The Tantalizing Tale of Grace Minnaugh

by Kaltman, Alice;

  “Glad to see you so excited, Gracie,” Walter said with a grin.

  “Come on, let’s go in,” Grace exclaimed impatiently, seizing her ticket and racing toward the turnstile.

  “I wish Mommy could come too,” Stuey mumbled.

  “Mommy is allergic to the algae in fish tanks, Stuey,” Walter reminded him. “We don’t want Mommy to get sick, do we?”

  And without worrywart Mommy around, I can get closer to the dolphins, thought Grace.

  They made their way down a winding path to a large kidney-shaped pool already surrounded by throngs of eager visitors. “So what do they do here?” asked Grace. “Is it intervention for, like, addicted dolphins? Whole dolphin families gathering to get Flipper into rehab?”

  Walter couldn’t help but smile. “No, wise guy. I believe certain groups of people get to swim with the dolphins here,” he explained. “I read an article recently about dolphins in Alternative Psychotherapy. Dolphins are highly intuitive creatures that sense objects in the water using radiating sonar waves that are emitted from their foreheads. It is called echolocation. Just as bats find their way in the dark. You probably learned about this in school? Swimming with dolphins is not only fun but can be very therapeutic for people with physical or emotional challenges.”

  Grace, however, wasn’t listening. She was edging her way through the crowd, ducking around elbows and between legs until she managed to squeeze her way to the front. Ten dolphins swam lazily in the pool, their sleek bodies glistening like silver rubber. Five people, dressed in wet suits, waited in shoulder-deep water.

  Propelled by some mysterious instinctive force, without thought or reason, and before she even knew what she was doing, Grace clambered over the steel railing and leapt into the pool. Instantly the bumps behind her ears began to throb with a pulsing heat, but Grace was oblivious to the fact that she was about to sprout a fish tail before the crowd of gawking tourists. She was utterly mesmerized by the sleek dolphins.

  Ignoring the startled cries of the staff and onlookers, Grace gazed at the two dolphins that swam gracefully toward her, then sandwiched her between their slippery bodies. In an instant, Grace was swept off her feet and zooming around the pool, clinging to the dolphins’ dorsal fins as they zigzagged past the dumbfounded volunteers. Shouts of alarm came from visitors hanging over the rails trying to catch her, thinking she was in danger, but Grace didn’t hear any of them. She sped blissfully through the water with her head high. Grace and her two chaperones had not circled the pool twice before the remaining dolphins, with clicks and chirps—Grace could swear they were grinning at her—surrounded her.

  Suddenly, one of the dolphins darted beneath Grace and nudged her gently onto its back. Once she had a grip on its dorsal fin, the dolphin vaulted out of the pack like a torpedo, plunging to the bottom of the pool. With her head now underwater, the persistent throbbing behind Grace’s ears began to intensify. Fortunately, just as Grace felt the growing tingling sensation in her legs—her mermaid transformation was imminent!—the dolphin shot up and out of the water. Grace gulped in a lungful of air and the tingling sensation subsided.

  A woman in a Dolphin Intervention Program (DIP) wetsuit tried to grab the dolphin as it raced by, with Grace clinging to its back like a human hood ornament. Finally the dolphin slowed at the far end of the pool, away from the crowds and volunteers, and Grace slid off, treading water as the other dolphins drew near. An underwater signal of some kind emanated from the bulbous domes of their heads, enveloping Grace in a high-pitched sound wave. Grace’s bumps begin to throb with an increased intensity and her head begin to pound. Was this the echolocation her dad had referred to?

  Then, as if a choreographer had given the cue, several dolphins scooped Grace up on their noses, lifting her skyward. What are they doing? she asked herself. Suddenly, she knew exactly what it was that the dolphins were trying to communicate; how she knew, Grace had no idea. She did not understand their body language or their clicking sounds, but it was as if the dolphins’ thoughts were written across the inside of her mind, like ink on paper.

  Take us with you, the dolphins said. We want to go home.

  This was beyond her experience with her buddy Nellie, the fishbowl Betta splendens. Way beyond.

  “I’m so sorry, but I don’t know what I can do,” Grace cried as the dolphins darted away.

  Suddenly Grace became aware of more than just herself and the dolphins. Her T-shirt and shorts slopped around her body. Her Trail Blazer boots were like squishy cement shoes on the floor of the pool. Wet hair hung over her eyes. The frenzied cries from around the pool sounded like thunder. A little girl’s high-pitched cry pierced the clamor—“Mommy, I wanna get intervened too!” The determined kid started climbing over the railing until her mother pulled her down and carried her away.

  “Young lady, please get out of the pool now,” a man in a DIP uniform commanded.

  Grace sloshed her way toward him, which was difficult with her sodden clothing and two-ton boots. At the same time, Walter and Stuey finally elbowed their way through the dense crowds to the edge of the dolphin pool.

  “What the heck do you think you’re doing, Grace Minnaugh?” Walter yelled from the pool railing. “You can barely swim!”

  Not anymore, Dad, thought Grace. Now I can swim. I can really swim.

  The DIP dude helped Grace up the ladder. “Don’t ever try a stunt like that again, kid,” he told her sternly. “Meanwhile, I suggest you make your way home.”

  Dazed, Grace nodded. The DIP man spoke into his radio as he walked away. “All clear, Joe…copy that…I know; what is it with kids today?”

  Grace looked up as her dad approached. “Dad, I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “But I swear the dolphins just asked me to get them out of here.”

  Walter’s expression softened as he drew Grace into a wet hug. “I’m the first one to support animal rights,” he told her, “but this is getting a bit out of hand.”

  “Way to go, sister. I wish I had the guts to do something like that.” Grace turned to see a bizarrely dressed woman at her elbow. She wore a muumuu fashioned of yards of gauzy green material that wrapped and swirled around her body, settling like sea foam at her ankles. An old fishing net draped across her shoulders, and jumbo sunglasses with dark purple lenses covered her eyes. Her arms were covered in bracelets made from rubber tubing and plastic water bottle tops, and a pink shell that looked like a miniature dried-up brain hung from her neck on a strap of leather. The woman threw a multi-colored towel around Grace’s shoulders.

  “Thanks…” Grace stammered, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Was this woman’s outfit actually a costume? Maybe she was employed by the DIP as an aquatically themed clown.

  “My pleasure, hon. Keep the towel. Consider it a gift from one seaworthy soul to another. But you had best get out of here before you get in too deep. Oh, and next time do try to be a little more discreet, for all our sakes. Bye-bye now. See you around.” Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, the woman was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

  A bona fide weirdo, thought Grace, but defintely an interesting one.

  “Okay. That’s enough dawdling, mischievous Minnaugh. Time to go.” Walter scooped up Stuey and ran with him, tucked under his armpit like a quarterback with a football, toward the closest DIP exit. Grace followed, her wet Trail Blazers squish-squoshing with every step.

  “But I wanna see the dolphins,” Stuey cried as he bounced under Walter’s arm.

  “Next time, Stuey. Next time,” Walter panted.

  Stuey wailed all the way to the car. Grace knew she was responsible for wrecking Stuey’s day, so as she belted him into his car seat, she promised she would play Candy Land with him when they got home, and he could go first and be red—his favorite color.

  Strapping her own seat belt across her wet chest, Grace frowned, thinking of the dolphins in their kidney-shaped prison with
out a glimmer of hope. She felt as if she were abandoning a bunch of forlorn kids at a crummy orphanage after they all thought she was going to adopt them.

  Walter gunned the engine in true James Bond style and blasted out of the parking lot. As they careened past the entrance, Grace took a quick look back and under her breath said, “Goodbye, friends. I won’t forget you. I promise. And please, please, don’t forget me.”

  

  “You guys are back early,” said Minerva, from the doorway. Grace frowned. She had hoped to have a little more time to gather her wits before enduring the algae-phobic wrath of her mom.

  “Yes, Minnie,” said Walter. “There was a little…um…incident at the pool.”

  “Incident? What kind of incident?” Minerva demanded.

  “Grace jumped into the dolphin pool and got all wet!” Stuey shouted as he hopped like a bunny up the path toward Minerva. “And a crazy lady gave her that crazy towel!”

  Minerva’s mouth dropped open, then closed again, and Grace had the impression that Minerva was trying desperately not to say something—just as Stuey did when he knew what Grace was getting for her birthday and was not supposed to tell. Grace felt sure, however, that whatever her mother did or did not want to tell her, it was not happy birthday news. “You’re okay, Grace? Nothing bad happened?” she asked finally.

  Actually something amazing happened, thought Grace. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what came over me. Sorry, Mom,” she said.

  “Walter, how could you let this happen?” Minerva scowled at her husband.

  “She was like a bat out of hell, Minnie.” Walter shrugged. “There was no stopping her.”

  “Children,” Minerva said, “go inside. Your father and I have a few things to discuss in private.”

  “Yes, Mom,” sighed Grace, taking Stuey by the hand. “But there is something I have to tell you first,” she blurted. “The Dolphin Intervention Program is terrible. Those dolphins don’t want to be there at all. It’s a giant fish penitentiary.”

  “The DIP is hardly a correctional facility for marine animals, Grace,” said Walter. “It’s a research facility and an educational center. They rescue and rehabilitate injured dolphins, track pods to help with fertility and feeding issues, and do a whole host of other good things. Besides, it looked as if you were loving it.” He turned to Minerva. “Yep, your daughter here was in her element.” He enunciated the last three words like they were the right question on Jeopardy.

  “I guess.” Grace shrugged. “I just wish they could do what they do without keeping the dolphins in jail. Don’t get me wrong, Dad. I still had a really good time. Thanks for taking us. Come on, Stuey, let’s leave the grown-ups alone.”

  What Grace didn’t tell her parents was that being with the dolphins had only made her more eager than ever to explore the ocean, mermaid-style. She was determined to find a way to sneak out for another swim before school started.

  Grace changed out of her cold, soggy clothes, leaving her Trail Blazers by her window, hoping the sunlight would dry them quickly. As Grace was toweling dry her hair, Stuey raced into her room, brandishing a stinky crab with a giant claw dancing wildly in the air.

  “Look what I found on the deck, Gracie!” Stuey cried. “I’m gonna make a cage for him in my room and I won’t ever let him out, ever.”

  “Sorry, Stuey,” Grace said, crouching down next to her little brother. “No sea life indoors. Besides, this fella shouldn’t be out of water too long or he’ll die. Let’s get him back to the ocean where he belongs, shall we?” Grace seized the crab just under its larger pincher and carried it gingerly out of the room as if it were a bomb about to explode.

  “DON‘T TAKE HIM OUT THERE! HE’S MY BUDDY!!!!” Stuey wailed as he followed Grace out the back door and down to the beach.

  Grace stopped. Holding the crab high in the air, she said, “I know it’s hard to say goodbye to our ocean friends, Stuey. I didn’t want to say goodbye to the dolphins, remember? But this is for the best, I promise you.”

  “Double promise?”

  “Triple promise.”

  Stuey wiped the tears on his cheeks. “Okay.”

  Grace took Stuey’s hand and together they walked down to where the sand was wet and soft. Grace put the crab down, and it instantly burrowed deep.

  Back to the ocean where you belong, thought Grace, Lucky little snapper. Maybe we’ll cross paths again soon. Maybe even tomorrow!

  Chapter Nine: Getting Comfy

  The next morning at four a.m., a muffled bring-bring-bring from the alarm clock hidden under her pillow—so as not to alert anyone but herself—woke Grace with a start.

  Grace had been up late the night before and had gotten maybe five hours sleep, tops. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and turned on her flashlight. Seizing her new and improved bikini bottom—with a strip of Velcro now attaching the front and back—from her bedside drawer, she leapt out of bed. At least now she could emerge from the water post-mermaid without making a spectacle of herself.

  Grace figured she had about two hours to safely explore the ocean and experience her new mer-attributes. Even Minerva wouldn’t be up before seven on a Sunday morning. Grace wanted desperately to tell her mother about everything she had discovered these past weeks. She thought of how Minerva used to comfort her when she was little. “Shush, my babaeria,” her mom used to whisper in Grace’s ear. “I will blow all your sadness away.” Then Minerva would blow warm, soothing breaths across Grace’s forehead until her inner tumult drifted away.

  But now, whether it was Floral Park depression or La Toya-based art obsession, Minerva always seemed to be distracted and out of reach. I’m in middle school now, Grace reflected, and old enough to sort out my own problems whether I want to or not.

  Grace tiptoed down the hall, slipped out through the sliding glass door to the deck, and ran down the beach. She leapt into the surf, her heart beating frantically, her breath quick in her throat. Will I turn into a mermaid again? she wondered as she waded through the cool water. When the water reached her shoulders, she unfastened the Velcro strap on her bikini bottom and took a deep breath.

  “All right, time to deal,” she said aloud. Grace closed her eyes and sank beneath the surface. Knowing what to expect didn’t make the transformation any easier—her neck felt as if it were being stabbed from the inside, and her legs, becoming suddenly fixed and immovable, felt strange. But once her gills had fully formed and her fish tail undulated and spread beneath her, the weird discomfort was over.

  Grace opened her eyes underwater. At first her vision was blurry and the salt stung her eyes. After a moment, however, a steady pressure began to build behind her eyeballs, and within seconds she could see as clearly as if she were standing on the beach on a bright, sunny day. Closing her eyes, Grace brought her fingers to her lids, which felt unusually round, popped out like golf balls. Is this another mermaid transformation? Grace wondered. Note to self: Research fish eyeballs.

  Grace ran one exploratory hand across her purple fish-tail, the scales smooth and sleek when rubbed downward, and slightly bumpy when rubbed in reverse. She undulated her entire tail and was instantly propelled forward through the water in a burst of bubbles. Grace felt a surge of power coursing through her body, and a sense of confidence she’d never experienced on land. So far, so unbelievably good, she thought.

  For the next half hour, Grace experimented with different speeds and rhythms. She twisted and turned and did jelly rolls and pulsating dolphin-style kicks. She may have once enjoyed slapping her arms and kicking her legs on the surface, but this was the real deal. Regular old-style swimming would probably never cut it for Grace again.

  Glancing at the sea floor, yards beneath her tail, Grace could make out every grain of sand in super detail—no doubt a result of her super fish vision. To her right she saw a school of fish clustering about a rocky outcrop covered in thick seaweed. G
race swam closer. The fish seemed neither afraid nor interested but regarded her steadily with round unblinking eyes. To them, it seemed, Grace was just another of the underwater gang.

  Swimming lazily around the rocks, delighting in the smooth, graceful movement of her strong tail, Grace spotted a cluster of egg-shaped rocks on the ocean floor. They would make the perfect gift for Mrs. Shelby, Grace thought, taking one little violet-hued rock and sticking it in the waistband of her bikini bottom.

  As she watched the fish nibble on the seaweed, Grace became aware that she could hear all manner of things with a strange sensitivity. Sounds seemed to echo from some deeper place, as if she had ears within her ears. Cocking her head to one side, her red hair floating around her, Grace could hear the skittering of the tiny snails as they crawled through the fronds of seaweed; she could hear the gill flaps of the fish opening and closing and the gentle rustle of sand grains propelled into motion by the current.

  “Omigod. What the…?” The words came out of her mouth as clear as a bell, with none of the watery, gurgled distortion one might expect when trying to talk underwater. “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain,” Grace recited with more precision than Eliza Doolittle after months with the professor. “Four score and seven years ago.…”

  Grace paused, her uber-ears picking up a faint hum. An electric prickliness coursed through her tail, and she felt as if she were being watched. A relentless pounding began in her forehead and her pop-eyes shifted from side to side. Panicked, Grace swiveled around, searching the green depths. The hum was gone as quickly as it had come; the weird prickly feeling in her tail disappeared along with her headache. A sense of unease lingered, however, and Grace decided she’d probably had enough mermaid frolicking for one morning.