A Mischief of Mermaids (12 page)

W
hen the Malones arrived at the marina the next morning, things did not go as planned.

They found a crowd of people clustered at the end of the dock. There was the sound of joking and laughter and a hum of interest and excitement. Above the heads of the crowd, they could see a huge sign that read, “World-famous Mermaid Show!”

“What,” asked Nerissa in a terrible voice, “is
that
?”

“I don't know. Come on, let's check it out,” said Poppy, pushing her way through the crowd.

A large, jolly-looking man stood next to a table that had a huge TV monitor on it. He was chatting with the bystanders.

“I'm Bud,” he told them. “Bud McCray. And you folks are in for a treat this weekend. See that restaurant over there? Well, they hired me to bring my world-famous mermaids here for a special performance. They came all the way from Galveston to put on a show.”

“Galveston?” said Nerissa under her breath. “I've met the Galveston mermaids. They wear seaweed in their hair and strings of barnacles around their necks. Coralie calls them barbarians. They don't
perform
for people; they try to
eat
them.”

“Shh,” Poppy whispered. “Listen.”

“That's their home, you see,” he said genially. “They've lived there for hundreds of years, frolicking by the seawall. Then in 1932, Horace Abner Tate happened to go for an early morning fishing expedition and caught sight of them. Well, the mermaids were shy, of course, and swam away as soon as they saw him. But he kept coming back. After a while, he earned their trust and, being a savvy businessman, he pitched them the idea of doing a show. It took a bit of convincing, but the mermaids finally came around. Horace hired a choreographer to teach them a water ballet—and the rest is history!”

The grown-ups in the crowd laughed. Nerissa scowled.

“This can't be true,” she hissed in Poppy's ear. “No real mermaid would ever lower herself to provide entertainment for mortals!”

“Of course it's not true,” Poppy whispered back. “It's just a stunt.”

“What's the best place to watch the show?” one of the onlookers asked.

“You can get a great view from the restaurant's outdoor deck,” Bud McCray said. “But if you really want an up-close and personal look at the mermaids, I'd recommend you buy a ticket to go out on the lake in one of our glass-bottom boats. We're bringing in a whole fleet of boats, just for this show. And take a look at this! We've even managed to set up a live feed to the mermaids' underwater home—”

He turned on a laptop that was connected to the TV monitor. Two women appeared on the screen. They seemed to be floating underwater, waving cheerfully and smiling dazzling white smiles. One woman wore a blue bikini top. Her legs seemed to be wrapped in matching blue cloth that ended in a fish tail. The other woman wore the same costume, except in green.

“May I introduce Mermaid Crystal”—he waved to the woman in blue, who tilted her head saucily to one side—“and Mermaid Shannon”—he pointed toward the woman wearing green, who winked. “You will be astonished by their ability to drink a soda, play a game of football, and hold a tea party—all underwater! You will be beguiled by their charm, their beauty, and their amazing swimming abilities! Watch as they live their lives underwater, doing everything from playing a game of touch football to presenting a tribute to America!”

The crowd laughed. Bud McCray opened a box of brochures and started handing them out.

“Football! Tea parties!” Nerissa was fuming.

“Shh,” said Poppy. “People are looking.”

A little girl tugged at the woman's hand. “I want to see the mermaids, Mommy!” she said. “Please?”

The woman laughed and shrugged. “Looks like you've sold two tickets already,” she said, handing over the money.

Bud McCray grinned as he gave her the tickets. “You'll have a great time, I guarantee,” he said. Then he leaned down to look the little girl in the eye. “And you, little lady, will be one of the very few people who have ever seen a real live mermaid! You'll be telling your grandchildren about this!”

A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. Everybody knew it was a hoax, Poppy thought. Everybody was in on the joke,

Everybody except the little girl—and Nerissa.

Before Poppy could stop her, Nerissa stomped up to Bud McCray, grabbed one of the brochures, crumpled it up, and waved it under his nose.

“This is wrong,” she said angrily. “You are exploiting mermaids by making fun of them in this way.”

Bud looked confused, but he quickly recovered. “You're not one of those activists, are you?” he asked.

“A what?” asked Nerissa.

“You're not going to start protesting for mermaid rights, now, are you?” he said, chuckling. “Because I tell you what, picket lines really mess up our business.”

It was clear that Nerissa didn't understand, but she bristled all the same. Poppy tried to shoot her a warning look, but Nerissa was too angry to catch it.

“Why shouldn't mermaids have rights?” she demanded. “They shouldn't be forced to perform tricks to amuse people. It's . . . it's undignified.”

Bud McCray started laughing. He laughed so hard that tears actually ran down his cheeks. (Poppy had often read about this in books and was fascinated to see it happen in real life. What books didn't tell you was that a person who was laughing that hard usually snorted a bit, which was not attractive at all. Books also didn't say how annoying the laugh would sound if the person was laughing at you.)

“Listen, honey, I'll tell you a little secret,” he finally said when he had calmed down. He leaned over and whispered, “These aren't real mermaids! They're just women who are real good at swimming and breathing air through a little rubber tube. We dress 'em up like mermaids and they put on a little show and smile at the customers and everybody's happy.”

Nerissa's eyes still glinted. “That's no better than capturing real mermaids and making them do your bidding,” she said. “In fact, that's even more horrible.”

Now it was Bud's turn to look confused. “What's horrible?”

“Pretending that they're really mermaids!” Nerissa said impatiently. “Real mermaids were surfing the Gulf Stream and diving to the ocean depths when mortals were still living in caves! They can call the wind and make waves do their bidding! They are mentioned in ancient myths and age-old folklore! They are not”—she paused to glare at the man—“a
sideshow act
.”

Bud McCray stopped smiling and began to look annoyed. “Is this a prank?” he asked Poppy. “Did someone put you up to this?”

“N-no, of course not,” Poppy stammered.

“Because I happen to know that Dutch Owens wanted to get this gig,” he continued, squinting at them suspiciously. “He has Ralphie the Diving Pig, you know, and it just eats him up that my mermaids are more popular than his pig. He never had a chance to land this contract and he knows it! I wouldn't put it past him to send you two in just to mess with me.”

“I don't know Dutch or Ralphie,” said Poppy. “My friend is just quite passionate about, um, issues of social justice.”

“I'll say.” Bud snorted. He glared at Nerissa. “If you ask me, you're a little too old to believe in mermaids. Now, I have some paying customers to attend to.”

He turned away from them, ready to sell more tickets. Poppy saw Nerissa's scowl deepen, then felt the hot, breathless day change in a moment. A wind picked up, frothing the water on the lake and making the sign for the mermaid show twist and rattle in the air.

“Nerissa, stop it!” Poppy hissed.

Nerissa didn't even turn her head. She stared up at the gathering clouds, her eyes narrowed.

“Nerissa!” Poppy pulled on her arm. “We won't get to have any fun on the houseboat if you call up a storm.”

For a moment, Poppy didn't think Nerissa was even listening, but then she saw her shoulders relax and she nodded. The wind died down and the clouds vanished, leaving a sky so blue that it dazzled Poppy's eyes.

“Thanks,” Poppy said. “Come on, let's get on board. I can't wait to show you the waterslide!”

Two hours later, Nerissa seemed to have forgotten the mermaid show. She and Poppy had competed with Will and Henry to see who could make the biggest splash on the waterslide. Then Franny had joined them and Nerissa had dazzled everyone with her ability to dive deep into the lake, then swim quickly toward the surface and launch herself into the air.

After lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Malone (who had been up until three a.m. looking through the telescope for UFOs) decided to take a nap. They even managed to convince a yawning Rolly to take one as well. Poppy, Nerissa, and Franny stretched out on lounge chairs while Will and Henry had second helpings.

“I think I'll live on a houseboat when I grow up,” said Will, munching on the last of the potato chips. “This is pretty sweet.”

“You'll have to make a lot of money,” Poppy pointed out. “If you want a boat like this, at least.”

“No problem.” He waved his hand in the air, scattering potato chip crumbs. “I'll just be a paranormal investigator.”

“Ha,” said Franny. “Like Mom and Dad?”

“No, like Oliver Asquith,” said Will. “I plan to be a globe-trotting celebrity with my own TV show. That way, someone else will rent the cool houseboat and I'll get to live on it.”

“Good luck with that,” said Franny, standing up. “I'm going to take a shower. Dibs on the bathroom.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Haven't you been in the water enough today?” he asked. “Why do you always want to get cleaned up if you don't have to?”

“You may want to live like a savage,” sniffed Franny, “but I prefer to be civilized. Even if I don't have to.”

She stalked off to go belowdecks. Poppy and Nerissa hung out with Will and Henry for a little while, then went to their bunks to change out of their bathing suits.

Poppy was pulling a T-shirt over her head when she heard Nerissa say, “Hey.”

There was something in her tone of voice that made Poppy's stomach clench. Quickly, she pulled the shirt down. Nerissa's face was white with shock.

“What's wrong?” asked Poppy.

“Where's my cloak?” Nerissa sounded on the edge of panic. “I hung it on the back of the door, and it's not here!”

“Maybe it fell down,” Poppy said. “Did you look around the bed?”

“Of course I did! That took about ten seconds,” Nerissa said, waving a hand at the tiny bunk. “It's gone.”

“Don't worry,” said Poppy. “I'm sure it's here somewhere. . . .”

She bit her lip and glanced around the cabin. There was barely enough room for a bunk. Poppy picked up the pillow on the bed, without much hope that she would find anything.

She was right. There was nothing there.

“I can't lose that cloak!” Nerissa's voice was even higher. “This is a disaster!”

Panic, Poppy discovered, could be catching. Her heart was starting to beat a little faster.

“Okay, let's just stay calm,” she began, but she was interrupted by the sound of loud knocking.

“Franny!” Will yelled. “Quit hogging the bathroom!”

He pounded on the door again.

“I'm sure it's not lost.” Poppy spoke more loudly to be heard over the racket. “It's just . . . momentarily misplaced.”

Nerissa's lip trembled. “I've got to find it,” she said in a small voice. “If I don't—”

“Franny!” It was Will again. “Are you trying to set a world record for the longest shower ever?”

“Oh, for heaven's sake.” Poppy jerked open the door and went out to where Will was standing, glaring at the bathroom door. Henry was leaning against the wall, watching him with amusement.

“Would you be quiet?” Poppy snapped. “Nerissa's upset and your yelling isn't making things any better.”

“How much time can a person spend in a shower that's so small you knock your elbow on the wall when you reach for the soap?” Will asked. He pounded on the door again. “Franny!”

“Here, let me try.” Poppy leaned closer to the door and said loudly, “Franny, I just saw Colt go by on a Jet Ski! Don't you want to be on deck when he circles back around?”

Will grinned. “Brilliant!” he whispered. “Stand back. Don't let the door hit you when she stampedes out of there.”

But the door remained closed.

“Aggh.” Will leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor.

“Dude, I didn't know you cared so much about hygiene.” Henry smirked.

Will folded his arms and gave Henry an icy stare. “Look, I don't care about washing my hands before dinner, but my mother has this fixation—”

“Shh.” Poppy held up a hand, then put her ear to the door. “Listen.”

“What?” Will said grumpily, but he scooted over and put his ear to the door, too.

For a moment, there was silence. Then came the sound of a whimper.

“Franny? Are you all right?” Poppy asked.

There was a pause, then Franny said, “No . . .” Her voice wobbled as if she were crying.

“What's wrong?”

“I can't tell you! It's too horrible.”

“What, did you run out of conditioner or something?” grumbled Will.

“No!” Franny's voice trembled on the edge of hysteria. “It's worse than that! Much, much worse!”

“Can you open the door?” Henry asked.

“No!”

“Should we get Mom and Dad?” Poppy suggested.

“No!” Franny wailed. “They can't see me! Nobody can!”

“Come on, Franny, we can't help you if you won't open the door,” Poppy said. “Whatever's happened, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think.”