Maybe a Mermaid Page 15

  “Please? I really need…” I started, and then I remembered the line from Action Step Three: Don’t bee needy; find a way to bee needed. I tried to sound more confident. “I have to have the pin or I can’t show you the mermaid.”

  “You can have it,” Maddy said, avoiding Julie’s eyes. “After we see the mermaid.”

  Julie looked hurt, but she tried to shake it off. She put on a brave smile and tapped the invitation in Maddy’s hand.

  “It’s good timing,” she said. “We always watch the fireworks at Maddy’s and walk Kurt home after. He lives next to DJ, who lives next to The Showboat, so we can see the mermaid and then go back to Maddy’s for the sleepover. Don’t forget to bring your pajamas. I got new ones with owls and polka dots. What are yours like?”

  Sleepover? My heart did a skip.

  Kurt shot Maddy a look of disbelief. “You invited Gills to your Fourth of July party?” he asked.

  Maddy ignored him and smiled at me. “Your mom already said you can come,” she said.

  I sucked in my breath, and as if I were seven years old, I felt destiny closing in all around me. It was going to work. In my mind, my plan played out like a movie on the big screen. Fireworks, the Boulay Mermaid, then a sleepover. A sleepover. In Maddy’s room with Storm and Emma Frost looking down on us. It was almost too perfect.

  “So if this thing’s real, you get some dumb pin,” Kurt said. “What do we get? If you can’t show us a mermaid?”

  “Pride?” I offered lamely.

  “Nah. How about you swim out to Maddy’s raft?”

  “With floaties?” Julie asked, but Maddy looked thoughtful. I could practically see her weighing the options: Is Gills True or False?

  “I told you I don’t like liars,” she said. “If she’s lying, no floaties. Sink or swim.”

  I didn’t know what made me want to vomit more—the thought of swimming to Maddy’s raft or the possibility of coming this close to a True Blue Friend only to end up in Maddy’s False category. It was time to double down. Do What It Takes. I forced myself to remember the day in the boat, when the real Maddy—the nice Maddy—and I laughed until our sides hurt and she told me her secrets about Lexie. How happy I felt. How happy I was going to feel.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Swear it,” Kurt said. “Out loud.”

  Maddy and I linked pinkies.

  “I, Maddy Quinn, swear to give Anthoni my pin if she shows us a mermaid.”

  Maddy’s pinkie grip was like a vise. I tried to ignore the fact that I was losing circulation in my fingertip. In my head, I chanted, It Doesn’t Matter If You Feel Brave; It Matters If You Act Brave.

  “I, Anthoni Gillis, swear to swim to the raft—without floaties—if Maddy does not see a mermaid. Which she will.”

  Maddy released my pinkie from her death-squeeze. Her eyes glinted with excitement.

  “All right, see you on the Fourth,” she said. “Be there at four o’clock. My dad’s barbecuing and we’ll have sparklers.”

  They walked away and I bent down to zip up my backpack. When I stood up, DJ was in front of me.

  “Hey!” I said, relieved to see him. “Want to go…”

  But the color had drained out of his face, leaving his freckles no place to hide. I didn’t know how much he’d heard, but clearly, he’d heard enough.

  “I … it’s not…”

  “I told you not to tell Maddy about the mermaid,” he said.

  “I know, but…”

  “You can’t swim to the raft on your own,” he said, anger forcing his face to flush again. “It’s deep at Maddy’s house. And it’s far!”

  “I won’t have to,” I said, though I wasn’t as certain as I wanted to be. “It’ll be fine.”

  “No. It won’t!” DJ snapped. “In case you forgot, we don’t have a mermaid. We have an old lady and some ancient breathing-tube system that probably doesn’t even work.”

  I forced my voice to sound like Mom’s Chief Pollinator voice—calm, cool, and collected. “People see what they want to believe,” I said. “And Maddy Quinn wants to believe in mermaids.”

  DJ shook his head. “What are you doing? I thought we were putting on the show for Charlotte, not to show off to a bunch of kids who don’t even like us.”

  Lake water from my hair dripped down my back. I shivered. “They do too like us. Maddy’s my friend. Well, she’s going to be.”

  “Really? Are you sure about that?” DJ’s anger dissipated and his shoulders sagged. “It doesn’t matter. She’s not a mermaid, Gills. She’s just a lonely lady, and all they’re going to do is make fun of her. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I…”

  DJ waved his cast at me. “Whatever. Have fun watching the fireworks with your friends. I hope they have s’mores.”

  S’mores. I’d been so wrapped up in my plan that I’d forgotten about DJ’s invitation to watch the fireworks and eat s’mores. My teeth chattered and I felt a headache coming on. I realized I was still wearing the blue goggles. I pulled them off, but after the blue tint, the whole world seemed blindingly yellow. The sun shot rays straight into my eyeballs. I rubbed them with my palms and blinked away the dark spots, glad for an excuse not to watch DJ turn around and walk away.

  31

  FIREWORKS

  I gripped DJ’s rock carefully between my fingers while Mom and I waited on the Quinns’ magazine-perfect doorstep. Even though I wasn’t sure the quartzite had any real luck in it, it had survived millions of years and been pressed to its limit, and after all that, it came out stronger on the other end. I felt better holding on to it. Like as long as I kept my head up, there was a sliver of hope that the plan could still work, and I could find a way to make everyone happy all at once, and DJ would forgive me for ditching him to go to a barbecue with a bunch of kids who didn’t want him around.

  It was worth a shot.

  Mrs. Quinn held the door open wide.

  “Anthoni! Carrie! We’re glad you could come!” She patted me on the head. “Get your suit on, hon. All the kids are down by the lake.”

  I changed into my suit in Maddy’s room. I took a long look at Storm and Emma Frost before I tucked DJ’s quartzite into the front pocket of my backpack, put on Josh’s floaties, and propped DJ’s goggles on top of my head. Then, even though I knew better, I peeked into Maddy’s closet. The mermaid pin was still on the lamp, but all the stuffed animals had been cleared out. There wasn’t a single dolphin in sight.

  As I came down the stairs to the lake, Julie jumped up and down and waved at me.

  Mr. Quinn chuckled. “Hey, Little Gills, we have life jackets, you know. You don’t need those things.”

  “I like them,” I said. “But I’ll take a life jacket, too, please.”

  I sat in the boat and watched Maddy and Julie do a double trick-ski routine. Mr. Quinn set up two ropes, and they skied at the same time, doing 180s together like dancers or synchronized swimmers. Maddy didn’t look bored like she did the last time I saw her ski. She and Julie grinned through the whole thing, slapping hands when they got a move just right and laughing when they turned at the wrong time. Once, they tried to link arms, and Julie’s ski knocked into Maddy’s, sending them flying into the water. When we turned around to pick them up, they were laughing so hard, they couldn’t even hold the ropes Mr. Quinn tossed out to them.

  It cheered me up to learn that Kurt was not a great skier. It took him four tries to get up, and when he did, he skied on two regular skis with a hunched back and wobbly knees. He fell twice, and the second time, instead of trying again, he climbed into the boat and we had to drive him back to the dock. I expected him to be embarrassed or upset, but he gave us all a double thumbs-up, and Mr. Quinn said, “Nice improvement, Kurt. We’ll get all the way around the lake next time!”

  When we pulled up to the dock, Mr. Quinn went into the boathouse and rolled out a flat disc of wood slightly bigger than a Hula-Hoop. “This is a treat for you, Little Gills,” he said. “We’ll get you b
ehind the boat one way or another.”

  My heart stopped. I didn’t want to get behind the boat. I thought of Mom, somersaulting through the air and plunging deep into Thunder Lake.

  “Oooh, the saucer!” Julie squealed. “You’ll love it, Anthoni.”

  Maddy smiled one of her sparkly, real-Maddy smiles, and Kurt said, “Anyone can do the saucer. Even you.”

  It was weird that everyone had been nice to me so far. It crossed my mind that they might be setting me up. The saucer could be a dangerous torture device—part of a secret plan to dump me in the middle of the lake. On the other hand, I didn’t believe Julie was capable of lying, and it seemed unlikely that Mr. Quinn would be in on it, too.

  “How does it work?” I asked.

  “Why don’t we go together?” Mom appeared on the dock and did a cannonball into the water, spraying everyone in sight.

  She steadied the saucer as I lay belly-down on top of it. I felt like the cheese on a giant, wooden pizza, only I kept slipping off. Mom put her weight next to me, throwing the disc off balance, and I shrieked. She laughed and threw her arm around me, steadying the saucer and holding me in place.

  “We’ll hold the rope together, and you yell ‘Hit it!’ when you feel ready to go.”

  I didn’t think I’d ever feel ready to go. What if I couldn’t keep hold of the rope? What if Mom couldn’t keep us steady? I thought about DJ’s quartzite in my backpack upstairs—stronger under pressure. I braced myself and yelled.

  “Hit it!”

  The boat accelerated, jerking my arms and lifting the front half of the saucer up above the water. My feet dragged behind, but my upper body was lifted by the pull of the rope. Julie cheered from the boat, and Mr. Quinn turned around and gave us a wave.

  “Watch where you’re going!” I shouted into the wind, but Mr. Quinn made a motion to show that he couldn’t hear me, then faced forward and continued to drive.

  The wind whipped into my face as I bounced and rocketed over the water. I was flying. I felt my lips spread into a smile.

  Mom gave me a squeeze. “Feel good?” she shouted.

  I nodded.

  “Try this,” she said. “I’ve got you.”

  She helped me scoot myself higher on the board and pull my legs up into a kneeling position. Mom got up on her knees behind me, her arms wrapped around mine, holding me safe and close. Sitting up like that, I had a better view of the houses and docks zooming past us. As we turned the corner near the bay, I watched The Showboat Resort drift past. The cabins, tucked into the trees, were barely visible at all. I squinted, hoping for a glimpse of Charlotte or DJ, but the dock was empty, and before I knew it, we were past the bay and back at Maddy’s house.

  After skiing, I stuffed myself with brats and potato salad and watermelon, and we made s’mores down by the lake—crisp graham crackers with gooey marshmallow-chocolate filling. It would have been the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted except that every time I took a bite, I thought about DJ eating s’mores alone with his aunt.

  “Don’t you like it?” Mom looked shocked as I handed her half a s’more.

  “I’m full,” I said.

  And then the fireworks started up.

  I’d seen plenty of fireworks before—bigger, flashier displays with more color and higher arcs—but Mom had been right. I hadn’t seen anything like this.

  It started at the public beach. A high-pitched squeal and then a crackling burst of blue light. As soon as the blue faded away, someone two docks down lit Roman candles. While they shot into the air, Mr. Quinn ran to the end of his dock and set off a tall fountain of white sparks. One by one, small fireworks began to launch from houses and cabins all around Thunder Lake. I hardly knew where to look. The sky sparkled from all sides, and as the sparks cascaded down toward the water, the surface of the lake glowed.

  It lasted a few minutes, then the sky went black and a hush settled in across the lake. When it became clear that nothing else was coming, that the last firework had been lit, a cheer rose up in the darkness. All around the lake, people began to clap and whistle. Maddy and Julie screamed their heads off, and Mom and I stood up on our feet and shouted, “Wooooo!”

  Even though I couldn’t see any of the other cheerers, and even though I didn’t know who most of them were, I felt like an invisible string had been wound all around Thunder Lake, binding us together. Somewhere out there, Mrs. Nueske was clapping, and Shari, and all the Tadpoles, and the lady with the giant sunglasses. The sparkly-suit tanning girls were clapping, and DJ was clapping with his aunt. Maybe Charlotte Boulay was watching from the window of The Showboat, only maybe she wasn’t clapping because she was thinking about other Fourth of Julys and the weight of the past and the mother she lost when she was twelve.

  At the thought of Charlotte, the cozy, post-fireworks feeling disappeared. Was I really setting her up to be the butt of a mean joke?

  Mom pushed a lock of hair behind my ear and whispered, “I’m glad we stayed for the fireworks. You were right.”

  “I might not want to stay overnight,” I said.

  “Okay,” Mom said. “You can call me. But I bet you’ll have more fun than you think.” She glanced at Mrs. Quinn, who was picking up sticks and chocolate wrappers around the campfire. Mom leaned into me, tired. Or sad.

  “You should take a vacation,” I said. “Just for today. Have fun and don’t worry about Beauty & the Bee.”

  Mom’s mouth turned up a little. She patted my leg. “In that case, I think I’ll go make another s’more.”

  As Mom walked over to Mrs. Quinn, Maddy came up behind me and grabbed my wrist. “Mom,” she said loudly. “Kurt has to go now. Can we walk him home?”

  “Don’t stay too late,” Mrs. Quinn said. “I don’t know how ‘walking Kurt home’ always turns into a two-hour video-game spree. I want you home by nine.”

  “No video games. I promise,” Maddy said, and squeezed my wrist again. “Everybody ready?”

  “In a minute. I need something,” I said.

  I ran up to the house and grabbed my backpack. I put DJ’s lucky rock in the pocket of my shorts and patted it, feeling a little stronger. As I closed the backpack, something caught on the zipper. It was the corner of the faded pink envelope DJ and I had found hidden in the back of the Boulay Mermaid photo. I knew I was dragging my feet, killing time, but I opened the flap and glanced through the collection of obituaries. Each one had a glamorous picture of smiling Selina Boulay. Selina in an evening dress, Selina in a fancy hat, Selina blowing kisses to the camera. The newspapers felt old and crumbly, and I wondered who had clipped and collected them all those years ago. Charlotte? Or was it Mr. Boulay?

  As I placed the articles back into the envelope, I noticed one last clipping. It was a small square tucked into the corner. I unfolded it. This article was dated after Selina’s death—August 19, 1942—and it showed a photo of Charlotte’s dad standing outside The Showboat Resort.

  COURT PULLS PLUG ON BOULAY MERMAID SHOW:

  Ingenious Underwater Breathing Apparatus Deemed Too Dangerous for Use

  I read the article three times through, but my eyes skipped to the same lines. Investigation launched … Selina Boulay strayed to an unrehearsed path … tangled rope and pulley system.

  I read the last line until it had been burned into my brain: Due to the potential dangers involved, the Wisconsin State Court has ordered that the Boulay Mermaid act be shut down. Effective immediately.

  Potential dangers.

  Too dangerous for use.

  “Hey! Are you coming or what?”

  I practically jumped out of my skin. Maddy Quinn stood in the bedroom door, waving me forward. I felt dizzy as I put the envelope away, but I shrugged my backpack onto my shoulders and followed Maddy out the door. I told myself Charlotte wouldn’t agree to do the show if she thought it was dangerous. Of course she’d fixed the system—1942 was a long time ago. Breathing-tube technology had probably come a long way since then. I tried to focus on happy thoughts
. Fireworks. Charlotte Boulay dressed like a mermaid. Energy. Laughs. Applause. Maddy getting her socks knocked off. Charlotte on cloud nine. DJ smiling and turning red.

  But the happy thoughts kept disappearing underneath thoughts of Selina Boulay and Thunder Lake. All I could think of was how scary it would feel to be below that glassy surface, tied up in ropes, gasping for air, and no one on earth even knowing you were there.

  32

  OUT WITH A BANG

  Maddy wore a headlamp and led us down a mosquito-infested path through the woods.

  “You’re sure this leads to The Showboat?” I asked.

  “Of course, silly,” Julie chirped. “We live here, don’t we? This path is for snowmobiles in the winter, and it’s a lot faster than driving because in a car you have to stick to the roads, but this is a straight shot. I’ve only used it to walk to Kurt’s, not to The Showboat, because who would ever go to The Showboat? I mean, except you. Which is cool.”

  The woods were especially creepy at night—too quiet and dark to be safe—but no one else seemed to notice. I walked into something tickly that stuck to my arms and made my skin crawl. I danced around trying to shake it off, and Kurt shone the flashlight in my face.

  “Relax, it’s a spiderweb,” he said. “Jeez. Freak out much?”

  “I can’t believe your parents let you do this,” I said.

  “Do what?” Julie asked. She hopped up onto a stump and hopped off.

  “Walk in the woods at night.”

  “You’re funny, Anthoni,” Julie said. “What could happen?”

  “Everything!” I said.

  Maddy hooted like I’d said something hilarious. “Nothing happens in Eagle Waters.”

  “Shhh!” Julie leaned toward me. “We have to be quiet now because this is Kurt’s house. His mom will freak if she finds out we’re sneaking around, and then she’ll call my mom, and my mom will call Maddy’s mom…”