Bad Mermaids Make Waves

by Sibéal Pounder

  “Oh, this!” Shelly Shelby said as she seemed to melt into the floor, her shoulders jelly, her tail failing. “It’s my locket for Ray Ramona. He’s dreamy. Arabella Cod chose him to rule over Hammerhead Heights in the east.”

  “Oh, so she announced her new SHOAL before she was fish napped?” Beattie asked.

  “Yes!” Shelly Shelby roared. “And guess who she chose for Oysterdale? Horrible Silvia Snapp! Can you believe it? We’ll never hear the end of that one. I was in her ghastly sand castle in Oysterdale the very day Arabella Cod went missing. Silvia Snapp demanded I bring my cart over that evening, even though I told her I DON’T WORK AT THAT HOUR! But she made me go, when Catwalk Shrimp was on TV!”

  Mermaid TVs were a lot like human TVs, only they were carved into rocks and decorated with shells. Catwalk Shrimp featured shrimp parading down a catwalk in weird seaweed outfits made by competing mermaids. It was full of drama, especially when one of the shrimp refused to walk down the catwalk or wear sleeves.

  “I’ve never missed an episode,” Shelly Shelby went on. “And when I got there Silvia had just come out of a hair appointment, and cod alive, is she a vile mermaid—she must’ve mentioned she was the new SHOAL mermaid for Oysterdale about eight times! Maybe even nine times! And she didn’t buy even a single shell in the end. And I think—”

  Rachel Rocker lunged forward, interrupting her. She grabbed Beattie’s hand.

  “What are you doing?!” Beattie cried, trying to pull her hand free, but Rachel Rocker had a vise like grip. She ran her finger over each of Beattie’s nails.

  “You don’t have the mark,” she finally said.

  “What mark?” Beattie asked.

  Rachel Rocker held up her own hands. Each nail had a little picture of a piranha stamped on it. “Every mermaid in the Lagoon is marked, and no one knows how it was done. It’s impossible to escape the piranhas because of it. It’s like they can trace us.”

  “But if we don’t have the mark,” Beattie began, “then the piranhas can’t trace us! So we could do some thing to help.”

  They looked up as a cluster of piranhas started making their way back down from the rock face.

  Shelly Shelby began drum ming her fingers against her tail with the momentum of someone who thought time was going to run out. “Your mother is a dear friend of mine, Beattie, and she’d want me to tell you to stay safe, to hide. But I say—be like her!”

  “But I’m not nearly as brave as her,” Beattie mumbled.

  “Go find danger! Be bold! Be bad!” Shelly Shelby went on, really getting into it. “And figure out how to stop this Swan character.” She yanked a sea horse out of her top. “And take Steve. I promised your mother I’d look after him while she was away, but he’s too much.”

  “You still have that thing?” Zelda said as the tiny sea horse curled its tail up Beattie’s nostril and spun excitedly. “You know, Beattie, you always take it too far.”

  “Too far?” Beattie said, trying to steady Steve.

  “Too far,” Zelda said with a nod. “Most mermaids have a crab to help around the house, rich ones have an octopus—more arms. You? You have a talking sea horse.”

  “Excuse you,” the sea horse said, shooting over to Zelda’s face. “I thought we were all in agreement that I am a miracle.”

  It seemed Steve was the only sea creature on record who could speak. Beattie’s mom had spent years trying to figure out why, but had yet to find an answer. She’d discovered him near the Lagoon’s haunted sunken ship, the Merry Mary, yelling at a tuna, and had brought him back to Swirlyshell as a souvenir.

  “Steve, what are you wearing?” Beattie spluttered.

  It was a traditional mermaid shell top, but with pointy cone shells instead of flat ones.

  “Say what you like about it, this look will be iconic one day,” Steve said.

  “I like it,” Mimi said with a smile. Shelly Shelby hastily plucked Steve from where he was floating and placed him in Beattie’s hand, along with a pair of false teeth.

  “Oh, not the false teeth!” Beattie cried. “Steve, we are not bringing the false teeth.”

  “Excuse you,” Steve said. “That’s my bedroom.”

  A piranha wiggled past Beattie, Mimi, and Zelda and stopped in front of Rachel Rocker and Shelly Shelby.

  “Just handing out shells,” Shelly Shelby said quickly. “Take some, Beattie.”

  Beattie grabbed some, her hands shaking.

  “The piranhas completely ignore you,” Rachel Rocker said in amazement. “It’s like they don’t even know you’re here. Oh, this is fabulous.”

  One of the piranhas began snapping at Rachel Rocker’s hair.

  “Got to go!” Shelly Shelby shouted, lugging the broken cart down an alley way.

  “I hope you can help!” Rachel Rocker called back as she disappeared around the corner.

  “I HATE THIS!” Beattie cried. “Our Lagoon is RUINED. We’ll never stop the bad mermaids—they have piranhas and plans!”

  “Beattie!” Zelda yelled. “Stop panicking! I’m here. And Danger is my middle name.”

  “No,” Mimi said. “It’s Pamela.”

  Zelda shook her head. “Unbelievable . . .”

  “This is a disaster. I don’t even know where to begin!” Beattie said, putting her head in her hands. “We need to find Arabella Cod so she can fix this.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Zelda . . . ,” Mimi said.

  “Wouldn’t do what?” Beattie said as she spun around to see what Mimi was talking about. Her mouth fell open. Zelda had wriggled her way through the grand pearl gates and was making her way to the palace!

  “ZELDA!” Beattie called after her, but Zelda raised a fist.

  “I’M GOING TO BE AS ANGRY AS AN ESCALATOR IF MY PARENTS AREN’T IN HERE!”

  There was a loud crunching sound above. Beattie looked up and saw the rock face closing. Ommy Pike and his pet piranha, Nom, were making their way back to the palace.

  Beattie thought about her mom, up there in the Upper Realms arm-wrestling eels. If she could do that, then surely Beattie could be brave and . . .

  She looked at the eerie palace and gulped. “I’ll go get her,” she said quietly.

  “Pile po sweater?” Steve said.

  “NO,” Beattie said, clearing her throat. “I’LL GO GET HER.”

  “Ah,” Steve said with a nod. “That makes much more sense.”

  “You stay here, Steve.” She threw the false teeth to Mimi.

  “Careful with the bedroom,” Steve said.

  “Mimi, you stay too. If we don’t come out, go and get help,” Beattie said urgently as she squeezed through the gates and made for the palace.

  Mimi cheerily waved goodbye. “Say hello to Old Wonky for me!”

  9

  Whale or Hat?

  “Nothing to report from the rock face, The Swan,” Ommy Pike said, thumping the desk with his fist. The small shell he was talking into bounced. Inside it was a screen showing a grainy image of a mermaid.

  “Oh, that’s a shame. Your piranha will go hungry now,” the mermaid on the screen said. “I was sure it was a human diver. Are you positive it wasn’t an escaped mermaid?”

  Ommy Pike sighed. Up close, he was small, with wrinkly little arms and a nose with a tip that jutted upward dramatically. One eye was partially closed, due to the elaborate sculptural hat that covered almost half his face. “Like I told you, all the Lagoon mermaids are being tracked by my piranhas. They’re all present and accounted for. Well, apart from that travel writer, Belinda Shelton, from Clamzine, but we can deal with her when she gets back—if she doesn’t get eaten by an angry arm-wrestling eel first.”

  “I need your help,” came the voice from the shell. She’d put some thing large on her head. “Does this hat make my head look big?”

  He squinted at the shell and paused, eager to ignore the question.

  “Well, Ommy? Does this hat make my head look big?” she asked again, enunciating every word slowly, like she was
speaking to someone who didn’t under stand Mermaid. “Answer! I am The Swan!”

  Ommy rubbed the shell. “Is that a whale on your head, The Swan?”

  “I think so,” she whispered.

  “Right,” Ommy said faintly. “Back to the plan. EVERYTHING WILL SOON BE YOURS! The human said she would give us the goods in one day’s time. She wanted to make sure Arabella Cod didn’t just die instantly in the tank. Understandable, it’s very different from the sea. It’s been a day now, so you should get going and collect your prize! We need to get it as soon as possible, and I—as your Piranha Army chief—can’t afford to disappear from the Lagoon. You’ll go, and take Nom for protection. I’ll bring him to you today.”

  Nom closed his eyes as if he’d just received tragic news.

  “Oh, I’ll just come to the palace and collect him. And I’ll wear my new hat—”

  “No!” Ommy squealed impatiently.

  “No hat?” The Swan asked.

  “No, it doesn’t matter about the hat,” Ommy said quickly. “But I really must insist you stay where you are and don’t come to the palace. That’s an order. We can’t have anyone figuring out who you really are—not until the plan is complete.”

  “But WHY NOT?” The Swan scoffed as she readjusted her top, which was two spark ling shells on a string.

  The whale flopped off her head and landed on the floor with a bang.

  “I hate being stuck all the way over here, and I haven’t been to Shelly Shelby’s Shell Shop in days. Let’s tell her to rename it. It’s a silly name and it really twists up your tongue. Say it with me, Ommy. Shelly—”

  “I’d rather not,” Ommy said politely.

  “SAY IT!”

  “Shelly Shelby’s Shell Slop.”

  “See, you said it wrong. You said slop, not shop.”

  “So I did,” Ommy Pike said through gritted teeth. “But, just think, soon every shell in Shelly Shelby’s Shell Slop will be yours.”

  “SECURITY BREACH! SECURITY BREACH!” came a robotic voice from the shell.

  The Swan’s image in the shell vanished and was replaced by a glowing map of the palace. A cartoon of a chomping piranha flashed in one of the rooms.

  “What’s this?” he said with a grin.

  “WHAT’S GOING ON?” The Swan said. “I CAN’T SEE YOU.”

  “SECURITY BREACH! SECURITY BREACH!”

  “Don’t come to the palace, wait where you are. Now I have to go,” Ommy said, excitedly snapping the shell closed. “It seems someone has broken into the Throne Room . . .”

  10

  Throne Room

  Three minutes earlier . . .

  “I’m going to press it.”

  “Don’t press it, Zelda.”

  “Beattie, I have to press it.”

  “I can’t believe you pressed it.”

  “I can’t believe I pressed it!”

  “Happy now?”

  “Weirdly . . . yes.”

  Beattie and Zelda floated in place as five ornate thrones rose from the floor.

  “You are a liability,” Beattie said with a shake of her head as the thrones ground to a halt.

  The pair of them waited, looking around and expecting a piranha to pop out and bite them at any second. Or worse, Ommy Pike.

  Nothing.

  It was silent but for the shell chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, tinkling as they swayed in the water.

  “This is the Throne Room,” Zelda said. “I’d never be allowed in here, normally!”

  Beattie twirled on her tail to get a good look. It was a magnificent room with a large sea horse–embroidered rug and a pearly desk.

  “That’s where Arabella Cod’s assistant, Marigold Seeth, sits,” Zelda explained. “She organizes Arabella’s clothes and her schedules and keeps everything tidy. She does the same job that Old Wonky does for my family.”

  Merely muttering Old Wonky’s name was enough to summon him.

  “Oh, cod . . . ,” Zelda said as a substantial octopus came galloping into the room. Two of his crooked limbs lunged for Beattie’s plaits. With a third limb he tried to grab Zelda’s hair, but it was too short.

  Old Wonky had always been the Swish family’s octopus assistant, and he was a hair-pulling menace.

  “Stop that, Old Wonky!” Zelda said, flipping her fin back and forth at him. He reluctantly let go and floated to the corner of the room, entwining his tentacles in a practically perfect swirl. Beattie thought he looked a lot like a slimy version of a human ice cream.

  “Are my parents here?” Zelda demanded. Old Wonky rocked from side to side. “That’s a no,” Zelda explained to Beattie. “Where are they?” Beattie asked. Old Wonky hesitated.

  “He only answers yes or no questions,” Zelda explained, swim ming closer to him.

  “Were they taken against their will?”

  Old Wonky rocked from side to side.

  “No?” Beattie said, surprised. Surely they wouldn’t have gone willingly. “Do you know where they are?”

  Old Wonky rocked from side to side.

  “Is every one in the palace gone, apart from that Ommy and his piranhas?”

  Old Wonky wriggled, which was a yes.

  “Squids,” Zelda said, clenching her fists. “We need to find out where they are.”

  Beattie swam over to Zelda and put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe they’re with Arabella Cod. We’ll find them.”

  “Course we will,” Zelda said, forcing a smile. “It’ll be as easy as riding a squirrel.”

  Beattie groaned. “Humans don’t ride sq—oh, never mind.”

  She leaned against the pearly desk. Everything about Periwinkle Palace was so elaborate and fussy. She imagined herself sitting in one of the thrones, an octopus serving her a bubbling shell shake in a pearly cup.

  “Whose throne is whose?” she asked Zelda.

  “Well,” Zelda said, swim ming around the room. “It’s obvious when you look closely. If the SHOAL stands for Swirlyshell, Hammerhead Heights, Oysterdale, Anchor Rock and Lobstertown, S.H.O.A.L., then this throne here must be—” She slapped her fin on the one that had a clump of rock anchors in various sizes arranged across its top.

  “Anchor Rock!” Beattie said as Old Wonky leaped onto the throne peppered with lobster tails and studded with pearls. “Old Wonky clearly likes the Lobstertown one.”

  “My favorite is Ooooysterdale’s,” Zelda said with a pout, nestling herself in the most ridiculous looking of all the thrones—it was covered in oyster shells and sea feathers and streams of seaweed.

  Beattie held her hand over her mouth to stifle a snort.

  Oysterdale was a suburb of Swirlyshell. The town’s motto was: YOU ARE THE BEST OR YOU ARE NOTHING TO DO WITH OYSTERDALE. And they invented accessorizing.

  Zelda swam over to the Lobstertown throne and began untangling Old Wonky’s tentacles from it. “Behave,” she snapped as she tried to pry him from it.

  The final two thrones were complete opposites of each other. One was covered in glittering shells more beautiful than any Beattie had ever seen before—clearly the Swirlyshell throne. And the other was stark, almost completely bare, with only two stone sculptures of hammer head sharks perched on either arm.

  “Hammerhead Heights,” Beattie said quietly.

  “It’s where the SHOAL sit whenever they visit the palace, which is hardly ever. It’s only if some thing goes really wrong in the Lagoon, or they’re organizing a huge event; other wise they tend to stay in their own cities,” Zelda said.

  There was a crunching sound. Beattie’s head whipped around to face the door. Probably just a piranha, she thought. She placed her hand on some thing cold on the desk. “Wait, Zelda, what’s this?”

  Zelda looked at the ornate splice of crystal slate Beattie was holding. A small fish on a string was asleep on top of it.

  “Oh, that’s just Arabella Cod’s schedule. Marigold Seeth looks after it. My dad makes those, you know. It was his idea to add the fish-on-a-string. It slaps yo
u if you miss an appointment.”

  “Zelda, don’t you see what this means?!” Beattie shouted excitedly, before remembering where she was. She looked at the door. She was positive she’d heard some thing. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Now we know what Arabella Cod was doing on the day she was fish napped. It’s evidence. A clue!”

  ARABELLA COD’S SCHEDULE

  The Fiftieth Day of the Year of the Eel

  Morning:

  Fishersize Class—fitness level 4

  “Fishersize,” Zelda said with a snort.

  Afternoon:

  1.Meeting with Ray Ramona, Jawella’s, Hammerhead Heights (1 hour)

  2.Meeting with Silvia Snapp, Smug Street, Oysterdale (1 hour)

  3.Meeting with Goda Gar, Eely Good Fashions, Anchor Rock (1 hour)

  4.Meeting with Liberty Ling, Crab Castle, Lobstertown (1 hour)

  5.Periwinkle Palace theater evening (featuring Trout and Pout)

  “Ray Ramona,” Beattie said slowly, running her finger over the letters. “He’s the new SHOAL mermaid for Hammerhead Heights . . . and Silvia Snapp for Oysterdale. The others must be for the other cities—Liberty Ling for Lobstertown and Goda Gar for Anchor Rock. Arabella Cod was visiting the SHOAL members the day she was fish napped!”

  Zelda shivered. The water seemed to cool, but Beattie was too thrilled to notice.

  “We can use this,” she said excitedly. “We can trace her steps, find out exactly when she was fish napped. If we can figure that out, then we might be able to figure out who fish napped her too!”

  “Did you hear that?” Zelda said, swim ming slowly toward Beattie as there was an almighty bang in the hallway.

  “I definitely heard that,” Beattie whispered as she and Zelda lunged behind the Oysterdale throne.

  “NOM, if you eat one more chandelier . . .”

  “Ommy,” Beattie mouthed, her fin shaking as Zelda went to press the Throne Room button and hide the thrones.

  “No, Zelda,” Beattie whispered, frantic ally grabbing her friend’s tail and pulling her back. “It’s too risky, and it’s too late now.”