Emily Windsnap and the Tides of Time

by Liz Kessler

  Or was it just a coincidence?

  The thoughts whizzed around and around as I walked. I wasn’t even concentrating on where I was going.

  Till I realized I wasn’t walking toward our jetty. My brain was telling me to go home, but my feet were doing something different.

  My feet were walking in the opposite direction, toward the end of the pier. All that weird stuff with Mandy had made me want to go see Shona. I needed some normal hanging-out-with-a-best-friend time.

  I checked my watch. I’d only been gone for twenty minutes. Mom was probably still at the store. And then she’d be so busy running around getting ready for book group she probably wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t there. And I’d left a note. It was fine.

  I stood at the end of the pier for a minute. I glanced around, out of habit. There was no one nearby. Not that it would have mattered too much. Most people in Brightport knew about mermaids by now.

  I took off my shoes, climbed down the rope at the end of the pier, and jumped.

  The cold of the sea took my breath away. For a few seconds, I could barely breathe. Diving into the sea in January is not most people’s idea of a good time. Luckily, mermaids adapt quickly, and soon a familiar feeling began to spread through my body, warming me inside and out. My legs stuck together, my toes disappeared, my tail formed.

  I was a mermaid once again, and my world felt happy and right.

  I spun around and dived lower, flicking my tail and stretching my arms out as I swam.

  Rounding the headland, I swam farther down, skimming across the seabed. Tiny fish darted away as I swam across their path. Sand clouds billowed beside me. Crabs scuttled under their rocks. Long trails of weeds reached up as if to wave as I passed by.

  The water warmed as I approached Shiprock — the merfolk town where Shona lived. I never knew if it really changed temperature or if I just liked arriving here so much it felt like it did.

  I swam around the big rocks at the outer part of the town and across the wide space in the center. Two grown-up mermaids swam past me, chatting to each other as they passed. One of them had a merbaby in a sling on her back, his little tail sticking out behind him as they swished by. An older merman with a long beard smiled and waved as I swam past him. I smiled and waved back.

  Coming to Shiprock felt like coming home. My second home.

  I reached the opening that led to the caves on the west side of Shiprock, where Shona lived. As I reached her place, Shona’s mom was swimming out of the entrance. She smiled at me. Her smile was just like Shona’s. Everything about her was, in fact. She was a grown-up version of Shona. Same long blond hair, same sparkly eyes. Even her tail was the same beautiful shimmery green and sparkled as brightly as Shona’s did.

  “Hi, Emily. I’m just heading out,” she said. “Shona’s inside. Go on in. She’d love to see you.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Silkfin,” I replied, and swam inside.

  I’d barely gotten through the entrance when Shona swam to meet me.

  “Emily!” she cried, grabbing my hand. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you till the weekend!”

  “It’s only a quick visit,” I said. “I just wanted to say hi. See how your first day back at school went.”

  Shona goes to Shiprock School. “It was swishy!” she said. Swishy is Shona’s favorite word. It basically means that something is great. Not exactly the word I’d have used to describe my first day back.

  “Come on. Let’s go out and I’ll tell you all about it. Playground or Rainbow Rocks?”

  “Rainbow Rocks,” I replied. It was our special place, and we hadn’t been there for a while.

  We swam side by side, talking as we glided along. “So what did you do at school?” I asked quickly. I’d rather hear about Shona’s swishy day than think about mine.

  “We started a new research project,” Shona said.

  “Oooh, cool. What about? Sea monsters? Coral reefs? Ocean creatures?”

  Shona shook her head. “Plastic.”

  I stopped swimming. “Plastic? That doesn’t sound very exciting.”

  “Who said it has to be exciting?” Shona asked, swimming ahead of me. I thought I detected an edge to her voice.

  I laughed as I caught up to her. “Well, you know. It just sounds a little dull, compared to all the exciting things that you could be researching.”

  We surfaced when we reached our special rocks. I wiped my hair off my face and looked around. The rocks shimmered and glowed against the low, wintery sun. I swam over to the nearest flat rock and half pulled myself out of the water. Shona did the same and we let our tails dangle in the water below us, sparkling and flashing rainbow colors as the shimmering light from the rocks bounced off them.

  Shona squeezed water out of her hair. “Not everything has to be fun and thrilling,” she said without looking at me. “Sometimes it’s about doing things that are important.”

  “Hey, I get that,” I said.

  “I know you do. I just wish more of you did,” Shona replied.

  “More of . . . who?” I asked.

  Shona looked down at her tail. “Well, not more of you, exactly,” she said.

  “Who, then?”

  Finally she looked at me. Her cheeks colored a little as she said, “Humans, I suppose.”

  “Ah. OK, that narrows it down,” I said, laughing nervously to try to lighten the mood.

  Shona laughed too. But it sounded forced. “It’s a big issue for us,” she went on. “It’s ruining our lives.”

  I thought back to earlier when Mandy had kicked that water bottle off the side of the pier “You mean, like, people not picking up their trash?”

  “Yeah, for starters,” Shona said.

  “It annoys me too,” I said, eager to show her we were on the same side. “Really, it does.”

  “I know,” she said. “Seriously, I never realized how bad it was. I mean, I’ve always been aware of the trash in the sea. But it wasn’t until Mr. Finsplash gave us all these facts and figures that I understood how bad the problem was.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Shona’s eyes grew big and round, like they always do when she’s fired up by something. “Did you know that every single minute, an entire garbage truck full of trash is dumped in the ocean?”

  “Whoa. No, I did not know that.”

  “In twenty years’ time, there’ll be more plastic than fish in the sea!”

  I didn’t know what to say. “Gosh,” I settled for in the end.

  Shona glanced around. Then she spotted what she was looking for and swam over to it.

  “Look,” she said, this time holding up a tin can. “Stuff like this drifts into Shiprock all the time.”

  “Not all humans throw trash in the sea.” I couldn’t help being a bit defensive.

  “I know they don’t, silly,” Shona countered. “I know you care about it too. I just wish that everyone else could see what we see. I wish Brightport Junior High was investigating this, not just Shiprock!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, feeling useless.

  Shona nudged me. “Hey, it’s not your fault. I’m sure people will figure things out soon. They won’t let the oceans suffer like this forever!”

  “No, they won’t,” I said. “I’m sure they won’t. So what do you have to do for the project?”

  “We have to do some research,” she said. “And then suggest a way to improve things.”

  “Wow. Sounds hard. Good luck. I know you’ll do a great job,” I said with a smile.

  Shona smiled back. “Thanks.”

  It was getting late, and Mom would be wondering where I was if she didn’t see me before leaving for book group. “Shona, I need to go,” I said, slipping off the rock and back into the water. “I’ll see you later in the week.”

  “OK.” Shona plopped into the water beside me and gave me a hug before we went our separate ways. “See you soon.”

  As I swam back toward Brightport, my mind churned uneasily. What if Shona’s
facts and figures were right? What if we were making a mess of the oceans?

  What if humans really didn’t care what they did to the sea?

  As the thoughts swirled uncomfortably in my head I could hear something humming. It sounded like when a cell phone is vibrating in a pocket. I felt for the stone in my pocket and took it out.

  Holding it seemed to calm me.

  But as I swam, something weird started to happen. The stone changed temperature. When I headed out toward the open sea, the stone warmed up and felt comforting and smooth; when I turned toward the shore, it felt cold and harsh.

  It reminded me of when I was little and played a game with Mom. She’d hide something on the boat. When I got closer to it, she’d shout, “Warmer, warmer!” and when I moved away from it, she’d call out, “Colder, colder!”

  I opened my hand and looked at the stone. It buzzed and tingled and warmed my hand so much I couldn’t help wanting more.

  Mom would be fine if I was home late. She’d be rushing around to get ready for book group, and I’d still be back before she left. I had time to see where the stone was leading me. I’d follow it for ten minutes and then go home.

  I turned back to the open sea, and the stone purred like a happy kitten. I laughed.

  There was no question about it. The stone was leading me somewhere — and I had no choice.

  I had to follow.

  I let the stone lead me out to sea without thinking or worrying about it. I wouldn’t go too far out. Plus, I knew the ocean around here so well that I’d find my way home easily enough.

  To begin with, I flicked my tail and held my arms in front of me, following the direction that the stone seemed to want to go. Gently swishing my tail was enough to propel me along, and I swam calmly through the blue water.

  Then it started to feel different.

  It happened quite gradually. The pace changed. I found that I was moving along faster than I usually swam. At first I assumed I was in a normal current.

  Until it sped up more and more.

  Was I in a riptide?

  I’d been in those before, and I knew that the best thing to do was to relax, not try to fight it. Then, once I was out of the worst of it, I’d move out of the current and swim back to the shore. The force of a riptide always slowed down at some point.

  This wasn’t slowing down, though. If anything, it was getting faster and stronger by the second.

  OK, it was getting scary now. I needed to get out of here.

  I tried to swim against the flow, but I didn’t stand a chance. It gripped me and propelled me forward. I felt like I was on the world’s fastest roller coaster, hurtling blindly toward my doom. Or in a rocket, zooming down to Earth.

  The tide grew stronger and heavier, soon flowing faster than anything I’d experienced.

  I reminded myself of other times I’d been in a current like this. I’d been pulled toward a mysterious castle and that had led me to Aaron. I’d been sucked through the world’s biggest waterfall and found Forgotten Island on the other side. I’d survived both of those — so I could survive this.

  The trouble was, this one felt like both of those added together and then doubled. It was dragging me so fiercely it pretty much wiped my mind clear of any more thoughts.

  In the end, I had no choice. I gave in and let the tide take me farther and farther out to sea.

  On and on it pulled me. At one point, I’d thought the current was slowing — but it wasn’t. It seemed to stop for a split second, and then it changed direction. I wasn’t being taken out to sea anymore; I was being pulled down toward the seabed.

  A shiver of anxiety ran through me. What if I got lost out here?

  Don’t be silly, I argued back. I couldn’t get lost. I was a couple of miles off the coast, at most. I was just outside Brightport, where I’d lived all my life. Shiprock wasn’t far away — and I was a mermaid. I’d be fine. I’d find my way back.

  Even if I was hurtling toward the seabed in a dark and frothing chute of water, faster than I’d ever gone anywhere in my life.

  Even if I could hear a humming sound coming from somewhere ahead of me that sounded like a louder version of the humming from the stone.

  Even if the last two lines of the poem that came with the stone were repeating over and over in my mind.

  Life will never be the same

  Once you’ve looked through its dark frame.

  What did that mean? Did the stone have a dark side? Was this it? I tried to tell myself that whatever its “dark frame” was, it surely couldn’t be worse than sea monsters and earthquakes and storms and Neptune — and I’d dealt with all of those!

  The water was thick with dark swirling puffs of bubbles and sand. A rumbling sound echoed through the darkness. Ahead of me a shaft of light flickered and dimmed like a fading bulb.

  As I zoomed toward it, the shaft of light widened and grew brighter. The stone pulled harder.

  And then — the strangest thing of all.

  The seabed began to open.

  It was as if the stone itself were ripping into it, carving a deep chasm through the seabed — and taking me with it.

  My body was moving faster than my thoughts. All I knew was movement, rushing water, and fear.

  All around me, I could only see dust and bubbles and huge billowing clouds of sand. I had to get out of there — but I couldn’t. The stone wouldn’t let me. It felt as if it were attached to my hand, driving me forward, faster and faster, into the chasm that it was boring through the seabed. I was powerless to do anything but hold on and hope the ride would end soon.

  I had no idea how long I’d been in there. I felt as though I had blacked out for a moment. When I came around, everything had changed.

  The manic frothing rush had turned into a steady flow. I was in a long, deep, narrow gap in the seabed. Now that the water had cleared, I could see that light again, shining brightly ahead of me.

  I knew instinctively that the stone wouldn’t let me go until we had reached the light. And the weird thing was, I wanted to reach it. Having come through that torrent and survived, I wanted to confront whatever it was that had dragged me here.

  I looked around as I swam through the channel. The steep banks on either side were leveling out. The water was growing shallower, and it had started to feel as if I were swimming against the flow. I realized that I was now swimming up a river.

  The light ahead of me grew brighter with every stroke. I swam toward it. It felt like my only option and the only way out.

  My tail was getting tired. Odd. I could normally swim all day and not worry about it. Not today, though. Maybe the shock of everything had wiped me out.

  I pushed myself on. I had to work my arms twice as hard as usual. My tail was barely moving. It flickered at the very tip, as if making the tiniest effort to propel me along. Other than that, it felt heavy and weak.

  What was the matter with me? Was it just the fact that I was swimming against the flow of the water?

  Or was it something else? Had something down there in that chasm broken me?

  I swam on, pushing as hard as I could and pushing away my questions just as fiercely. The daylight ahead of me was growing stronger and brighter every second. Surely I was nearly there. Wherever “there” might be.

  I swam up to the surface and looked all around, searching for something I might recognize.

  There was nothing.

  The banks on either side of the river were growing less steep with every stroke. Before long, they were barely higher than the water. There were houses beyond the banks, set back a little with gardens and paths leading to the river.

  Soon, I came to a break in the houses where the bank had almost disappeared completely. A stony shore led from the water’s edge. At the back of the shoreline, the bank went up steeply toward a set of steps and a bridge. Next to the steps was a wooden bench. I had no idea where I was, but there were enough signs of life to make it worth a look, at least. Plus, I was exhausted and ne
eded to get out and rest.

  I pulled myself out of the water and sat on the shore. As I waited for my tail to disappear and my legs to return, I let myself rest, grateful for the chance to stop.

  As always, my legs came back, in the same jeans I’d been wearing earlier, but the jeans felt tighter. They must have shrunk from the water or something, I guessed.

  I shook the pins and needles out of my legs as they finished forming. As I stood and climbed up the bank, my legs felt wobbly — much more so than usual.

  They still felt shaky as I reached the steps. I had to sit. I flopped down on the bench.

  After a few minutes, my legs felt as if they’d fully formed and I’d caught my breath again.

  OK, time to find out what was going on.

  I pushed aside the anxious fluttering in my chest as I made my way toward the bridge.

  I’d crossed the bridge and was making my way along a road. As I walked I had the strangest feeling that I’d been here before. But at the same time I felt as though I had never been here in my life.

  Where on earth was I?

  I’d been walking for a few minutes when I turned a corner, and suddenly I knew exactly where I was. Ahead of me the road would lead to another road. After that, I’d turn a corner, make a left, and if I kept walking straight it would take me to somewhere I knew really well.

  Brightport Pier.

  I was in the back streets of Brightport! The opposite side of town from where I lived and an area that I hardly ever went to. No wonder I didn’t recognize it. I had never even realized that there was a river in this part of town!

  Still, I knew where I was now. I almost laughed with relief. All I had to do was walk a few streets and I’d be home.

  I hurried along, smiling to myself. What a story I’d have to tell people when I got home! Mandy would find it hilarious. Mom would —

  “Hi, Ms. Windsnap.”

  The greeting startled me so much that I stopped midstep to see where it had come from.

  A girl across the road was waving at me.

  Ms. Windsnap? Who called me that? And who was she anyway? I didn’t recognize her. She looked about my age. Maybe she was in the year below me at school?