To Catch a Mermaid (20 page)

Mertyle began to cry. “I’m so itchy.”

Halvor looked at his watch. “It’s already 8 a.m. Mr. Jorgenson, Captain Igor, and Burt will be waiting for us.”

“How are we going to get out of here?” Winger asked.

Boom pulled back the curtain in the entryway window and peered out at the madness. Dozens of vans with satellite dishes had parked in the street. Reporters and camera crews dashed up and down the walkway, fighting the wind and rain. The dirt circle had turned into a mud bog, and one lady slipped and sprayed mud all over some of her colleagues. Mr. Mump started waving to everyone from his driveway. “Over here,” he yelled. “I’ll tell you all about the merbaby.” The reporters dashed across the street. Mr. Mump opened his garage door and Mrs. Mump started handing out cream-filled cupcakes and finger sandwiches. Hurley Mump appeared, his hair slicked back, dressed in his Sunday suit even though it was Monday morning. He smiled as reporters jammed their microphones at him. This was the morning that Boom had planned to demand a rematch. The rematch now seemed as insignificant as Hurley’s smirk.

“I wish they’d all go away,” Mertyle said.

Of course!

“Mertyle, tell that to the baby. Make another wish.” Boom shook his sister’s drooping shoulders. “Make the wish. Hurry.” He lifted the blanket but the basket was empty. He looked around. “Where is it?”

“There,” Winger cried. The baby had flopped her way to the top of the stairs, heading for the bedroom.

Boom didn’t need anyone to convince him to go get the creature. Regardless of how much spitting and growling she did, this was not the time for cowardice. He ran up the stairs and found the baby chewing on his slippers. “You’ve got to let me pick you up again,” he told her, reaching forward. She greeted Boom in her usual manner. Boom wiped the spray of spit from his cheeks as the baby snarled and thumped her tail on the carpet. She wasn’t going to make this easy. She might even draw blood again. She didn’t seem to care that Mertyle was growing sicker by the minute. At that moment, Boom felt all the sadness he had been holding in for the entire year come percolating to the surface.

“Please, Baby. Please let me take you. You’re the only chance Mertyle has. She’s got to get better. I can’t lose her, too.” Though he fought hard to hold them back, tears pooled in his lower lids. A single tear overflowed onto his cheek and dripped onto the carpet as he wiped the others away. The baby leaned forward and touched the fallen tear, turning it into a crystal. She picked it up and held it out to Boom.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the amazing gift.

The merbaby held out her arms and Boom picked her up. He stared into the depths of her eyes where her iris danced like ships on the sea. “You are the most amazing discovery of the twenty-first century. Of any century.”

“Boom!” Halvor hollered from downstairs.

Boom carried the baby to the window and pointed to the chaos in progress outside. “Can you get rid of all those people? For Mertyle’s sake?”

The baby stuck her hand in Boom’s jacket pocket and pulled out one of the three dollar bills. She looked at the money, then at Boom, then out the window. She pointed as a delivery van pulled in between two television station trucks. Neither the Mumps nor the reporters took notice. They were too busy with Hurley and the cupcakes, too busy keeping themselves dry from the rain and safe from the wind.

The delivery guy got out and opened the back of his van, pulling out boxes labeled
.

Chapter Twenty-seven:

Mr. Broom Emerges

W
inger,” Boom cried, rushing down the stairs with the baby in his arms. “Go outside and open those boxes. They’re full of money.”

“Money?” Winger pulled back the curtain.

“Start giving it away.”

“Give it away? Boom, are you crazy? There’s, like, twenty boxes out there.”

It did sound crazy, but money wouldn’t cure Mertyle. “It’s a distraction,” Boom explained. “To help Mertyle.”

“Oh. Okay, then.” Winger opened the door. “Good luck, everyone.” He scurried around the mud circle and ran toward the van, yelling, “Hey, look over here! FREE MONEY!”

The reaction was exactly what Boom had hoped for. The reporters dropped their microphones and the camera crews dropped their equipment as Winger held up fists full of dollars. The wind claimed some of the bills, scattering them across the street. Like hungry raccoons fighting over ripe bananas, the reporters pushed and shoved and fought to grab as much money as possible. The Mumps, with their stout bodies and greedy dispositions, fought their way into the center of the crowd.

“The coast is clear,” Boom said.

Out the back door went Halvor, Mertyle, Boom, and the baby. Across the edge of the yard they hurried, over the fence, and into the trampled cornfield. No one on Prosperity Street took notice. The scent of money polluted the air and filled every nostril. The money-grabbers screamed and kicked one another, stuffing the bills into pockets and down shirts.

Halvor took Mertyle’s arm as they ran across the field, helping her keep her balance. Boom had tucked the baby in his jacket. Her green face peeked out like a pea in a pod. They came to the edge of the forest and Boom looked over his shoulder, relieved to see that no one was following. The baby clung tightly to Boom as they ran down a path strewn with fallen branches. Through the windswept trees they hurried until they came to the cliff’s edge. Mr. Jorgenson’s boat floated in the sloppy sea below. The sight of the majestic ship, with its dragon figurehead and graceful keel, would have made the real Vikings proud. Captain Igor waved from the steering oar.

Down the steep trail they stumbled, slowing at each of the switchbacks until they reached the water. The tide swelled high and the sea slapped against the cliff’s face. Mr. Jorgenson rowed up in his rowboat. “Bless your heart, Mertyle,” he said when he looked upon her fuzzy face. As Mertyle climbed in, he yelled above the wind’s howl. “Burt couldn’t come. His wife said he had to stay home and unclog the bathroom sink.”

“Down two men,” Halvor grumbled. “Winger and Burt. That’s not good. In this storm we need all the rowing hands we can get.”

“You’re right, but where can we get another pair of hands?” Mr. Jorgenson asked.

Boom looked back up the cliff. He’d climbed the trail many times in his life but had never run it. He handed the baby to Mertyle. “I’ll go get another pair of hands,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

His heart pounded as he forced his limbs up the steep path. He didn’t stop to rest, not once, as he ran through the forest and across the cornfield. The wind continued its crazy dance, whistling in his ears and snaking around his face. Would Hurley help them? Mr. Mump seemed strong, but would he care enough to help his neighbors?

Mr. Mump had backed his truck next to the delivery van and was fighting over the boxes. Hurley and Daisy stood in the truck’s bed, kicking people as they tried to climb in to get their hands on more money. Everyone was screaming at everyone else.

Forget them,
Boom thought.
I know who will help.

Boom ran through his back door, right to the hall closet. “Dad?” he called, opening the door.

Mr. Broom’s long hair hung in his face, matted with nervous sweat. He clung to a mop. “The twister. Has it come again?” he asked. “Is that why everyone is screaming?”

“No, Dad. There’s no twister.” Boom knelt inside the closet and took his dad’s trembling hands. “Dad, we need your help. You must listen to me. Mertyle’s in danger.”

“Mertyle?” Mr. Broom’s hands stopped shaking and he looked directly into Boom’s eyes. “My little Mertyle?”

“She’s sick for real this time and we’re trying to get her to the people who can cure her. We have to row to Whale Fin Island and we need your help.”

“Where is she?”

“Outside. She’s outside. We have to go outside, Dad.”

Mr. Broom gasped. “Out of the house? Into the wind?”

“Yes, Dad, into the wind. Mom’s not here to help us. You’ve got to be the one.”

“Into the wind?”

Boom lost all patience. “Mertyle might die!” he yelled. Boom was the child and the quivering mass on the floor was supposed to be the adult. “Get up and help us,” Boom begged. “Please, Dad. Don’t you see that if I can go outside, then so can you? Don’t you think I was scared after Mom died? I wanted to crawl under my bed but I didn’t. I went outside, and you can do it too.” He took a deep, frenzied breath. “We can’t let Mertyle die. I don’t want Mertyle to die. She needs us.”

Mr. Broom’s eyes widened. “Die? My little Mertyle?” He put down the mop, and the dazed mask that he had worn for the past year seemed to melt away. “Then I must go,” he said, crawling out of the closet. Boom helped him to his feet and handed him a coat. Mr. Broom put it on with trembling hands. “I must go
outside.
” Mr. Broom took a cautious step out the back door, wincing as the wind whipped his face. “Outside,” he repeated. Boom took his father’s hand and pulled him free of the house that had become his prison.

Mr. Broom was a good runner and he kept pace with Boom as they crossed the cornfield. “See, Dad,” Boom yelled, pumping his legs. “The wind won’t hurt us. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

“No twisters?” Mr. Broom asked.

“No twisters,” Boom told him.

Had Boom hesitated before answering, he would not have said what he said. Because a mere two seconds later, a sound approached, similar to the sound Halvor’s blender made when chopping fish fins. Boom looked over his shoulder, expecting to see a reporter’s helicopter. But the sky above his house had turned black and a thick cloud swirled above it, churning and tossing rainbow dandelions every which way.

A twister! In the name of Thor, a twister!

Both Boom and Mr. Broom screamed so loud that Boom thought they might burst their lungs. The Mumps and the reporters began to scream as well. Fear seized hold of Boom’s body but he knew there was no time for fear. He pulled his dad’s arm until they reached the forest’s edge. They turned to check the twister’s progress. The Broom house still stood, but the churning spiral of wind kicked up bits of cornstalk as it raced across the field. Into the forest Boom and his father ran as the twister followed, tearing out saplings as if they were mere fish kebob skewers.

“Run!” Boom screamed, as the twister came closer.

They stopped at the cliff’s edge. Below, the others waved from the Viking ship, then screamed and pointed as the twister appeared at the top of the cliff. Down the trail father and son ran. Mr. Broom lost his balance, sliding to the first switchback. Boom slipped as well, but regained his footing. Rocks tumbled by as the twister touched the cliff’s edge. They weren’t going to make it. No way. The twister would overtake them.

The tide had risen higher and the Viking ship drifted close to the cliff’s face. “Jump!” Captain Igor shouted.

“Jump!” echoed Halvor.

Jump? Were they nuts?

A rock hit Mr. Broom in the shoulder, and Boom turned to see the edge of the twister within reach. The force of it stung his entire body. He grabbed his father’s hand, and together they jumped.

Chapter Twenty-eight:

Man Overboard

B
oom’s face was pressed against someone’s coat. He sat up and wiped drool from his chin. He was lying on the deck of Mr. Jorgenson’s ship. He must have passed out, or maybe he had hit his head on something. His back ached, as did his legs — the sure result of having jumped off a cliff.

The jump was the last thing he remembered. Just how long had he been knocked out? Mertyle lay next to him, snoring. The white fuzz had grown through her black sweater and pants and had so thoroughly transformed her that, had she not been wearing tennis shoes, Boom might have thought the abominable snowman had come for a visit. Which would be completely believable at this point in his life.

Boom peered over the ship’s rail. Where were they exactly? The cliffs of Fairweather Island could not be seen, nor any land, for that matter. He remembered that the twister had been hot on his heels. Was it possible that the raging wind had carried the ship somewhere, just as it had carried his mother?