Sink or Swim (2 page)

T
hat night, I toss and turn and turn and toss. I can’t sleep.

My still-packed suitcase is sitting on my floor. Seeing it there just makes everything worse, but I don’t have the heart to unpack it.

It’s 11:45
P.M
. and my dad and mom are asleep. They turned in about an hour ago.

Hmm.

I feel a tingle in my belly.

I may not be able to visit my nana, but I can definitely visit fairy land.

I sit up and push my covers off. Yes! I’m going to visit fairy
land right now. Why not? I’m wide awake. My parents are not in the basement. Tonight is the night. I know it. I should go!

I look down at the pair of pajamas I’m wearing. Maybe I should change into regular clothes. Although last time, the mirror finally let us in
because
of the pajamas I was wearing. They were the same design as the Floom flag: pink with purple polka dots. But how do I know what clothes will help us get into the mirror if I don’t know what story we’re going to?

I guess I’ll stay in my pajamas. That way if the mirror doesn’t let us in, I can at least go straight back to bed.

I spot my open suitcase. Oh! I’ll bring my suitcase with me! Why?

1. We are usually in the stories at least a few days. I may as well have a change of clothes with me.
   
2. It’s already packed.
   
3. Maybe something inside will help us get into the mirror.
   

So the suitcase is coming, too. I strap on my watch (last time I forgot it and had no idea how much time had passed), then zip my bag and roll it into Jonah’s room.

He’s fast asleep.

“Hey!” I say, gently shaking him. “Mom and Dad are sleeping. Let’s go see the mirror.”

He opens his left eye then sits up. “Sure! But why are you bringing your suitcase?”

“To have extra clothes. You can put some of your stuff in it, too.”

He climbs out of bed and disappears into his closet. “Like Kadima paddles?” he asks.

My brother is obsessed with playing Kadima. I do not know why. When I’m on the beach, I like to read and relax, not chase a bouncy blue ball with wooden paddles.

“I was thinking more along the lines of clean underwear, jeans, and a T-shirt. You know what, I’ll pack for you. You put on your sneakers.”

(My sneakers are already on and double-knotted.)

I pack two pairs of his Batman underwear, one pair of jeans, one blue shirt, our toothbrushes, and cinnamon toothpaste. Then I tiptoe down the stairs to the main floor. I lift my suitcase up so that it doesn’t bump and wake my parents. It is SO heavy. I motion for Jonah to grab the other end, but he’s too focused on his tiptoeing to notice.

I stop at the landing and take a deep breath — there’s no sound from our parents’ bedroom. We’ve come so far — we can’t get caught now. I open the basement door, turn on the lights, and then we creep down the rest of the way.

In front of us is the antique mirror, twice the size of me. The glass is clear and smooth. My brother and I are in the reflection, of course. We’re both wearing pajamas and sneakers. What’s worse — we’re wearing matching black-and-white pajamas. I hadn’t noticed in Jonah’s dark bedroom. We look like twins. Like Oompa Loompas. Like Dr. Seuss’s Thing One and Thing Two.

“We look like zebras!” Jonah says. His short brown hair is a mess. It’s standing up in different directions. I pat down my own curly brown hair. I like to look neat. Also, not identical to Jonah.

I try to look deeper into the mirror to see if I can see Maryrose. She lives inside. At least, we think she lives inside. We don’t really know that much about her. Only that she’s a fairy and that when we knock three times, she takes us inside different fairy tales. Sometimes. I hope we’re wearing — or have with us — the right thing.

“I’ll do the knocking,” Jonah says. “Ready?”

This better work. It will be pretty annoying if I have to drag this suitcase all the way back upstairs tonight.

“One —”

“Wait! Jonah?”

His hand freezes in midair. “Yeah?”

“Let’s try not to mess up the story again, ’kay? We just want to visit and see what’s happening. We don’t want to change anything.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “One —”

“Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me,” I state. “I do not want you touching ANYTHING or talking to ANYONE. Not without my permission. Got it?”

“Yes, Mom.”

I wag my finger. “No messing the story up. That’s a rule.”

He twists his bottom lip. “What story do you think it’ll be?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.”

“I like
Jack and the Beanstalk
.” His eyes widen. “How cool would it be to meet a giant?”

I nod. As long as he doesn’t step on us.

“Or Aladdin! Then we could fly on a magic carpet.”

Flying on a magic carpet sounds a little scary. What if I fall
off? On the other hand, then I wouldn’t need airplanes. “I could take the magic carpet to visit Nana!”

Jonah grunts. “So I can’t talk to anyone or touch anything, but you can steal the magic carpet and take it to Chicago?”

“I was kidding,” I say. Kind of.

He shifts from foot to foot. “Can we go now?”

“Yes. Just remember: No touching.”

“Unless it’s stealing a magic carpet.”

“Right.” Then I shake my head. “No. No touching. No stealing. No anything.”

He laughs. “Okay, okay. Can I do my three knocks now?”

“Go.”

He does. Almost immediately, there’s a hissing sound. The mirror starts swirling and casts a purple light over the room. A second later, it’s pulling us toward it like it’s a vacuum cleaner.

“It’s working!” Jonah exclaims.

“Then let’s go!” I grip Jonah’s arm with one hand, my suitcase with the other, and step inside.

T
he second I go through the mirror, I inhale a mouthful of water.

What is happening? Am I in my bathtub? Why can’t I breathe?

Everything is blurry, and my eyes sting, so I close them. The water is salty. Bathtub water isn’t salty. Also, I’m horizontal, on my stomach, and my elbows are rubbing against the ground.

A sandy ground.

Need air! Can’t breathe! Lungs exploding!

I open my eyes, look for the light, and push my face toward it.

And then …
cough, cough, cough!
Ahhhhhhhh.

Air. I’m breathing air. Gulps and gulps of air. Who knew air could taste so good? Who needs ice cream when air is so incredibly delicious?

Once I’ve finished gorging on the air — it’s an all-I-can-eat air buffet! — I realize I’m looking at a sandy beach. But I’m not on the beach. I’m in the water, looking at the beach. It’s bright out here, too — around noon. What is going on? I twist around and see that a huge wave is about to smash into me. “No!” I yell, and try, unsuccessfully, to get out of its way.

CRASH.

No, no, no, I will not drown!
Cough, cough, cough!

My heart is thumping, and I push myself to my feet before I can get attacked again. What in the world is happening?

I turn back to face the beach. It’s empty. No tourists, no sand castles, no bright-colored beach towels. Just pure-white sand sparkling in the midday sun. Beyond the beach are trees and beyond the trees are mountains. When I turn the other way, there’s blue ocean as far as the eye can see. Even as far as my
stinging
eyes can see. Wait a sec. One thing my eyes can’t see is my brother.

“Jonah! Jonah, where are you?” Where is he? My heart sinks to the ocean floor.

Just as I’m about to panic for real, he bursts out of the water and gives me a thumbs-up. “How cool is this?” he cries, sopping wet and grinning.

He’s here! He’s okay! Hurray! “Jonah, get over here now!”

“I’m fine!” he yells back.

Unlike me, my brother loves to swim.

According to my parents, when I was a kid, not only did I refuse to swim in the ocean, but I would cry hysterically when anyone else tried to. My parents. My brother. Strangers. Obviously I’m over that
now
.

Kind of.

CRASH.

Another wave sends me toppling back under the water.

AHHHHHHHH!

Cough, cough, cough!

Okay, fine, I’ll admit it: I AM AFRAID OF WATER.

Not hot tubs or baths, but oceans, lakes, and rivers. Also moats, when I happen to come across them. Basically, I am afraid of bodies of water that have animals in them.

I am also afraid of pools.

They seem shallow but then BOOM the bottom’s gone, and you’re gulping chlorine.

Right now, I need to get out of the ocean, pronto, before it sucks me under for good. As I stand, my pajamas feel like they weigh two-hundred pounds. My sneakers are no longer sneakers. They are now bricks attached to my feet.

“I wonder where we are,” Jonah says, swimming up behind me. “Do you think we’re in
Jack and the Beanstalk
?”

Oh! Right! We’re in a fairy tale! There must be a fairy tale reason for the water, then. My shoulders relax. “Do you
see
Jack or a beanstalk?” I ask. There’s no ocean in
Jack and the Beanstalk
.

He scrunches up his nose. Hmm, his nose is looking a little red. He might need sunscreen. Crumbs, I don’t think I packed any.

Speaking of stuff I packed — where’s my suitcase?

I spin around and around until I spot it a few feet away, floating in the other direction. “Our stuff! We have to get it!”

“I’ll get it,” my brother says, diving after it. Except the waves are quick and I can see my red suitcase drifting away faster than Jonah can swim.

“Forget it, Jonah!” I don’t want him swimming so far out. It’s too dangerous.

“But I don’t want to lose my Kadima paddles!” he calls.

“You didn’t pack them!” I yell back.

“I did when you weren’t looking!”

Now I know why my suitcase was so heavy.

Eventually, when the suitcase is nothing more than a red dot in the distance, Jonah gives up and swims back.

Great. Just great. I have nothing to wear but soggy pajamas and hundred-pound shoes. With a large sigh and a lot of effort, I heave myself onto the dry sand.

SQUISH.
When I pull off one of my sneakers, a piece of seaweed and a gallon of sandy water spill out.

Jonah is right behind me. “Abby! I see someone! Is that Jack?” He points to the ocean. In the distance, there’s a blob moving toward us.

I squint toward the water. I see a head! A guy’s head! But it can’t be Jack. Jack climbs; he doesn’t swim. Also, Jack is about my age, and this guy looks like a teenager. Wait! Behind the guy’s head another head keeps bobbing in and out of the water. A girl’s head. At least I think it’s a girl’s head. I can see long blond hair. They’re getting closer … and closer … and … Yup, it’s a girl. And then behind her is something green and orange. A towel? A floatie?

It’s shiny and triangle-shaped and reminds me of a paper fan I had as a kid.

Oh! It’s a tail! The girl has a tail!

Which can only mean one thing.

“She’s a mermaid!” I exclaim. “We’re in
The Little Mermaid
!”

“But who’s the mermaid holding?” my brother asks. “Maybe it’s Jack?”

“I am one hundred percent sure it is
not
Jack,” I snap.

The guy has dark-brown hair and his eyes are closed. His head is rolling from side to side. That’s not a good sign.

I can’t tell if this mermaid is
the
Little Mermaid or just
a
mermaid. I need to remember the original story. My nana read it to me a million times. I just have to focus, and it’ll all come back to me. Too bad there’s no
time
to focus.

From about twenty feet away, the mermaid’s head bobs above the surf. She looks right at us, gasps, and disappears under the water. A second later, she pushes the guy toward us and swims in the other direction.

“We scared her,” Jonah says.

“Wait!” I call to the mermaid. “Don’t leave!”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to the people in the story!” Jonah exclaims.

Right. Crumbs.

No time to worry about that now.

The guy is sinking under the surface and it’s up to us to save him.