Sink or Swim (7 page)

L
ana is a fast learner. By the end of the day, she knows the whole alphabet. By the day before the wedding, she can pretty much read and write.

It helps that we recruit Russell’s tutor. I’ll admit it: I’m no reading and writing expert. But it was all my idea, so I’m taking credit for it anyway, thank you very much.

Lana decides not to tell Prince Mortimer what she’s up to. She wants it to be a surprise. Since he’s always outside surfing, canoeing, or windsurfing, it hasn’t been much of a problem.

When Lana takes breaks, we are very busy with wedding prep. We go to dress fittings with the palace tailor. Lana’s dress
is the perfect bride’s dress — white, strapless, and fitted on top, with a big, poofy skirt. My maid-of-honor dress has capped sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and a short skirt. It’s pretty gorgeous — and yellow, of course.

Also, as maid of honor, it is my job to help Lana prepare for her big march down the aisle. I make her practice walking. Heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe. I read a book about a model once, and that’s how she was told to walk down the catwalk. I’m guessing it’s the same for a wedding.

I even practice my own walking — as maid of honor I have to make sure not to trip.

Being maid of honor is pretty important, you know. And time-consuming.

My job is to keep Lana happy and worry-free all day. Also to get an updo, manicure, and pedicure on the morning of the wedding. Yup, the bride and the maid of honor both get their hair and nails done! I’ve never had an updo, manicure, or pedicure, so I’m psyched.

Now, the day before the wedding, while Lana studies with Russell’s tutor, I try and find the portal home. I knock on everything I see. Bedposts. Bowls. Stairs. Nothing works.

Jonah is supposed to be helping, but he’s too busy vacationing.

“Can you please help me?” I ask him, finding him doing handstands in the pool.

“Abby, I’m sure it will be something at the wedding. The portal usually pops up at the
end
of our adventure.”

“Jonah, of course it pops up at the end of our adventure! Once we find it, we leave!”

“Not true,” he says, floating on his back. “We wait until the happy ending is all straightened out, and then we leave. The happy ending here isn’t all straightened out yet.”

“It practically is,” I tell him.

“Then I’m sure we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” he says. “Why don’t you come swimming?”

“Just because you’re taking a break doesn’t mean I can,” I huff. Although it is very hot. And the pool does look very refreshing. But also deep. Anyway, I have other things to do.

I leave my brother to feel guilty in the pool while I go check on Lana.

She’s scribbling on a piece of paper. She’s writing! My plan totally worked!

“What are you writing?” I ask.

She takes a clean piece of paper and writes, “RITING PRESINT FOR PRINS.”

Okay, so she’s not the best speller yet, but come on. Two days ago she didn’t even know that her name started with the letter L. Give her a break.

“Cool,” I say.

She nods. Her cheeks are flushed with happiness.

“What is it?”

She points her pencil at her notebook.

It says:

“ONCE UPON A TIME THER WAS A MERMAD PRINCES. ON HER 15 BIRTHDA SHE SAW A PRINS FAL IN THE WATER —”

“Oh!” I squeal. “It’s the story of how you met!”

She nods.

“He’s going to be so impressed,” I say. “Wait, Lana, I want to ask you a question. How come you don’t want to invite your family to the wedding?”

She sighs. She pulls out a fresh piece of paper and writes, “THEY CANT COM ON LAND. AND THEY MUST
BE VERE MAD AT ME. AND NOT FEEL LIKE CELEBRATING.”

“Are you sure? We could send them the invite — you never know what they might say.”

“NO,” she writes. “THEY CANT REED.”

Oh, right.

That’s so sad! She seems to think so, too, because I catch her frowning and gazing toward the window that overlooks the water.

On the bright side: I’m still the maid of honor!

T
hat night we all eat together in the dining room.

It’s a pretty delicious dinner. Chef Carolyn makes a barbeque. There are cheeseburgers and corn and grilled salami. Of course, there’s mustard. For dessert we have banana pie and lemon cake. These people really know how to eat, even if most of the food is yellow.

During dessert, Lana stands up and hands a box to Prince Mortimer. There’s a yellow ribbon tying it closed.

“What’s this?” he asks.

She smiles.

“It’s her wedding gift to you,” I explain, not wanting to give away the surprise but bursting with excitement. How amazing is she that she learned to write in two days? She’s amazing! And it was all my idea! I am the best maid of honor ever!

Prince Mortimer unwraps the ribbon, opens the box, and takes out pretty papers laced together with ribbon. The first page reads:
Our Story, by Princess Lana
.

“How nice,” the prince says before placing it beside his plate. He goes right back to his lemon cake.

Lana looks shocked.

I
feel
shocked. “Aren’t you going to read it?”

“I’m in the middle of dessert,” he explains, taking another forkful. “Yum.”

Lana’s face falls.

No. No, no, no. “But don’t you see what a big deal this is? Lana wrote that! Herself! She learned to read and write so you guys can communicate!”

Prince Mortimer takes a big gulp of pineapple juice before continuing. “What does Lana need to read and write for? She’s a princess. She just needs to smile, dance, and be beautiful.”

I drop my fork and it clatters against my plate.

Jonah’s jaw drops open.

Lana gasps. She looks at Prince Mortimer and then back at me. She shakes her head. Then she pushes her chair back and runs out of the room.

Everyone else at the table shrugs.

“Guess she doesn’t like lemon cake,” the prince says, and continues eating. “You know what we should have at the wedding? Lemon meringue pie.”

I can’t listen to one more minute of this. I excuse myself from the table and hurry after Lana. I do kind of hope they have lemon meringue pie at the wedding, though. I love lemon meringue pie.

When I walk into her room, just down the hall from mine, she is pacing.

“Sorry about that,” I say.

Lana throws her arms up in the air. She picks up a paper and pen and writes, “I THINK I MAD A BIG MISTAK!!!”

I think she made a big mistake, too. Which I told her from the beginning. Not that I’m going to say “I told you so” now. Even though I really want to.

But I won’t.

Her eyes tear up, and she continues writing:

“I GAVE UP EVERETHING TO BE HERE. MY FAMILIE. MY HOME. MY VOICE. MY SISTERS!! MY DAD! OH MY POOR DAD.”

“What’s wrong with your dad?” I ask. “Isn’t he the king?”

She nods. “HE IS LONELLY SINCE MY MOM DIED 10 YEARS AGO.”

Her poor dad. First he lost his wife, and now he pretty much lost his daughter. I sit down on her perfectly made bed. I’m impressed. She makes a good bed.

“WHAT SHUD I DO?”

As I glance down at the bed, I remember one of my mom’s favorite expressions. “You made your bed, and now you have to sleep in it,” I say.

She shakes her head and then writes, “VIVIAN MADE MY BED!”

Oh. Right. She probably made Jonah’s, too. I, on the other hand, made my own bed, thank you very much. Anyway, that’s not the point. “It’s an expression,” I say. “What I mean is, I’m not sure what you
can
do except get married.” And this isn’t because of the maid of honor thing. I swear. “You can’t go back to your family. You don’t have a tail. Can you swim in the ocean the way you are now?”

She shakes her head no.

“And, anyway, if you cancel the wedding, he’ll marry someone else. And then …” my voice trails off.

And then.

Although maybe the deal with the sea witch changed. It’s possible, isn’t it? Since the story has changed? “Did the sea witch tell you that if the prince marries someone else you’ll … you’ll … stop living the next morning?” I can’t bear to say the word
die
.

She nods.

Crumbs.

We can’t let that happen. No matter what.

I
t’s W-day. Wedding day.

And M-day: Maid-of-honor day.

Also, G-day: Go-home day. Assuming we can find the portal. My watch says it’s just before six, so technically we have until tomorrow, but I don’t want to be late.

I spend the morning in the royal salon getting ready. When they wash my hair with yummy lemon-scented shampoo and conditioner, I lean back and admire the gold chandelier above my head. Then they set my hair in curlers, and while it dries, they place my feet in a little claw-foot tub for a warm pre-pedicure foot bath.

Ahhhh.

Even more melty than a hot tub, if you can believe it.

They file and paint my toes gold. Then they do the same to my fingernails.

It’s all very glamorous. I feel like Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
when she’s getting all prettied up before she meets the wizard.

Lana and the queen are both in the royal salon, too.

Lana doesn’t say much. Obviously, she can’t talk. She doesn’t write much, either, though. She just stares into the distance, looking miserable.

On the other hand, the queen doesn’t
stop
talking.

“Everyone is coming,” she says. “Even the royal family of Watermelon will be here. They’re bringing their lovely daughter Alison. Lana, darling, she’s about your age and goes to school here in Mustard. I hope you two will become friends.”

Lana just shrugs.

A pretty princess named Alison? I can’t help but wonder if that’s the girl Prince Mortimer marries in the original story. Whatever. She’s not marrying him in
this
story.

And: Watermelon? Really?

Once my nails are dry, my hair is arranged in a very cool and elaborate updo, with gold barrettes to keep it in place. They even
sprinkle in gold sparkles to make it shine. Then they get to work on my makeup.

Makeup!

I’ve used some of my mom’s blush before, just for fun, but I’ve never gotten my
makeup
done. They use pink blush! And gold eye shadow! And mascara! And pink lip gloss! By the time they’re done, I look years older. At least thirteen.

Lana is still getting her makeup done, so I tell her I’ll meet her in her suite in half an hour to help her get dressed.

One hour until the wedding!

The people around the palace are buzzing and hopping and getting everything ready. I peek into the ballroom to see what it looks like, and there are at least a hundred gold chairs set up with an aisle down the middle.

I practice my wedding walk all the way back to my room. Heel-toe, heel-toe. Slow and steady. I try to keep my shoulders down like my nana always tells me to.

I miss my nana. She would be so proud to know that I’m
the
Little Mermaid’s maid of honor.

I change into my yellow maid-of-honor dress in my room, and then hurry over to Lana’s door to see how she’s doing. I
knock once. Twice. Three times. I can hear her inside, but she’s not answering.

Oh, right. She can’t talk.

Finally she throws open the door.

She’s in her full veil and wedding gown. Her hair hangs loose and curly around her shoulders. She looks gorgeous. Sure, she always looks gorgeous, but now she looks
extra
gorgeous. Like a princess. Like a
real
princess. No — like a fairy tale princess.

“You look beautiful,” I breathe.

She shrugs.

Then I notice her face.

Her eyes are wide, her skin is pale, and she’s biting her lower lip so hard, I think it might be bleeding. She also has her right hand wound through her hair and appears to be pulling on it. Hard. She looks terrified.

“Lana, you don’t look so good. I mean, you look gorgeous, but you also kind of look like you’re about to barf.”

Just what every bride wants to hear on her wedding day. Maybe I’m not the world’s best maid of honor, after all.

Lana closes her eyes and then opens them again, looking even sicker.

I’m not sure what to do. Or what to say. As maid of honor, it’s my job to make her feel better. To get her to the altar. But how can I convince her to go through with a wedding when she’s so clearly unhappy? On the other hand, if she doesn’t marry Prince Mortimer, what will happen to her? Nothing good. Something bad, in fact.

Someone pounds on the door. “Guys, it’s me! Jonah! Can I come in?”

“Yup,” I say, nervously watching Lana.

“Everyone’s waiting,” he says, waltzing in. “Are you two ready?”

Jonah looks adorable. He’s in a black tux with a mustard-colored bow tie. I wish I had a camera to take a picture and show my parents. Although then they would wonder why we were at a fancy event without them. It might be hard to explain.

Lana takes a deep breath. Then she nods. She marches out of the room, and we trail behind her. She’ll be happy, right? This will all work out.

It has to work out. Has to,
has
to, HAS to.

And the pit of fear in my stomach has to go away.

We follow Lana down the stairs and toward the ballroom. For some reason, this feels more like a funeral march than a
wedding. Maybe that’s just how weddings always are? It’s not like I’ve ever been in one before. What do I know?

Vivian is waiting for us at the bottom. “You look beautiful, Princess Lana! You, too, Abby. Take your bouquets.” She hands us both bunches of yellow roses and white baby’s breath, tied together with gold ribbon.

Ohhhh, pretty.

Jonah waves to us and slips inside so he can sit down with the rest of the crowd.

I peek through the open doors and see that the room is packed with at least a hundred people. Prince Mortimer is also in a black tuxedo and a mustard-colored bow tie, and he’s already at the altar. Yellow flowers are everywhere — roses, tulips, daisies, and other kinds that I don’t know the names of. The room looks really beautiful. I can’t believe they put this all together in three days. It must be a world record.

Violin music begins to play.

“Abby,” Vivian says. “You’re first. Then Lana.”

My turn! I look back at Lana. “You’re okay?”

She nods and motions for me to go.

I don’t want to leave her by herself, but I guess that’s my job. I take a step. Heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe. I’m doing it! I’m doing
it! This is fun! I am
so
acing this. Heel-toe, heel-toe, heel-toe! I did it! I made it the whole way without tripping!

When I get the altar, the prince is smiling at me.

I smile back. Maybe he’s not so bad. He loves her, right? He’ll make her happy?

He is smiling at me, right? I look behind me and realize he’s actually smiling at his reflection in the stained-glass window.

Hrm. Well, at least he’s smiling. Smiling’s still good, right? He could be frowning at his reflection. That would be worse.

I look up and spot Lana, waiting at the doors.

Everyone stands up and turns to her.

She really does look stunning. She only looks a little bit like she’s going to barf, and I’m probably the only one who notices.

The violinist begins to play the “Here Comes the Bride” march.

Lana doesn’t move. She just stares. And stares.

Uh-oh. I motion for her to come.

She stares some more. She pulls her hair. She takes one step forward.

She takes one step back.

And then another step back. Then she spins on her heels and runs the other way.