by D. G. Driver
“Well, I wouldn’t say no proof,” Haley said. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “A good nerd always has one handy.”
I grabbed her up for a big hug. “You’re the best.”
“I’ll keep it safe. Who knows when it might come in handy?”
Over the next few weeks, Haley and I gradually went from being teased and hassled around campus to being ignored and forgotten once again. Glad to know things could get back to normal. We did manage to recruit six members to our Recycling Club, and we were already making a difference around campus. I promise that I wasn’t hijacking backpacks for water bottles. Actually, most of the support came from the many friends of the newly single Ted Cowley, who had become our most enthusiastic member and attended every meeting.
The stories about the whole mermaid sighting being a scam made all the crowds disappear. All that remained were the die-hard conspiracy freaks. There’s not much you can do to stop them once they get a hint that something supernatural is out there. My parents had to do a lot of work explaining how their daughter had tricked them as well—the only way to save their reputations. It hurt to hear them bash me, but none of it was how they truly felt and we’d all agreed telling lies was the only option.
Eventually though, the whole thing went away. Just another urban legend.
I had worried that disregarding the mermaids would wind up helping Affron. Luckily, my parents, the world’s greatest environmental activists, knew what to do. They used the footage my dad and I shot of the oil-coated sea life (absent of mermaids) and took it right to the governments of both countries. Armed with laws about oil tanker retrofitting and signed promises from Affron not to roll that fateful night, my mother had a case that knocked Affron on its butt.
According to legislation in both Canada and the United States, Affron had to cease operation until all their tankers were redesigned and inspected by government officials. On top of that, they were hit with heavy fines and forced to put a much larger percentage of their profits into the condition and staffing of their rehabilitation centers.
I raised my eyes over the college catalog and gazed at my mom with admiration. She really was a powerful and wonderful person.
“The other reason I was thinking of staying close to home is that I think I kind of got a taste for this activist stuff,” I told her. “I thought I’d stick around and help you and Dad out.”
Mom pulled me in for a squeeze and tossed the Humboldt catalog on the floor. “You can do whatever you want, June,” she said. “I’ll be proud of you no matter what you choose or where you choose to do it. I’ve raised the strongest, most incredible girl in the world.”
We decided to call it quits for the night. Too many decisions to make with Dad out of the house. So, while Mom made dinner, I headed up to my room.
I dropped a bit of food into the goldfish bowl on my dresser and watched the tiny creature swim around and gobble up the flakes. Then, as slowly as I could, I dipped my finger into the bowl. At first the fish backed away from me, but I was persistent. I held my finger absolutely still and waited. Curious, the goldfish approached my finger and seemed to be sniffing it. After a moment the goldfish must have sensed that the finger would cause it no harm, so it swam around, pressing its little body against the finger, enjoying the sensation of touch.
The phone rang. Wiping my wet finger on my jeans, I picked it up. “Hello? Dad? Are you okay?”
The line was scratchy, but I was pretty sure I heard my dad say, “Plantation Lumber is creeping into Chinook protected land. They want to rip down the cedar trees here and use them for rabbit cage linings. We could use some people to stand with us out here. You and your mom want to join us?”
“Yeah,” I said. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
I hung up the phone and shouted. “Mom! Cedar trees falling! Dad needs us right away!”
Not waiting for my mom to answer, I jumped into gear. As I changed my clothes into more rugged attire and gathered up the necessary tools, I found myself feeling happier than I had in weeks.
Anything could happen, I thought giddily. I saw a mermaid on my last mission. Maybe today I’ll see a unicorn or a dragon.
And if not, if a certain college freshman could be persuaded to come along (and I felt confident that might be the case), I would at the very least have a night of holding hands, chanting in protest together, and cuddling close to stay warm. It could be as romantic as my dad had hinted once upon a time. That delicious thought in mind, I followed my mom out the door and headed toward another adventure.
Acknowledgements
This novel would not have happened if not for the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators-Midsouth Region group. I’m particularly grateful for the editor critique session I had at their annual Fall Conference five years ago and the novel revision workshop led by author Helen Hemphill, events that helped me figure out how to get this novel going in the right direction. It is a great group of people. I also really appreciate the members of the Teen Lit Authors listserv who all are ready with advice and support.
I’m immensely thankful to the group here at Fire and Ice Young Adult Novels. Thank you to Nancy Schumacher and Denise Meinstad for accepting my novel. Caroline Andrus, I couldn’t imagine a better cover design. Megan Orsini, your editing and advice were perfect, and I appreciate the great care you gave to my story.
Above all, I want to thank my family and friends. It has been over a decade since this story began in my brain, and deciding to start the whole thing over again from scratch three years ago was hard to do. You kept me from quitting and are there for me still.
About the Author
D. G. Driver is a member of SCBWI and Author's Guild. Along with Cry of the Sea, she has recently had a short story called “The Jamaican Dragon” published in an anthology of pirate stories titled A Tall Ship, A Sail, and Plunder from Dark Oak Press. She grew up in Southern California only 30 minutes from the beach. As a girl, she used to dream that magic would change her overnight into a beautiful mermaid. Alas, that never happened, but her love of the ocean never diminished. Even though she is landlocked in Tennessee now, she still only needs one whiff of sunscreen to bring her imagination alive. Thanks to the support of her husband and a sweet drawing of a mermaid done by her daughter that was taped on the wall above her desk to keep her motivated to finish, Cry of the Sea is her first published Young Adult novel. A dragon picture hangs there now, so we’ll see what happens...
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