Just for Fins

  “It looks completely out of sync with the environment,” I say. “Aren’t they worried about discovery?”

  “Not up here,” Peri says. “Not too many humans diving in these frigid waters.”

  “Besides,” Tellin adds, “their shape is not so unusual.”

  I follow the direction he’s pointing and see a similar-looking formation a few hundred yards away. Only that one looks completely natural and organic.

  “Oh, wow,” I say as we approach the main entrance.

  A pair of merfolk swim by, one a mermaid with a tail the color of glaciers. Pale icy aqua with touches of pale turquoise and sky blue. Her hair is such a pale blond, it looks almost as white as the icy palace.

  The other, a merman, has a tail that is dark brown, almost black. Matching dark-brown hair flows long past his shoulders, and with a brown fur jacket on, he could easily pass for a seal or a walrus if he had to.

  I never really thought about it, but I suppose over time merpeople naturally evolved to match the colors and textures of the world around them. My lime-green-and-gold scales fit in perfectly with the brightly colored fish and sea life in my kingdom’s ecosystem. Up here, blending in with the ice or masquerading as an arctic mammal would definitely be an advantage.

  To enter the palace, we swim through what feels like a curtain of ice cubes. Shards of ice hang down in strings, and the Glacialine guards pull them aside to let us in.

  “I shall tell the queen of your arrival,” one of her guards says.

  He leaves, and the remaining guard—a mermaid not much older than me with gray-and-white hair—stares openly at us. Her pale-gray gaze sweeps over my brightly colored tailfin and then Tellin’s. And then those of Peri and the guards.

  “They’re . . . beautiful,” she says, the warmth of her breath clouding in the icy water.

  “Thank you,” I say, blushing. I gesture at her tailfin, varying shades of gray from dark steel to nearly silver. “I think your scales are beautiful, too.”

  “Princess Waterlily, how nice of you to visit.”

  I look up at the sound of Dumontia’s voice. She floats into the room like the queen that she is, pale silver hair floating behind her like a floe of ice. Two attendants, a pair I recognize from the council meeting, flank her. Her posture—rigid spine, hands relaxed at her sides, and chin elevated—tells me everything I need to know about her. She is powerful, she knows it, and she wants me to know it too.

  Well, I’m not scared. Not anymore.

  “This is not a social call, your highness,” I say, bowing slightly and hoping that the sign of deference will put her in a more agreeable mood.

  “No, I thought not,” she says. “Come to make another plea for help for the poor dying kingdom?”

  The false pity in her voice is intended to taunt Tellin, and it works.

  He starts forward, and I throw out an arm to stop him. I nod at two of my guards, who swim to his side and, each taking one arm, pull him back next to Peri.

  Yes, her snide comment was uncalled for, but his emotional reaction is just what she wants. It won’t make this go any easier.

  She reminds me of Brody’s ex-girlfriend, Courtney. When I was crushing on Brody, she used to say mean, terrible things about me. And I just let her. Now that Doe is with Brody, Courtney tried her tactics again. Only Doe stood up to her, and Courtney backed down.

  I hope that works with Dumontia.

  “No, I haven’t,” I say, straightening my spine and trying to float a little higher. I could use the advantage. “I’m here to—” I debate using the word “tell,” but I think she’ll react badly. “Ask you to stop the acts of sabotage you have planned against humans.”

  “Oh, you are, are you?” She laughs, weakly, like she pities me. “I’m sorry you came all this way for me to say no, but . . . no.”

  “Dumontia,” I blurt; then, when I see the look of insult on her face, I backtrack. “Your highness, this is not the way to solve the problems facing our kingdoms.”

  “No?” She floats closer, looming over me like an imperial icicle. “And what do you suggest is the solution? Band-Aids and care packages?”

  “It’s a whole lot better than your plan,” Tellin snaps.

  I throw him a silencing look and find Peri already shushing him.

  Dumontia rolls her eyes at him. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

  “You’re not going to drive humans out of the ocean,” I say, trying to make her see why her plan is doomed to fail. “You’re going to confuse them and make them angry. And then, maybe, you’ll make them curious enough to start investigating why all these accidents keep occurring in their offshore endeavors.”

  “Will I?” she replies with a mocking tone. “Oh, that would be such a shame.”

  “No,” I say, building up steam, “it will be a disaster. If they start investigating, then it’s only a matter of time before they—”

  Dumontia lifts her eyebrows and gives me a casual shrug.

  “You—” I can’t believe she’s implying what I think she’s implying. “You want them to investigate. You want them to find one of us, to discover our greatest secret.”

  “No,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “that’s not at all what I want.”

  “Was that your plan all along?” I ask in disbelief. “To reveal our existence to mankind?”

  The superior look on her face melts and she leans in, looking serious. Her voice is just loud enough for me to hear, but not anyone else in the room. “Can you think of a better way to make humans realize the gravity of the situation? They could care less if whales and polar bears and entire coral-reef habitats die out as a result of their disregard for the natural environment. But mermaids? Well, they might think twice about dumping pollution into our waters if they know we’re here.”

  “Dumontia,” I say, shaking my head. This time she doesn’t show insult at my use of her name. “This is not the answer. This could be the worst mistake in our history.”

  “Or it could be our finest moment.”

  She doesn’t understand. I’ve lived with humans for years. I love a bunch of them, and I respect who and what they are. But I also know that things are never that easy. It wouldn’t be, “Oh, look, here we are, let’s have a party.” Between scientific study and governmental intervention, revealing ourselves to the human world at large would likely be a disaster.

  Clearly Dumontia doesn’t see it that way. I wonder if the other kings and queens do.

  “Does the rest of your coalition know about your ultimate plan?” I ask her. “Do they know you want to expose our existence, or did you bring them on board with the false promise of retribution and kicking humans out of our waters?”

  I can read the answer on her face.

  “I didn’t think so.” I swim closer still, so close only she can hear me. “You call off your plans, or I will expose you.”

  “So what?” she says. “They might not know this is my plan, but most of them will not care. Their thirst for revenge and freedom is stronger than their desire to keep our secret.”

  “You really believe that?” I ask. “I think you’re wrong.”

  I think the other rulers of the Western Atlantic—and in the rest of the seven seas—would be horrified to learn that Dumontia’s ultimate goal is to reveal our existence to humans. I think they’d do anything to stop her. And that might be just the thing I need to get them on my side.

  “Try it,” she dares me. “We shall see.”

  Then, with a dismissive swirl, she turns and swims out of the room.

  “I knew this wouldn’t work,” Tellin says, shrugging free of the guards holding him. “No one listens to reason anymore. Maybe my father has the right idea after all.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic,” Peri tells him.

  “Besides,” I say, “now that we know her secret, we can use it against her. I think I know how to stop the sabotaging. And, if that works, then it will pave the way to inter-kingdom cooperation and help for
your people.”

  Tellin gives me a skeptical look.

  “What plan is that?” Peri asks.

  “You’ll have to wait and see,” I say with a smile. “Wait and see.”

  Chapter 20

  “Miss Molina?”

  She looks up from her desk to where I’m standing in the door to her classroom. She smiles. “Yes, Lily?”

  I walk to the brown plastic chair next to her desk and sit. “So I’ve been thinking about what you said, about wishing you had done something more to stop your friends who burned that boat.”

  “Yes,” she says, her eyes sad. “I’ve been thinking about that since we talked, too.”

  “Well, I was wondering,” I say, tugging at the hem of my skirt. “You knew they were doing something wrong, and now you know how badly things turned out, right?’

  “Yes, exactly.”

  After my visit to Glacialis and learning what Dumontia’s true purpose is in sabotaging human stuff, I thought I knew exactly what to do. I’d tell the other kings and queens what she was doing, and they would be just as outraged as I am.

  But then, on the swim back and in the day since I got home, I started to worry. What if the other kings and queens aren’t outraged? What if they think Dumontia’s ends justify the means and that revealing ourselves to the human world is exactly what needs to be done?

  Dumontia seems to think that’s how they’ll feel. If they were so quick to jump on the sabotage bandwagon, maybe they will think revelation is a good idea too.

  Even if I think this is something we—as rulers and as mer people—might want to consider someday, I don’t think this is the way to do it. Forcing the decision on all of merkind without discussion, without a vote. That’s not right.

  If that’s the play, then maybe I have to do something more extreme to get the kings and queens to see reason.

  I only have one chance to use Dumontia’s secret plan to my advantage, one chance with the element of surprise. I need to use it well and wisely.

  “If you had it to do over again,” I say, getting to the point of my presence, “would you tell the police? I mean, would you turn them in to keep them from getting into bigger trouble?”

  Her brown eyes get a faraway look. “In a heartbeat.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I say, sighing with relief. “Thank you.”

  “Lily,” she says, “I know you don’t want to talk about the specifics of what’s going on.” She smiles softly. “But if you are involved with people, or an organization, who are taking illegal action to achieve their goals, then maybe you should reconsider your involvement. You’re still so young. I would hate to see you throw your future away because you got caught up in a cause.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I appreciate her concern, misplaced as it is. No, Miss Molina doesn’t know the whole truth about what’s going on—she can’t—but if she did, she’d see that I’m trying to prevent that very thing from happening.

  “I promise you, Miss Molina,” I say, bringing myself back to a serious place, “it’s not like that at all.”

  “If you’re certain?”

  “I wish I could tell you all about it,” I say, and am surprised that I actually mean it. If there was one human outside my circle of friends and family I would tell the truth to, then Miss Molina would be that person. She’s smart and kind, and she cares about the oceans and the environment.

  Even though I hope it doesn’t happen the way Dumontia is trying to force, maybe one day I will be able to tell Miss Molina the truth about me.

  “I understand, Lily,” she says, patting my knee. “You are entitled to your secrets. But if they ever get to be too much to bear alone . . .”

  I grin at her. “You’ll be the first.”

  With a reassured certainty about my plan, I jump up and hurry out into the hall. I’m going to need everyone’s help to make this happen, and I need to start tonight.

  * * *

  Doe and I are bent over stacks of kelpaper when Aunt Rachel gets home after work. She drops her bags on the bench by the door and walks over to the table.

  “Another round of invitations?” she asks.

  I nod. “Yes. I think I’ve figured out how to solve one of my problems. And if it goes well, it might solve them both.”

  “Well, if you two are working that hard,” she says, “then it must be a pizza night. What kind would you girls like?”

  “I don’t care,” I say. “Anything is fine.”

  Doe looks up from her careful calligraphy. “Pineapple and jalapeño, please.”

  “What?” I ask, making a face.

  She shrugs. “It reminds me of Laver’s special sweet-and-spicy roll.”

  I smile. I’d forgotten that was her favorite. “Okay, then I’ll have that too.”

  While Aunt Rachel calls the pizza place, I slide another seal-stamped kelpaper sheet across the table to Doe.

  “Thanks for helping me again,” I say.

  Doe shrugs, like it’s whatever. “Brody had a family thing.”

  “I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Aunt Rachel says, digging into her purse. “I’ll leave the money here on the counter in case the pizza gets here before I’m done.”

  “Okay,” I say, and then, when she’s climbing the stairs, I return my attention to Doe. “Why do you always do that?”

  She doesn’t look up from her writing. “Do what?”

  “Act like things are no big deal?” I stamp another sheet of kelpaper with squid ink. “It’s okay to care, you know.”

  She is still and silent for several long seconds before finally answering. “Sometimes, when you care, it hurts more.”

  “But you do care,” I insist. “I can tell. You just act like you don’t.”

  “Well, I don’t want to,” she whispers. “I’d rather be carefree and aloof than wind up crying in my bed every night. Once was enough.”

  I take a shaky breath. I remember that one time all too well. She’s talking about when her parents died. They were killed in a fishing-boat accident a few years ago, and I know Doe took it really hard. Who wouldn’t? She didn’t leave her room for weeks. It was months before she started attending palace events again. She was a different mergirl after that.

  I always knew that was why she acted out, why she rebelled against Daddy and Uncle Portunus and anyone who tried to rein her in with rules and regulations.

  I just never thought she was trying not to care. I thought she really didn’t.

  “Doe,” I say quietly, “not caring won’t protect you from pain. You can’t stop yourself from—”

  “I know, okay?” she snaps, accidentally scratching her quill across the half-finished invitation. “Damselfish.” She sets the quill down and takes a deep breath. “I know I can’t not care about stuff. About people. I screwed up that plan when I fell for Brody.”

  “So why?” I ask. “Why do you keep acting like that?”

  “I don’t know,” she answers. “Habit, maybe? I’ve been pretending things didn’t matter for so long, I guess it’s hard to start accepting that they do.”

  She looks up at me, half a smile in place.

  “I’m trying,” she says.

  “You’re doing great,” I insist. “It’ll probably take some practice, is all.”

  “Well, I’m getting plenty of that.” She gestures at the invitations in process, scattered over the table. “Between you and Brody and saving the mer world from itself and humans, I’m learning a lot about caring.”

  “Yeah, you—” I jerk back, realizing what she just said. “Wait, did you just say you cared about me?”

  Her eyes widen, and she looks like she wants to deny it. Then, realizing she can’t take it back, she sighs. “Yes. I suppose I did.”

  “Doe!” I squeal.

  Jumping up from my chair, I rush around the table and pull her into a big hug.

  “You love me,” I blurt. “Admit it!”

  She sighs again. Then, reluctantly, she lifts her arms an
d returns my hug. “Yes,” she whispers, like she’s afraid someone will overhear. “I love you.”

  I squeeze her tighter. “I love you too, cousin.”

  Lord love a lobster, if someone told me just a few weeks ago that Doe and I would be hugging and exchanging I-love-yous over Aunt Rachel’s kitchen table, I’d have told them to stop eating the fermented sea urchin.

  Prithi meows from under the table.

  “And we love you, Prithi,” I say, scooping the cat up into my arms. She gives me a look that says “Die, half-human!” and then strains for Doe.

  “Good news?” Aunt Rachel asks, rubbing a towel over her wet hair as she walks back into the kitchen.

  Doe blushes as she takes the cat from me.

  I don’t want to push her too hard into the direction of publicly admitting to caring about anything, so I save her the embarrassment by saying, “Just . . . cousin stuff.”

  Aunt Rachel smiles, like that answer tells her everything she needs to know. She reads people really well, so she probably knows exactly what I mean.

  “You girls almost done?” she asks. “The pizza should be here any—”

  The doorbell rings.

  “Ah, there it is.” Aunt Rachel grabs the money off the counter.

  “We’re almost done,” I say. “Just a couple more.”

  I reach for the green kelpaper and start on the two personal messages I want to send.

  “Finish up and meet me in the living room,” she says. “We can watch TV while we gorge.”

  Doe goes back to writing the text of the invitation. I compose my letters, still amazed at the change in Doe recently. Part of it, I know, is her growing up. But another part of it is her feelings for Brody. Loving him—and getting over her hate for humans—is making her a better mergirl.

  “I never thought I’d say this,” I say, “but I’m really glad you kissed Brody.”

  She looks up and scowls at me, like maybe I’m going nuts. Maybe I am.

  “I’m just getting sentimental in my old age,” I tell her. “Watch out, because soon I’ll be crying in my cereal every morning. And now that you’ve started caring about things, you’re next.”