“Oh.” Poppy tried not to sound as offended as she felt. “So if you think people are such idiots, why are you here?”
Nerissa’s eyes widened in dismay. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” she said quickly. “I’m not like all the other mermaids. In fact, I’ve always wondered . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Wondered what?” Poppy asked.
“I always wondered what it would be like to be mortal,” Nerissa said in a low voice, her eyes shifting around the room as if she were afraid of being heard. “That’s one of the reasons the others make fun of me.”
Poppy thought back to that horrible moment when she thought the mermaids were going to pull her under the water. Nerissa had argued with them, told them they shouldn’t do it. . . .
“They said you had a warm heart,” she said. “That you were mer on the outside and—”
“Mortal in the middle,” Nerissa finished bitterly. “Just because I think people are interesting and want to learn more about them. What’s so wrong with being interested in the world and having a sense of curiosity and wanting to learn something once in a while, instead of just floating around in a lake somewhere?”
“Nothing,” said Poppy.
“Honestly!” Nerissa was getting more worked up. “It drives me crazy, the way they don’t care about anything except singing to the fish and looking at their reflections!”
She kicked the base of the bookshelf. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and began hopping on the other foot. “Ow. That hurt.”
She sounded so astonished that Poppy laughed.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you get mad and kick something,” she said. “You bruise your toes.”
Nerissa frowned. The room darkened. Poppy glanced at the window and saw that the sky had clouded over.
“I should know,” Poppy added hastily. “I’ve done it a few times myself. I always think that kicking something will make me feel better, but it never does.”
Nerissa relaxed and smiled slightly. A shaft of sunlight came through the window.
“I guess I’m not used to having feet,” she admitted. “Or toes.”
Nerissa wiggled her toes thoughtfully, then picked up Mermaids in Myth, Legend, and Life. “I’d like to read a book like this about mortals,” she said. “Is there one in the library?”
“I don’t think so,” said Poppy. “I mean, there aren’t really myths or legends about people.”
Nerissa raised one eyebrow. “Oh no?” she said. “You mean you haven’t heard the story about the boy who planted a bean and then climbed the beanstalk to the sky, where he met a giant?”
“That’s just a fairy tale,” said Poppy. “It’s not true. It’s not about a real person. And people aren’t that interesting anyway.”
“Not to you, because you are one,” Nerissa replied. “That’s why you have no idea how strange you all are.”
Poppy frowned. “I wouldn’t say we’re strange—” she began.
“Or how funny you sound,” Nerissa added.
Poppy’s frown deepened. “What do you mean by that?”
“Or how peculiar you look,” added Nerissa.
“Hey, listen—” Poppy began hotly, but Nerissa didn’t let her finish.
“Oh, there now. I’ve gone and insulted you without meaning to,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. Really, I’m fascinated by mortals.”
“Right,” Poppy said, frowning. “Even though we’re all weird. And funny-sounding.”
“Only because I don’t know much about you,” said Nerissa. She gave Poppy a meaningful look. “Just like you don’t know much about mermaids. I bet you think we’re a little odd, too.”
Poppy felt her hurt feelings start to fade. “That’s true,” she admitted.
Nerissa leaned in closer. “I have an idea,” she said. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you about mermaids, if you’ll tell me about mortals.”
Poppy thought about that for a moment. “So,” she finally said, “where are you going to stay while you’re here?”
“Stay?” asked Nerissa, puzzled.
“Yes. You can’t just hang out on your own,” Poppy explained. “People notice kids who don’t seem to have anyplace to go. Sometimes they call the police.”
For the first time, Nerissa looked unsure of herself, but she shrugged. “I’ll hide,” she said. “I’ll make sure no one sees me.”
“You could,” agreed Poppy. She paused, then added, “Or you could come home with me.”
Chapter
NINE
When Poppy and Nerissa walked up the sidewalk, the front door of the Malones’ house was ajar and all the windows were open.
Poppy sighed. “The air-conditioning must be out again,” she said to Nerissa. “Sorry. It’s going to be pretty hot.”
“I don’t mind,” Nerissa said brightly. Her mood seemed to change like the weather on a spring day. Her face was shining as she looked at the house. She ran lightly up the porch steps, dropped her backpack, and did a little pirouette. “I’ve never seen a mortal’s home before. What’s this?”
She pressed the doorbell. Her eyes widened with delight when she heard the chime, and she pressed it again.
“Please,” said Poppy. “Stop.” (Mr. Malone had bought the doorbell from a specialty catalog; it rang the theme from the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Poppy could never hear it without wincing and planned to quietly disable it at some point before she invited any new friends over.)
“It sounds so pretty,” Nerissa was saying, just as Mrs. Malone came to the door.
“Oh, there you are, Poppy,” she said, smiling over the top of her glasses. “And just in time, too!”
“In time for what?” asked Poppy warily.
But Mrs. Malone’s gaze had moved to Nerissa. “Who is your new friend, dear?”
“This is Nerissa,” said Poppy. “Nerissa, um”—she thought quickly—“De La Mer.”
Two schools ago, she had taken French and learned that de la mer meant “of the sea.” Poppy crossed her fingers and hoped that Nerissa would go along with the new last name she’d just been given.
She needn’t have worried. Nerissa was opening and closing the metal flap of the mailbox next to the door, a look of utter fascination on her face.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Nerissa,” said Mrs. Malone. “What a lovely name. Would you like to join us?”
“For what?” Poppy asked, grabbing Nerissa’s arm and pulling her away from the mailbox.
“We were just about to have a family brainstorm!” said Mrs. Malone, opening the screen door. “They’re such fun, Nerissa. We’d love to have you help out. I’m sure you’ll have wonderful ideas.”
Poppy rolled her eyes, but Nerissa said, “Thank you, I’d be glad to help!” and practically skipped through the doorway in her delight.
Before Poppy could follow her, Mrs. Malone whispered, “I’m so glad you’ve made a new friend, Poppy. Where does she live?”
“Oh, a few blocks away,” said Poppy vaguely. “Would it be okay if she stayed over tonight?”
A tiny furrow appeared on Mrs. Malone’s forehead.
“Her mother said it was okay, and I said you wouldn’t mind,” Poppy added quickly.
Mrs. Malone said, “Well, I really should call her myself. Do you have her number?”
“Um, Nerissa does, but her mother’s out running errands right now,” Poppy improvised. “She’ll be around later this afternoon if you want to talk to her.”
“All right. Be sure to remind me,” said Mrs. Malone as they went inside, where almost the whole family had gathered in the living room. Will was sprawled on the floor, his eyes closed. Rolly was sitting on the window seat and drumming his heels against the wall with a steady, dull beat. Mr. Malone was slouched in his favorite rocker. Only Franny, who was still with her new friend, Ashley, was missing.
Once Mrs. Malone had introduced everyone to Nerissa, she perched on one end of the couch, holding a pencil and her sma
ll memo pad.
“Now, it’s time to address the question at hand,” she said in a businesslike way. “Your father and I have decided that the best way to have a close encounter with an alien civilization is to invite them to join us, so we plan to beam a message into the universe as soon as we get back to the houseboat. Naturally, the invitation must be extremely compelling. After all, there are quite a few galaxies in the universe that they might want to visit—”
“One hundred and twenty-five billion, to be exact,” said Poppy.
Mrs. Malone paused. “Excuse me, dear?”
“That’s how many galaxies there are in the universe,” Poppy explained. “One hundred and twenty-five billion. So when you think about it, the odds that they would come to a little planet in a tiny solar system in an out-of-the-way galaxy like ours—well, they’re pretty small.”
“Exactly my point,” said Mrs. Malone. “And all those galaxies have many, many, many planets, so we must craft a message that really makes them want to come to see us, here on the planet Earth. It’s quite a challenge! So, now”—she held out her pencil, poised over the open notebook as if about to jot down a flood of ideas—“if you could send any message to aliens who may be visiting our planet, what would it be?”
“This sounds like the kind of creative homework assignment that Mrs. Gillespie used to give in English class,” Will remarked without opening his eyes. “She thought writing about what you did on your summer vacation was damaging to the human spirit, so she kept making us be creative.” He made a gagging noise.
“Please, Will, we have a guest,” said Mrs. Malone. “So, any ideas? Don’t be shy. Remember, there’s no such thing as a bad—”
“We could ask them to come to dinner,” suggested Rolly. “We could give them our address. We could say, please come to 1219 Arden Lane, Austin, Texas, the United States—”
“The Earth, the Milky Way, the Universe,” Poppy and Will finished in a chorus.
“Thank you, Rolly,” said Mrs. Malone. “That’s a very interesting idea indeed. But perhaps we shouldn’t be too welcoming—”
Rolly stopped drumming his heels long enough to look insulted. “Why not? You said we wanted them to come over.”
“Yesss,” she replied. “But—”
“And you said that there’s no such thing as a bad idea,” he went on with relentless logic.
“That’s right, I did, but—”
“And you want them to be able to find us,” he added.
“In general, yes,” said Mrs. Malone. “But, you see—”
“It’s not a good idea to ask aliens over for dinner, Rolly,” Will cut in. “They might think we’re the main course.”
“Shh!” Mrs. Malone shot a warning glance at Will. “What Will means is that one must be a little cautious when one meets strangers.”
Rolly fixed his small, black eyes on her. “You mean because they might want to take over the world and make all the people do everything they say?”
He did not sound troubled by this. In fact, he sounded as if he approved and might even be willing to lend a hand.
“Er, I think we’re getting off course,” Mrs. Malone said. “Any other ideas?” She glanced down at Will, who was lying on the floor with his eyes closed. “Will, surely you have a message you’d like to send to our friends from distant galaxies?”
“Sure,” he said grumpily. “This is my message: Go home now. Wherever you’re from, it’s got to be cooler than here.”
“Now, dear—”
He opened his eyes and sat up, pushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “Well, I’m hot,” he said peevishly. “Can’t we go to a motel for the night? A motel with air-conditioning?”
“No, we can’t,” said Mr. Malone. “That would cost money and it’s unnecessary. The houseboat is going to be ready tomorrow. Before you know it, we’ll be back on the lake, enjoying the cool breezes.”
“If we last until tomorrow,” muttered Will.
“Nonsense,” Mr. Malone said heartily. “Why, this heat is nothing compared to the month I spent camping near Ayers Rock in Australia. Did I ever tell you about the painting of Wandjina—”
“The Sky God?” said Will. “Only about a million times.”
“Ah, but Nerissa hasn’t heard this yet, and I’m sure she will find this fascinating,” Mr. Malone pointed out, turning to her with the delighted expression of someone who has just realized he has a new audience. “You see, the painting is thousands of years old, yet the Sky God looks exactly like an alien wearing a helmet—”
“Yes, dear, we’ve seen the photos,” said Mrs. Malone.
“Perhaps you’d be interested in hearing about the time I spent exploring the Kailasa Temple in India,” Mr. Malone said to Nerissa. “Three days and nights on my hands and knees, measuring every inch in order to draw an accurate floor plan, sweat dripping into my eyes so that I could barely see, and how often do you think I complained of the heat?”
Nerissa looked baffled. “Um, well—”
“Let me guess,” said Will. “Never?”
“Never!” said Mr. Malone triumphantly.
Mrs. Malone cleared her throat in a pointed way. “We were discussing what message we wanted to send to an alien race,” she said. “Not the heat index. I only have two possibilities here. Surely one of you has a few more bright ideas to contribute. Poppy, what about you?”
“Well, I don’t think it’s very logical to send a message in English,” she said. “Why don’t we just beam the value of pi? After all, that’s a mathematical constant, which means it would be recognized throughout the universe.”
Will snorted. “Really? The aliens take the trouble to get in their spaceship and travel zillions of miles to get here, and what do we say? ‘Welcome to Earth. How about a math lesson?’” He shook his head. “Even if they do come in peace, that alone will make them attack us.”
“I don’t see why,” said Poppy with some spirit. “The idea is that pi is the same everywhere, so it will be familiar to them. It will make them feel at home.”
“You are the only person in the world who thinks math is cozy,” said Will.
Poppy gave him a cool look. “I’m just analyzing all the possibilities and coming to a logical conclusion,” she said. “You should try it sometime—”
As the debate raged on, Nerissa listened, her eyes moving alertly back and forth like someone watching a tennis match. Finally Mrs. Malone stood up, cleared her throat, and said, “All right, I think we have exhausted our brains for this evening. Let’s see, here are the messages we’ve come up with so far: First, an invitation to dinner at our house with our address helpfully included—”
Mrs. Malone frowned at her list and drew a firm line through that suggestion. “Second, ‘Go home now. Wherever you’re from, it’s got to be cooler than here.’” Her glance moved to Will. “That doesn’t make our planet sound like a very attractive place to visit.”
“I’m having heatstroke,” Will murmured. “It was the best I could do.”
“Third: the number pi.” Mrs. Malone settled her glasses more firmly on her nose and ran a finger down the list. “Let’s see what else we have here . . .” she muttered. “‘What took you so long?,’ ‘Stand still while I get my camera,’ ‘If you’re able to read this, we have one question: Where did you learn English?,’ and ‘If you’d like to take someone home with you, pick Rolly—he’s really no trouble at all.’”
She gave Will a severe look over the top of her glasses. “I wrote that last one down in order to keep a complete record, but I don’t think it was very kind, dear. And we certainly won’t make any such suggestion to any member of an alien race. After all, there’s no guarantee that they will share our sense of humor.”
“I wasn’t being funny,” muttered Will, but Mrs. Malone had fortunately moved on.
“Well, we obviously still have work to do,” she said. “But for now, I think it’s time we all went to bed. Poppy, why don’t you get the inflatable mattres
s out of the hall closet and set it up for Nerissa. There are some sheets there, too. . . . Rolly, you need a bath—”
As Rolly staged his usual protest, Poppy caught Nerissa’s eye. “Don’t judge all mortals by my family,” she said. “You’ll get a really weird idea of what humans are like. Come on, I’ll show you my room.”
This took longer than Poppy thought it would, simply because Nerissa was mesmerized by everything in the human world. She walked up and down the stairs three times, stopped to peer closely at every picture on the walls, and, once they got to Poppy’s room, stood in the hall for five minutes opening and closing the door.
Once she finally went inside, Nerissa dropped her backpack on the floor and wandered around the room, turning the light switch on and off, walking barefoot on the rug, trailing her fingertips across the top of the dresser, picking up a stapler and turning it over and over in her hands, reaching down to feel the quilt that covered the bed. Finally she made her way to the window, where she stood for fifteen minutes, gripping the windowsill tightly as she stared out at the treetops.
She reached into her backpack. “I have to hang this up,” she said, pulling out the blue-and-silver cloak Poppy had seen the night of the bonfire, draped over a tree branch and glittering in the moonlight.
Even in the ordinary glow of an overhead light, the cloak was spellbindingly beautiful.
After several seconds, Poppy realized that she was staring at it with her mouth hanging open. She shut her mouth with a snap and asked, “What is that?”
“It’s my cloak,” Nerissa said. She held it out with both hands so that it hung like a curtain. “Every mermaid has one. It’s the most precious thing we own. I need to hang it up so it doesn’t get crumpled.”
“Yes,” Poppy said. The folds of the cloak swayed in front of her eyes, making her feel light-headed. As if in a dream, she reached out to touch it—
“Stop!”
Startled, Poppy stepped back, her hand dropping to her side.
“You can’t touch this,” Nerisa said fiercely. “Not ever.”
A Mischief of Mermaids Page 8