 
## Three Mermaid Tales

### ~~~

### by

### Anne Seaworthy

### ~~~

### With Illustrations by

### Anne Seaworthy

Three Mermaid Tales

by Anne Seaworthy

Copyright 2015 by Anne Seaworthy

Cover Design Copyright 2015

by http://coversbykaren.com

Cover illustration by Anne Seaworthy

The characters and events in this book are fictitious, even those referring to actual or well-known entities. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

## The Red Siren

# Chapter One

Dove stared at the seahorses in the glass tank on his desk. With their tails intertwined, they circled together for several minutes. Then the female, identifiable by her pointy abdominal area, deposited her eggs in a pouch on the male's abdomen.

"Interesting," Dove remarked, scribbling in his naturalist's notebook. "The male carries the eggs – at least in this species."

Rowynne entered cautiously. She hovered over his shoulder.

He reached up to touch her hand in greeting. It was a very nice hand, small and soft and white. His own hands were soft and quite pale as well, but that was likely to change over the course of this voyage.

Dove was on a mission for Rowynne's first cousin once removed, King Charles of England. They were to explore the new island his majesty had bought from Ecuador, setting up a colony and, in Dove's case, noting the wildlife of the land, anything useful that might profit England in some way. He was to return with a case full of specimens.

Meanwhile, Dove was on another mission – to impress Rowynne. The two were already betrothed, since Dove's father was a prominent baron and His Majesty the king needed to get the girl off his hands as soon as possible. Therefore, on this mission Dove was determined to show the young lady that he was a specimen worth marrying, to ensure their marriage would run smoothly.

He rose and pointed to the seahorses, saying, "These two are displaying unusual mating behaviors for such simple-minded beasts. After an extended courtship display, the female gives her eggs to the male. I wonder how that would work in human society?"

Rowynne shook her head in disgust. "If I may say so, I don't believe it would work at all. Men aren't built to care for children – it's women's work." She didn't say what she was thinking: a man would let the child die rather than belittle himself to care for it.

"Land ho!" cried Adamson, the first mate.

Dove ran upstairs, Rowynne following close behind. In the distance, a patch of land was visible, covered with lush rainforest.

"Mystycetii," breathed Gaines, using the Ecuadorian name for the place the king had named King Charles Island. "Soon I'll have those trees chopped down to make way for a big, fat gov'nor's palace, I shall!"

"And I'll be fryin' potatoes in yer front yard," proclaimed Kaelan, the plump Irishman. "Are ye fond of potatoes, m'lady?" He elbowed Rowynne.

"Keep your sticky elbows off my fiancée!" protested Dove weakly.

"All right, there's no need to get yer panties in a bunch – "

"Break it up, fellows," Randolph suggested, smoothly nicking the golden good-luck bracelet from Kaelan's wrist and slipping it into the pouch at his trousers. "We've all been at sea together too long..."

"Ye can't be at sea too long, never!" Captain Hildebrand interjected from the helm. "Nevertheless, we's about to be leavin' it for dry land. So be grateful, landlubbers."

~~~

The captain helped Rowynne off the vessel, ignoring Dove's grunts of protest. Hildebrand dropped her hand, and then proceeded to unsheathe his machete. "Come on, fellas," he scowled. "Time to cut our way to camp." They were to set up their colony in the center of the island, by a river the Ecuadorians called "the Mystic Lady," or " _La Señora Mística._ "

Dove wandered away from the others and began inspecting a short tree with a curving trunk and interesting-shaped leaves. It began leaning, then it tumbled before his eyes as Captain Hildebrand chopped it down to make way for the crew.

Kaelan clapped his hands in simple approval.

Off the new settlers bounded into the forest like a troop of chattering monkeys, with Dove bringing up the rear and bearing a disapproving frown. Something didn't feel right about cutting into this forest... it was like stabbing one's knife into the shoulder of a beast with razor-sharp teeth.

# Chapter Two

One month had passed on Mystycetii. While the other men cut down trees to build more houses and taverns for the host of people set to arrive in the fall, Dove spent his days following the river, drawing detailed illustrations of the flora and fauna he saw. While the others were busy crushing lizards under their feet and chopping down flowery vines, Dove was collecting precious specimens of these to bring back to England. He feared there would be no wild examples left by his departure if things kept going at this rate.

One early morning, he followed a strange-looking frog down the river to the sea. Having lost track of the frog, he was about to turn back when he heard the most melodious woman's voice, singing like a faun's flute.

"My lover is a sailor, he's bound to sail away, but like a fish in a fisherman's net, I'll catch him and he'll stay."

Dove's head whipped around, and the sound pulled him towards the tantalizing ice-blue waves. Standing at the shore, he could just make out the silhouette of a rock in the distance.

A lady perched on the rock, head tilted to one side as if brushing her hair. The brushing stopped, and the woman darted off the rock and into the water.

"Miss!" Dove called across the ocean. "Are you all right? Miss?"

No sputtering head came up - the woman must be drowning.

Dove thought of running back to camp and getting Randolph or Gaines - but there was no time for that. So he ripped off his vest and shirt, ran up a cliff overhanging the rock where the woman had sat, and dove in after her. When he saw her underwater, gaping at him curiously, perfectly calm and not at all in mortal danger, it was he whose head broke the surface, spewing water out of a shocked mouth.

He hadn't seen that. It was physiologically impossible.

To prove it to himself, he ducked his head under again and forced his eyes open in the salty water. There she was again: a buxom girl with blond hair flowing around her shoulders and a ruby-red fishtail extending from her hips to where her toes should be.

Dove cried out in fear since these creatures were known to drag men to their deaths. As he began kicking and trying to propel himself toward the shore, he ruminated on the fact that educated men did not believe these creatures to exist.

When he felt a hand firmly grabbing his foot, a bubbly shriek issued from Dove's mouth.

A soothing voice cooed, "Don't be scared. Stay and dance with us."

"Us?" Dove inquired, trembling.

"My friends and me." Releasing Dove's foot, the mermaid swan-dived beneath the surface.

Dove looked underwater to see a circle of dolphins with playful smiles on their sleek faces.

The mermaid barrel-rolled through the circle like a thread entering the eye of a needle. The dolphins whirled and swirled around her. She began singing again, this time in a language Dove didn't know, a language of clicks and squeals and words that sounded like they were being played on a beautiful viola da gamba, rather than spoken by a beautiful red mouth.

Dove waited until he could stand it no longer before coming up to breathe.

The mermaid came closer, and soon that beautiful mouth was at Dove's ear. "Join us," she said again.

_Whyever not?_ Dove thought to himself. _I'm dreaming anyway_. So he joined the circle of dolphins. Approving clicks and whistles surrounded him, as did blue-grey flippers and dorsal fins.

After he took another quick breath, the mermaid grabbed his arm, spinning him around and around in the center of the dolphin circle.

He realized this was dancing - and it was so much easier underwater than it ever had been in the stuffy ballrooms back home, with stuffy partners who wouldn't stop flapping their fans.

Suddenly the mermaid stopped. A low moan trumpeted through the water from a distance. She said, "That's my father on the conch. I'd better go." And just like that, she was gone, with a flick of the gossamer-red tail fin. The dolphins filed after her.

Dove burst to the surface, gasping for air. His eyes were red and his boots squishing when he returned to the colony. But his head was happily swimming with images of the lovely girl he'd just met.

# Chapter Three

The morning after a severe storm, Dove awakened to an incessant banging on the roof of his cabin. "Can't a man get some peace and quiet?" He rolled over onto his chest and grabbed his pillow, pulling it over his ears, but it was no use. So he pulled on his clothes, put his hair in its ponytail, and marched outside.

Rowynne crouched on the roof with her legs dangling down from their lacy prison and her pale arms occupied with a hammer and nails.

"Rowynne!" Dove cried. "Get down from there this instant! You'll hurt yourself!"

She tossed back her head of chocolate-brown curls and laughed at him. "You have a tremendous hole in your roof, Mr. Alastaire," she chided. "The storms must have blown something into it. I figured you were fast asleep and took the liberty of fixing it for you."

"You won't do me any favors by getting yourself killed," Dove grunted. He headed to the side of the cabin where he'd spotted a ladder leading to the roof. He grasped the sides of the ladder, took in a shaky breath, and forced his foot onto the first step. He began to climb up.

The ladder creakily swung away from the wall, tumbling to the ground on top of Dove.

Rowynne scrambled to the edge of the roof closest to him, crying, "Mr. Alastaire, are you all right?"

Dove groaned and stirred under his wooden cage. But it was no use - he could not get the ladder off himself.

Rowynne grabbed onto a nearby tree branch and slid down the trunk. She reached down and grabbed hold of the ladder. Then she heaved it off of Dove.

By that time, several of the other colonists had formed a circle around the pair. Randolph scratched his nose, chuckling. "What a gallant girlfriend you have there, Chickadee."

"It's Dove," said the naturalist, allowing Rowynne to help him to his feet. "Where on Earth do you get Chickadee from Dove?"

"Oooh, the Songbird's getting flustered," Kaelan snickered, covering his mouth in mock distress. "Maybe we should make 'im sing, eh, mates?"

"You men stop that this instant!" Rowynne cried, stepping in front of Dove. "Mr. Alastaire is my fiancé, and my first cousin once removed is your king! I don't think His Majesty would approve of this behavior."

Reluctantly, the men turned to leave and gossip about Dove down at the tavern, rather than tearing him limb-from-limb in his own yard. After this humiliation, Dove wondered if the latter wouldn't have been preferable.

When Rowynne turned to face him, he stared into her face, planning to tell her off for causing the whole scene to begin with. When he looked at her, he saw a different face superimposed on it... the face from that dream several weeks ago... He could no longer concentrate.

Rowynne cringed, probably expecting the blow of harsh words, but all Dove did was caress her cheek. When he did so, he hated himself for it, but he was imagining the cheek he caressed to be the rosy one of the mermaid.

# Chapter Four

Polyp swam upstream, against the current. She was determined to see her prince again, even if it meant breaking her curfew and disobeying her father's warnings against humans.

She came to a cabin with a front porch looking out on the river. A young girl with chocolate-brown curls sat on the steps, gazing out over the river. When the girl spotted Polyp, she gasped and stood up quickly, looking ready to bolt.

"I won't hurt you," Polyp said, hoping the human girl had no intention of hurting her, either. She grabbed hold of the riverbank to stay in place. "Do you know where I can find a man with skinny legs and a black ponytail?"

"What do you want to do to Mr. Alastaire?" Rowynne demanded. "Hypnotize him, then pull him into the sea?"

"I just want to have a friendly conversation, maybe confess my true love for him..."

"But you can't love him!" Rowynne got over her awe at the creature and was flooded with indignation at this ridiculous proposition. "He's betrothed to me!"

Just then Dove came out of the cabin next door. "What's ailing you, Rowynne?"

The girl pointed a shaking finger at Polyp.

Dove's eyes shone with recognition. His fantasy was real - she'd returned! Instantly he said to Rowynne, "she's a friend. Now go back inside, dear, we wouldn't want you catching cold."

Rowynne glared at the warm tropical sunset, but she obeyed her betrothed. She couldn't stand the look of those two lovebirds, anyway. When she got inside, she flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She could still hear the murmuring of the lovers' voices outside, and that mermaid's round face bore into her eyes even when she closed them. She couldn't escape the harsh reality: she'd fallen in love. And her new love was already enamored with another. Puzzled by her own feelings, fearing for the future, she slowly fell into a fitful sleep.

~~~

"So it's Mr. Alastaire?" Polyp asked Dove.

He replied, "Call me Dove. And what might your name be?"

"I'm Princess Polyp of the Pacific Kingdom." She smiled. "Call me Polyp."

"What kind of name is Polyp?" Dove wrinkled his nose.

Polyp giggled. "Silly, don't you know what coral is?

"Of course I do!" Dove pulled a piece of coral skeleton out of his pouch. "Washes up on the beach all the time."

Polyp shook her head. "Would you like to see it live?"

Dove hesitated. This was an opportunity no naturalist had ever had before. On the other hand, he wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't be dragged to his death if he followed the mermaid. But she hadn't tried to hurt him before... and her sea-green eyes were so alluring. Dove wanted to spend time with her.

"Show me, Polyp," he commanded, stripping off his coat and leaving it hanging from a tree branch. As he stepped into the chilly water, Polyp queried, "What kind of name is Dove, anyway?"

# Chapter Five

Dove and Polyp spent their days together, laughing in the lake by the waterfall, chasing one another down the river, and dancing with the dolphins in the sea. Polyp always brought a magic potion that tasted like fermented caramel syrup and allowed Dove to breathe and see underwater with ease. He soon began to feel like he belonged there.

One day he strolled down to the waterfall to meet Polyp. But today he wasn't in the mood for her antics. He had something serious he needed to discuss.

"Polyp, I know you're a mermaid, but I want to write you into my will," he proclaimed. "I can leave you my cabin, but I don't know if you'd have any use for it, given your condition."

"Why this serious talk all of a sudden?" Polyp motioned for him to sit down on the rock beside her. "You're so young to be writing a will."

"I am ill," Dove announced, "and I don't expect to last the year."

He sounded so calm in talking about his own death, it chilled Polyp down to the bone. "Don't say that!" she cried. "You and I are going to be together forever!"

"I've been waking up mornings feeling very nauseous," Dove detailed, "and I'm moody and melancholy. I fear I've caught some island disease for which there is no known cure."

Polyp giggled. "Silly, you're not sick. You're pregnant!"

"Don't speak such nonsense!" Dove shouted, so loud that colorful birds scattered into the air from the canopy. "Women carry children. At least, in my species..."

"In mine," Polyp confided, "the males carry the eggs until they're ready to go free as little mer-babies."

"So I'm having mer-babies?" Dove asked gently.

"I think so. I don't know if anyone's ever done this with a human before. We're making history, Dove!" She smiled at her lover.

"I can't stay here," he replied. He turned and ran away. He ran across half the island, following the river back to his cabin, feet splashing in and out of the water as he stomped on crunchy beetles. But he couldn't run away from his fate. An inscription worse than death by disease had been written for him - he was to die slowly of humiliation.

# Chapter Six

Captain Hildebrand had invited everyone to a celebratory dinner at his home. What was being celebrated was unknown, but Rowynne dragged Dove out of his house to visit anyway. "You need to spend more time with other people," she chided him.

Captain Hildebrand's was the finest mansion on the island. It was still a shack compared to what the aristocracy enjoyed back home, but compared to the other cabins, it was higher in stature and more elaborate in the carvings over the door and the fine china set out on the table. Dove supposed that, as a former pirate, much of Hildebrand's riches had been earned in a questionable manner.

"What a nice spread," remarked Randolph before pocketing a small silver spoon.

The other colonists concurred as they dug into roasted wild tortoise and scalloped potatoes. When the third course - oysters - was served, Dove noticed he had a particular craving for them.

With dinner over and the conversation winding down, Rowynne rose to leave. "Thank you for this wonderful dinner, Captain," she said. "I have an early morning tomorrow, so I think I'd best be getting home now." When she came around the table on her way to the door, Hildebrand caught her arm. "Pleasure having you, dear," he said. "Do come again, my sweet flower." His shaggy beard scratched her hand as he kissed it.

This was about enough for Dove. He rose, knocking over a kettle of tea as he did so. It spilled into Kaelan's lap, and the Irishman's eyes grew wide. Meanwhile, Dove marched over to Hildebrand, ready to punch him in the face. Well, maybe ready to give him a stern talking-to. Just before he could open his mouth, a strange sensation came over him, centered in his belly. He stepped back, doubled over with nausea. He ran outside to throw up.

"Lad must've had too many oysters," Kaelan snickered.

Meanwhile, Dove paced in the yard, too embarrassed to go back inside, but too disoriented and sick to return home. This terrible thing growing in his stomach was taking over him. It wouldn't be too long before the others discovered what was what. And what would they do then? Hang him? Burn him at the stake? Or simply laugh him to death?

# Chapter Seven

Dove sat at his desk flipping through his half-empty notebook but, not seeing the sketches and notes he'd taken. He wished to go back to a simpler time, when the contents of this notebook were all that concerned him.

His eyes came to rest on the tank he'd brought with him from the ship.

The male seahorse's pouch was swollen to bursting. Suddenly the seahorse began engaging in strange behavior: he jerked back and forth, and as he did so, tiny creatures emerged from an opening in the top of his pouch.

Dove realized the seahorse was giving birth. Automatically, he poised his hand with a feather pen over his notebook, ready to take notes.

The event lasted several minutes. When it was over, a cloud of skinny fry enveloped the pair of adult seahorses. Neither of them paid any attention to the fry once they were out of the pouch: no nuzzling, no feeding, nothing. The pair drifted across the tank, snouts searching for food. The fry buzzed around their environment nervously, not looking to the parents for guidance.

"So you don't take care of the young, do you?" Dove asked softly, leaning in towards the tank. "They're all on their own against the big, scary world." Dove remembered afternoons by the creek with his father, climbing the rocks and trying to catch frog specimens. What if his father had never been there? He probably would have been like one of those ruined children, the orphans he saw in the street with empty, hungry eyes and empty hands begging for handouts.

Dove placed a hand on his stomach. He could swear he felt a little push back from inside, from the creature he was harboring. He whispered, "I won't be like a seahorse father. I won't leave you all alone in the world."

# Chapter Eight

Dove hadn't seen Polyp since he'd marched off angrily when she'd told him he was pregnant. According to his calculations, it had been four months. He wanted to see her again, to make sure she knew of his new resolve to protect the child. Besides, he wanted to see her again.

He made his way to one of their favorite spots: the waterfall in the clearing, the one that poured into the lake that snaked away into the village. He sat by the water among the lavender flowers in the tall grass and began singing one of Polyp's favorite English songs. He couldn't carry a tune, and his voice was wavering, but he tried anyway: "My lover is a sailor, he's bound to sail away, but like a fish in a fisherman's net, I'll catch him and he'll stay..."

After a few minutes, a familiar face poked out of the water. "That was beautiful," Polyp sighed.

"No, it wasn't." Dove smiled.

"All music is beautiful when it comes from the heart," Polyp sang in her melodious voice. "Are you up for a swim?" She held up her vial of caramel potion.

Dove took off his coat and boots and hopped in the water. "Down to the ocean?" He asked.

"The inevitable answer is yes," Polyp giggled. "You know me so well."

So the two followed the river's path, winding through the village. Rowynne passed by, holding a load of laundry. She gaped at the two as they passed.

Eventually, they poured into the sea, where they soared over the corals that Dove now knew by name. The lovers talked about an argument Polyp had had with her father. Neither of them mentioned Dove's condition or his earlier breakdown. The respite from the situation and the reassurance that Polyp wasn't angry with him, both gave him great relief.

This time they went farther out into open sea than ever before. Dove was about to pant to Polyp that they should turn back when they came upon the most majestic palace Dove had ever seen. Grander than the castle of King Charles back home, this ice-blue structure seemed to be built entirely of crystal. Arches entwined with sea lilies graced the entrance, and conical towers topped with conch shells stood guard on either side.

Polyp ducked under one of the arches.

Dove followed, coming to a silver door adorned with silver handles . "What is this place?" Dove breathed.

"Home. My home. I think my sisters would like to meet you."

"What about your parents?"

"I don't have a mother, and Father's on business elsewhere. Thank Neptune; I don't think _he_ would like to meet you. He has something against humans, for some reason."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course, silly. I've told my older sisters about you, and they all adore men." Polyp pulled the door open, and the two came face to face with a burly merman with a head covered in flowing white sea snakes where his beard and hair should be.

"Polyp? What is this abomination?" His voice was like the whole baritone and tenor section of a choir, echoing against the high walls.

"Dove's my friend, Father," Polyp said, taking Dove's hand. Thoroughly shocking him, she added, "I think we'd like to get married."

Recovering quickly, Dove smiled his most charming smile at the mer-king. But it was to no avail.

The merman glared at Dove in the fashion that one glares at a cockroach on the bottom of one's shoe. "Put this man in prison," he ordered a nurse shark hovering at attention behind him. "He's seen too much to be allowed to return to the humans."

"No!" Polyp cried. "He's done nothing wrong!"

"And _you_ ," her father sneered at her, "may go to your room and think about your disgrace for bringing a human here. You are forbidden to visit the prison," he added before she could ask.

Polyp smiled at Dove, an apologetic, worried smile. Then she followed her father's orders, swimming up to a hole in the ceiling.

Dove was escorted by the nurse shark deep into a murky hole in the ground. The deeper into the abyss they sank, the lower his heart sank in his chest.

# Chapter Nine

Dove hadn't been home for three days. Rowynne was at her wit's end. She'd searched the village, the forest, the beaches \- with no trace of him. She broke into his house to look for clues to his disappearance. All she saw of note was a tank full of seahorses on the desk. They were lying on the bottom of the tank, looking despondent, so she fed them a few pieces of the bottle marked "fish food" on the bookshelf. Then, desperate, she went to Captain Hildebrand's mansion to discuss the mystery.

"Ye haven't searched the sea yet, have ye?" He inquired. "Sometimes a body don't wash up on shore for several days."

"So you think he's dead?" Rowynne's voice trembled.

The captain nodded enthusiastically. "We can put together a search party and look for 'im. 'Course, the body's prob'ly so swollen and pale now it's unrecognizable - "

"A search party, yes," Rowynne interjected. "Why didn't we think of this three days ago? If he's not on land, he must be at sea."

"I tell ye, he's prob'ly _dead_ at sea," the captain clarified.

But Rowynne refused to let the image of Dove drowned enter her mind. _If you keep up hope, he has a higher chance of survival_ , she told herself.

~~~

The ship surfed up and down on the crashing waves. Rowynne wondered how Adamson managed to stay on the slippery deck as it tilted from side to side.

Thankfully she was inside, watching the storm from Captain Hildebrand's quarters. He'd invited her to share his luxury, and she'd reluctantly accepted.

"Well, we's away from the crew, and safe and dry in here. _Alone_ ," Hildebrand emphasized the word.

"Yes." Rowynne's heart began to flutter as she realized she was trapped - it was either face a lightning storm or brave the captain's bedroom.

"They always say it's bad luck to have a woman on board a ship. But the smart men knows better." The captain grinned, displaying several gold teeth. He lumbered over to the bed and pulled back the covers. "Want to lay down, mistress?"

Rowynne eyed the door. "I'm very sorry, Captain," she said softly, looking at her slippers. "I don't mean to offend. But I couldn't possibly get into bed with you."

"Why not?" The captain's grin stretched wider until Rowynne thought it would spread off his face. "Is it because I'm old?"

"No, sir! It's just that I'm saving myself for someone else."

"Ah, yes, yer precious Dove, who ye still think we're going to find - alive - out here in this storm..."

"I don't know if he's alive or not!" Rowynne sobbed. "And anyway, that's not whom I'm referring to," she added quietly.

"Eh?" Hildebrand looked genuinely confused. "Then who is it?"

Rowynne was sorry she'd said it aloud. Now she felt she had no choice but to tell the whole truth. "I want a certain mermaid girl," she wept. "I want her golden hair flowing freely down her back, her fiery red tail, her curvy torso with those seashells I want to strip off her sleek, tan skin... you'll have me hung for such words, I'm sure of it. But I can't help what's true..." She trailed off.

The captain shook his head. "That's a serious ailment ye got there, lassie. I know from experience I can't force ye to bed, and I wouldn't want to. But yer bound to get yerself in trouble, talking like that."

Rowynne nodded. "I've never had feelings like this before," she whispered. "Not even for Dove. I love him, yes, but this... this is like the pull of the ocean. There's no escaping it."

The captain touched his hat. "Then I'll pray for ye," he decided. "And don't go tellin' anyone else about this, savvy?"

# Chapter Ten

Dove would have languished in prison had it not been for Polyp's nightly visits.

Each evening after sunset, as the day guard was leaving and the night guard arriving, she'd slip in through the bars. She always brought caramel potion to keep him alive, as well as some good royal food and hilarious stories of her shenanigans with her sisters and the dolphins.

Dove acquired a taste for seafood. A bulge was beginning to show on his belly.

Polyp tapped him there and teased, "You'd better lay off the buttered lobster!"

Dove said, "I think that's from the baby."

"Oh." Polyp was silent the rest of that visit.

One evening she came as usual just when the last blood-red rays of sun were leaving the sky. She said, "Today is the day I break you out."

"Why today?" If she had the capacity to do so, why had she not used it earlier?

"You need to go back to your people. The situation's getting dire. I used to think you'd be safe here... Now I think anything with two legs needs to get as far away from my father as possible."

"What? Why?"

"He's declared war on the humans of Mystycetii. We attack as soon as our troops are ready."

"We?"

"As princess, I'm expected to fight for my people." Polyp smiled wryly. "And I suppose you want to fight for yours as well."

"Actually, I'd be content to stay here in the palace where it's safe and - "

"Safe? I don't think so. My father has vowed to kill every human he sees. And he knows just where to find you."

"Oh." Dove swallowed.

"But don't worry. You'll be safe on the island - as long as you stay away from water."

Polyp swam over to the electric eels that served as bars to Dove's one window. She spoke softly to them in that language she'd been speaking when Dove first met her with the dolphins.

After a moment, they slithered away, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.

"Wow." Dove marveled, "You really have a way with words." Then he began to swim out the window.

Before he left palace grounds, Polyp called after him, "Be careful, Dove! I mean it! You're carrying my baby!"

"Would you care about my safety if it was just me?" He smiled down at her.

"There's no 'just' about you, Dove," she replied, leaving his head spinning as he swam away.

The guard, thankfully, was off duty - probably preparing for the battle tomorrow.

Dove realized he should warn the others. Then he looked down at the bulge on his belly. _Will they notice?_ He wondered. _Will they take me seriously?_ It occurred to him that, bulge or no bulge, they'd never taken him seriously.

# Chapter Eleven

"Mr. Alastaire!" Rowynne screamed.

Some of the men looked over at her in surprise. They probably thought she was having a wishful hallucination.

But there he was, in flesh and blood, floating beside the wake of their ship. His eyes gazed up at her urgently. He was alive!

Rowynne cast him a rope.

He grabbed on, and she began heaving him up the side of the ship.

When Adamson saw the man on the other end of the rope, he quickly began to help. Soon, Randolph and Kaelan came over to watch the spectacle.

With no assistance at all from Dove's end, Rowynne and Adamson hauled him over the railing and onto the dock.

"Talk to me," Rowynne begged the pale man.

His hair was out of its ponytail and splayed around his head like a dark octopus. "They're coming," he croaked.

"Who's coming?" asked Randolph.

"The merpeople," Dove whispered. "They're going to attack."

~~~

No one believed him. Even after he'd rested up, drank copious amounts of soup, brushed his hair, and tucked it neatly back behind his neck in a red ribbon, the men refused to consider leaving the island. Jokes began circulating about Dove and his "beer belly."

Kaelan said, "A man need be drunk to say the things Dove's been a'sayin'."

Dove tried reminding them he'd never had a drop to drink in his life, but they just laughed him off.

"Do you think I'm drunk?" Dove asked Rowynne the next evening, as they sat together on her porch steps.

"No," she answered definitively. "I've seen a mermaid, and I know they're real. I'm not sure," she said slowly, "that they intend to attack us. But I suppose anything is possible."

"Will you help me convince the men?" Dove said. "We need to flee. Or fight. Preferably the former. But we need to take action soon. They could attack any day now."

"Yes, Mr. Alastaire," Rowynne said soothingly. "I'm sure you speak the truth. And I'll do anything to help you."

"You don't think I have a beer belly, do you?" Dove had to ask.

"I think maybe you need to lay off the buttered lobster." Rowynne smiled at Dove, a smile clearly intended to be comforting. But all Dove saw was the face of his mermaid girl. He was awake all night thinking about the lady he loved - and the one he didn't.

# Chapter Twelve

"Finally," crooned the king of the sea, "we are ready."

Thousands of merpeople awaited his orders, some seated in armed dolphin chariots and some free-swimming. They were armed with poison-tipped tridents and barnacle-encrusted cannons.

The king called into his conch shell, "Attack!"

The legion swarmed up towards the shore.

The colonists were all in their beds when cannon fire erupted on shore. Some of the cannonballs traveled far enough to strike their houses. When Gaines awoke, the bed just south of his toes had been blown clean off. A burnt-fish stench filled the air.

"What in blazes is going on?" Randolph asked no one in particular, as the men met outside, each grasping his weapons.

They heard an echoing voice proclaim, "We are the United People of the Pacific Kingdom. You are being asked to leave this land."

The colonists looked at each other. They were all thinking the same thing. "Perhaps we should have listened to the blathering baby," Gaines mused.

"Surrender the land!" cried the mer-king.

"In the name of the king, we shall not!" Kaelan shouted boldly.

"Then this attack will proceed as planned." The mer-king turned to his battalion. "Fire at will."

~~~

Dove crouched in his cellar, both hands on the enormous pouch on his bare belly. He could feel the baby kicking against his hand, a firm push through the hard skin. He could swear the baby was trying to touch his hand, to make sure everything was all right.

"We're safe here," Dove said to the unborn child. "And they won't hurt you, anyway. You're their own kin." Of this last bit Dove wasn't entirely sure.

"Ouch. That hurt," Dove cried out as the kicks grew stronger. A pang of fear coursed through him: what if he was to give birth here and now, alone, with the world against him?

He placed a hand tenderly on his stomach, imagining caressing the head of a baby with his brown eyes. "It's all right," he said softly. "I'm on your side, even if no one else is."

A wave began to rise like a mountain in the sea. It swept towards shore, growing until it threatened to put out the sun. Then it crashed onto land. But it didn't stop there. Like an army, it marched deliberately forward over the land, breaking ancient trees like twigs in its wake. When it reached the village, it was still strong, flooding the houses, crumbling them to piles of logs.

Dove's house above the cellar was swept away until all that was left was the cellar, flooded with water and infested with mermaid troops.

They surrounded Dove, pointing tridents and cannons at him from all sides.

His heart broke when he realized he was to be impaled or shot - or both - and the worst of it was, he was breaking his promise to his baby.

When he thought the end had come, suddenly a body came in between him and the troops to the front. It was Polyp, dressed in silver armor from head to rib cage. Her lower torso and her blood-red tail undulated in the current, exposed and vulnerable.

"Don't shoot!" ordered one of the soldiers. "It's the princess!"

The mermen and mermaids lowered their weapons. Their faces looked shocked, as if they'd only just awakened to the brutality of their intended deeds.

The mer-king himself appeared. "What's going on here?" he boomed.

"Your daughter was willing to sacrifice herself to save this human, Your Majesty," answered an armored mermaid holding a cannon. "Her selflessness made us wonder whether we really need to kill every single one. Clearly, she loves this one."

Polyp tracked her father with her eyes while circling Dove protectively.

"Kill him!" the mer-king screamed. "Someone kill him! That's an order."

Most of the soldiers silently looked at the floor. Reluctantly, one raised his trident.

Suddenly the pain grew immense in Dove's belly. He collapsed to the floor of the cellar.

"Wait!" Polyp cried. "He's giving birth to an innocent child!"

The soldier threw his trident across the room, away from the birthing father.

The others dropped their weapons and stood in an awkward circle. None of them knew how to deliver a baby.

"Polyp, my baby," the mer-king rasped, his voice sore from all the yelling. "You really do love this human, don't you?"

"Yes," Polyp answered shakily. "Will you spare him for me?"

The king looked at her with soft eyes. "You remind me so much of your mother," he said, tousling her flowing hair. "I suppose your precious human can be spared."

Dove groaned on the floor.

"He needs air!" Polyp cried. Her arms swept under Dove's, and she lifted him to the surface.

The mer-king waved his arms, and the sea retreated back to its former shore, taking the mer-soldiers with it. Only His Majesty, his daughter, and the man she held, gasping for air at the surface of the flooded cellar, remained.

One more person slid down from her perch in a tree by Dove's house, ripping her lacy dress as she landed on the muddy earth. "Give him to me," said Rowynne calmly. "I've watched a few babies being delivered."

Polyp shook her head. "I want him in my arms," she wept. "Otherwise, how can I be sure of getting him back?"

Dove screamed, a wild scream like a beast of the nether. A hole began opening up at the top of his belly pouch.

Polyp pushed her lover to the edge of the cellar and laid him at Rowynne's feet. "Take care of him," she said, "for my heart is intertwined with his and if his is pierced by death, mine shall bleed."

Rowynne nodded. "Your lover is safe with me," she assured the mermaid, who had tears in her rainforest green eyes. "After all, he's my betrothed."

# Chapter Thirteen

"I'm going to stay with you forever," Polyp nuzzled her new two-legged son's forehead with hers, batting her eyelashes. "I mean it, Dove," she said, looking out of her washbasin at the naturalist as he salvaged what he could from the bookshelves around them.

The baby started wailing. Dove extended his arms to Polyp and held the baby to his chest. The crying subsided like a gentle wave bubbling into the sand.

"Yeah? And how does your daddy feel about that?" Randolph inquired of Polyp as he pretended to help Dove straighten out the bookcase while searching for possible morsels of value.

"Father says he'll make peace with the humans, as long as they do nothing to anger him."

"Ha! I'll anger him the first time I sneeze," remarked Gaines. The others grunted in agreement.

"Shall we sail tomorrow noon?" Adamson asked Hildebrand.

The older man shook his head, making his beard sway from side to side. "We set sail now, as soon as everyone gathers what's left of their belongings. We don't belong here, and my heart won't stop a-thumpin' with dread 'till we's at sea."

The other men scattered, each headed to what was left of his dwelling.

Hildebrand looked Dove in the eye. "Well? Aren't you going to get ready?"

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not leaving this island unless Polyp comes with me." He looked questioningly at the mermaid in the washbasin.

She looked like she was about to start sobbing. "I can't leave Mystycetii," she rasped. "It's a part of me."

"You look unwell, Polyp," Rowynne spoke up.

Dove turned away from his bookshelves for a moment to examine the mermaid. Her ruby red scales were losing their former luster, and her once-rosy cheeks were pale. Her golden hair had lost its shine and hung limply down her back.

"She's probably just acclimating to the fresh water," Dove hypothesized.

"She's a mermaid," Rowynne pointed out. "She's meant to live in salt water."

Dove kissed the baby on the forehead. "She's meant to live with her family in our home," he said. "Here on the island. I won't leave you, Polyp, and you won't leave me. Is that a deal?"

No answer.

"Is that a deal?" Dove repeated, clenching his fists. He wanted signed papers, a contract with this devil's creature that she wouldn't drift off to sea again, leaving him in the Hell of abandonment.

Polyp moaned, then collapsed against the edge of the washbasin.

Rowynne gasped and then ran forward. She picked up Polyp under her arms, then hoisted her into a reclining position.

"What are you doing?" Dove demanded.

"Saving your beloved," Rowynne answered as she made her way up the stairs.

"No!" Dove realized Rowynne's intentions and ran up the stairs after her. But his skinny legs couldn't carry him as fast as the determined girl.

With Polyp in her arms, Rowynne bounded to the shore. She bent down to lay the mermaid in an oncoming wave. Without so much as a "thank you," the mermaid splashed into deeper water.

Dove arrived, panting and gasping. "What have you done?"

"She needed to be free, Dove. More than she needed you. More even than the boy needs her." Rowynne indicated Polyp's son, still in Dove's arms.

"That's not true." Dove shoved his son into Rowynne's arms, cupped his hands around his mouth, and called, "Polyp! Polyp!" He stood there calling her name for hours.

Rowynne sat in the sand, rocking the baby. When Dove's voice gave out, she stood and put a hand on his shoulder. Without a word, they walked together back to the cellar. By the time they reached it, they were holding hands.

"Mr. Alastaire?" Rowynne breathed. "Are you all right sleeping here tonight?"

"Call me Dove," he responded with a wry smile. It was the first of many smiles the two would share.

# Chapter Fourteen

Dove awakened to the sound of his wife singing sweetly to their son, River. He slipped out of bed, kissed her, and went out to bring home some breakfast for the boy.

On his walk along _La Señora Mística_ , he thought he saw the glimmer of a red fishtail in the water. But perhaps it was his imagination.

He realized he was following the red glimmer, or what he thought was a red glimmer, towards the sandy shore. He stood with the toes of his boots nearly in the water and listened to the ringing song of a mystical creature out there somewhere, probably dancing with dolphins. He wondered if she was calling him back to drown with her in passion once more.

Presently, Rowynne was at his side, cradling the baby in her arms. Her bare toes wriggled in the wet sand. "I think she's saying thank you," she said.

And even though Dove had been thinking along completely different lines, he agreed. "You're welcome," he sang across the waves. "And someday you should come back and see our son."

Dove took the baby from Rowynne's arms and caressed him with such tenderness Rowynne thought she might cry. Instead, she took his arm and the two walked back home with their son.

## Ocean Girl

# Chapter One - Luna

I wait until everyone in the grotto is asleep before venturing to my cave with my scientific journal in hand. I swim through the shallow water, the tip of my tail brushing the rocky bottom. Silently, I greet the souvenirs of past discoveries: the silver container with the words "Soda Pop" printed on it in garish hot pink, the moss-grown straw head covering, and my favorite, the old box on four legs with the square window that snows black and white dots when I press a circular button on the box. Today, though, it doesn't snow. Instead, a fuzzy picture comes onto the screen. Slowly, it sharpens.

I see a two-legged man and a woman in a sequined dress. They are holding one another by the shoulders. Spotlights follow them as they move across the stage in synchrony, shimmying and shaking to the static-y music that begins to emanate from the box. The woman splits her legs on the floor, reaching up to take the man's hands. He pulls her up to stand in a dramatic pose as the music ends.

Roaring applause and shrill cheering follow. Suddenly, I have a new goal for my life. I want to stand on two legs at the center of the cheering crowd.

"And that concludes another month of 'Dance 'Til Daybreak,'" a scratchy announcer's voice proclaims. "Who will be next month's winners? Will it be you? If you think you can dance 'til daybreak, please attend our auditions this coming Tuesday, May 10th."

I jot down the address of the auditions in my scientific journal as it comes up on the screen.

The image dies, morphing into the old black and white snow again. But I don't mind. I have just enough information to become the next star.

# Chapter Two - Josh

Sometimes, I love my job. Teaching biology to third graders is fun - except when it isn't. Like when Abel makes Chelsea cry on Monday, and the bell's about to ring, and here I have a child not fit to go home to her parents.

"What's wrong, Chelsea?" I ask, kneeling to her level.

"Abel said I can't be a mermaid when I grow up."

"And?"

"He told me mermaids don't exist." She sniffles.

"Of course mermaids don't exist, Chelsea. You're old enough to know that. But it's still okay to dream about them."

"I'm not dreaming! They're real!"

"Okay, sweetie," I say, eyeing my watch. I hope Rosie hasn't left yet...

"Say mermaids are real, Mr. Smith. Say it!"

What have I been reduced to, being ordered around by an eight-year-old child? "I can't say that to you, sweetie. I'm a biology teacher. It's my job to be scientifically correct." Gently, I put my hand on her shoulder.

She squirms away.

"Why don't you ask your English teacher?" I suggest.

"Good idea!" She skips joyfully into the adjoining room.

Glad to have solved that problem, I head to Ms. Rosie Jones' fifth grade classroom. I knock on the door.

"Come in, it's open," calls Rosie.

So I step inside, careful not to knock over the dioramas perched precariously on the cabinet next to the door. "I have something to ask you," I say, looking out the window at the kids running into their parents' cars.

"Okay," she says, looking slightly amused. "So say it."

"Well, I have these two tickets to a shoot of 'Dance 'Til Daybreak' - my brother's involved in the program, and he gave them to me, and I don't have anyone to go with, and I was wondering if... if you wanted to come with me." I scratch the back of my neck, looking at the floor. I've always had such trouble talking to ladies!

"What day is this?"

"Tomorrow at 5 pm."

"Tomorrow? Oh, Josh, you should have asked me earlier." She giggles. "I planned a lot of stuff for this week, and I couldn't possibly do anything tomorrow."

"Okay. That's totally understandable, I understand... See you tomorrow, Rosie."

"Yeah," she says, bending over her desk.

"So I'll just be going now," I say awkwardly. "Bye, Rosie." Without waiting to see if she bothers to return my farewell, I march to the door and step out into the hallway.

I can't believe I ever thought Rosie might like me. For all I know, she's got a boyfriend. A handsome, tall, muscular boyfriend who drives a Ferrari and teaches at a college.

_Well, it's still okay to dream, Josh_ , I tell myself. _You just keep dreaming about getting a girl._

# Chapter Three - Luna

I stuff my purse with seaweed crackers and pull on my pink silk shawl. I don't know when - even if - I'll be home tonight.

As I prepare to leave the grotto, Mother touches my shoulder, scaring me half to death. "Going somewhere?" she asks with a knowing smile.

"Yes," I sigh, too tired to lie. "I was going to see the sea witch."

"Jellica? Why would a good girl like you be going to see her?"

"Maybe I want to be more than just your good little girl, Mother," I snap. "Maybe I want to be famous. And in order to be a star, I need some - er, bodily alterations."

"Oh, you're going to have her give you legs?"

I nod, blinking back tears. Not only are my plans ruined, but now I'm sure to be humiliated in front of my whole family. This is so the story of my life.

"Don't bother," says Mother. "I have what you need right here." She turns to rummage in a small cave and brings out a pair of silver slippers. They're high-heeled, like the shoes the woman was wearing in the TV show I saw. Intricate white swirls decorate the outsides.

"When I was young, I wished to try out being a human for a few days," she explains. "Jellica made these slippers for me from a bubbling cauldron. When you put them on your fins, the slippers turn them into feet. You'll have legs, too, of course - everything a human has." She shakes her head in disgust. "Why you would want that is beyond me - but then again, I wanted it once as well." She hands me the slippers. "Enjoy yourself, Luna. Learn something. But above all, be careful!"

"Yes, Mother," I call over my shoulder. I'm already headed out of the grotto.

"And come back within three days, okay? I want you to be home for Uncle Bayou's birthday."

"Got it!" Three days should be more than enough time to make me a star. After all, my big break is tomorrow night.

I make my way to the cave. I sit in the shallow water amidst the rocks and hermit crabs, holding the slippers in my hand. I take a moment to look at all the human stuff, brushing the box with the antennae with my hand. All the years of collecting have been leading up to this moment, though I didn't know it back then.

Then I slip my fins into the tiny silver slippers. At once, my fins begin to grow heavy and block-like - this must be what human feet look like! I wiggle the ten appendages poking off the two feet.

Soon, my green tail begins to split and change color, turning the same milk chocolate brown as the rest of my skin.

I stand in the water for a second. Then I collapse to the ground. Standing is hard! I try again, but it feels like a million pounds of pressure are bearing down on my two small feet, so I crawl to the shelf where I kept the sundress. It's still fresh and clean despite the barnacles attached to its home in the cave. I have a feeling the pure white will contrast well with my dark skin and hair, helping me make a good impression onstage. So I slip it on and walk into town. Well, more like crawl into town. I'll have to work on my dancing skills and master walking before 5 pm. tomorrow night.

# Chapter Four - Josh

I settle into my seat as the director anxiously runs around the stage, hustling dancers to their places. More audience members file in, including a tall blonde who looks like a supermodel. She leaves one chair between herself and me.

The lights over my head dim to black as the announcer walks out on stage. I clap and cheer as enthusiastically as the rest of the fans. When the applause dies down, he says, "Welcome to another season of 'Dance 'Til Daybreak!' Thirty dancers... one grand prize. Who will win it? Stay right here to find out."

Then the auditions begin. Most of the dancers are pretty good - better than I could ever hope to be. I note the spins and leaps the men execute, so I can look up online tutorials for these moves later.

Most of the women are tall, slender, and attractive. Eventually, one comes on who fits this description, but she isn't like the others. Her terrified face is free of makeup, and her black hair flows loosely past her shoulders. She wears a simple white sundress that shows off her shapely legs. Her silver slippers glitter in the artificial light. As she stumbles to center stage, it strikes me that I'm in love. True love, for the first time in my life.

One thing is clear: this woman is no dancer. When the music starts, she attempts to stroll gracefully across the stage and ends up tripping over her own feet and sliding like a penguin on ice. She scrambles to stand, her cheeks red, and tries to spin. Apparently dizzy, she twirls right off the stage and tumbles to the ground in front of the audience.

"What's going on here?" The director runs up to her, and the cameras follow him as he kneels down and roughly lifts the girl's chin. "Do you know you're wasting precious air time? Do you even know how to dance? How did you get into this session?"

She mumbles an answer.

His face is turning the color of an apple a student once gave me.

But before he can abuse the young lady further, I find myself standing and making my way to the front of the room. I crouch down and place my hand on the girl's shoulder. "Come with me," I say. "I'll take you home."

# Chapter Five - Luna

"So where is home?" he asks when we get outside.

I point vaguely in the direction of the ocean, wiping my eyes with my other hand.

"You live on Seaside Lane?" he interprets.

"You don't want to see where I live," I tell him truthfully. "It would probably freak you out."

"I don't mind a little mess," he assures me. "I used to live in a pigsty when I shared a room with my brother."

"I refuse to show you my house," I say, my voice wavering. "I'm a weirdo. Why don't you just leave me here and go on home yourself?"

"Hey, that's a good idea," he says, and for one hopeful moment I believe he's actually going to leave me in solitude to wallow in my misery. "Why don't you come to _my_ house?"

"Oh, all right," I concede. I can tell he's not going to leave me alone. Besides, I kind of like his cropped brown hair and friendly face. He's not tall enough for me, but I wouldn't mind spending the evening gazing into those hazel eyes, which look at me with concern behind his glasses. It might distract me from the fact that my dreams have crumbled to ruin.

His name is Josh, he tells me. I can't resist giggling a little at the funny sound. He doesn't get mad, just smiles at me. I want to wipe the concern off his eyebrows. We walk through the neighborhood in the fading light, stopping for those boxes on wheels that Josh calls cars.

"Here we are," he says when we get to a tall apartment building with peeling paint and dying plants at the front gate. "Home sweet home."

He leads me into a small apartment and flicks a switch on the wall. The room is flooded with light. It's a pretty tidy room, with a yellow sofa and a fancy new box sitting on a small table that's kind of like mine in the cave.

"I didn't have the time to cook anything today, so I guess I'll order a pizza," he sighs.

After a short speech into something he calls "the phone," he says, "might as well turn on the radio while we're waiting." He presses a button on a black machine, and music starts emanating from it. It's not like the music I hear in the ocean, with the wailing gulls and moaning whales. This music is very planned and patterned - and I like it.

"This is my favorite song," he says. "I love the harmonica! This makes me think of my Marine Biology classes in college."

I can see why he likes this song - I decide I like it too when the male singer drawls, "Ocean girl, wanna see the world, wanna take a ride, on an ocean tide, with my ocean girl..."

I start swaying on the couch to the catchy tune.

As the chorus starts, Josh gets out of his chair and pulls me off the couch.

Slowly, awkwardly at first, we start to turn together. He lifts his arm, and I spin under it. He takes me by the waist and leads me across the room and back again. And I no longer feel the pain of standing on my poor feet - instead, I feel like I'm flying.

"That's it! You're dancing!" Josh remarks. "Maybe you were just nervous out there. I can tell you're a really good dancer."

"Actually, this is the first time I've ever danced well in my life," I say. "Maybe I only needed someone like you to lead me."

We dance through the next song and the next one after that, turning the tiny living room into a ballroom. I may have flunked my audition, but now I feel like a star. A small star...

A knock on the door startles us out of our embrace.

Josh opens the door and hands some green paper to the man who is standing there, holding a thin white box. He hands the box to Josh.

Josh opens it, and the most marvelous smell drifts out. "Pizza?" he asks me.

I nod energetically.

He gets a couple plates, and we sit together on the couch. I try to mimic his motions, picking up the triangular slices in my hands and biting into the sensational concoction of steaming red and yellow stuff on a crisp brown platform.

"What are you looking at?" Josh asks me, smiling when he sees my eyes following his hands.

"You," I reply.

When we're done eating, we get up and dance again.

After several hours, my feet begin to come down from their magnificent flight, and I feel again the pressure of two heavy weights where my tail fin should be. Plus, the shoes feel like two hot little prisons enveloping my toes. "I think I need to sit down," I gasp.

Josh takes my hand and leads me to the couch. As we sit down, he asks, "Do your feet hurt?"

I nod. "These shoes are pinching a little."

"Well, why don't you take them off?" he suggests. "I can give you a mean foot massage."

"No! I mean, no thanks. That's all right," I stammer.

"What's wrong? Are you embarrassed about your feet?" he asks me.

"Yes," I tell him. If I take off the shoes, he will see something about me that I don't think he wants to see, so the statement is somewhat true.

"First you're embarrassed about your house, now you're embarrassed about your feet... You don't have to hide so much from me. I only want to help you. And I can see you're in pain." Ever so gently, he lifts my feet to face him on the couch. "You're trembling," he says. "I won't hurt you."

"That's not what I'm afraid of," I mutter, trying to hold his hands away from my shoes. But I'm not strong enough. I surrender, and he carefully slips off one shoe. Nothing happens. He takes off the other one.

Suddenly, I feel my legs growing back together, molding into one tail. Lastly, my feet lose their heaviness and spread into green-and-pink fins once more. I look up at Josh.

He's staring at me, his mouth agape. "Impossible," he breathes. He swoons and nearly falls off the couch, but I catch him in my arms.

"Don't worry," I say. "I won't hurt you."

# Chapter Six - Josh

I haven't had a drop to drink since my brother's wedding three years ago. I've never tried smoking anything - I hate the idea of sucking noxious gas into my lungs. But I fear some hallucinogenic drug must have found its way into my system. By morning, it still hasn't worn off. Anyway, I go along with it as the mermaid takes off her dress, revealing a showy sea star bikini. She takes my arm, and pulls me out the door. Luckily, my apartment is just blocks from the beach, so we don't have to walk and slide far before we get where she wants to go.

"You're getting to see my house," she tells me. "Are you happy now?"

Silently, I take off my sandals and place them in the sand.

She pulls me into the water with her.

I wade out until I can no longer stand up, then I swim with her. The pale water is cool and pleasant, and the sky overhead is painted the lovely colors of sunrise.

"Do you hear the music?" she asks me.

I close my eyes and listen. The waves crash along the shore, and sea foam bubbles in the rocking water. Seagulls cry from the sky. From a distance, I can hear the squeaks of dolphins. They're almost clicking to the rhythm of "Ocean Girl."

I say, "Yes, Luna, it's beautiful music."

"We might as well dance," she giggles. She takes my hand and rolls with me underwater.

A school of silvery-blue fish appears like a tornado and envelops us, tickling my skin. And we all dance together. The ocean is our dance floor, the dolphins and seagulls are the music, and I hear Chelsea's voice as the announcer.

Chelsea? My head pops out of the water, and I gasp for air, looking at the bluffs nearby.

A small girl stands at the edge of the cliff, holding her cell phone out over the waves. "I told you, Mr. Smith," she calls out when she sees me. "Mermaids really do exist."

"They sure do," I call back. "Be careful up there, sweetie."

"Stop worrying," says Luna, her lips brushing my ear. Then she pulls me under for another dance.

# Epilogue - Luna

I set the silver slippers on the same shelf as the sundress. Then I join my family, circled around the snowy box. Josh kicks the box with his handy-dandy leg, and I smile at him gratefully as our program comes on. The film is a little shaky, but it's definitely Josh and me, rolling in the surf, and we both look as graceful as two star dancers.

"After this film went viral," explains the announcer, "we here at 'Dance 'Til Daybreak' decided to name these two unknown individuals as the honorary winners of this season. We'll still hold the competition, of course, and get real winners, but these two magical creatures hold a special spotlight in our hearts."

Though I've seen this tape before, I squeal and turn to Josh.

He gives me a high-five: a human gesture of approval.

Chelsea runs over and wraps her little arms around my neck.

I hug her back as she says, "Thank you for existing."

Now I feel like a star. A big star.

### PEOPLE WITH FISHTAILS

# Prologue

Gayle

"Daddy, Daddy, look what I drew in school today!" I took the paper I'd carefully tucked in my folder and ran over to the mound on the couch. "She came to me in a dream, Daddy. She said she was going to come back for me." Since two days ago, I practically worshipped the woman with a silvery fishtail and pastel orange hair who'd wrapped me in a clammy wet hug and called me pet names like "my little bubble baby."

He studied the drawing carefully, brought it right up to his squinty red eyes and looked it over, top to bottom. "You're too old for this kind of crap," he sneered, taking a swig from the bottle on the coffee table. "Mermaids don't exist!"

"Well, this one was pretty sure she existed," I said defiantly. "She even gave me a scale of hers." I indicated the necklace I'd fashioned.

"Mermaids don't exist!" he roared, rearing up from under the matted blanket. "How am I going to get that through your head?"

All that night, the sound of the paper ripping echoed against my skull, louder than it had been in front of the blaring TV news. The sight of the two halves crumpling like two pieces of a broken heart haunted my closed eyes. And I begged the mysterious mermaid to come to me in a dream again, so I could see her likeness whole, not broken by those meaty paws belonging to the man I had to call my father.

# Prologue

Sander

I knew I was using the last of the battery power, but I turned on the flashlight. I was scared and I wanted to know what Daddy was doing.

Outside, he had a saltwater pool with conditions he'd matched perfectly to the ocean. He'd told me with pride the other day, "I think I'm getting close to figuring out the secret to breaking a kraken. And once I do, we won't have to worry about fuel anymore." In his office, he had all kinds of scientific charts and books. He said they were all pointing the way to the future.

I peered out the window at the kraken pool, where Bessie lived. She lifted her tentacle-covered head out of the water, letting the rain wash down her pink skin.

Daddy came out of the shed, pulling on a pair of gloves. With his jeans and tee shirt on, he hopped into the pool. He reached towards Bessie's underside.

She complained, groaning at the sky.

He petted her, spoke softly to her, and slowly began to tug at her teats.

Lightning lit up the sky. Thunder cracked and I was under my bed, praying Daddy'd come back inside.

And he did. Sopping wet, sneakers squishing water all over my bedroom carpet, he beamed at me as I crawled out to meet him.

"Son, I've found a way to harvest the milk," he said. "The trick is gentle coaxing, and you have to hold your hands just right and massage her properly. Now we have a sustainable, alternative fuel that will never run out like oil and can be produced en masse! And I'm the one who started it all." His grin looked grotesque in the weak flashlight as he told me, "This is going to be big."

# Chapter One

Sander

My college graduation was a joke.

When the tired, old school band started halfheartedly playing "Pomp and Circumstance," all I could think about were my own circumstances – an orphaned graduate of the Petroleum University's world-renowned Marine Biology program in a world where very little biological stuff remained in the ocean. With no employers looking to snap me up as a new hire and no parental basement to scuttle back to, I was cooked as a frozen burrito back in the dorm.

When it was my turn to march mechanically across the stage and bask in the generic applause of other people's parents, my eyes were not on the floor in front of me but inside my head, reminiscing on all the wonderful marine biological survey expeditions I'd conducted as part of my research project with Professor Weekling. The salty spray in my mouth, the catamaran buzzing on the surf beneath our deep conversations, the clouds in the sky echoing the foam below... an altogether idyllic experience.

Too bad we'd never found enough specimens to actually conduct any research. He told me it was just the luck of the draw, but I knew better.

When the Dean of Academics pinned the golden dolphin to my sleek black gown, all I could think about was the stranded dolphin I'd seen on my study abroad trip to Costa Rica, and how hard we'd tried to get her back into the water, and her red eyes closing as the sun bore down on her sunburnt skin. "It's too bad," I'd said as we turned our backs on the carcass. "That may well have been the last one in this sector of the world ocean."

Our guide had shaken his head, not understanding. Of course – no one but me knew _all_ about KrakenGo.

When it was all over, and the band had sighed away into nothingness and everyone else was waiting in line to shake hands with their favorite faculty members one last time and taking pictures with their families on the June-gloomy quad, I trudged out the gate for the last time. After a few blocks, I started to feel pretty stupid walking down the street in my cap and gown, so I stuffed them in the plastic bag I'd been issued in preparation for the day's ceremonies. I wondered if I'd need the bag later to throw up in.

I realized I must've looked like a homeless person, wandering the dock among the salty drunks and squinty sailors, lugging a bag of clothing, searching aimlessly. As if the horizon was inscribed with the answer to how to get an apartment in Simmerton Beach, as if one of the harsh faces of the boat owners strolling across the pier would melt into a smile and a job offer. Basically, I _was_ a homeless person.

Now a stray piece of newspaper tumbles across the boardwalk into my line of sight. I pick it up, intending to throw it away. But something in the classified ads catches my eye.

"Job opening: Do you want to search the seas for nature's treasures? Are you a qualified marine biologist, oceanographer, or ecologist? Interview at the end of the Simmerton Pier."

Well, the description fits me pretty well. I'm fairly qualified, as a valedictorian Marine Bio major, and I'd love to scour the seas for whatever biological treasure we have left to show people they still deserve protection. So I stroll to the end of the pier.

There, I find myself face to face with an ultra-modern ship, outfitted with invisibility tiles on the sides and an open-mouthed marlin figurehead in whose mouth I can spy a laser gun.

Why would marine biologists need a gun? Protection from poachers and polluters?

The captain, based on his fancy gadget-laden three-pointed hat, strolls out to meet me. He's got a hook for a hand, and a bored expression on his face. We're the only two people around – didn't other Marine Bio majors see the ad and get an uncanny sense of hope for their lives?

I extend my hand, and the hook retracts into his sleeve and is replaced by a robotic hand for a cold and intense handshake.

"What're ya here for, boy?" He scratches his curly beard with his one real hand.

I say, "I saw your ad in the paper, and I think I would be well qualified for the job. I graduated at the top of my class, and I've done a marine biology internship in Costa Rica surveying rare saltwater amphibians..."

"Are ya prepared to pillage and plunder, to leave nothing a' value behind, to travel the seven seas in search a' biological treasure?"

"Yes to the last thing. I'm not sure about – "

"Ya studied marine biology, ya said?"

"Yes sir. What was that about pillaging – "

"You're in. Welcome to the Pink Marlin crew. Mess is at six, the decks are swabbed by nine." He thrusts a clipboard at me.

I grab the stylus for my electronic signature, and I've become a sailor on a ship with a noble mission. I got a job the same day as graduation – I can hardly contain my pride and excitement.

# Chapter Two

Gayle

I lean against the bar, where I have been stationed to serve drinks whenever one of the crew runs out of rum or whiskey. I don't drink myself, and try to avoid even breathing in the alcohol surrounding me on all sides.

The captain walks in with a new arrival – and suddenly things get a lot more stimulating. "This is Aleksander Wytewind," proclaims Foulweather. "He's our new marine biology expert." With a friendly shove, Captain Foulweather propels the sandy blond with cute freckles my way. "Go say hello to yer pal over there," he chuckles.

The man approaches the bar. He walks like he knows where he's going, which is more than I can say for myself – and I was hired to this position months ago.

"Call me Sander," he edits the captain's introduction. "And what might your name be?"

"I'm Abigayle," I say. "My friends call me Gayle." Not that I've ever really had any. "Um, if I may ask, what are you doing here? I mean, I was hired to be the ship's official marine biologist. I don't see why they would have needed more than one."

"Why not? Maybe all these people are marine experts. After all, the voyage is to explore the ocean for hidden biological treasures."

"All right, I just hope it doesn't create a 'too-many-cooks-in-the-kitchen' kind of dynamic. Like, maybe one of us should be the official marine biologist and the other should be the assistant?"

"Sounds fair enough. So who's going to be the assistant?"

"Um..." I'm trying to work up the nerve to let him know I barely passed Anatomy 101 and maybe he should take the lead, when the crew gathers around the window and begins making a lot of noise.

Sander saunters over to the crowd, leaving me in the company of the bottles and barrels of alcohol. "What's up?" he inquires of the others.

Taffy, a sixteen-year-old blissful beauty, breathes, "dolphins."

I slip over and peer beyond the myriad heads to see the playful creatures – they look like bottlenose to me – weaving in and out of our wake. In the late afternoon sun, they gleam like the bronze pendant I received at graduation.

"Indeed, dolphins. They are beautiful creatures, aren't they?" Sander muses.

He's barely finished the sentence when the captain bellows, "All hands to stations!"

Taffy scrambles to the pole in the center of the room and climbs up to man the sails.

The others run upstairs to the cannons, except the captain, who attends a panel covered in a galaxy of buttons and levers.

Sander and I are the only ones without a job, standing in the empty room. We hear a magnificent boom that rocks the ship and almost flings us against the wall. A chorus of several more follows. The ship pitches, and Sander and I slide towards the window.

Outside, the dolphins that played in our white splashes just seconds ago now lie in clouds of blood in the water.

The ship comes to a stop.

"Good work, mates!" Captain Foulweather calls upwards.

Nets swing down in front of the window and scoop up the lifeless forms, which drip blood and water as they rise into the clouds.

Taffy comes twirling down the pole. "Some folks will pay a fortune for those dolphins taxidermied," she confides in Sander and me. "Oneye knows how to do it, but we haven't seen dolphins for ages until we brought you aboard." She winks up at Sander. "Maybe you're good luck."

The captain comes over. "Now you see how it's done. Maybe next time, you can join the raid, you two," he says, slapping Sander on the shoulder.

When he walks away, Sander turns to me. "Okay," he says shakily. "That was a little weird."

"I think we're on a pirate ship," I whisper. "Environmental pirates. I read about it in Eco History class."

"Professor Thomas?" He perks up.

I nod.

"So we went to the same school," he breathes.

"We can forget about the assistant thing," I say grimly, realizing it's not necessary. Neither of us is really here to collect plankton samples or research echinoderm mating behaviors.

He nods in agreement. "From now on," he intones, "it's you and me against the bad guys."

# Chapter Three

Sander

The flat green ballerina twists and somersaults slowly in the murky tank where I've stowed away my catch from this morning's early dive.

The crew's already up, probably awakened by growling stomachs. I try to get my Zen on, ignoring the discussion going on topside of who will eat whose leg first.

I inherited some syringes and sampling tubes from a doting professor, and now I'm glad I did. With the equipment, I'm able to painlessly extract a cell sample from the Elysia Chlorotica specimen, green as seagrass, and release her to continue her underwater dance in the tank. I'll set her free once I know this operation works. I turn on the microscope function on my watch, zip open one of the cells, and carefully pinch the chromosome out of the nucleus with my tongs. I fill a large syringe with several dosages worth, enough for all the crew, who are currently bickering about whether girl meat tastes better than guy meat. I'd better get up there soon. I grab a patch of algae I collected earlier and head upstairs.

"I say we eat the captain first," Taffy is suggesting. "Who cares if we have no one to yell orders at us anymore?"

Murmurs of agreement issue from the crowd. Foulweather fingers his hilt. Gayle turns a shade whiter than usual.

"I have a way for us all to get food for the next nine months, without having to kill anyone or even pull into port," I announce.

Everyone turns to stare at me. Hammerhead's stomach grumbles, and he looks down at it sullenly.

"If you just let me inject you with these chromosomes, you'll have the enzymes to process photosynthesized energy and maintain chloroplasts in your body for a good, long time."

Everyone gapes at me like I've sprouted seagrass for hair. For all I know, I will.

"Here, let me show you how it works," I offer. I take a deep breath, mentally saying goodbye to being a full-blooded human. Then I push the tip of the needle into the vein of my left forearm.

They're all watching, more annoyed than captivated. "So what?" Taffy asks, cocking her round head.

I take the bag of algae out of my pocket, open it, pinch my nose, and insert a small handful into my mouth. It tastes like a salty salad – not bad enough to justify the grossed-out giggles from the audience. "Just watch," I say.

A gasp sweeps the crew. I look down at my arms to see they are glowing green, the same color as the sacoglossan still turning pirouettes in my chamber belowdecks. My own shock is heightened when I begin to feel nourished, gradually like I was drinking a bowl of soup, except I taste nothing but the vegetative aftertaste of the green algae. The experiment worked – the sea slug's photosynthetic power, stolen from the algae it eats and passed on genetically, is also transferrable to humans! And now I can transfer it to the rest of the crew and save somebody from being barbecued.

I stop glowing, feeling marvelously full of energy that doesn't weigh in my stomach like food would. "Who wants to go next?" I ask.

"Sure, I'd like glow green," Iru Zhi volunteers. The others look on with fascination as I bend to administer the fluid to his puny arm. He takes a mouthful of the algae I hold out to him. A few moments later, he flashes a toothy grin. His teeth glow the same lime green as the rest of his diminutive body. "This really work! It food – food from the sun!" Soon the whole crew is lined up for a taste of science.

Gayle comes up last. She meets my eyes, though I can see it's hard for her, like our eyes were two magnets with double-negative polarization. She mouths, "thank you." I nod.

After we've all been fed and genetically modified, Lorenzini calls for "a toast to our marine biologist and his weird creation that has saved us all from incessant hunger and the potential health risks of cannibalism."

All agree: "Aye."

"Hear, hear."

"To keeping both my legs."

Lorenzini leans in close to me. "You know, my friend, I think you'd make a great captain someday."

I visualize myself at the helm below the Jolly Roger, wearing one of those ridiculous hats like the GPS-capable one Foulweather wears. "Um, sure," I agree with him.

Captain Foulweather butts in. "But not captain a' this ship," he adds. "Things isn't never changin' 'round here." He stalks off, glowing in the sunlight.

# Chapter Four

Sander

We've been lounging like elephant seals since I fed the crew. All around us is open sea. I feel like a kid trapped inside on a summer day. Out there are creatures I could be researching, to show the world there is still hope for the ocean if they'd just stop polluting and supporting KrakenGo...

"Hey, does anyone wanna go for a dive with me?" I throw it out there, hoping perhaps to convert the crew to my point of view. "I've got an extra wetsuit or two. They're clean and dry."

Taffy yawns. "Why would we want to go for a dive?" she asks. "It's the middle of nowhere."

"We're literally at Nowhere Atoll," Oneye Walter points out, indicating the map on the screen. "It's an empty wasteland. We won't find anything of value."

"You never know," I say, before realizing I probably don't want these people finding anything I'd value down there anyway. I'm about to give up and go down to the dive chamber alone when Gayle slinks up to me.

"I'd sort of like to go," she says, "if it's all right. I'm not a super fast swimmer..."

"Neither are seahorses," I grin, "but they're still awesome. Let's go, diving partner."

First, I take her to my chamber the level below to get the extra wetsuit. She clutches it to her chest as I show her to the bathroom.

I pull on my own wetsuit. When she emerges, I can't help but check her out, just a little. I generally prefer curvier girls, but there's something about her tall, angular, no-nonsense figure that speaks to me, in a way, like modern art.

We make our way to the dive chamber, a small, slippery room with a circular door in the floor. I press a button on the wall and the door opens like jaws. I slip through the mouth, relishing the warm tropical water that envelops me. I look up at Gayle and smile encouragingly. "It's warm," I say. "Jump right in!"

She sits with her spindly legs dangling towards me, and then peels herself off into the water. "It really is warm!" she exclaims with delight.

I motion her to follow and dive underwater.

We're surrounded by several submerged mounds, each one covered in live, colorful coral. There are feathery fans, tubeworms darting in and out of their homes, surreal brains in lime green and mushroom platforms in hot pink. All the coral back home was always bleached. Anemones sway in the gentle current, their finned inhabitants nestled softly among the rounded tentacles.

Gayle and I zero in on one seamount, where I've noticed something on a branched orange coral.

An orange seahorse, covered in bumps to match the coral, holds onto one of the branches with a curled tail. What's unusual about this particular seahorse? An opalescent horn, shimmering like mother-of-pearl, protrudes from the forehead. What do you know – unicorns really do exist. I'm tempted to take this one in my sample bag for further study.

As I finger the bag at my belt, another horned seahorse, this one a bit larger and lighter in coloration, moseys on over to where her partner clings to the coral. The two lock tails and drift together, cheek to cheek, never leaving the safety of their patch of reef. The two horns nudge together, glinting in the filtered sunlight. Looking closer, I notice the smaller male's belly is swollen, a sign that he's carrying the female's eggs.

I decide to leave this pair right where it is. After snapping some pictures with my watch, I signal to Gayle that we should head for the surface. When we burst through, the ship is practically right on top of us, though we've traveled several yards away: the crew must have decided to follow, to see what they were all missing out on.

I wave up at Lorenzini, who gazes down at us through binoculars. "We found some amazing things down here," I call up at the crew. "You guys should've come. We saw some unicorn seahorses..."

"You mean, seahorses with horns?" Taffy squeals.

The crew circles up for a quick discussion.

Lorenzini pops out and asks me, "Would you point out the precise location of the find?"

I shrug. "Down there somewhere."

After a look from Lorenzini, Hammerhead pounds his huge chest. He jumps into the water with us, wearing what little he has on.

"No!" I cry, sensing what's about to happen. I look to where we saw the orange coral.

Hammerhead follows my gaze.

I slap myself on the forehead as he dives with no breathing tank. I see his distorted form uprooting that precious piece of coral, swimming back up.

His head breaks the surface with a gasping splash. He swims back to the ship and climbs up the rope, ignoring Lorenzini's admonition to use the dive chamber first.

Meanwhile, I enter back through the dive chamber. Gayle follows close behind. I peel off the wetsuit and throw on my dry clothes, then run up the stairs to the deck.

By that time, the crew is dancing in a circle with two tiny horns Taffy and Iru hold to their heads, singing, "We're gonna make a profit, we're gonna make a profit..."

The bloody-headed seahorse bodies lie on the deck. Hammerhead squishes one with his foot in the dance. Blood and guts and unborn eggs spurt across the deck as the exoskeleton crushes.

I feel sick – very sick. I check the other seahorse's vital signs, but she has passed as well, so I throw the body into the sea for the bottom-feeders. Then I retire to my chamber, where I do the manly thing in this situation – throw myself on my cot and bawl like a baby.

After two taps on the door, I shriek, "Come in, if you must!" I don't know why this thing has done to me what it has, but my body isn't under my control and I shake and weep as I think of those eggs spilling across the deck in a puddle of blood.

The door opens slowly, and the one person I might actually want to see right now comes in.

"Gayle," I whisper, rising and turning away from her. "I wouldn't have wanted you to see me like this."

"It's okay." She sits on the bed, facing the same way as me, and puts a tentative arm around me. "I've seen men in worse condition – men who had more of a responsibility to be strong around me." We just sit like that for a while. Her arm relaxes on my back, wrapping around my shoulder.

"What men?" I ask after a moment.

She chuckles, pushes her jet-black hair out of her face. "There was only one," she says. "My hopeless, drunken father."

So that was the only man who disappointed her. I don't want to be the second. I pull her in for a hug, wondering if she feels the same way about this hug that I do, with her awkward arms and eyes brimming with tears.

# Chapter Five

Gayle

"I want to show you something," I say to Sander as the others argue over whose turn it is to clear the dishes after dinner. It's not my turn or his, so without a word he follows me to my chamber.

I take in a deep breath before making my way to the suitcase in the corner – the one luxury I brought onboard. It nearly pops open on its own from the bulk of the stack of drawings and sketchbooks I have stashed away inside.

I take the first loose paper off the stack and hand it to Sander. "I did this one last night," I say. "It may not be perfectly proportioned, but I tried really hard to make it anatomically correct. Do you think this body design would be feasible in open water?" Being a star marine biologist, I expect Sander to give me some constructive criticism on the scientific correctness of my mermaid, and maybe throw in a compliment to my art skills like most people who see my drawings.

Instead, he shakes his head and chuckles. "Very cute idea, an anatomical drawing of a mermaid. You could sell these to moms decorating their little girls' rooms – I think they'd be very popular."

"That's not what I drew it for," I explain. "See, I have this obsession with mermaids. And mermen... people with fishtails. It all started when I was a kid and this mermaid visited me and claimed she was my mother." I look at my feet. "She said she was going to come back for me when I was old enough, and I believed her."

"Um, sorry to burst your bubble there, Gayle, but is it possible that was just a dream? Children have very active imaginations – "

"Do you think it isn't possible it was real?" I counter.

He shakes his head slowly. "As a certified marine biologist, I have to draw on my scientific database of known organisms in the ocean and inform you that there are no such things as mermaids. Or people with fishtails."

"With only five percent of the ocean explored, how can you make such a claim?"

"People don't breathe underwater – "

"Neither do whales," I interject. The air conditioning is a bit much, but I'm still getting hot. "You don't know what's possible."

"Maybe not, but physics and biology do, honey." He puts his hand on my shoulder, but I shrug him off.

"I'm sorry I showed you my drawings," I growl. "I guess some people just can't understand the need for a girl to at least dream." My voice breaks, and I pray he leaves before the waterworks erupt. I want to still be able to hold that over him, having seen him cry.

"Hey, go ahead and dream," he smiles. "You're free to draw mermaids and fairies and unicorns as much as you want..."

"You're free to go," I say in an undertone.

"Okay." He turns toward the door, then faces me with a sincerely apologetic expression. "Hey, sorry if I caused any harm to your dreams."

He may have tarnished them a little, particularly the ones about becoming Gayle Wytewind. But for the most part, they're still holding their own against the pounding surf. I tell myself _, he's just another one of the non-believers. They're all the same_. But somehow I had hoped Sander was different.

# Chapter Six

Gayle

"Baby let me wrap my arms around you... I'm so hyped because I found you..." The song rings rudely in my ears, startling me awake. In my panic I think for a second that it must be Sander, crazed and returning for a repeat of the fluke expression of affection I afforded him earlier that evening. Then I remember I set this as the ringtone to my cell phone long ago, in the unlikely event I would ever receive a call. Hoping the crew sleeps soundly in drunkenness and hasn't been awakened to mock my taste in the music of five years ago, I shut off the ringtone, holding the phone up to my ear. "Hello?" I breathe, slipping on my sandals.

"Hiya, Gayle," rasps a familiar voice.

I nearly fall back onto my cot. "Um, hi, Dad," I reply. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" I grab my coat and begin making my way to the deck, where I can clamber down the staircase and talk on the deserted beach, far from any curious ears.

"Yeah, I know. You can hold it against me, I deserve it. But it's been a long time since I been sober."

"You're – sober?" I've never seen him without some form of alcohol running through his veins. Not that I can remember, at least.

"You betcha. There's so little drink left nowadays it costs a fortune for a shot a' cheap beer. A man needs more'n that to run on."

"You'd be surprised what you need and what you can live without," I say. "I've learned that these past few weeks, with a bare minimum of clothes, no hair conditioner, and my last tube of toothpaste running on empty."

Dad chuckles. "What godforsaken place are ya in, Gayle? University?"

"I graduated last month."

"Oh that's right. A' course. So now you're workin'? Professional scientist, huh?"

"I'm employed on a pirate ship," I say.

He laughs, a deep belly laugh that I worry the others will hear through the phone. "Wait, you're serious?" he asks when I don't share his humor.

"Environmental pirates, you could say," I elaborate. "They pillage the land and sea for rare artifacts while I keep the rooms clean and make the passion fruit pie. When there's food, that is." We've been lucky lately, but if we run into a rough spot Sander says we can always photosynthesize.

"Well I'm glad you're on the sea, darling," he says, where any other father would admonish for accepting a job with outlaws. "There's someone out there's lookin' for you."

"Mom?" My breath catches.

"I seen her this mornin'," he confides. "In the public shower on Tar Ball Beach. A-usin' soap, the same brand I showed 'er," he croons like a doting father whose child has just taken its first steps. "She telled me she usually prefers a-washin' in the sea, but she had to look for me. See, at first I thought she was a-lookin' for _me_." His voice sharpens with the rusty-iron edge of bitter tears lurking in his throat. "She only wanted to ask me where you was at. I says I doesn't know. I doesn't know... and she scuttles off down the sand like a awkward seal and dives back into the water. Dives fast-like, like a lifeguard when there's a drownin' kid. Back when kids used to swim in the ocean, that is."

"Too bad you didn't know what direction I was sailing," I say after a pause. "Maybe we can call her up and..." I trail off, realizing how stupid I just sounded. I finger the silver scale at my heart. Would I have waited so many years isolated from my mother, not knowing what she thought of my middle school graduation dress or my college application essay, if I could have just dropped her a line?

"Well, I hope she finds you," Dad says.

"I hope she finds me too," I say, close to tears. "I didn't know she was looking." The day I met her plays in my mind's eye, the elegant, sturdy arms holding me as waves washed over us, the beautiful silver eyes blinking back tears when we said goodbye. She promised I could join her when I was all grown up. But I had come to half-believe she'd forgotten...even to wonder if it was all a dream.

"I wish you two ladies the best," he warbles, and then hangs up.

Relieved to be off the phone, excited in case what he told me is true, heartbroken in realizing it took this long, I just stand there for a while, letting the chill wind tangle my hair.

Suddenly, right in front of my feet, a tiny reptilian face pokes out of the sand. The face is followed by two tiny flippers, which dig the whole rounded shell, back flippers, and tiny tail out of the sand. It's a sea turtle hatchling. Without a moment's hesitation, the creature waddles forward, away from my feet and towards the foamy shore. Soon, more sea turtles burst from the hole and skitter forth. All around me, swarms of them are making the same pilgrimage. I could have crushed a nest without realizing it earlier when I walked out here.

A flighted seagull swoops down and scoops up one of the hatchlings, just before it can safely dive into the water. More birds circle overhead, as though presiding over a funeral and not a mass birth event, ready to devour the carcasses of those who haven't had time to live.

I do my best to shoo them away, but they know sea turtle hatchings mean unsuspecting feasts, and they are determined to stay and control the population. Eventually I give up and sit in the dry sand, watching. I try to predict which will make it and which will be taken to sustain another species. I tell myself nature is wonderful.

I notice some of the hatchlings aren't even turned in the right direction to begin with: instead of trotting towards the sea, several head up the sandy hill to the nearby road. Too exhausted to move in time, I am helpless as a car zooms past. Neon lights shine red and yellow on the new carcass. Several more cars roll over the sad little shell in a puddle of blood, not bothering to stop on their way to the important date or dance to avoid desecrating a corpse.

When the road is clear, a seagull limps over to the dead sea turtle hatchling. It bends to extract the entrails with its ravenous beak. I can't tell myself the city is beautiful.

# Chapter Seven

Sander

"We have arrived," Lorenzini announces from the navigation panel. "So, um, where is the island?" All around us stretches a wavering blue carpet of tropical ocean.

Then I spot a tiny dot to the front. As we move closer, it materializes into a small mound of sand with one tree. Through the crystal clear water, I can see our ship has plowed through the remains of buildings and classic cars. Clearly there used to be more to this island than we see now.

We approach the mound and drop anchor.

Oneye Walter lowers the bridge and we begin to unload the wares the crew wants to sell. Only Captain Foulweather, me, Gayle, and Iru Zhi make it onto the island before our feet cover the sand.

One tiny man, wrinkled like an olive brown raisin, sits beneath the palm tree, wearing a faded red robe and sipping from a coconut half. "Who are you?" he asks, squinting up at us. He doesn't look particularly perturbed by the throng of people.

"We're here to sell biological booty," snarls Captain Foulweather. "Where did all the customers go?"

"You mean the inhabitants of this island? They left in boats just before the storms came."

"Why didn't you go with them?" I ask. "Sea levels are rising, and soon this whole island will be underwater."

He laughs, baring teeth as white as the blinding sand. "I am aware of the impending doom," he chuckles. "But this is my home and I cannot live anywhere else. I am content to sit here sipping a coconut until the last piece of this land is swallowed up."

"Very well, it's your choice," Captain Foulweather glares into the sun. "Come," he beckons the crew to return to the ship. "There's nothing for us here." The others turn back, hauling bags of coral and carts of iced fish and who knows what else.

I stay behind a moment, and Gayle lingers with me. I reach a hand down to the miniscule man. "Would you like to come with us?" I offer.

He doesn't budge. "You heard what I said," he sighs. "I have no choice but to stay. I can't live on your ship, any more than a polar bear could live in the desert."

"Raise the bridge!" the captain barks.

We'll be left behind if we don't leave soon. I think about picking the man up and forcing him to save his life, but something about his hand clinging to the tree and his eyes surveying the open ocean around him tells me it's better to leave him where he wants to be.

Gayle and I run and make it back onto the ship just before the bridge is closed. As the ship begins to back away from this mound of sand, a wave sweeps over the mound, entirely hiding the man and the tree.

I watch to see if the water goes down again, but it doesn't and soon we're too far away to see anything but a flat, endless expanse of blue.

# Chapter Eight

Sander

The oily, rippling pink balloon has eyes – freaky amber eyes with slit-like pupils, glistening in the sunlight as tentacles zoom across the deck, after our panicked crew, who slip and slide across the watery floorboards, trying in vain to avoid being caught by suckers the size of dinner plates. Several are lifted into the air. Oneye Walter shoots and hits the tentacle spiraled around Lorenzini's waist, but it just dissipates as a puff of smoke. The amber eyes turn Walter's way and he dashes to hide behind the beam with me.

I'm just hanging out here, trying to avoid using my laser gun on such a majestic creature, wondering what else can be done and how much time I have.

Suddenly a high-pitched whistle pierces the air. Walter and I crouch to the deck, covering our ears. I feel like the sound is pushing me down, making me lose control of my body.

The tentacles loosen like spaghetti being slurped off a fork, letting their captives tumble to the deck.

The beast is led away by two workmen in boats, prodding at the whale-like tail fin with electrically charged sticks.

From behind them is revealed an older man, sharply dressed in a flowered vest and khaki slacks, with a whistle around his neck. He says, "Sorry about that, boys, but you know you are trespassing on private KrakenGo facilities here and we do have very strong security systems in place in case of troublemakers. But you aren't troublemakers, are you?"

Using a rope from the sail, I swing down to the dock to meet the CEO of KrakenGo. "Hi Dad," I say. "Mind giving me and the crew here a tour?"

~~~

"And here's where the females are milked," my father says with pride, leading us into a large room that looks like an indoor swimming pool. Clear barriers separate the krakens into neat individual rows, like a chart with each box filled. The chart extends almost as far as I can see, with hundreds, maybe a thousand animals, each one reeking of milk. Metal arms swoop down from the ceiling and tug the krakens' undersides in a deathly rhythm. The whole place echoes with this rhythmic beat, the workings of a perfectly oiled machine.

"We produce fifty thousand gallons of milk a day, and ship it across the world at hyper speeds," my father boasts. "When one of these animals stops producing at capacity, we throw it out. That's how we keep up with growing demand."

"That's terrible," Taffy breathes.

My father looks at her sharply over his rather large nose, and she hangs her head in shame. But I'm pretty sure we're all thinking the same thing.

One of the krakens at the edge near us starts moaning pitifully.

I step towards it and reach out my hand to gently touch the rubbery face.

My father pulls my hand away. "What are you doing, son? These are dangerous creatures." When he comes near, a chorus of half-hearted roars starts up and tentacles splash chlorinated water at us.

I say, "Sure they're dangerous, when they're being handled this way. I bet if you toned down the machinery and gave them a little room to graze, a little love..."

"Don't tell me how to run my business!" The big nose grows red as the beady eyes are shadowed by bushy eyebrows.

I say, "From the looks of things, you shouldn't be running this business at all."

That's it. I've blown it. He reaches into his pocket and draws a pen that collapses open into a large knife. I unsheathe my electric sword. And there you go, we're having a pirate battle.

He chases me around the rim of the pool, our weapons clanging together as I try to stay on dry land.

I slip in a puddle, coming down hard on my behind. His knife is at my neck. "Now I see why I disinherited you, tree hugger," he snarls.

Just when I think I'm about to be dismembered by my own father, a great cacophony of machinery is heard. The metal arms disappear into the high ceiling.

My father runs toward the control room.

I scramble to my feet to see Gayle sitting at the controls.

The floor of the swimming pool opens to reveal a blue hole in the reef underneath.

"Nooo!" shrieks my father, banging on the control room door. The clamps holding the krakens in place fold into the pool walls. With a rush of celebratory splashes and trumpeting calls, the krakens dive into the abyss.

I hope my father never manages to round them up again.

His gun is up against the window of the control room door. "I'll kill you!" he shouts at Gayle.

It's my turn to yell "Nooo!" as I run towards him.

The crew follows, and we have him surrounded, weapons from all sides pointed at him.

"I'm afraid I have to arrest you, Dad," I say. Soon he's tied up in the brig.

"My business," is his last weak plea before Taffy cheerfully wraps the gag around his head and steals his fedora. Now I know for sure why I was never invited to KrakenGo Headquarters. I wish it could have ended differently.

Just before dinner, Gayle confronts me in my room. "Thank you for helping save my life," she says to the floor.

"Hey, no biggie. We all helped out." I turn towards her. "Thank you for saving all those krakens."

"What are we going to run on now?" Gayle asks. "Once we run out of Lacto-fuel..."

"I'll work that out after dinner," I say. "I think I'll take it in the brig. Dad and I have got some catching up to do."

# Chapter Nine

Gayle

We've anchored in a busy harbor, with so many boats it's a miracle they aren't all on top of each other. The rest of the crew went to sell their wares, but they left Sander and me behind to watch the ship.

Sander is waist-deep in the murky water, searching for samples of life in this wasteland.

I stand on the balcony of the ship, leaning against the railing and sketching in my sketchbook. A curving arm begins to take shape – a masculine arm, lean yet muscled, quite like Sander's arm as he reaches to pick a snail off some seagrass.

"Are you drawing mermaids?" he asks, looking up at me.

"No." I snap the sketchbook closed in case he can see it from where he wades, bounding over towards me.

"You're not ready to forgive me for that conversation, are you?" he asks.

"I don't hold grudges," I say. "I just remember."

"Same difference," he shrugs. "If you're not ready yet, you're not ready. I understand."

The way he talks to me is so aggravating, yet his lips are so cute on that freckled tan face... I push the thought out of my mind.

"What's that in the water behind you?" I see a lump pushing through the water, and I fear some monster of the muck has risen to eat him.

He turns just as a chubby head featuring floppy lips pokes out of the water. "It's a dugong!" Sander exclaims. "I never imagined they could live in such a contaminated environment." He pats the creature on the back of the neck as it grazes a patch of seagrass. He bends and looks closer at the animal. "Um, Gayle? There's something I really think you want to see here."

I lean over the railing. "What's that?" I ask.

He comes a step closer, grabs my arm, and before I know what's happening I'm splashing headfirst into the brown water. When I come up, I sputter, "What was that for, you little – " Suddenly I notice an opalescent light around my neck. The mermaid scale I've worn since the encounter with my mother is glowing, sending rainbows in every direction. Also glowing are a series of crossed lines like x's down the dugong's back.

Looking more closely, I see these are stitches made with a thread the same silvery color as the scale around my neck. The creature's big brown eyes look directly into mine, and I can swear he's smiling, a soft, smooth smile as if to say, _everything's going to be all right_. I don't know if it's true, but I do know this: My mother is near.

# Chapter Ten

Sander

I decide to pay my old man a visit. After all, it can't be pleasant being locked in the brig, and I figure he'd appreciate some company. I clamber downstairs to the sanitized room.

My dad is seated at a desk, poring over some ancient book. Bookshelves line the walls.

"So this is where they've sequestered their library," I say.

My dad twists around in his seat. "Hello there, son. I was wondering when you'd come and get me."

"I'm not here to set you free," I clarify. "I just thought you might be up for a little conversation."

"Shame, that," my dad sighs. "I mean, of course I'm up for some conversation. But I'd really like to hold it above deck, where I could get some fresh air. I haven't caught a whiff of real air since Tuesday."

"Well, all right," I concede. After all, there's nowhere he could run to from the middle of the ocean.

So we take a little stroll along the railing. My dad says, "I would have liked to include you in the family business, Aleksander. When you were old enough, I always planned to bring you out to the farm and let you try your hand at rearing the – "

"Farm?" I interrupt. "That place is more like a prison."

"Was." He sniffs. "It was a prison. That was the most efficient way to keep the animals in their place, to get as much milk as I could, to make as much money as I could. I needed to send you to school, after all." He doesn't sound entirely convinced of his own righteousness.

"Well... are you sorry now?" I'm curious.

Before he can answer, a splash draws both of our eyes to the water, where a large silvery fishtail pokes out of the surface next to a rock. It slurps back down into the water, and a woman's head and shoulders break the surface right in front of where the tail disappeared. She's middle-aged but youthful, with pastel orange hair and Gayle's turquoise eyes.

"It's a mermaid!" my dad cries. Soon we're surrounded by the crew.

Foulweather slaps my dad on the shoulder. "Good work, Mr. Wytewind," he says. "We may need to keep you above deck from now on, to look out for things like this."

Meanwhile, Iru is lowering a net.

The mermaid darts away from us, but soon a tranquilizer dart is buried in her shoulder. Foulweather blows the dart gun emerging from his sleeve. Then it retracts back into his sleeve and is replaced once again by his robotic hand. The mermaid is dumped on the deck like a net full of cheap fish. Already, the color is draining from her skin, and the silvery tail is turning a duller gray.

"Hammerhead, put her in the bathtub," Lorenzini orders.

I walk over to where the big man is scooping up the mermaid, net and all. "You know, she won't last long away from salt water." I warn. "If you don't set her free within a day or two, she'll die."

"A day or two, you said?" Lorenzini raises his eyebrows. "That's long enough to sell her!"

The crew skips and skedaddles down to the second-floor bathroom, giggling and celebrating their victory.

"You gave her away," I turn to my dad. His head is in his hands. I remember the seahorses, and put a hand on his shoulder.

# Chapter Eleven

Gayle

That afternoon, when the men are done poking fun at the novel creature, they leave the door to the bathroom ajar.

I sneak in to be confronted with a sorry sight. Her scales are a dull gray, and her alabaster skin is drained of all living color like a bleached coral reef. Her eyes open, and it looks like it takes a lot of effort, but she smiles weakly at me. "Abigayle," she sighs. "I think...you are old enough now... you are ready."

I kneel at the base of the tub. "What can I do for you, Mom?" The word feels strange on my lips.

"You have the power... to heal..."

"I do?" Just then I notice a light bursting through the dull scales of her tail. The same light is coming from my necklace. It's the same glow we saw when we encountered the dugong. Now I know where my healing power lies – it was inherited from my mother.

I reach behind my neck, brushing my long hair to the side to unclasp the necklace. I don't know exactly what to do.

My mother says, "closer, closer," with the same desperate hunger as a starved person inches from food.

So I hold the scale closer and closer to her skin. Now it's touching her, rubbing over the smooth shoulders, the gray tail turning silver and iridescent.

A natural glow returns to her cheeks, and now I see the face of my mother in the glory of health.

"Wow, that was like magic!" I exclaim. "Are you better?"

"Much, thank you."

"But – how?"

"Mermaid scales have healing properties. That's why many of us travel the ocean as healers. Especially now that so many are poisoned with human waste and battered by human vessels. Not that I blame you at all, my little sugar urchin."

"I'm sure it's my fault as much as the others," I say. "I've been trying to make up for it, learning about the animals, trying to help Sander. But I'm not sure I've made any difference at all."

"You've probably made a small difference – would you like to make a bigger one? You could come to Mystycetii Island and be a mermaid like me. Then you'd have many healing scales, not just the one you borrowed from me." She smiles the indulgent smile of a mother, and I want to be in her arms – but not contained in the tiny bathtub.

"How do you plan to get back home?" I ask her.

She yanks on the drain covering, and soon a whirlpool begins swirling in the bathtub. "All drains lead to the ocean," she says with a wry smile. "At least, I know this one does." Before slipping down the drain herself, she beckons me to follow.

I step into the tub with my pajamas on and dive down the hole after her. After navigating through some piping that tickles my claustrophobia, I make my way to open water, where my mother floats, waiting for me.

She reaches into her silken belt and produces a small vial of amber liquid. "Drink this," she orders softly. "It'll help you breathe underwater." I drink a few drops of the stuff. It tastes like fermented caramel syrup with a hint of sea salt. Then, at my mother's encouraging nod, I dive headfirst into the blue, squeeze my eyes shut, and suck in, fully expecting my lungs to fill with choking water. Instead, I feel like I'm breathing very moist air. No bubbles are expelled at my exhalation, so I must truly be breathing the oxygen directly from the water.

My mother joins me just beneath the surface.

"Thank you," I say, and the words come out clearly, not mutated by the water.

"No, thank you, Gayle," my mother embraces me, and we circle in the gentle current. "Now I'm going to show you Mystycetii Island. You'll never want to leave."

Before we set off, I glance backward once more at the ship, realizing for the first time I may never set foot on it again. In fact, I may not have a foot to set. I won't miss Foulweather's bitter expressions, or Oneye Walter's grim reality, or Taffy's girlish emotions... but I admit I will miss the man who didn't believe in mermaids. A little. I should say good riddance of him, but a part of me wants to see him again... if only to gloat in his face.

~~~

After a swim that feels like forever, but at the same time no time at all with my mother's exhilarating twisting and twirling through a pod of dolphins and my catching her up on my life since age eight, we arrive. And what a sight it is, that we arrive at! A mound of earth covered in lush rainforest rises out of the indigo evening tide. A mountain peak is submerged up above in pink clouds as the sun's last rays light the starry sky.

Rather than going on land, my mother dives below the surface, and I experience the underwater side of this paradise. Crystals jut from every angle, broken only by humble earthen circular doors and windows through which people with fishtails swim. A few glance at us, and some smile and wave. My mother waves back. We come to an open window near the surface, framed by coral and amethyst. My mom swims right through the window. I follow, careful not to kick the sea anemones growing on the sill.

Inside is a watery studio apartment. We're floating in the living room, where a giant clamshell is filled with couch pillows and a sea glass mosaic covers the coffee table. To the side, I spot a round open door to a bedroom where a seagrass hammock hangs next to a window. Somehow, it looks infinitely more comfortable than my cot on the ship.

She motions for me to follow her into the bedroom, past framed pictures hanging in the hallway. There's one of some sort of crinoid, one of a mudskipper... then I spot one of her and my dad. She sits in a blow-up wading pool on a grass field with a picket fence in the background – our yard back home. My dad is smiling like I've never seen him smile. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, he leans his head towards her, and both of them have one hand supporting a human baby in a pink dress.

"Why did you leave?" I ask quietly as we enter the bedroom. I want to put the words back in my mouth – anything not to remove from me what I have spent most of my life searching for.

She says, "I was needed here. And I just couldn't be tied down to the land. It wasn't a sustainable arrangement... I felt like I was fading every day." She turns to face me. "That isn't to say," she says sternly, "that leaving you in the hands of that wreck of a man is in any way excusable. I need to learn to take responsibility for my actions and not get defensive..." her voice quavers.

I reach out before she can say more, and touch her shoulder. "It's all right, Mom," I say. "The important thing is, we're together now."

She pulls me in for a full embrace. "It has to be all right," she says. "I always thought I'd come back for you, when the time was right. I never expected you to be the one to come find me." She looks around the room. "I have something I've been keeping for you, something I always meant to return..." She pulls a large black chest out from under the hammock and opens the creaky lid. Then she reaches inside to produce a piece of paper that's been ripped in half, crumpled and then taped together and smoothed again. "Take it. It's yours," she tells me, though her hand grasps it a little longer than necessary after I begin to seize upon it.

When I hold it up to the living lantern of a sea jelly hanging out on the ceiling, I recognize the childish pencil strokes immediately. "My drawing!" I marvel. "From the week I met you."

She smiles and nods with tears in her eyes.

"Thank you for keeping it all this time. I think now it's more yours than mine."

She shakes her head. "It belongs to you," she says softly, but eagerly takes it in her hands when I hold it back to her.

I suddenly become curious: "How is that paper staying dry in the water?" She tells me, "There's a lot to being a mermaid you don't know yet, my dear. But I can teach you. I think you'll learn fast."

"But I'm not really a mermaid," I say, kicking my white stick-legs through the water.

She says, "Not yet, but I think by releasing the krakens from the death grip of industry and forcing humanity to rethink their fuel source, you've earned the honor." She gestures around her, indicating the whole structure of Mystycetii. "Most of us were born with our fishtails, but since we mer-folk needed to enrich the diversity of our gene pool and expand the species' range, we've been looking above water quite a bit. Anyone who meets certain criteria, such as working to save the ocean and getting along with sea creatures, can choose to join us and work to preserve this place. It's hard to find people who care, though, and lately some of us are saying all our efforts are for nothing. The land folk are still burning kraken milk – up until recently. And even with this victory, they're working to recapture the kraken. They're searching for other, dirty forms of fuel. They keep dumping into the ocean, and even places like this the magic shield is wearing through. We're vulnerable," she says, "and it's beginning to worry me."

"I won't become a mermaid," I announce. "Not yet," I explain, and her face melts from shock to relaxed inquisitiveness. "First I have to go back home, and tell the humans about this place – about all the wonderful things I've seen on this voyage, things they didn't teach us about in marine bio class. Knowing humanity, if they just knew what kind of magic is available here, they'd want to save it. But I need my legs just a little longer. You know, to give speeches and go up stairs and such," I explain.

"You are a noble soul," she whispers sincerely. "A true mermaid at heart, just like your mother."

We sink onto the clamshell sofa and begin sharing the details of both of our lives since we parted. I tell my mother about Dad's drinking and his new sober spell, and she shakes her head and looks ready to cry in despair.

As dawn breaks, my mother leaves her sleepless night in the apartment to search for animals in need of aid.

I stay behind and pull out my waterproof cell phone. I have an important call to make.

After several rings, each sounding more plaintive than the last, I hear the machine: "Asher Jonarche here, well – not here right now... leave your message at the beep and I may or may not get back to you."

After the tone, I say, "Hi, Dad, it's Gayle. I'm with Mom now, and it struck me that you might want in on this family reunion." I give him the coordinates of the island, which I looked up earlier on my phone. "Please, please, please come and make our family whole again."

# Chapter Twelve

Sander

Foulweather has tapped my almost-girlfriend's phone.

I'm stuck in the brig while he directs our crew to the island of the people with fishtails. I've tried banging on the door and yelling, but that only led them to tie me to a chair and gag me. I refuse to sit here helplessly while they destroy the island and capture the inhabitants... but my refusal isn't really working out so far. The ship jerks to a jarring halt, and I know we've reached our destination.

"Attention all mermaids!" cries Foulweather into the megaphone. "Surrender now or we'll take this island by force!"

I twist in my bindings, but it's no use.

Suddenly a shot rings out across the ship – and it wasn't fired from our side.

"Fire at will!" Captain Foulweather screams. Now the air is a soup of cannon shots and the ringing, booming sounds coming from across the water.

I wish I could see what kind of weaponry the people with fishtails have fashioned. It almost sounds as if they're playing musical instruments.

A harplike chord explodes next to my ear. One of the barrels of rum next to my chair starts bleeding the stuff, forming a substantial puddle at my feet.

"We've been hit!" my dad calls, as shots continue to pound from both sides.

"No kidding," I murmur, as more casks of rum burst open. The puddle grows gradually to a pond, then a lake, engulfing the small room and lapping at my shoulders. Soon it will reach above my nose and I won't be able to breathe. I tilt my head back, hoping to prolong my life for a few seconds longer.

Footsteps knock on the ceiling above my head. The trapdoor is yanked open, and sunlight floods in, sparkling on the surface of the sea of rum, which is now hovering just below my nostrils.

Dad materializes in the trapdoor. Then he's swimming next to me, untying me from the chair. The rum gives us a boost to the deck, where we both clamber out. He struggles to his feet, holds out his hand to me.

I stand up on my own. He pulls the gag down around my neck.

"Why did you save me?" I ask, looking him straight in the eye.

"We have to stop this. They're going to take all the mermaids, destroy the island..."

"Did you just realize that?"

"I just realized it's not the right thing to do. I started this, maybe I can put a stop to it. But I need your help." He holds out his hand to me.

This time, I take it. I'm not sure where he'll lead me, but I know it's the right place to be right now.

That place turns out to be the captain's quarters. From inside his safe, insulated cabin atop the deck, Captain Foulweather is ordering the crew into the loudspeaker to fire.

I beg him, "Please stop this madness, Foulweather. These are beautiful creatures. They're worth more free in their natural habitat than dead or dying in captivity."

"Shut up, tree hugger." He yells into his speaker, "Load the cannons!"

My dad sits down beside the captain. "Mr. Foulweather, sir, have you ever considered therapy?"

"That's _Captain_ Foulweather to you!"

Seeing this is going nowhere, I head outside to risk a walk through green cannonball explosions to talk to the crew. I hear a booming message over the loudspeaker: "Detain the tree hugger."

As Hammerhead lumbers over to me, followed by Lorenzini, nose in the air, I mutter, "I've never actually hugged a tree in my life."

Lorenzini puts a gun to my head as Hammerhead begins to not-so-gently nudge me towards the flooded prison. When we approach, Lorenzini cries, "The rum!" His hand slips to his side and the gun is triggered, just as a green explosion of mermaid fire envelops my lower body.

Suddenly my legs are like jelly. I teeter over and before I know what's happening I'm headed over the side of the ship, plunging towards the water below, which is filled with mermaids aiming their weapons up at me.

"No!" I hear Gayle's voice.

Then I'm underwater, sinking towards an inevitable end since I can't kick my legs. I feel arms around my chest, and I'm riding up in a human-powered elevator. My head breaks the surface and I gasp for air, eyes still squeezed shut.

Meanwhile, I hear Gayle, sounding stronger than I've ever heard her, saying to the mermaids, "Don't shoot him. He's a friend, and he's in need of medical care."

The cannon fire dies down on both sides. My eyes blink open just long enough to see faces hovering over me, Gayle smiling nervously down at me at the forefront of the crowd. Then everything goes black.

# Chapter Thirteen

Sander

"Quick, nurse, the anesthesia."

"Yes, Doctor."

I feel a quick pinch on my upper arm. Then everything goes numb.

I'm floating in the womb, a pouch filled with liquid. My legs are curled up under me, and suddenly I feel my cells un-dividing, time going backwards as my legs disappear. Perplexed, I reach forward. My arms sweep nothingness.

A green scale appears at my hip. Soon, more sprout, a girdle all the way around my waist. The scale-garden grows to a tip where my toes once were, and gossamer green fins extend from the tip of the emerald fishtail.

Suddenly I'm filled with nausea looking at this abomination at my hips. I turn and try to swim away, but I bump into the cradling edge of the womb. I'm desperate to escape this impossible thing. I swim against the wall, going nowhere.

Now Gayle's hand comes down from nothingness, rests gently on my shoulder. "Stop fighting," her voice soothes, echoing all around me in the prenatal chamber, embracing me like a mother's hug. "You need to heal."

I stop swimming, let my body sink to the bottom of the oversized womb, where I lie, floating, bobbing up and down in the gentle current. The womb opens, and all around me I see a world of people, people holding medical equipment, people pushing stretchers with manatees lying on them, people crowded around me. All of them are without legs, and instead have fishtails. Only Gayle treads water with her skinny white legs emerging from her pajama shorts. I look down, and though I expect what I see it's a shock to the eyes, finally fully open to what I've become.

# Chapter Fourteen

Gayle

Sander sits in the sand, his tail fin just glancing the lapping waves. I leave the cabin reserved for two-legged visitors and clamber through the bushes to sit next to him in the wet sand, not caring about the effect this will have on my shorts.

"Is everything all right?" I ask, a stupid question. He grimaces, and even with his face contorted in displeasure he's beautiful.

"Yeah, everything's peachy," he sighs, and I can tell he wants to say more.

"I think the fishtail looks good on you," I say boldly. "It emphasizes your eyes."

"I wanted to go home," he says suddenly. "I mean, not that I had any real home waiting for me, but I planned to go back to civilization, to share my discoveries with the world."

"That'll be harder without two legs," I admit. "Although the Internet may make things a little easier."

He rolls his eyes. "How will I present at scientific conferences this way? I'll never get anyone to even discover my findings, let alone the kind of publicity that could lead people to take action."

"That's where I come in," I say. "I've already secured an appointment to talk to the President of the United States. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"You're leaving?" His eyes open wide, like a dog that's been kicked by his beloved owner.

"Just temporarily," I assure him, wanting to put an arm around his shoulders. "I'm going to see what kind of reaction I can get based on our discoveries: unicorns really do exist, and so do people with fishtails. That's sure to get some sort of protective action going to save what's left of the oceans. Who knows? Maybe we can even rebuild what's been lost." I brush a stray piece of hair out of his face, unable to resist. "I never would have come this far if it hadn't been for you," I say softly. "I never would have even cared so much about the ocean, or seen the things I did."

He pulls me closer. "I never would have become a merman if it weren't for you," he says. "I'd probably be dead right now. I want to thank you for saving my life."

"Thank you for discovering mine," I reply. Our faces are inches from each other. He closes the distance, kissing me on the lips. I close my eyes to savor the moment.

A whistle breaks us apart. The other inhabitants of the cabin have emerged, and Lorenzini stands over us, followed close behind by Hammerhead.

Sander tenses up at once, but I stand and say, "they're friends now, Sander. Everyone who worked on your ship has sworn to help protect the island and never harm another soul."

"I never said anything about not harming a fly," Foulweather corrects me, smashing a buzzing beetle beneath his shoe.

Sander smiles a crooked smile. "So, you guys don't want to kill me anymore?"

Foulweather bows slightly. "You saved us from starvation, showed us the beauty a' nature, and took a hit from one of our own guns. From now on, you're honorary captain. But I'm still the real captain givin' the orders," he adds quickly.

Sander's dad steps forward. "Son," he utters. He crouches by the merman, elbows his muscular arm. "First of all, never scare me like that again. And second, never kiss a girl until you've invited her to dinner."

~~~

I want to eat with my mom and all the others on the island, but Sander insists we find a private place. He clearly feels really bad about his earlier forwardness. As we sit stiffly over appetizers at the underwater Trilobite Tavern, I pull out my phone and text my dad under the table, telling him my location. I know that's how I got into trouble before. But I really, really want him to come.

As we're getting ready to leave a sweet, yet painful hour later, the door bursts open. A commanding figure floats inside, and I'm shocked when I see for the first time that face without the ruddy cheeks and blood red veins in the eyes. My dad is handsome!

He comes over without a sound, and I feel the eyes of all the merpeople in the room on us as he wraps me in his arms. "Gayle," he says finally, "what are ya doing datin' a mermaid?"

"That's what _you_ did," I protest, knowing he's only joking. "Would you like to see her now?"

His face lights up. "Would I ever!" He looks insecure. "But do ya think she'll accept me?"

Sander claps a hand on my dad's shoulder. "Don't worry, big fella," he says. "Just bring her a bouquet of shrimps or something."

"It's not that simple," I say. "It's been a long time, and we've all hurt a lot. But the only way to know for sure is to try."

We split the bill three ways – my dad tries to pay with paper money but the waitress frowns so he digs up some sand dollars and mother-of-pearl outside. Then we head out the door to meet my mom.

# Chapter Fifteen

Gayle

I stand in the conference hall between Sander's dad and my mom, who is safely contained in a glass tank. I've never seen so many empty seats before me, waiting to be filled by expectant bottoms, expecting me to deliver a rousing speech about something they know very little about. But all I feel ready to deliver right now is the remains of my lunch.

My mom squeezes my hand, smiling up at me encouragingly. The smile gives me strength. I finger the scale at my heart, drawing healing power into my shaking hands.

Mom is wheeled to her spot behind the holographic screen.

First to enter is the President, escorted by several black-suited bodyguards. He comes right up to me, and we do an awkward handshake-introduction sequence. The President is seated in his special protected chair in the corner of the room, and then more people begin filing in, filling the rows from front to back. They look at me with interested eyes, prying at mine to unlock their secrets.

I look at the floor. Finally, I clear my throat. "Welcome, President, Congressmen, people of America," I say, fingering the notecards in my pocket. "Today I have a very special presentation for you." I meet the eyes of the gentleman directly in front of me. He smiles.

The smile melts into a gaze of utter awe as I flip on the presentation.

I click through pictures, mostly taken by Sander's watch, of the reef creatures, the two unicorn seahorses in their living beauty, the green sea slug in its bright liveliness. As I show the pictures, I explain the ecological value of all of these creatures. Lastly, I flick the screen off. It disappears, revealing the tank with mom in all her mermaid glory.

A collective gasp ripples through the audience.

"Yes, we have officially discovered mermaids," I say with triumph. "They exist, and like all the other amazing creatures you've seen today, they need protection."

The gentleman in front of me raises his hand.

"Yes?" I point to him, feeling like a schoolteacher.

He stands. "So what?" He asks. "I mean, what's the problem here?" A murmur of concurrence hums through the crowd.

Now Sander's dad, Peter, speaks up. "I'm the problem," he says, "or I was the problem until a very endearing little girl destroyed my animal-abusing, toxic-sludge-expelling factory and forced me to face the truth. I've been hiding things from the law and the public for years, Mr. President," he addresses the executive official, "and if you want to take me into custody I feel it's the right thing to purify my soul."

"That won't be necessary," the President says gently. "I trust you've learned your lesson. Heck, we've all learned a thing or two today!"

# Epilogue

Sander

I grasp the pink, rubbery udder. Milk spurts out into my bucket. I speak in soothing tones to Bessie II, rub her forehead, and give her a handful of eelgrass. Then I swim across the pool. When I reach the next kraken grazing a quarter-mile or so away, I begin preparing her for milking.

My dad emerges from the cabin to survey my work, and the work of the other dozen or so employees here at KrakenGo Family Farm Number One. "Maybe I'll get in with you, son," he says. "I just need to get my trunks on. Some of us aren't lucky enough to have a fishtail."

"You could have one, if you wanted, Peter," Gayle giggles as Mary the kraken tickles Gayle's new fins with a pink tentacle. "I'm sure you've done enough good works in the ocean to become a merman."

"Maybe I will, someday," my dad says, in a voice that lets me know he's never giving up his legs. And that's all right with me. Everything is mostly perfect: new laws are springing up around the globe to protect the ocean and especially our island, thanks to Gayle's talk and the blog she maintains. Gayle and I are free to roam the ocean – in our off hours. And we get paid good sand dollars working on the cruelty-free kraken milking farm my dad has set up, just like all the other workers across the world ocean earning the same benefits. Meanwhile, I've seen several new species I didn't know existed, and just yesterday on our evening promenade Gayle and I spotted a couple of unicorn seahorses. The world is still full of wonders – all we needed to do was look a little closer.

# Acknowledgements

Before I go, there are a few people I'd like to thank. Firstly, thank you to my editor, Alyssa Kress, who helped me through this whole process of creating a book of short stories. I'd also like to thank Karen Ronan for designing a wonderful cover and formatting the manuscript. My enduring gratitude is extended to Audrey Zhu and Justin Golden, the first readers of _People with Fishtails_. My whole extended family deserves thanks for supporting me in my creative endeavors from birth to present. Last but not least, I'd like to thank my Marine Biology teacher, Benjamin Kay, who rekindled my childhood interest in the ocean and all the creatures in it (though the mermaids were my addition.)
