Just for Fins

by Tera Lynn Childs

  “No,” he says with a laugh. “No more tests.”

  “Or challenges,” I say, wanting to clarify as much as possible. “Or ancient laws or long-forgotten rules or consequences or anything at all that will affect my relationship with Quince.”

  Daddy’s humor fades, and his expression is all seriousness as he says, “No, none of the above.”

  “Well,” Calliope interrupts, “there is the duplex amoris.”

  Daddy and I both turn to glare at her.

  She blushes. “But that only comes into effect if you fall in love with twins from the Southern Hemisphere.”

  I glare harder.

  “Look at the time,” she says. “Seems like my work here is done. I’ll sign off on the challenge as soon as I get back to the palace.” She twists past me and Quince and grabs her bike from where it’s leaning against the house. She climbs onto the seat and calls out, “Good-bye,” as she pedals down the driveway. “Love the blue hair.”

  “I swear,” I say when she disappears around the corner, “that woman is out to make my life difficult.”

  From behind, Quince slips his arms around my waist. He pulls me back down a step, and I lean into his body.

  “She means well,” Daddy says. “I really am sorry that you had to go through that. If there had been any way around the law—”

  “I know, I know,” I say. I place my hands on Quince’s arms. “As long as we’re together at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

  Daddy nods. “Well, I’ll leave you two, then.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night,” I say. “At the council meeting.”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  When Daddy is gone and Quince and I are alone, he laughs. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand your mer-world ways,” he says.

  I turn in the circle of his arms. “Luckily, you’ll have a whole lifetime to figure it out.”

  “Heaven help me.” He rolls his eyes comically.

  “Ha ha.” I plant a quick kiss on his mouth. “Now get going. I need a good night’s sleep, and I think I’m going to need like a three-hour bath to soak away all the stress in my bloodstream right now.”

  “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

  I smile. “Always.”

  Chapter 23

  The doorbell rings a few minutes before the meeting is scheduled to begin, and my heart starts racing. I smooth my hands over the knee-length gray skirt Aunt Rachel bought me when I started interviewing for jobs after my sixteenth birthday. That plan quickly fell apart because employers—even fast-food restaurants and souvenir shops—like to have a Social Security number for their potential employees.

  But I kept the skirt for special occasions.

  Today definitely qualifies as a special occasion.

  I cross the living room, my black ballet flats scuffing across the floor. I feel like I’m about to be executed.

  If things go wrong, maybe I will be.

  I wish I didn’t have to face them alone. Aunt Rachel’s living room will be a tight squeeze with just me, Tellin, and the ten rulers. Which is part of the reason I asked them to leave their advisers and attendants in the surf. We don’t have the space to accommodate their entourages.

  As much as I want Doe or Peri or even the not-so-terrible trio at my side, I’d be all kinds of hypocritical if I didn’t play by my own rules.

  At the door I take one more second to tug at the hem of my short-sleeve cotton blouse. The pale blue isn’t exactly Thalassinian royal colors, but it will have to do. I’m trying to project a mature and responsible image, and this is the closest thing I’ve got in my closet.

  Taking one last deep breath for confidence—or extra oxygen to keep me from passing out—I paste a welcoming smile on my face and grab the handle.

  “King Tiburo. Queen Sula.” I spread my arms wide and gesture into the house. “Welcome to my home.”

  The rulers of Rosmarus and Nephropida, two of the most northern kingdoms in our region except for Glacialis, sport twin sour looks on their faces. I was expecting this kind of reaction. It’s not every day—meaning never—that a council of kings and queens is called to a land-based location.

  Daddy assured me it was possible, but he also warned me that the other kings and queens would be unhappy. Many of them haven’t stepped out of the water in years. Some never have.

  But this is all part of my plan. There are two main advantages to meeting on land, and one of them is that I will have what Quince calls the home court advantage. The kings and queens are coming onto my turf—even Daddy.

  “Please,” I say, leading Tiburo and Sula to the living room and pointing at the trays of grape juice and sushi set out around the room. “Help yourself to some refreshments.”

  They stand awkwardly, not taking me up on my offer. Their loss. Mushu makes the best sushi in Seaview.

  The doorbell rings again, and I grab a spider roll on my way back.

  I greet Queen Otaria of Marbella Nova, whose arrival is followed by Queen Cypraea of Antillenes, Queen Palmara of Costa Solara, and King Zostero. He gives me the darkest look of all.

  Daddy arrives next with King Gadus, with Tellin at his side.

  I’m relieved that so far everyone seems to have agreed to my request to come alone.

  The other reason I want this meeting to be limited to only the ten kings and queens and me and Tellin is because I want as few witnesses to what I’m about to do as possible. Gossip—especially royal gossip—travels fast underwater.

  If things go well, no one outside this room will ever know what I’ve done.

  King Bostrych arrives, his rotund body looking out of place on spindly legs. He heads straight for the sashimi spread on the side table at the far end of the couch.

  That leaves just one attendee missing. I’m so not surprised.

  I weave through the crowd to Daddy’s side.

  “She’s late,” I whisper.

  “She’ll be here,” he says. “She has no choice.”

  I give him a meaningful look. “We didn’t exactly part on great terms.”

  “Let me rephrase,” he says. “If she wants to keep other kingdoms on her side, she knows she must be present.”

  As if on cue, the front door flies open and Dumontia steps inside. Her long silver hair floats around her like she’s walking into a fan. Two guards flank her, following her inside.

  “Queen Dumontia,” I say, forcing my biggest smile yet. “Thank you for coming.”

  Her smile is equally fake. “How could I refuse?”

  She didn’t refuse, but she did ignore my request that she come alone.

  “Perhaps you missed the part of the invitation where I asked everyone to leave their attendants and advisers behind.” I nod my head at her two guards. “Please send your escorts back to the beach.”

  “A silly request,” she says.

  When she starts to move into the room, I step into her path.

  “It may be a silly request,” I say, repeating the words Doe told me to use, “but it is a condition of the meeting. If you’d rather abdicate your vote . . .”

  Dumontia scowls, angry that I’ve used council protocol against her, I’m sure. But she doesn’t argue. Instead, she snaps her fingers, and the two guards retreat back the way they came.

  “Let’s get this ridiculous meeting over with,” she says, sweeping past me. “I have important matters of state to attend.”

  “I don’t see any reason to delay.” I move to the center of the living room, in front of the TV, which is the only flat surface not covered with drinks and eats. “If everyone would please take a seat.”

  Between the couch and recliner and the chairs Doe, Aunt Rachel, and I dragged in from the kitchen and down from upstairs, there are enough seats for everyone. The kings and queens grumble a bit, but they all find places to sit, and suddenly all of their attention is on me.

  I clasp my hands behind my back, squeezing tight to steady myself.

  “Last time
I called a council,” I begin, “I was asking for pledges of aid for an ailing kingdom. Instead of receiving the support I expected from my fellow merfolk, I learned that Acropora is not the only kingdom suffering in the wake of ocean warming and other environmental changes.”

  There are several murmurs of agreement, but no one interrupts.

  “I was shocked and intimidated by the sheer size of the situation, but with the help of some friends, I realized that if I broke the problem up into smaller pieces, and if our kingdoms worked together rather than fending for ourselves, we could avert catastrophe with a swell of momentum that is greater than the sum of our parts.”

  I take a breath. This is the point where I stopped when I told Daddy my plan. As far as he knows, I’m just trying to raise support for the interkingdom commission on environmental change.

  That will come after this next part, assuming this next part goes right.

  “Then I learned something unfathomable. Some of our kin had decided that taking revenge on humans through acts of sabotage would be the best way to protect our future.”

  I keep my gaze steady on Tellin so I don’t accidentally single out any rulers. I don’t want to put anyone on the defensive.

  “Maybe it is,” King Zostero argues anyway.

  I give him a look. “I won’t go into why I think this is not the answer right now—although I think that reason should be obvious—because I know something else that most of you don’t. Queen Dumontia, the leader of this sabotage movement, has ulterior motives.”

  Some of the kings and queens shrug. Others, Daddy and Gadus included, turn to look at Dumontia.

  “Her goal is not to get humans out of our oceans,” I explain, “but to bring them in. She wants to taunt humans into investigating the source of the sabotage. Into ultimately discovering our existence.”

  Several gasps echo in the room.

  “She wants to reveal our secret to the world,” I finish, “by circumventing our oversight procedures.”

  “Why, Dumontia?” Daddy asks, his face wrinkled in confusion.

  A couple of other rulers quietly echo Daddy’s question.

  Dumontia stands, taking center stage. “Why?” she repeats. “Because it is the only way. To reveal ourselves to humans is the only way to make them see the harm they do to the oceans. Learning that magical creatures such as ourselves live in the seas might finally make them understand that they cannot carelessly pollute and destroy our environment.”

  “That’s madness,” Daddy says. “You cannot know that will be the result.”

  “We cannot know it won’t, either,” Zostero argues.

  “Ridiculous notion,” Gadus grumbles.

  Tellin pats him on the shoulder.

  “Maybe she’s right,” Queen Sula says. “Maybe this is our best chance.”

  “Our best chance?” Queen Otaria argues. “Perhaps our best chance of becoming human science experiments.”

  “That would be a better fate than slowly going extinct as the oceans die around us.”

  “We’re not going extinct.”

  “We will if things don’t change.”

  The room erupts into arguments. Some of the rulers see Dumontia’s plan for the craziness it is, while others think it’s a plan worth considering. As the debate grows louder and less controlled, I turn around and flip on the TV. I drag my fingertip over the touchpad on the laptop Brody set up this morning, and I pull up the video we shot yesterday.

  I click play, turn the volume to full, and then step out of the way.

  My heart is racing, and I cross my fingers behind my back.

  No one notices at first. They are yelling at each other, and their voices drown out my video.

  Then Tellin, who is the only person in the room who knows what’s going on, shakes his father’s shoulder and points to the TV. The two queens Gadus had been arguing with follow his gaze, and all three fall silent as they watch me, Peri, and the not-so-terrible trio dive into the pool.

  Gradually, the other kings and queens notice. By the time the video ends, all eyes in the room are glued to the small screen.

  The video loops back to the beginning and starts again. Brody did a masterful job with the editing, making the whole thing look like a series of news broadcasts. The rulers watch in silence as I make my confession, transfigure mid-dive, and climb back out onto the deck.

  When the clip reaches the end and loops back to the start again, I click pause.

  “Is this what we want?” I ask, pointing at the frozen image of Brody sitting at a news desk with a headline on the green screen behind him that reads MERMAIDS ARE REAL! “Videos of mermaids and mermen showing on every channel in every country around the world? Because you know the news of our existence would not stay confined to our region of the ocean. We would be outing every merperson in every body of water on the planet.”

  Ten pairs of eyes stare, unblinking, at the screen. Only Tellin looks at me. He gives me an encouraging nod, and I continue.

  “Because if this is what we want, I can do it without its costing a single human life.” I hold up my cell phone. “My friend who helped me make this video is waiting for a message from me. All I have to do is send the word, and he’ll email it to every newswire on the internet. They’ll have it in broadcast-ready HD in Paris, Dubai, and Hong Kong before you’ve made it back to Seaview Beach.”

  Everyone looks too stunned to react, even Dumontia. She is staring at me like I’m some previously undiscovered species of poisonous blowfish.

  For the first time since I got this crazy idea, I feel like it might actually work.

  “Should I tell him to send it?” I hold up my phone, placing my finger over the send button.

  Every single person in the room—every single one—simultaneously shouts, “No!”

  “You’re sure?” I ask, looking directly at Dumontia.

  Her mouth moves like she’s grinding her teeth. This is the moment when I think she realizes that she’s lost. She and I are playing a high-stakes game of political chess, and I just called checkmate.

  “Don’t,” she says, so quietly I almost don’t hear.

  “What was that?” I need everyone to hear her say it.

  “Don’t send the video,” she enunciates. “Don’t reveal our secret.”

  I nod and put my phone away. I want to smile, but I think I’ll save that for later.

  I catch Daddy’s gaze across the crowd, and I can tell he’s a little bit irritated at me for this risky tactic. He’s also proud. I have a feeling there’s a lecture in my future, but for now I have to finish my business.

  “So we’re all agreed that revealing ourselves to humans is not the best idea ever?” Everyone nods—some more reluctantly than others. For those reluctant ones, I feel like I have to spell it out. “And if sabotaging human objects could draw their close attention to our world, then that’s an equally bad idea?”

  More nodding and agreement, and I finally feel relief.

  I reach behind me and turn off the computer and the TV.

  “Now, if sabotage is off the table as the answer to our problems,” I say, heading into the part of my speech that might actually be productive, “then I think we also agree that we need to work together to find another solution. Now, let me tell you about my ideas.”

  As I start explaining the purpose and procedures of the interkingdom commission on environmental change, about the streamlined disaster relief and the resource matrix, I can see pride in Daddy’s eyes. King Gadus’s, too. And through our connection, I can feel Tellin’s relief that his kingdom might actually stand a chance.

  Their pride and relief fill me with some of my own. My first act as crown princess took a little longer than anticipated, but the pieces are finally coming together. Crown Princess Waterlily is on a roll.

  Chapter 24

  “Lily. Sanderson.”

  Principal Brown’s voice booms out of the speakers and echoes across the Seaview High football stadium. The crowd of parents, s
iblings, teachers, and staff applauds.

  On shaky legs, I get up from the folding chair—third seat in, eighth row back—and make my way down the grassy field to the temporary stage. I climb the three steps up onto the stage, cross to where Principal Brown stands in front of the microphone, and take his offered hand.

  In his other hand is a scroll of paper, tied with a pretty blue ribbon. He guides me to face the camera and, as the flash pops in my eyes, he presses the scroll into my hand.

  “Congratulations, Lily.”

  I smile and flee off the stage on the other side. When I get back down to the grass, I turn to face the crowd in the stands above the field. The seating is general admission, so my friends and family could be anywhere, but with Tellin in attendance I just follow the sense of the bond.

  I zero in on their location and hold up the scroll, my hard-earned diploma.

  Even across the field, I can hear them cheering, Daddy, Aunt Rachel, Doe, and Tellin. Quince’s mom is up there, too. Even Peri made the trip back to watch me walk at graduation—sporting chestnut hair with vivid orange tips.

  My other nearest and dearest are in the sea of students with me. Brody is somewhere very near the front, with Quince just a couple rows behind him. Shannen is at the very back, and we’ll have to wait almost to the end to see her get her diploma. And honor cords. And perfect attendance award. And state scholarship certificate.

  She has the longest graduation résumé of anyone in our class. And I’m so proud that she’s my best human friend.

  I’m proud of all of us, for sticking it out and making it through.

  And as soon as the ceremony is over, Daddy and I have a special graduation surprise planned for Quince. After the last name is called, the crowd in the stands descends on the field of new graduates. Aunt Rachel takes a million pictures, and Quince’s mom takes almost as many.

  By the time they’re done, the stage is cleared and most of the stadium is emptied. As our friends and family finally disperse, I order Quince into my car.

  “Where are we going, princess?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows suggestively. “You going to kidnap me and take me to your magical kingdom?”