

  Dr. Becker stepped out of the boat and straightened. “Ah yes, there’s the canoe. And just great, now the car’s gone.”

  While Dr. Becker grumbled something about having to walk to the marina to catch up with her husband before it got too dark, I imagined Mom drifting below the water, and the Freshies poking around the island looking for her. This was not good.

  “Well, have a great evening!” I called out, maybe a bit too eagerly.

  Dr. Becker turned and studied me for a moment before speaking. “Before I go, is there something you’d like to share? You just seem a bit…well, scattered today.”

  Scattered? Um, yeah. But despite the fact that Mom looked very weak and that the Freshies were probably on the hunt already, I couldn’t stop the warm, hopeful feeling growing in my chest.

  “I’m totally fine!” I made no effort to hide the crazed smile plastered across my face.

  “Because, if you’re feeling out of sorts, we could always resume our sessions.”

  No amount of therapy could undo the fact that I believed I was towing my undead mermaid mother on the bowline to keep her safe from rogue mer-criminals. But, as far as I was concerned, Mom was finally on her way home. If that made me crazy, I was probably beyond help.

  “Don’t worry about me, doc. I’ve never felt better.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  CAN YOU HEAR ME if I talk normally like this?” I untied the rope from Mom’s chest and climbed up onto the boat shed’s dock to shut the overhead door and turn on the light.

  Mom nodded. Her eyes drooped with exhaustion.