“We are Selkie,” she said again.
Allie Jo paled in the moonlight. Tara sensed that, although she didn’t understand, she believed.
She spoke to the girl. “My skin was stolen from me as my friends and I sat upon the rocks. When the man came, my friends slipped into their skins and dove into the water, but the man snatched my skin before I could reach it.”
The boy sat up, an unsure grin crossing his lips. “What skin?”
“My skin, my coat—” She searched for a phrase to make them understand. “My sealskin.”
Surprised laughter escaped his lips. “Your sealskin?” With an open grin, he glanced at Allie Jo.
Confusion swirled in the twilight, curling around her. Having now told them, she must have them believe.
“Without my skin, I am human,” she implored them. “With it, I return to the sea, my home.” Her voice cracked saying these last words.
She saw that still they did not understand. “My people are Selkie. We live in the sea and we are clothed in sealskin. Sometimes, at night, we come ashore and take off our skins and become human so we can bask on the rocks.
“If a human man steals a Selkie woman’s skin, she must become his wife. Many Selkies have been lost in this way.”
Allie Jo stared at her with wide eyes. “You’re a seal?”
“I am Selkie,” Tara said. “But without my skin, I am human.”
“Are you married?” Allie Jo asked.
“I’m too young for marriage.” She brushed away tears and cast her head down. “I want to go home.”
“So get your skin back,” Chase said.
“I can’t.” Her spirit diminished upon hearing her own words.
Seeming to sense this, Allie Jo touched her arm. “What happened? Is this why you ran away? Why you can’t go home?”
“My friends and I were sitting on the rocks. I strayed a bit to look for winkles, and when my friends screamed that a man was coming, I was too far.
“He watched them cloak themselves in their skins and dive into the water. They surfaced—seals now—crying out to me still. The moonlight shone on his greed. He understood perfectly what we were.
“When he saw me running, he spotted my skin and grabbed it. Then he grabbed me.” Human tears filled her eyes. “It was not my hand he wanted. He said I would make money for him—that he would provide water for me and I would become a seal for him on TV.”
“A magic trick,” the boy said.
Tara looked at him sharply. “It is no magic; I am Selkie.”
“But it’s a trick, right? Like an optical illusion—he puts you in a tank and distracts the audience while you put your costume on.” He grinned. “Awesome!”
Allie Jo leaned forward. “She’s not joking, Chase!”
Chase glanced at the spring, then openly took Tara in. “How’d you get those manatees to swim with you?”
She stared back, measuring how to tell him. But words failed her. Instead, she stood. “Come,” she said, not unkindly, for it was an invitation she bestowed. He would see with his own eyes. She held out her hand.
He rose to his feet, stood uncertainly. “You mean … in the springs?”
When she nodded, he said, “I’m not supposed to get my cast wet.” Then his face broke with light. “But I’m getting my short cast tomorrow.”
He strode up to her, his face glowing in the moonlight.
Allie Jo jumped to her feet. “Chase—”
“Your turn’s next!” He grabbed Tara’s hand.
Tara saw the shock on his face as she leaped into the water, taking him with her.
42
Chase
I don’t know what to think. Mermaids don’t exist, but maybe they do. Then again, Tara didn’t say she was a mermaid; she said she was a Selkie.
I’m lying on my bed—3:00 a.m., according to the hotel clock. Dad snores on blissfully. Earlier, when I came in drenched, all he said was, Well, I’m surprised you held out this long, so that was cool.
But I can’t sleep. Everything in me jitters; my thoughts race and my eyes stay wide open. If they plugged me in, I could light an entire city—that’s how much energy courses through my body.
“Come,” Tara had said, holding out her hand.
It took me a second to understand what she meant, and even then, I thought we’d jump in and her story would fizzle out as I did a one-arm dog paddle beside her.
Man, was I wrong.
She lifted me off my feet and we plunged headfirst into the springs. I barely registered the ice-cold water when Tara pushed me onto her back and torpedoed through the pond. The springs roared in my ears, made even louder by the speed of her swimming. I could feel the power of her arms, pulling us, propelling us forward.
Sounds burbled in the water, strange spaceship sounds, like electronic blips. I heard birds chirping. It was Tara—she trilled underwater. She slowed down and twirled us on our bellies; my heart pounded and my head was light. She turned like a dancer in the water and the sensation thrilled me. I only hoped my lungs could hold out.
Then I saw it—a sea monster, big, fat, moving slowly because it knew we couldn’t escape. It stopped in front of us, a huge potato-shaped shadow. Then it opened its mouth, floated closer, and squeaked.
I screamed underwater. Tara shot to the surface with me on her back. My lungs burst. Adrenaline pumped through every vein in my body; even my feet were buzzing.
We broke through the water like a whale at SeaWorld. Gasping, I let go of her and flailed my arms, but I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Chase, Chase,” Allie Jo called.
Water dripped in my eyes, but I could see Allie Jo leaning, stretching her hand over the water for me. Before I could reach her, Tara grabbed my hand, tugged me to the side, and pushed me up.
I fell onto my back and spluttered.
Allie Jo’s face hovered upside down over mine. “Do you need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I heard Tara splash over the side and Allie Jo murmur to her.
I lay there catching my breath, watery images swimming past me, shadows and moonlight. My heart was finally slowing when I caught a glimpse of Tara out of the corner of my eye.
She sat straight with her legs crisscrossed, watching me.
Adrenaline shot through my nerves. My chest rose and fell quickly. Water drizzled in my eyes and I wiped them with my forearm. When I opened them again, I saw that she still looked after me, that her gaze held a yearning and a hopefulness.
I turned my head on the grass and stared at her. “That was incredible,” I said.
Her eyes took on a light, as if moonbeams traveled through her.
Thinking about it now, in the dry darkness of the hotel room, I chip off pieces of my cast. I tried blow-drying it, but that was kind of useless. It had been totally worth it. A flash goes through my mind—the manatee squeaking like a mouse underwater. I smile now, remembering how the manatee popped its eyes when I screamed.
I am Selkie, she’d said. My heart pounds as I realize something: I believe her.
43
Allie Jo
“We’re not doing the brass today,” I say when Chase meets me after his doctor’s appointment. Brand-new cast, only D-A-D on it right now. I reach over the desk and grab the pink marker.
“No way!” he says, jerking his arm out of my reach.
I tip my head. “Come on,” I say.
He makes a big show of resting his cast and hemming and hawing as I sign it. “What’s it say?” he asks as I’m still writing.
“Cinnamon, aluminum, linoleum.” And then, in little letters, I scribble my initials.
He frowns, trying to figure it out. “What does that mean?”
“Just read it.”
So I listen to him read it three times in a row; each time, he can’t even get to the third word without sounding like he’s underwater. I snicker at him.
This morning has been so busy with festival chores, I haven’t had tim
e to make my rounds; I haven’t been able to look for Tara.
She said she was Selkie. Before yesterday, I’d never even heard of Selkies.
And Chase, he was so quiet and still when he came out of the springs last night. That was incredible, he’d said, his voice hushed and reverent. He wanted me to swim with Tara too, but I reminded him of all the trouble I got into swimming at night the last time. That’s what I told him anyway. I felt safe with Tara in the garden room and on the grounds, but the darkness of the water and the closeness of the manatees were too scary for me. I did not want to do that again, not even with Tara.
A shiver goes through me right now just thinking about it.
I cap the pink marker and lay it on the desk. I’m about to ask Chase if he saw Tara before his doctor’s visit, when Sophie arrives and makes a big deal about his new cast, signing in green this time. The circle over her i is shaped like a heart. I’ll have to ask her about this later.
“Well!” Mom comes out of the office with Nicholas and Ryan. “All three of you! Where’ve you been hiding?”
Sophie and Chase laugh, but I know Mom means it. After I came in from the springs last night, she grilled me good. She wanted to know what was wrong. You look like you’ve seen a ghost, she said, putting her hand on my forehead.
I’m okay, I said, pushing her hand away.
A look of hurt flashed across her face and she stepped back. Somewhere inside, I felt a pang of guilt and then a flicker of annoyance, which made me feel even guiltier. I wished they wouldn’t pay so much attention to me sometimes. Things were coming up now that I had to think on, things I couldn’t talk to them about, like Tara.
I hadn’t seen a ghost—I’d seen a real, live Selkie.
Mom went into the kitchen and came back with a plate of cookies—every mom’s cure—but I said I wasn’t feeling well after all and slipped into my room, shutting the door. I needed to be alone.
If she was hurt, she feels better now, having me and everyone else buzzing around for the festival.
“Let’s head into the workroom,” Mom says. She tugs the third book on the third shelf of the bookcase under the grand staircase, and a portion of the wall creaks inward.
“Awesome!” Chase says.
We slip in, all of us, and walk under the rise of the stairs and enter what used to be a private screening room—a hidden theater for the rich and famous.
Of course, it doesn’t look anything like it used to. The room was gutted when the military was here. Instead of plush leather seats and a screen, the room now holds metal folding chairs and a few card tables. We mainly use it as a workroom.
Today, we’re putting together wedding-type favors to pass out at Taste of Hope. Mom sets us up assembly line style: Chase puts candy wrapped with an embossed image of The Meriwether on top of lacy pink squares, which he pushes down to Sophie and me. Sophie and I pull up the corners and tie each little bundle with a fancy ribbon.
Some of last year’s magnets are sticky with dust, so I give Nicholas and Ryan that job. They like spraying the cleaner on the magnets; I remind them they also have to dry them. That’s why Ryan and Nicholas kneel on the floor, rubbing the magnets like crazy. I’ve promised each of them a dollar and a lollipop if they do a good job.
Sophie’s fingers fly with the ribbon. Me, I’m all thumbs, and Chase isn’t moving so fast with that cast either.
“Can I give you a hand?” I ask.
“Har, har,” he says.
Sophie’s going for some kind of world record. She doesn’t talk, just whips the ribbons around and goes for the next one. She’s building up a sizable arsenal of favors.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Um, Chase. Did you see any cows today?” I’m talking in code because Sophie’s sitting right with us.
His eyebrows wrinkle together. “What?”
I repeat, “Did you see any cows today?”
“No, just some roadkill.” He’s talking about his trip to the doctor’s.
“Allie Jo!” Nicholas whines. “He got polish on my shoes.”
Before I can say anything, he aims his bottle and sprays Ryan’s shoes. Ryan starts bawling.
“That wasn’t nice,” I say, and frown at Nicholas. I take a dry paper towel and wipe off Ryan’s shoes.
“He did it first,” Nicholas says.
“No!” Ryan lunges at him. “It was an accident.”
Nicholas shakes his head at him. “You’re just a crybaby brat!”
“Stop it, you guys!” I’m sitting between them because I know the hitting comes next. “Look, if you keep fighting, I won’t give you lollipops.” I stand up, reach over to the card table, and wave the lollipops in front of them. “Root beer, your favorite.”
And just like that, they’re friends again.
I wonder if it’s always that easy with a brother or sister.
Sitting back down, I pick up the next bundle and fumble with the ribbon. “Nicholas, can you tear a”—I look straight at Chase—“piece of paper towel, please?”
Everyone keeps working. Nicholas hands me a paper towel and I wipe off an imaginary spot on the table.
Okay, this is ridiculous. Chase would never make a good spy. He doesn’t even pick up on the code.
I give it one more try. “Sophie, can you seal this ribbon for me? Seal it?” I’m looking directly at Chase.
He slouches back in his seat. “Oh!”
“What?” Sophie asks, tying up my ribbon.
Chase and I speak at the same time. I say, “Nothing,” and he says, “No, I didn’t see any cows today.”
Sophie crinkles her mouth. “You guys are weird.”
Ryan pops up. “We’re done!”
“Lollipops, please!” Nicholas says. Funny how candy is more important than money, but I’ll still pay them.
Nicholas tears his lollipop open and hands me the plastic. Ryan hands his lollipop to Nicholas without saying a word; Nicholas opens it, gives me the plastic, and hands it back to Ryan. Then he pulls two little cars out of his pocket, and they roll the cars around the lobby, making sound effects.
It must be great having a brother. Of course, it’d be a sister I’d want, a built-in person to talk with. An older sister, who would give me advice on how to deal with boys and stuck-up girls. A girl who likes blueberry pancakes.
44
Chase
“Cool, awesome, excellent.” I lean back on the beanbag and pet Jinx. “Tubular, gnarly—”
“Only boys use those words.” Allie Jo turns to Tara. “Cool, awesome, and excellent for when you like something, and then, like, totally cool when something is very cool. Gross when something is disgusting.”
We’re giving Tara Selkie-to-English lessons. It’s not like she doesn’t already speak good English; it’s just that her English is too good. She doesn’t sound like a normal teenager.
“Listen.” Allie Jo clicks on the tape recorder—we already explained how it works—and that same little girl I heard before is talking to an older girl. Allie Jo tells us the older girl is sixteen.
“If you weren’t my sister, would you still be my friend?” The sound is muffled, like maybe the microphone is hidden under a pillow or something.
“Hmm,” the older sister says. “You mean like if we were just neighbors or something?”
“Yeah, like if you were sitting on your porch and I rode my bike past you.”
“Then I’d yell, ‘Hey, you! Get off my yard!’ ”
The little girl clicks her tongue. “Karen.”
There’s the rustle of movement and Karen’s voice is closer. “Of course I’d be your friend, silly. You’re smart and funny, and you have freckles just like mine.”
“Could I come over to your house sometimes?”
“Isabelle!” More movement. Karen’s voice is farther away. “David’s going to call in a minute.”
The microphone crackles; then Isabelle’s voice sounds close and whispery. “That’s her boyfriend. She kisses him.”
Allie J
o giggles at that part. I feel a faint blush heating my face.
“Now she sings some songs,” Allie Jo says. “Let me get to more parts with Karen.”
“Yes,” Tara says. “I would like to hear Karen. I have a lot to learn if I’m going to live here.”
“Here?” Allie Jo blurts out. “You mean, like, The Meriwether?”
Jinx climbs onto Tara’s shoulders and Tara leans her head into the cat. Smiling, she says, “This is a good place to be human.”
Allie Jo shoots up like fireworks. “You could stay in this room!” she says, exploding in sparkles.
“With the jinx?” Tara asks, absently reaching up to pet the cat.
Oh, man, she seriously needs the Selkie-to-English lesson plan.
I explain. “Jinx is her name—she’s a cat!” Then I have a great idea. “If you’re going to live here, we should create a new identity for you, like they do for people in the witness protection program.”
Allie Jo contorts her face. “Why?”
“Just in case.”
Tara shakes her head. “I feel safe here. But”—she looks at Allie Jo—“a human identity would be good. Where do we start?”
“With a full name.” I’ve watched plenty of detective shows, and this is how criminals always get away: they use a new name, they change their looks, and they move to a different part of the country. So far, Tara’s done one of those things. “And we have to make you look different.”
So that’s how we end up in my room, with a pair of scissors and a box of Summer Blonde hair dye that Allie Jo snuck out of her mom’s bathroom. I watch from the doorway as Allie Jo blow-dries Tara’s new hair.
Though it’s kind of choppy, I say, “It looks good.”
Tara’s hand flies up to the short ends of her hair. “Thank you,” she says. She stares into the bathroom mirror, stunned. I’m not sure, but I think I see tears in her eyes.
I glance at the long, dark hair on the floor. “Do you miss being a Selkie?”
She closes her eyes.
“Are you kidding?” Allie Jo says. “We’re going to have so much fun!” She hugs Tara’s shoulders and looks at her in the mirror. “First, you’re going to help with Taste of Hope, which you’ll get paid for because you’re my employee, and then you can start school—what grade will you be in, eleventh, I think. And—oh, my gosh!—I could ask Dad to give you a real job here and we’ll do everything together and it will be great, right?” She nudges Tara.
The Summer of Moonlight Secrets Page 11