by Liz Kessler
Then I came into Brightport Bay, and the somersaulting in my stomach returned.
I swam on, willing myself to stay calm, telling myself everything was going to be fine. Shiprock was so beautiful. Surely, Brightport would be the same.
As I approached Brightport, I swam up, broke through the surface of the water, and wiped wet hair out of my eyes. Swirling my tail to tread water, I looked across at the harbor.
My hopes sank like a rock landing with a thud on the seabed.
The thought of a rock made me think of the stone — and with it, two lines of the poem came back to me again.
Life will never be the same
Once you’ve looked through its dark frame.
Had I honestly thought things would all work out beautifully this time? Or had I just pretended to forget about the stone’s dark side and hoped it wouldn’t show itself this time?
Either way, something wasn’t right in Brightport, and it was too late to do anything other than confront it head-on.
The beach and pier were almost empty. Where Shiprock had been full of smiling merfolk, Brightport had one person walking a scruffy wet dog along the beach and two people scurrying along the boardwalk, looking as if they were in a hurry to be somewhere else.
I could see why.
The shops along the front looked deserted: half of them were boarded up, the rest had broken windows, peeling paint, or closed signs. The houses beyond them looked dark and gray. There seemed to be a heavy cloud hanging over the whole town.
I glanced across at the pier. It had almost completely collapsed. The wooden pillars looked like they were mostly rotting. A few of them had separated completely. One jetty had some half-sunken boats moored alongside it; the rest looked as if you’d be taking your life in your hands to walk along them.
The Rushtons’ theme park was still there at the end of the pier, but it looked neglected and run-down. I swam closer and could see that all of the rides had yellow tape around them saying closed.
Did Mandy still live here?
Did Mom still live here?
I had to find out. I swam to the end of the pier.
A merman with a stern face appeared out of nowhere. He had a sleek gray tail and was wearing a fitted jacket and a peaked cap.
“Documents,” he demanded as he swam toward me. He barely even looked at me.
“Sorry?” I replied.
“Come on, you know the rules. No one comes or goes at the border without the correct documentation.”
I had literally no idea what he was talking about. I certainly didn’t have any documentation.
“I — I must have forgotten it,” I said.
The merman looked at me properly for the first time. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “Windsnap’s daughter.” He glanced furtively around him before waving me on. “Go on, then,” he said. “Quickly.”
I swam away from the guard and over to the steps at the end of the pier. I followed the line of steps as I wriggled up to the surface, then pulled myself out of the water.
The steps were rusted and they wobbled as I pulled myself up and onto the pier.
Sitting on a rotten plank of wood, waiting for my body to change, I caught my breath and tried not to think about the weird conversation I’d just had.
My tail hardened and stopped flapping. I watched as my legs formed, then my feet. I wriggled my toes to get some life into them. Then I got up and started walking toward the jetty.
The sight made me gasp.
All that remained of the jetty where I’d lived my entire life were a few half-sunken planks of wood and a shabby boat that was barely afloat.
I turned away and made my way along the pier instead, watching my feet with every step. There were planks missing all over the place, and I didn’t want to fall through the floorboards and break my leg.
I was concentrating so hard on my steps that I barely registered the person huddled in a corner.
Till I heard my name.
“Emily!”
The woman reached her arms out to me as I walked over to her. She was sitting cross-legged at the side of the pier. In front of her, she had a blanket with a crystal ball, tarot cards, some crystals, and a few random objects on it.
“Emily, dearie!” she said, smiling at me. Her teeth were yellow. “Want me to read your palm? I’ll give you a free reading if you like.”
I took a step toward her. “Millie?” I asked.
The woman on the floor was dressed just like Millie — in a large cape, with a flowery shawl tied around her neck. She looked almost exactly the same as Millie — apart from the fact that she was about twenty years older than the last time I’d seen her, and she was grubby and her shawl was torn and she was surrounded by bags that looked as if they probably contained all her worldly goods.
What had happened to her?
Whatever it was, she didn’t seem to mind too much. She smiled at me. “Yes, lovey. Come on, sit down,” she said, patting the dirty blanket in front of her. “Plenty of room.”
I crouched down.
“Come on, give me your palm. Let’s see if I can read your future, eh?”
I almost choked at her words. Read my future? I was living my future.
“You OK there, Em?” Millie asked. “Got a cold coming on, have you?” She fumbled in a large bag by her side. “I have some licorice root around here somewhere. Chew on some. You’ll be better in no time.”
“Um. No. Thank you. I’m fine. It’s just a tickle,” I replied.
As Millie opened up my palm and leaned forward to study it, I tried to figure out how to ask the right questions to get the information I needed.
“I can see a man here,” Millie said, sounding hopeful. “About time, too, eh?” she added, then burst into a cackling laugh. The laugh quickly turned into a throaty cough.
I reached out to pat her on the back. “Millie, are you OK?” I asked.
She waved a hand as if to swat my question away, then reached into her bag for the licorice root. “Good thing I have this,” she said, breaking off a piece with her teeth and chewing loudly.
“Have you seen a doctor?” I asked. “That cough sounds bad.”
Millie looked at me as if I’d asked her whether she’d been abducted by aliens. “Seen a doctor?” she asked between mouthfuls. “About what?”
“About your cough.”
Millie broke out into a wheezing laugh. “You’re so funny,” she said in between laughter that turned into a rattling cough again.
“Why am I funny?” I asked.
“I’ve only had this cough for about ten years,” she said. “And we have the same conversation every time.” Then she waved a hand toward town. “Tell me, where do you think I’m going to find a doctor?”
I hadn’t been to the doctor all that often, but Mom had taken me a couple of years ago when I had a stomach bug. It was only a few minutes’ walk away, on one of the side streets off the boardwalk.
“The one on Park Lane,” I said. “I’ll walk with you, if you like.”
Millie stopped laughing. She stared at me, her mouth wide open. “Emily, which century are you living in?” she asked.
Good question.
“That doctor shut up shop and left town long ago,” she went on. “Along with everyone else.”
“Everyone else?” I asked.
Millie sighed as she shrugged. “OK, not everyone else. Bless your mom’s heart.”
“My mom?” I felt my own heart leap into my throat. “What do you mean?”
Millie pointed back to where we used to live. The barely standing jetty.
“For staying,” she said. “Are you off to visit her now?”
I swallowed — or tried to. My throat was too tight. “Off to see her?” I asked shakily. I mean, of course I wanted to see my mom — that was what I’d come here for — but Millie was pointing at the boat that looked one step away from being sent to a scrapyard. Was she trying to tell me that Mom lived there?
Millie wa
s rummaging in a bag. She scrabbled around for a while before pulling out a loose tea bag and holding it out to me. It was covered in crumbs and dust.
I took the tea bag from her, and Millie picked up a grungy plastic mug from next to her on the pier. She held that out to me too. “Ask her to boil some water, will you? I’d love a cup of Earl Grey,” she said as I took the mug from her.
I stared at Millie. She saw me staring and frowned. “Come on, now. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m a survivor. Like you and your mom.”
I looked at the objects on her blanket. They each had a price tag. I was overwhelmed by an urge to help her. I had to help her. I couldn’t shake the thought that I’d done this to her. My wish had put her here.
“Can I buy one of these?” I asked, casting my eye over the objects.
Millie narrowed her eyes and paused before replying. “Which one do you want, sweetheart?” she asked carefully.
There was a tiny glass jar with a crack on the rim, a bunch of dried lavender, a couple of picture frames, and some random animal ornaments. One of them caught my eye. I picked it up. It was an elephant.
“Cute,” I said.
The elephant had a pink trunk, gray feet, a blue body, black eyes, and a snowy-white tail. As I turned it over in my palm, the grim daylight caught the elephant’s back and, for a brief moment, made it sparkle like a rainbow.
“Can I have this?” I asked, fumbling in my pocket for some change and hoping that they still used the same currency in this world.
“Of course you can,” Millie said, with a strange smile. Then she reached out and closed my fingers over the elephant. “Take it. It’s yours,” she said.
“But I wanted to buy something from you!” I said.
Millie made a strange clicking sound with her teeth. “The day I take money from you will be the day I’m ashamed to be in your life. Please, have the elephant. It’s a gift. I insist.”
“Thanks, Millie.” I managed to squeeze the words out past the giant rock in my throat. I had the stone in one of my jacket pockets, so I dropped the elephant into the other pocket.
“You sure you’re OK?” Millie asked.
For a split second I nearly told her the truth. I nearly broke down and told her everything. Then I thought again. Millie had enough problems right now. She didn’t need me adding mine to hers.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “I’m fine, honestly.”
Millie looked at me for a beat. Then she seemed to make her mind up about something. “Hang on a sec.” She scrabbled around in another bag on the ground beside her.
I waited.
She rustled around some more, talking to herself as she did. Finally, she nodded. “Got them!” she said. Then she took hold of my hand and placed something inside it. “Here,” she said.
I looked at my palm. Two small pebbles. I looked at Millie. “What are these?” I asked.
“The stones you told me to give you,” she replied simply.
“Huh? What stones? I don’t remember telling you to give me anything!”
Millie tapped her nose. “Well, it’s just as well one of us has a good memory, then, isn’t it?” she said. “To be fair, it must have been, oh, let’s see, twenty years ago, now.”
A shiver ran through me. “Twenty years ago?”
“Something like that,” Millie said with a sniff. “You told me to keep them, never sell them or get rid of them, until the day I gave them back to you. You told me I’d know when it was the right time and that they belong with the elephant. So please, take them. This is the right time. I can feel it in my bones — and in the cosmos.”
“But, Millie, that doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never seen these stones before!”
Millie shrugged. “You told me that you’d say that as well and that I was to ignore you. I thought you were talking gibberish at the time, but you insisted on it. You said you couldn’t explain, but there was too much at stake and I had to promise.” She shrugged again. “So I did.”
“I . . .” I began. I had no idea what Millie was talking about. The conversation she was so certain we’d had simply hadn’t happened. It made me sad to see her like this. Her mind and her memories playing cruel tricks on her. Still, I didn’t want to make her feel bad about it, so I decided to play along. “Well, you have a better memory than I do,” I said, forcing a laugh as I dropped the pebbles into my pocket. “I’ll treasure these.”
Millie waved a hand to dismiss me. “Go on. Get out of here. Your mom will be over the moon to see you.”
I leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon,” I said, so choked with emotion the words came out like sandpaper on a rough surface.
“Oh, go away,” Millie said. But her beaming smile told me how much I still meant to her. “And don’t forget my Earl Grey,” she added as I stood up.
“I won’t,” I assured her. And then, legs heavy as wood, I got up, turned away, and tried to calm my heart rate as I walked toward the run-down, barely floating boat that was apparently my mom’s home.
Hello? Anyone home?”
I stood on my tiptoes on the edge of the jetty and called through a window of the ramshackle boat. The glass had splintered and a corner of it was completely missing. I didn’t dare tap on the window in case it broke completely. The door wasn’t much better, so yelling seemed the best option.
A moment later the tiny hatch door opened and a face appeared in front of me. A face at once so familiar and so different that I thought my heart might burst right out of my chest.
“Mom!” I practically threw myself through the door and into her arms.
She hugged me with thin spindly arms, laughing as she did. “What’s the occasion, chicken pie?” she asked.
I drew back from her. “I’m just so happy to see you,” I said.
She laughed again. “I’m even happier to see you,” she said. “I always am. Come in and you can tell me all about things.”
“Things?”
What things was I supposed to tell her about?
“Get me up to speed. Have they given you a day off at last?”
“Something like that,” I mumbled.
Mom pointed at the mug with the tea bag in it. “That from Millie?” she asked.
“Um. Yeah, she asked if you could boil some water for her,” I said. “She doesn’t seem very well. Bad cough.”
Mom shook her head as she took the mug from me. “Honestly, the number of times I’ve tried to get her to move in with me. I wish she would.”
I looked around the tiny boat. It was just big enough for a tiny saloon, an even smaller galley, a bed at the far end, and what I presumed was a bathroom behind a curtain to the side of the bed. Barely enough room for one, never mind two people.
Was Mom “one” now? I was desperate to know about Dad, but I couldn’t bear to hear that they’d separated, like last time.
I decided not to ask.
The kettle had boiled and Mom was filling Millie’s mug. “I’ll just pop out with this,” she said. “Won’t take a minute. Help yourself to whatever you want. Make yourself at home.” She stroked me on the cheek as she passed. “This will always be your home, too, you know.”
Once she’d gone, I took advantage of the moment to do some digging around, so I could avoid asking questions like, Where in fact do I live in this world? Where is Dad? And what the heck has happened to everything and everyone?
The first thing I did was grab a newspaper that was lying on the table. It was open to the puzzles page. I smiled to myself. Mom always liked doing crosswords. I was glad to see she still did. The answers were almost completely filled in.
But it was the news I was after. I unfolded the paper and glanced at the top of the page. The date: yes, it was as I thought. I was twenty years in the future. Again.
I sat down on a rickety chair and started to read the headline:
PROTESTS AS MIDAS SEALS DEAL ON NEW BRIGHTPORT PLANT
Midas was in Brightpo
rt in this future too? But that didn’t make sense. If they’d invested in the town, wouldn’t it be full of their glitzy hotels, like last time?
I looked at the photo and went cold inside as I recognized someone. He looked just the same as in the photo I’d seen of him in the other version of the future.
Mr. Whittaker. The guy from Midas. So they were still involved in Brightport.
The last time I had seen a picture of him, he’d been shaking hands with Mr. Beeston. This time he was wearing a hard hat and a huge smile as he shook hands with someone I didn’t recognize.
At least, I didn’t recognize the adult version of him.
The caption read: Alan Whittaker and Aiden Harris clean up the details with a new deal for Brightport.
Aiden Harris? The boy in my class whose dad owned the landfill?
A strange cold feeling crept up my spine. Aiden Harris, the boy I overheard telling his friend that his dad was going to the Midas meeting?
Was that who Midas had invested in?
At the edge of the photo there were a lot of people holding signs in the air: GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OUR TOWN; HOUSES NOT HAZARDS; WE DON’T WANT YOUR WASTE.
I took a closer look at the photo and at the people holding signs. Right there at the front of them — was Mom.
I read the article.
Brightport residents were out in force this weekend to protest the latest agreement put in place by Midas Waste Management Services.
The new deal gives Midas the right to build a new waste disposal plant on the outskirts of our town. This will be their second hazardous waste site and brings the total number of waste management plants to five.
Mr. Alan Whittaker, CEO of Midas Enterprises, told the Brightport Times: “We are delighted to announce this new initiative. Together with Harris Waste Management Company, we are bringing money into the town at a time when no one else wants to. We hope that Brightport residents will see that this move is good for the whole town.”