Real Mermaids Don't Need High Heels (7 page)

I sat beside Luke as he strummed on his guitar, and watched the glowing embers of the campfire crackle and float off into the early autumn sky. Gran had invited us all to hang out at her cottage on Friday night before Serena dove back into Talisman Lake to spend the weekend with her parents, Finalin and Medora.

“LOL means ‘laughing out loud,'” I explained to Serena. She'd wanted to text Chelse as soon as she saw the Beckers' cottage on a nearby island. Serena had mastered smiley faces with a little help from me and Cori and had even made up a mermaidy one for her signature, but she was still having trouble with acronyms. And autocorrect, apparently.

I glanced at her messages back and forth with Chelse.

O<~~{: wish u be here :) :) :) :)

live2text: me toooo!

O<~~{: we do camp fare

O<~~{: camp fear

O<~~{: camp FIRE!

live2text: sounds scary haha LOL

Meanwhile, Trey was entertaining us with his marshmallow-roasting skills before Serena had to go.

“It's just like driving a car,” Trey said as he turned the marshmallow at the end of his stick. “Too much gas and you peel out and burn rubber. Too little and you lose traction on the turns.”

“Like you would know,” Luke teased.

“I'm telling you! There's a fine art to marshmallow roasting,” Trey replied. “Oh! Ah!” Just then, his marshmallow caught on fire and he hopped around trying to blow it out.

“You guys told Serena you had a surprise for her. Nobody said anything about burning her lips off,” Cori joked as she munched on a graham cracker.

“Here, Serena.” Luke put his guitar aside and motioned to the bag of junk food between us. “Toss me a couple of those, and I'll show you how it's really done.”

“The mish-minnows?” Serena asked, holding up the bag.

“Oh, but these are far more than just lowly marshmallows,” Luke said mysteriously. He attached a few to his stick and turned them over the campfire until they were golden brown on all sides. “Add graham crackers, chocolate, and peanut butter, and you get the ultimate campfire experience—the s'more!”

“Mish-minnow s'mores?” Serena asked.

“Exactly,” Luke replied. “But, I invented
this
particular version of s'more in honor of our good buddy Reese.”

“Reese!” Serena's face lit up.

I smiled at Luke, and he smiled back. There had definitely been a love connection between Serena and Reese the last time we were all underwater. I couldn't help thinking how sweet it was of Luke to help Serena celebrate her first week of high school in this way.

“Are those Reese's Peanut Butter Cups?” I spied the familiar orange wrapper in the bag. I loved Reese's Peanut Butter Cups almost as much as I loved chocolate-covered WigWags. I showed Serena how to put one on a graham cracker.

“Yup!” Luke laughed. He took the roasted marshmallows and placed them on our s'mores, and then he made another one for himself. Cori and Trey did the same.

The warm marshmallow melted the chocolate and peanut butter, and they oozed out from between my graham crackers as I squished them together.

“To Reese!” Luke held up his s'more in a toast.

“To Reese!” we replied. I bit into the ooey-gooey s'more and went to my happy place.

“Omigarmmm…that is delicious,” I mumbled.

“I know, right?” Luke asked, wiping the corner of my mouth with his finger. “What do you think, Serena?”

“I love mish-minnow s'mores!” she said between bites.

Just then, I caught a splash over the lake out of the corner of my eye.

“Wow, the bass are really jumping tonight, huh?” Trey said.

“I don't think those are bass,” Luke replied.

And from the sound of the screeching mer rings coming from the middle of the lake, I was pretty sure they weren't bass either.

• • •

Once Serena had rejoined her parents underwater, we all sat on the beach in the moonlight while the campfire died out and waited for our parents to come pick us up.

“It's been quite a week, huh?” Luke nudged my shoulder and kissed me on the cheek as he kept strumming his guitar.

“No kidding.” Actually, I couldn't believe it had only been a week so far.

Since Serena had arrived, I'd found out that Bridget and Coach Laurena were mers too, and that the Mermish Council planned to force us all back to the ocean with Tidal Law. I'd also joined the underwater hockey team, helped launched an election campaign, and discovered I was expected to ask a boy to a formal dance and dress up in some uncomfortable frilly, taffeta torture device. But I wasn't quite ready to broach the subject of the Fall Folly dance with Luke just yet.

“At least the Jet Skis and boats of Talisman Lake are safe for another week,” I muttered.

“Oh. And the humans!” Cori wrapped her hoodie around her shoulders to keep out the evening chill. She and Trey got up and walked to the end of Gran's dock to put their feet in the water.

“But we're no further ahead on that other mer problem,” I said to Luke as we sat alone at the campfire.

“There
have
been a few developments,” Luke said.

“What kind of developments?” I asked.

“I saw Grandpa at Bridget's this afternoon. He said he had to let a boat through on Wednesday so all those mer prisoners waiting in the canal are now in the lake,” Luke replied. “He felt really bad.”

“I agree it's sad, but is it really Eddie's problem? Or ours?” I knew that sounded horrible of me, but I was getting tired of the underwater mer world messing up my above-water life. “We're humans now, not mers.”

“That might be a totally different story by Thursday,” Luke said quietly as he kept strumming his guitar. It was true. The only difference between us and them was the upcoming supermoon.

“So what about Uncle Alzear? Or Reese?” I asked. “Can't they help somehow?”

“Unfortunately, Grandpa says Alzear was one of the prisoners,” Luke replied.

“Oh.” It felt different now that I actually knew one of the new Freshies.

“And speaking of Reese,” Luke nodded to one of the peanut-butter-cup wrappers, “Bridget says she hasn't seen him since earlier this week.”

Right. Reese—another friend who was at the mercy of the Mermish Council. Now I felt like an even bigger jerk.

“So now we have no way of knowing what's going on?” I asked. “We're worse off than before.”

“Bridget thinks Reese might not be able to get away during the day or something,” Luke said. “She's going to camp out at the beach this weekend to see if she can catch him.”

“I still can't believe Bridget is Reese's mom.” I folded Serena's clothes and stuffed them in my backpack. “I just don't get how she could have left him behind in the ocean like that.”

“It's not like she had much of a choice to take him with her. It's the Mermish Council that decides who get to be Webbed Ones. They control everything.” Luke stopped strumming his guitar. “And if Bridget would have stayed in the ocean, Reese wouldn't even
have
a mom.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Reese told me once that Bridget was born with a tail defect called scaliosis,” Luke said as he put his guitar back in its case. “It got worse and worse as Bridget got older until she couldn't swim at all by the time he was born.”

“And not being able to swim is like a death sentence to a mer,” I said, feeling really bad for judging her in the first place. “Which is why the Mermish Council let her be a Webbed One.”

At the rate I was going, I definitely wasn't going to win an empathy award at my school's next
Character
Counts!
assembly.

“And which is why it's probably a good idea that Bridget never becomes a mermaid again,” Luke added quietly as he poked the campfire's embers with a stick.

“Wow. I feel like a jerk. I really didn't mean—”

“I know you didn't.” Luke smiled and took my hand. “This whole mer stuff is messed up.”

“You're not kidding.” I thought back to Reese and how he carried Bridget's ID card in his satchel. Sure, it sounded like they kept in contact at Port Toulouse Beach, but stealing a few minutes together with Reese in the water and Bridget on shore was nothing like having my mom finally home with me, sleeping under the same roof. Now Reese might get his mother back if Tidal Law was put into effect, but for how long?

“Hallo!” Dad called out. He and Mom had arrived to pick me up. They walked down the hill from Gran's cottage and joined us on the beach. Dad spotted Luke holding my hand. He did this choking, squawking noise and his eyes bugged out like he was having an allergic reaction.

“Don't take it personally,” I whispered to Luke. “My dad thinks I should only start dating
after
I'm married.”

“Got it.” Luke laughed and waved. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Baxter.”

“Hello, Luke.” Dad spoke slowly and kept staring at Luke, then me, then our entwined hands.

Luke squirmed. “Um, I think I'll go get a bucketful of water to put out this fire.” He excused himself and headed to the edge of the shore.

“Oh, Dalrymple.” Mom gave Dad a whack on the arm.

“What?” Dad asked, looking innocent. “All I said was ‘hello.'”

“And practically vaporized him with your death stare,” I said.

“Well, anyway,” Mom turned to me, “I hope you kids had fun. Did Serena get away all right?”

“Yep,” I replied. “She dove in a little while ago, so she's back in the watery pool of despair with her charming mother and father.”

Mom laughed. “Believe me, Serena could do a lot worse for parents than Finalin and Medora.”

I stared at Mom, not believing what she was saying. “How can you say that after everything those guys did to you?”

“I'm just saying that as far as parents go…” Mom began but then waved her hand as if to swat the words away. “Oh forget it—don't mind me.”

“So, anyway,” Dad gave me a quick peck on the cheek and stole a leftover marshmallow from the bag. “Sorry we're late, but I had to make a few pit stops along the way.”

Dad popped the marshmallow in his mouth with a mischievous smile.

“Why do I get the feeling one of those stops was to Home Depot?” I joked.

“You know me so well,” he replied, wiping his marshmallow-y hand on his shirt. “Actually, I'm glad you guys are all still here. I could use some help unloading the truck.”

• • •

I was beyond itchy by the time we'd unloaded all the sheets of foil-lined pink insulation into Gran's small den off the kitchen. Mr. Martin had picked up Luke, Trey, and Cori by then, so I was left on my own to help Dad with whatever half-baked plan he had in mind.

“What's this stuff made of, anyway? Itty-bitty machete-wielding demons?” I shook my arms, trying to free myself of the prickly fibers along my skin.

“Just some foil-lined R4 fiberglass insulation,” Dad said.

“Oh, that's good, Dally,” Gran said, “because this room can get a bit drafty when the wind is coming off the lake. Could you fix the seal on the windows, too?”

“Sorry, Mom,” Dad said to Gran. “This isn't to insulate your den, but I'll get to those windows before the winter, okay?”

“I'm holding you to that.” Gran slapped his shoulder a few times on her way back to the kitchen. “There's a Hungry Man turkey dinner in it for you if you get it done by Thanksgiving.”

“So what is this stuff
for
then?” I asked, surveying the piles of pink insulation.

“This doesn't have anything to do with Tidal Law, does it?” Mom asked, coming into the room with the toolbox from the truck. “I thought we agreed there was no scientific solution this time.”

“There is
always
a scientific solution,” Dad said as he flicked open the latch of his toolbox and waved a screwdriver in the air. “Did Archimedes's wife doubt him when he solved the mystery of water displacement while taking a bath? Did Newton's wife debate his theory of gravity when he got bonked by an apple?”

“But Mom isn't exactly your
wife
, now is she?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, but my conversation with Coach Laurena had obviously been weighing on my mind.

Mom and Dad stopped what they were doing. They glanced quickly at each other, then back to me.

“No,” Dad began. “She isn't, but—”

“Let me.” Mom put a hand up to stop him, then took my hand and led me to the couch to sit down. “I guess you figured that out, huh?”

“Took me long enough,” I joked.

“Are you okay?” Mom asked. “Because being married or not has nothing to do with how we feel about you. You get that, don't you?”

“I'm okay, but does it bother you guys? Not being married?”