by Liz Kessler
Did I really live here?
The foyer felt empty and sterile. There was a table on the right with what looked like artificial flowers in a vase; two elevator doors were on the left. I pressed the CALL button and waited.
Within seconds, the elevator arrived and its doors opened.
Which floor?
I checked my key fob again. Apartment 2516. Then I checked the buttons on the wall. They went up to 30. Were we on the 25th floor?
There was only one way to find out. I pressed the button with 25 on it and let the elevator carry me up.
Half a minute later, I was in a hallway that pointed left for apartments 1 – 15 and right for apartments 16 – 30. I turned right. At the end of the hall, there it was. Apartment 2516.
As I swiped the fob my hands shook so much I almost dropped it. A soft click, then I pushed against the door and went inside. Into the apartment that thirty-three-year-old me shared with Mandy and a cat named Polo.
I closed the door behind me and looked around. I was in a large room with a soft beige carpet, a big table covered in books, a cozy sofa along one wall, and, on the other side, the biggest window I’d ever seen.
I crossed the room and looked out the window. Below me, Brightport was spread out like a toy town. Tiny cars and even tinier people bustled around. The sea widened out to the horizon, the edges flowing onto the beach in regular white lines, the blue growing deeper, the farther toward the horizon I looked.
This was really my home? Maybe the future wasn’t such a bad place to be after all.
“YEOOOWWWWL!”
I spun around to see a gray velvety-looking cat skip into the room and jump onto the back of the sofa.
“Hey, you,” I said, walking over to scratch the cat behind his ears. “You must be Polo.”
The cat purred like an engine in reply.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
Polo purred harder.
I found the kitchen and stood looking around. The kitchen surfaces gleamed at me. The stove sparkled as if it had never been used. It was like a show home.
Again I couldn’t help asking myself, Do Mandy and I really live here? Not only was it the fanciest place I’d ever set foot in, I couldn’t imagine us keeping a place this clean!
Maybe we had a cleaner.
After opening a few cabinet doors I found a box of cat food and sprinkled some in a dish. Polo scampered into the kitchen and slid by my legs, brushing against me and arching his back, before digging into his dinner.
I put the food away and watched Polo eat. My breathing started to calm and I went back into the living room.
OK, maybe I could do this. Live in this nice apartment with Mandy and a very sweet cat, looking out at that view. It wouldn’t be so bad if I were stuck here forever.
Except for one thing. I wouldn’t be able to spend my time hiding from the world in here.
I had a job! I was a teacher!
I left the cat and went over to the table. Picking up the books, I tried to piece together what I even taught. Lots of novels and poetry collections. Did I teach English? Could be worse. It could be physics or something. I wouldn’t have a clue where to start with that. With English, at least I could fall back on “Write about your winter vacation” for a few days.
And then what?
No. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live this life — I’d never get away with it. It wouldn’t take long for everyone to figure out that I was a fraud, that I knew nothing. Then what? I’d lose my job, maybe my friendship with Mandy, maybe even my home.
The thoughts were making me panic. Before I knew it, I’d created an entire disaster movie out of my life.
I glanced around the room, trying to find something to anchor me to the life I knew, to anything I recognized. There was a chest of drawers along the far wall, with photos mounted in frames. I went over and looked at the photos.
Most of them were of Mandy and me. Smiling and laughing and surrounded by friends in all of them.
Which should have made me feel better. But it didn’t. It made me feel worse — because it made me even more aware of what was missing, what was wrong.
Shona. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t in any of them.
I couldn’t imagine a life without Shona. It wasn’t possible.
A fancy apartment and a cute cat was fine — but I knew what I had to do.
I had to see Shona.
I walked along the sparkling wooden boards of the pier until I reached the very end, around the back of the swanky new theme park.
The steps were still there, stretching into the sea. I glanced down at the water, swirling and flowing below. In the fading light, the darkness seemed to glisten. I watched it for a moment. Then I climbed down the steps and dropped into the water.
The first splash was cold. It took my breath away. But I always adapted quickly, so I didn’t worry too much. I shivered as I waited for the change to come.
I dipped my head under the surface and started to swim. Any second now, my legs would transform into a tail and I would become a mermaid.
But nothing was happening. Or, something was happening, but it was taking longer than usual. My legs were growing stiffer and heavier, but as my tail began to form, it felt almost as rigid and solid as my legs.
I twitched the tip of my tail — the only bit that seemed to be working. It flickered just enough to move me slowly along. I tried again. This time, my tail seemed to flex a bit more. It was tiring work — I was having to force my tail to move up and down. Finally, it began to loosen. It was as if it had been tied up in knots that needed to be undone and freed. It felt as if I had forgotten how to use my tail.
Weird. Why would I forget how to use my tail?
At least it was working now, and I was warming up too. I shrugged off my worries and swam deeper. I was a mermaid, and I was heading for Shiprock. I was going somewhere familiar, somewhere that always made me feel better.
Everything was fine. Better than fine. Everything was great. And in a moment, I’d be with Shona — which would make it even better!
I’d gotten as far as the end of the bay when I stopped swimming and looked around. I needed a rest.
Either thirty-three-year-old me barely did anything active and my body was just out of shape, or I simply wasn’t used to being a mermaid.
That didn’t make sense, though. Why would I not spend time being a mermaid? I could barely get through a day without transforming into my mermaid self. It was part of what made me feel alive, part of what made me feel . . . me. It was unthinkable that I wouldn’t do it.
But that wasn’t the only thing that had made me stop. It was the sea itself. As soon as I’d passed the edge of Brightport Bay, it started to change.
Inside the bay, the water had been sparkling and clear — even in the fading light of the day. As soon as I’d rounded the headland and was in the deeper water out of sight of the town, the sea seemed to grow denser. To begin with, there were small particles floating around. I thought they were tiny fish at first. But as I swam on, the particles were larger — and there were more of them.
What were they?
They seemed like tiny stones, or clods of earth or something. I reached out as I swam, and I grabbed a handful of them. Flicking my tail to hold my position, I stopped swimming and opened up my hand. The particles crumbled against my palm, and my skin felt gritty. It felt like broken-up concrete. But what was it doing in the sea? And where was it all coming from?
I swam on — but it was getting harder. As I swam, the water grew murkier and grittier with every stroke. Soon I could barely see where I was going.
Maybe if I swam farther out to sea it would get better.
It didn’t. If anything, it was getting worse. Soon it was so bad I could barely see at all. The whole ocean seemed to have become dark, grainy, and almost impossible to swim through. And where were all the fish? I’d hardly passed a single one.
I was about to turn and head back for Brightport when I spot
ted something through the murk. A flash of white.
I swam toward it. As I got closer, I saw that it was a stone pillar reaching all the way down as far as I could see. It had either grown out of the seabed itself or had come from the same place as all the smaller pieces of concrete and somehow been planted there.
I swam up to it. It had an arrow carved into it, with three words carved below the arrow.
MERFOLK: THIS WAY
The arrow pointed left and downward. I did what it said. It was difficult, as I was swimming against the natural current of the water, but I managed.
A few moments later, I came to another pillar — smaller this time and lower down. I swam toward it. Again, an arrow, with the same instructions. This time pointing directly ahead and, again, down.
I swam on. Another minute later, I spotted yet another white boulder in the darkness of the sea. Again, I followed the arrow. I kept going like this, following the trail of arrows until, finally, the water began to clear a tiny bit. I stopped swimming, holding on to the boulder while my body rested.
I looked around. Now that the murkiness had subsided a little, I realized my surroundings were starting to look familiar.
Or, at least, half familiar.
I swam on toward a huge rock that formed part of an underwater cave. I knew that rock. It marked the start of Shiprock. There was just one thing about it.
Half the cave was missing.
I flicked my tail and approached the cave. Where there used to be a huge, welcoming entrance to a bustling merfolk town was now a jagged rock surrounded by boulders and rubble.
What had happened here? Had there been an earthquake or something? And if so, when? How long had it been like this?
My head spun with questions till it felt as messy and clogged up as the sea. There was only one way to answer the questions.
I swam past the rubble, through the opening into what I hoped would still be the merfolk town I loved.
Everywhere I looked, all I saw was ruins. Where once there had been elegant caves with entrances adorned with beautiful sea plants and coral of every color, now it was all muddy water, collapsed caves, and rubble.
This wasn’t the Shiprock I knew so well.
What had happened?
I passed what used to be the center of the town. Last time I was here, the wide-arched entrance to Shiprock School was ahead of me and everything was bustling with life: mermaids swimming by with merbabies on their backs, old mermen talking in huddles outside their caves. Everyone I saw would smile and offer a warm greeting as I swam past them.
Now the center of the town looked more like the aftermath of a battle scene from a postapocalyptic movie.
Yes, there were still a few merfolk around, but none of them swam by. None of them smiled or greeted me. They were all huddled into dark corners — some alone, others in pairs. A couple of them looked really young — younger than me, even. Too young to be on their own. But they were alone. Skinny, gaunt, and dirty-looking.
No one met my eyes as I swam past, but I could feel them watching me cross the space: a stranger in their midst giving them a reason to scowl with suspicion.
Finally I’d swum past them all, and I continued on to the stretch of caves where Shona lived.
At least it used to be the stretch of caves where Shona lived. It didn’t look like somewhere anyone would live now. The seabed was practically invisible. You couldn’t see sand at all, only rocks, rubble, and dirt. No plant life. Not a single fish swam past me. No color. Just gray dull, dirty water.
Surely no one could live here?
But as I arrived at what used to be Shona’s cave — now little more than a small, dark hole in a pile of rubble — I saw someone coming out.
It was a tall, slender mermaid with long blond hair. She had a dull green tail, and as she swam away from the hole, I recognized that straight upright style of swimming instantly. It was Shona’s mom! Shona did still live there!
I swam toward her. “Mrs. Silkfin!” I called as I swam.
She didn’t hear me. I swam harder. “Mrs. Silkfin,” I said again as I caught up with her. I reached out to touch her arm.
She jumped a little, then stopped swimming and looked at me.
That was the first time I saw her face. She looked different. Her hair was a bit scraggly and knotted, where normally it was as perfectly combed as Shona’s. Her face looked scarred and gray, where normally it was bright and shiny. Still, she looked similar enough that I knew it was her.
“Hi!” I said.
Mrs. Silkfin stared at me, her mouth falling open.
“Um. It’s . . . Emily,” I said.
She frowned. “I know who it is,” she said in a voice that sounded distinctly unfriendly. She’d never been unfriendly to me before. In fact, I couldn’t remember seeing her frown before. She only ever smiled and looked serene and happy. Nothing about this was feeling familiar or right.
I pointed back toward the entrance to their cave. “Is, um, is Shona in?” I asked.
Mrs. Silkfin’s jaw fell open even wider. “Are you kidding me?” she spat.
“I . . . No . . . ?”
Mrs. Silkfin tutted and turned away.
I reached out for her arm. “Wait,” I said.
She turned back again. Her face looked pinched and tight. “What is it, Emily?” she asked. “What do you want?”
“I . . . I just came to see Shona,” I said feebly.
Mrs. Silkfin held out her arms. “Well, now you have,” she said, tight-lipped with fury. “Happy?”
A cold feeling darted through me. What had I thought? That time would have stood still in the ocean, even though it had gone forward twenty years on land?
The time had passed just the same here. All those years. The merfolk had grown up without me, just like the people of Brightport had done.
“Shona?” I whispered.
“Oh, well done,” she said sarcastically. “You finally remembered who I am. Not that I would expect you to recognize me, anyway. Not that you ever visit us here in Shiprock anymore.” She turned to leave again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to —”
“No!” I grabbed her arm.
Shona looked down at my hand, then shook it away. “Don’t you dare take hold of me,” she said, her mouth twisted with disgust. Her tail was flapping in the way it sometimes did when she was anxious. I glanced at it, and it made me sad. Like the rest of her, it had lost its sparkle and shine. Shona, who always took such pride in her appearance, whose favorite thing in the world was the Beauty and Deportment class at school, was a shadow of her former self.
“What’s happened to you?” I croaked. My throat had tightened up with emotion.
Shona stared at me again. Her sad, dull gray eyes wide. “What’s happened to me?” she echoed. “Are you seriously asking me that?”
“Yes, I —” I began. She didn’t let me get any further.
“You have happened to me,” she snapped, her tail flicking and her voice high-pitched with anger. “You and the rest of your human friends. Your beautiful town, your lovely houses and hotels, all your shiny, sparkly perfect streets, your perfect lives. Yes, you spent a year or two acting as if you cared about us, but in the end you gave up, didn’t you? You let them demolish our lives so you could build yours up and forget all about us.”
“Shona, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I haven’t been —”
“Don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know,” she said. “It’s been years since you came here, Emily. Sure, you went to a few meetings, spoke to a few people, but you didn’t try hard enough. And now look! I’m living in squalor and you’re a successful teacher with a great life.” Shona clapped her hands together. “Good for you,” she said with a horrible, sarcastic smile.
“Shona, will you listen to me?” I pleaded.
She shook her head. “No, Emily, I won’t. I’m not one of your adoring students. I don’t have to listen to anything you say.” And wi
th that, she started to swim away.
I swam after her. “Shona!” I began. She swam faster. I twirled my tail to pick up my pace and stay even with her. “Just give me two minutes. Let me explain. Please!”
Shona swam on for a bit, then suddenly stopped. Spinning her tail in a fast circle to keep her upright, she nodded briskly. “Two minutes?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“To explain twenty years?”
“Well, to begin to explain.”
“All right,” she agreed. “I suppose I can spare two minutes.” Folding her arms, she turned her eyes on me like a harsh beam of light. “You’d better get started; your time’s already ticking.”
I wasted the first ten seconds wondering when Shona had turned so cold and brittle, what exactly had made her that way, and why our friendship hadn’t survived the years.
Then I started talking. “I’m not who you think I am,” I began. “I mean — I am. I’m Emily. But not the Emily you’re seeing.”
Shona glared at me. “That’s the best you’ve got?” she asked. “You’re not really you? I can’t believe this.” She turned away again. “I haven’t got time for —”
“Yes, you have!” I broke in. “You said you’d give me two minutes. I haven’t even used one of them yet.”
Shona flicked her hair. I tried not to wince as I watched her. The gesture was classic Shona, but where her hair used to flow and shine, spinning around her in the water like a golden halo, it now hung loose and lank and tangled a little from the movement. Anyway, I had to keep talking.
“You’re not going to believe this,” I said, talking as quickly as I could, “but I have slipped through time. I have gone through some kind of — I don’t know — like a portal. This river opened up in the seabed and it’s carried me through time.” I jabbed a finger at my chest. “In here, inside my body, I am thirteen years old,” I whispered. “I’ve lost twenty years.”
Shona stared at me. “I honestly don’t know what you think you are —”
“I still have half a minute!”
She clamped her mouth shut and I kept talking, even faster. “I have literally no idea what has happened. I don’t know why I deserted you, I don’t know when I deserted you — but I know that I want to make amends. Shona, you are my best friend. You always will be. We’ve been on so many adventures together, and we’ve been in all sorts of crazy and scary situations together, but believe me, I have never been as scared as I am now. I have no idea what has happened, but I swear to you, I have lost twenty years and I don’t know where they have gone.”
