by Liz Kessler
But Shona didn’t swim out.
“Shona?” I called as I swam through the caves of their home. I found her in her bedroom.
She barely looked up as I swam toward her. She was perched on a rock in front of her mirror, staring at her face.
“Hey,” I said.
Shona looked at me in the mirror. “Hi, Emily,” she said. Then she looked back at herself in the glass. “That’s me in there, right?” she asked. “I mean, like, me: Shona, mermaid, thirteen years old. That’s who you see, right?”
I knew immediately what was going on.
“That’s who I see,” I said.
Shona nodded but still wouldn’t look away.
I reached out to touch her arm. “You can talk to me,” I said.
Shona didn’t reply. She just kept staring at herself, as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“I know what you’re feeling,” I said.
Shona laughed, a bitter sharp laugh. “I doubt it,” she said.
As I looked at her, I noticed something on a rock beside the mirror: the friendship pebble. I picked it up and held it out to her.
“I gave you this,” I said. “I was there. So was Mandy. I know what you are going through.”
Shona’s face turned white as she looked at the pebble. “I don’t want it,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m sorry — I know it’s special, but it’s freaking me out even being near it.”
“OK,” I said, putting it in my pocket with Mandy’s. “I’ll hold on to it for now and give it back to you when you feel better about things.”
“It really happened?” she whispered. “We were really there together?”
I nodded.
Shona’s eyes went glassy and wide. “I don’t know how to deal with it,” she said as a big tear rolled out of each eye, trickled down her cheeks, and melted away into the seawater.
I smiled at my best friend. “Well, luckily I do,” I told her. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go to our place and talk.”
Shona nodded, slipped off her perch, and followed me out of her room. We swam silently to Rainbow Rocks.
“You don’t remember the other time we were here, do you?” I asked as we swam up to the rocks.
Shona looked confused. “Last night? When you gave me the friendship pebble? I thought —”
“No. Not last night. The other version of today,” I said nervously.
“The other version of today?”
“No, I didn’t think so. Mandy didn’t remember it either,” I said. “But we’ve been here before. You told me about your school project.”
Shona’s tail flicked against the rock. “You know about the school project?” she asked.
I nodded. “The one about trash.”
Shona lifted a shoulder in a slow shrug. “Not that it matters anyway,” she said. “I’ve seen how things turn out.”
“It does matter,” I insisted. “It matters more than ever!”
“Why? There’s nothing we can do about it.” Shona said. Before I could reply, she went on. “Sure, it won’t be too bad for us in Shiprock, but for you and for Mandy and for everyone in Brightport . . . I can’t bear to think of the world we’re all going to end up in. Especially you guys. Everything’s going to turn out horrible and mean and unfair, and we just have to sit back and watch it happen.”
“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. We don’t have to sit back and watch it happen. We can do something about it. We are doing something about it.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Shona asked.
“Brightport Junior High. And . . . um . . . you.”
Shona pointed at herself. “Me?”
“Yeah. There’s a competition. We have to come up with a way to change the world through art. And we have to present it this Friday.”
Shona snorted. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. And we want to make it a combined thing with Shiprock.”
Shona made a face. “I can’t see that happening. We’re working on our project all week,” she said. “We won’t have time to do anything else.”
“Shona,” I said, “what is your project?”
“We’ve got to come up with some ingenious way of improving the —” Shona stopped. “Oh,” she said.
I grinned at her. “See?”
Shona let a hint of a smile sneak onto her face. “We want the same thing,” she said.
“We do.”
“So we could work together.”
“We can.”
Shona’s face finally broke into a broad grin. “What are we waiting for, then?” she asked. “Let’s get planning!”
I threw my arms around her and hugged her as tightly as I could without completely squashing her.
“What’s that for?” Shona asked, laughing as I pulled away.
“I’m happy,” I said. “We’re going to save the world.”
And we’re going to save our friendship, I thought. Which was just as good, as far as I was concerned.
The days passed in a haze of activity.
Our first job was to bring the two classes together. We arranged to meet up on the beach on Tuesday after school.
Ms. Macmillan came down to the beach with us, and we watched as Shona’s class swam into the bay.
Mandy and Shona and I introduced everyone while Ms. Macmillan and Mr. Finsplash talked at the water’s edge. Most of the kids pulled off their shoes and socks and waded out so we could get together with the Shiprock folk. To be fair, half of them ran straight out again because the water was freezing — but seeing them even make the effort was enough to warm my heart.
Between the two classes, we agreed on a plan. The first step was to collect abandoned bottles, cans, and plastic bags from the beaches and from the sea.
Alana, one of the mermaids in Shona’s class, splashed her tail on the water. “There’s an empty cave near us in Shiprock,” she said. “We could use that for storing anything we find in the sea.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Thanks, Alana.”
“And anything we find on the beaches we could store in the back of my parents’ arcade,” Mandy suggested. “It’s nearby and open every day.”
Alana smiled at Mandy. “We’ll be the two points of contact for collections, then,” she said.
Mandy tried to look like her usual tough self, but I could see she felt pleased to have such an important role.
“What do we do after we’ve collected enough stuff?” one of the merboys in Shona’s class asked.
“Good question, Drake,” another one said. “We need some way of bringing things together.”
We thought for a moment. Then Sherry jumped up so suddenly she nearly slipped on an incoming wave. “My dad’s a fisherman!” she said. “Maybe he and some of the other fishermen could collect everything in their boats.”
“That’s a swishy idea!” Shona said.
“Let’s collect any abandoned fishing nets we come across, too,” another mermaid named Meriel said. “We can use them to hold it all together.”
“I’ll ask Dad if we can use some of his old nets,” Sherry said.
Aiden kicked at the water with his feet. “Maybe I could speak to my dad, too,” he suggested. “See if he can find anything at the landfill.”
Aiden’s words had sparked a thought in my mind. A way of getting Aiden’s dad to the beach. “Maybe he could use one of his trucks to bring everything down to the beach?” I suggested.
Aiden shrugged. “I’ll ask him. I don’t see why not.”
So part one was in place. Part two would be where things got really exciting.
“OK, so we’re ready,” I said. “Everyone knows what they’re doing. Let’s meet up again on Thursday to bring everything together, and we’ll be ready to go live on Friday night,” I suggested. “How does that sound?”
“We could meet at the end of the pier,” Mandy suggested. “That’s easy for both sides to get to.”
Tammy put her hand up.
“I have an idea,” she said. “It might be silly, though.”
Alana was in the water beside her. “Nothing’s silly,” she said. “We’re all in this together, and every idea is a good one, right?”
“Right,” everyone agreed.
“Well, I was thinking maybe I could ask my mom to put an article in the Brightport Times, telling everyone to come to the boardwalk on Friday evening. What do you think?” Sherry asked.
The roar of applause from two whole classes of kids was loud enough to make both teachers jump.
“That’s what we think,” I said.
“Tell your mom it’s a once-in-a-lifetime ‘Living Art’ display,” Drake said. “Maybe she’ll put it on the front page!”
Sherry smiled shyly at Drake. “Good idea,” she said.
“So, we’re all set,” I said. “Everyone knows what they’re doing. Let’s go for it!”
We worked on it all week. We barely thought about anything else. Both sides did what we’d agreed, meeting up to plan, shape, and create our piece of art. Every day, we swapped ideas, building on the plan, bit by bit, each day, working together — making sure we looked at it from every side.
Almost too soon, Friday arrived. We managed to persuade Mrs. Porter and Ms. Macmillan to let us spend all of Friday putting the final touches on it. Shona said her class was doing the same. By the end of the day, it had finally taken shape. We were ready.
Nearly. There was still something I had to check. I wandered to the other side of the art room.
“Hey, Aiden,” I said, keeping my voice as casual as I could.
Aiden glanced at me. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Is your dad still OK with bringing his truck later?”
“Yeah, he’s fine with it. He asked one of his men to bring it,” Aiden replied casually.
“One of his men?” I burst out.
Aiden frowned. “Yeah. Why?”
Because in the last version of this day, your dad spent Friday night meeting with Mr. Whittaker and the rest of the Midas crooks, and then they invested in his company and ended up destroying the town. And we can’t let that happen again!
I couldn’t exactly tell Aiden that.
“Um . . .” I began.
What could I tell him? My mind was racing. The plan was going to fall apart. What could I do? I still had an option I barely dared to think about: the wishing stone. Could I use it to wish that the meeting would be canceled or that Mr. Whittaker came down with flu or —?
Aiden was still talking. “He was supposed to go to some meeting, so he asked George if he’d do it,” he said. “But now that I think about it, Mom told him that this was more important. She told him to do it himself. So, yeah, he’ll be there.”
“Really?” I asked. I nearly hugged him. It was only Mandy excitedly grabbing hold of my sleeve that stopped me. “Your dad is definitely going to be there?” I insisted.
“Yeah. Really,” Aiden said. “Why? What’s the problem?”
I laughed. “No problem,” I said, turning to grin at Mandy as my heart finally came back down to its normal rate. “No problem at all.”
It was half an hour before showtime and everything was in place. Aiden’s dad had been as good as his word and brought our artwork to the beach. We kept it covered so we didn’t ruin the surprise. Tammy told us her mom was on her way down with a reporter and photographer. She had printed an announcement in yesterday’s paper about the event and promised they would cover it today. Sherry’s dad was heading out to sea with his fishermen pals for the part we’d persuaded them to play.
I waited with Mandy and the rest of the class on the beach. It was starting to get dark, so it was hard to tell, but I thought I saw some shapes on the horizon.
Julie was next to Mandy. She suddenly pointed out to sea. “They’re coming,” she said. “I see them!”
“OK,” I replied. “Places, everyone! Let’s go!”
And with that, we picked up our creation, carried it out to the water’s edge, and waited for the Shiprock merfolk.
A couple of minutes later, Shona and a few of her classmates swam up.
“All set?” I asked as they took it away from us.
“All set,” Shona replied.
“Good luck!” we called to them.
As we stood on the beach watching them swim away, Mandy nudged me. “Look,” she said.
“I am looking,” I replied, without taking my eyes off the sea.
“No. Not out to sea. Over there.” She pointed behind us.
I turned to see what she was pointing at. People were walking along the boardwalk. I watched where they were heading.
Please don’t be going to the Midas meeting. Please be coming to see us.
Everyone was turning to look. Soon, we all found ourselves watching, grinning, clapping our hands, as, one after another, the groups, the couples, the individuals, and the families all made their way toward us.
All of them.
“Yes!” I whispered.
Soon there was quite a crowd on the beach. Couples walked hand in hand along the sand; little kids in hats and gloves clung to their parents; moms and dads called to their children, who were too busy running up and down the beach and looking out to sea to hear their parents.
Suddenly, Sherry’s cell phone beeped. She checked the screen. “It’s my dad,” she called to us. “They’re ready.”
I peered into the fading light of the sea and sky. I could vaguely make out the shapes silhouetted against the darkness.
And then the lights came on.
The fishing boats were spread out in a semicircle in the bay. At the exact same moment they all switched on their lights and lit up the shape in the center of the bay: the plastic we’d spent all week collecting, tying together, and shaping.
I watched as two mermaids swam to the edges where we’d joined everything together. They undid the ropes, and the structure burst open.
Hundreds and hundreds of bottles and tubs and cartons had been joined end to end, woven across each other, built into the giant structure that bounced into shape before our eyes. As the light from the fishing boats hit it, it was clear to see that it was a giant plastic multicolored net.
Mermaids and merboys swam and danced and twirled in the waves. Their tails sparkled like rainbows as they jumped into the net, wriggling in the gaps, grasping at the plastic.
Half of the group swam right into the middle of the net while the other half swam around the edge. The merkids on the outside then grabbed the ends of the net to form a circle and trapped their classmates in it.
People on the beach and the merpeople who had gathered in the water gasped as they watched.
“Daddy, Daddy, the merboy got trapped in the plastic net!” I heard a little boy exclaim.
A little girl nearby pulled on her mom’s sleeve. “I want to help the mermaids!” she cried.
Her mom sighed as she watched the display. “So do I, sweetheart,” she said. “So do I.”
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek as I watched Shona’s class playing their part in our “Living Art.” It was mesmerizing. It was breathtaking. And it was powerful.
I couldn’t keep myself from smiling through my happy tears.
We’d really done it. We’d made a piece of art to change the world.
The display was almost finished, but most people were still watching openmouthed when Aiden came over to me. “My dad’s gonna head off now,” he said. “One of his guys will help us clear up afterward.”
My smile froze. “What? Why’s he leaving?” I asked.
“He wants to get to that meeting,” Aiden said. “Turns out he had time to do both after all!”
“No!” I yelled.
“No?” Aiden echoed.
“He can’t go,” I said. “He can’t leave. He can’t go to that meeting!”
Aiden scowled at me. “What are you talking about? Why does it bother you if my dad goes to a meeting?”
I grabbed Aiden’s sleeve. �
��Ask him to stay,” I urged. “Just for five minutes. It’s not finished.”
“It’s almost finished,” Aiden argued. “I don’t under —”
“Please, Aiden,” I insisted. “I can’t explain. Just trust me. Make him stay five more minutes.”
Aiden shrugged. “OK, whatever. I’ll try,” he said, and he turned to catch up with his dad.
I had five minutes to think of a way to stop the future from going wrong. After all we’d done, everything we’d been through, I couldn’t let it happen. I just couldn’t.
I dug my hands in my pockets to warm them up. The wishing stone. My fingers closed around it.
Could I do it? Should I do it? I had one last wish. I could use it right now. Make my wording so clear that there was no way it could turn things bad.
Did I dare, though? However I worded it, I had the feeling the stone was crafty enough that it would find some way to twist my words and make things go horribly wrong, one way or another. Could I afford to take the risk?
Could I afford not to?
My thoughts wrestled and twisted as the seconds ticked by. And then . . .
“Emily!”
Someone was calling me. I opened my eyes and peered around.
“Em! Look!” It was Mandy. She was pointing out to sea. In the darkness, I could see a swell building up. Waves were starting to crash heavily on the beach.
What was going on? Was it a sudden winter storm? The wake from a container ship out at sea? Or . . . ?
Neptune.
His chariot glinted in the darkness as it rode through the waves toward us. And then we saw him, sitting high up on it, tail looped over the side, trident held aloft. A few of my classmates gasped as his chariot came to the shore.
I glanced behind me and saw Aiden talking animatedly to his parents. His dad shrugged and nodded.
Good. He hadn’t left yet. Now I just had to keep him here as long as I could.
I ran down to the water’s edge. “Your Majesty,” I said breathlessly.
Neptune’s eyes found mine. They were glinting with anger. “I believe someone around here has GOLD,” he boomed.
“What? No! There’s no gold,” I said.
Neptune reached into his chariot and grabbed a crumpled piece of paper. He waved it at me. “Well, then, tell me, why did one of my loyal staff give me THIS? And who is this Midas fellow who claims he can turn everything to gold?”