Out of Place

by Susha Golomb

  Turning to the nearest light, I poked it slowly and my finger went right through. The skin had a gooey jellyfish feel, but the inside was empty, even of water, although down here, nothing but air was probably considered full, not empty. They made me think of air bubbles that decided to stay put and raise a family.

  The hole closed up as I pulled my finger out. A little experimentation showed that I could put my whole hand inside, and the soft, transparent material still closed right over it, sealing the globe from the water outside.

  Although it looked empty enough, except for air, which didn’t really count as something, and the light shining out of it, which also didn’t count, there was something in this one. I closed my fist and pulled it out. I was holding a shiny, blue-gray pebble, still warm from being in the fairy light. I guessed that it had fallen into the globe the way my finger did, but wasn’t heavy enough to fall out through the bottom.

  I nearly tossed it away, but I happened to glance at the light first.

  Oh my god! The light’s out. I broke it. Like I’m not in enough trouble already.

  Looking around nervously, I tried putting the stone back in. It worked. The light was back on. I was saved. I repeated the experiment with another light. Same result. All the lights had a little power-pebble inside.

  Okay, mystery solved...sort of. I still didn’t know what was keeping the lights in place. Magic, I guessed with a shrug.

  I turned my tail off automatic flip ‘n float and let myself sink down onto one of the floor-pillows. If Big Fish could use my bag underwater...ummm, that would be insea. Good grief. How am I going to remember to say insea and outsea all the time? Just thinking it sounds weird.

  Never mind, I told myself and opened the bag. I took out what I hoped was an insea-long-distance-cell-phone. When I turned it on, the screen lit up. So far, so good. I dialed and it started to ring. Even better.

  “Hello?” It was Dad. I blanked. “Hello, who is this?”

  “Hi!” I tried something simple. Maybe if I focused on short sentences and monosyllabic words, I just might get through this.

  “Miriam, is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Miriam, we were so worried.” Is everything okay?” That was when I lost it.

  CHAPTER 21

  THE PHONE CALL

  “Daddy!” I bawled. “I’m having a really bad day.” Except for the tears, I was blubbering like a baby.”

  “It’s okay, princess. Everything’s all right now.”

  “No, it’s not,” I wailed. “Everybody’s mad at me.”

  “But you’re with Grandma and Grandpa?”

  “Them, too. They’re the maddest.

  “Nobody has wings. Nobody has shirts on, my hair is all floaty, and everything I say is wrong.”

  “Miriam, are you safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does anything hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Are you breathing?”

  “Huh?”

  “Are you breathing?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Well, do it slower.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Slower. De-ee-ep breath in. Slo-oo-owly let it out. Again. De-ee-ep”

  “Oh, Daddy. I can’t do that. I feel silly.”

  “Silly is good.

  My dad can always make me laugh. It’s his best quality. Mom got on another phone and I did details. They didn’t holler. They didn’t say anything about all my stupid mistakes. This was not like them. They must have been really worried.

  They told me they loved me and to be brave. Brave is not my best quality. Shriek and flee is more my style. I said I would call again when I had a chance, and that was it. I felt better, but not for long. Trouble was coming.

  “Miriam! Where have you been?” It was Grandma Sky and she was pissed. “Everyone’s looking for you. I can’t believe that you actually managed to get lost again.” Every word that came out of her mouth was careful and precise, like she had to make sure the poor retard didn’t miss anything.

  “But...”

  “No, buts. We’re late.”

  Grandma Sky never stopped. She came in through a floor-door and by the time she finished talking she was halfway through a ceiling-door. I had to really move my tail to catch up. Once or twice, I lost sight of her, but she was easy to find. Grandma churned up so much water that the pillows floated all over any room she swam through. I guess she was in a hurry.

  There was a low rumbling sound that got louder as we swam. We finally stopped at a huge wall-door, complete with billowing green curtain. Grandpa was waiting for us.

  “Swim still,” Grandma said. “You can’t have dinner with your hair all over the place like that.” My face got hot, and, thinking about what my face must look like right now, it got even hotter. Grandma pushed my hair behind my ears and used hairpins to make it stay.

  “Well, it’s not fancy, but it looks pretty enough, and it will stay out of your face,” she said.

  Grandma and Grandpa Sky had their hair in big stiff curls all over their heads. I wondered what kind of hairspray they used. Whatever it was, there was a lot of it, because nothing moved. Nestled into the curls, probably also glued down, were wreaths made of silver colored seaweed. Grandma had a matching seaweed necklace, and Grandpa had this really cool bracelet that wrapped around his arm. It was gold with sparkly green snake eyes. I wondered if he would let me borrow it sometime.

  “Here you go, Miriam,” Grandpa Sky said. “Verona made this for you.” He handed me another seaweed wreath, the pretty sea-green and dull-gold color of tarnished brass. When I took it in my hands, I realized that tarnished brass was exactly what it was made of and that Grandma and Grandpa’s crowns must be real silver, and, if Grandpa’s bracelet was what I thought it was, it must weigh a ton. The detail on my headpiece was exquisite. Each narrow leaf was different from every other, in their shading, in their patterns, and in the graceful way they all fit together.

  Ribbons that changed from blue to green as they moved, hung from the back of the crown. Each one had a weight in the shape of a beautifully made, tiny brown seahorse to keep them from floating around too much. They were adorable, even nicer than the delicate metalwork of my fake-seaweed crown.

  I held it up to get a better look at these wonderful little seahorses.

  “Oh, Verona didn’t make those,” Grandpa Sky said, “I invited them last week.”

  “Hi, Miriam,” a small voice near my left ear, said. With the fastest underwater head jerk I could manage, I put as much distance as I politely could between my face and the bodiless voice.

  “It was your Grandpa’s idea,” the voice continued. “We’ve been practicing patterns for two days. Want to see?” Although I couldn’t tell for sure exactly who was doing the talking, it was clear that these particular seahorses were not made of plastic. There was a group giggle from the others and then they began to weave in and out, looping up and down in a ribbon dance that made me think of a maypole, only the pole was going to be me. It was so sweet, I forgot to be frightened.

  “Is everybody okay?” I asked, slowly moving the crown to my head and carefully setting it into place.

  “Perfect,” someone said. “Your hair is wonderful. Just like seaweed. No one will see us until we want them too.

  Grandma Sky leaned forward and adjusted it a little so it fit snug tight. She backed off to get a better look and nodded her approval.

  “Much better. Here,” she said, picking up a garland of something that looked like just my crown. It couldn’t have been metal, because it was soft and flexible. Grandma laid the blue and gold seaweedy-looking stuff over my shoulders where it clung to the neckline of my sports bra, front and back, like sewn on decorations. Even I could see that this was a big improvement to my seriously conspicuous modesty shield. Now I could pretend that my top was there to hold up the trim, instead of me.”

  “It’s time,” Grandpa said. He pulled aside the curtain, the noise stopped
and there we were.

  CHAPTER 22

  LITTLE VOICES

  The walls of the Great Hall were draped from the ceiling to the far-below floor with wide panels of silk, or something very like it. Any color I could name, and lots I couldn’t, hung in between the reds and the yellows and the blues, like a giant color wheel.

  The long curtains shimmered in the concentrated light that came from having all the fairy lights crowded around the edges of the ceiling, and whenever anyone swam too close to the wall, the nearest panels would billow out, flashing glimpses of something bright and glinty hiding underneath.

  The middle of the ceiling had not been left undecorated. If I looked up and squinted my eyes, I could see huge multicolored tropical fish caught up in a fancy fishnet. If I didn’t, they looked an awful lot like giant-economy-size floor pillows.

  The last time I was here, which was not all that long ago, the Great Hall was empty. Now, it was anything but. The room was stuffed with sea-people, all of them, including my new hair-friends, dead silent, and all of them looking at us.

  The crowd parted in front of us, making a wide people-tunnel to a raised platform in the middle of the floor. There sat my new salt sister, dead center, on a floor pillow, the only floor pillow, if you didn’t count the ceiling. She was gazing around the Great Hall like a bored queen.

  If Verona was not looking at us as we swam -- way too slowly -- towards the platform, everybody else was. I felt a jillion fish eyes boring into my brain. It didn’t hurt, but it was not comfortable.

  “Hello, Aunt Floradora, hello, Uncle Mele’,” Verona said, when we arrived at the platform. “Oh, hello there, Miriam,” she said, with a weak ‘I’m only pretending to be nice’, smile. Verona’s sugary sweet voice sounded like a fog horn in the great silent hall. I tried not to cringe, but could see from her pleased expression that I had not been successful.

  With a positively regal wave of her arm, Verona indicated that I should move behind her so she would not be forced to gaze upon my lowly face. I always thought that I was pretty good at the ‘snub’. But this was Art.

  Too excited to notice, or maybe pretending to not notice, Grandma swam above our heads, turning slowly in the water so that she could see everyone.

  “Fish and Fairy, Bubble and Sky,” she boomed out. “Welcome, All. May I present the newly pledged salt-sisters, our niece, Verona Corona, and our granddaughter, Miriam Mermelstein.”

  There was a very loud, very brief cheer from the assembled masses, instantly shifting into everyone talking at once. Nobody listening, just talking. I’m not positive about this, because at the same time, everybody turned their back to us to stare at the walls.

  Grandpa Sky swam up a little way past Grandma. He floated upright and raised his arms above his head. The next part is kind of hard to explain unless the Hall was wired for sound, which I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. Nobody looked, nobody stopped talking, but from every corner of the room Grandpa’s voice rang out.

  “Let the banquet begin.”

  “Miriam, quick, look up,” said one of my hair friends. The silk panels were loose. They floated to the ground in a surprisingly orderly fashion, with some help from the nearest sea-people onto whose heads they had drifted. The glint behind the curtains turned out to be big round mirrors covered with the same gold net that was holding up the ceiling pillows. When I looked up, the ceiling net was gone and the pillows were drifting slowly to the ground.

  “Oo, it’s so pretty,” said a voice behind my left ear. I thought so, too. Each mirror was a study in elegance, with platters of carefully arranged foods held in place by the tightly stretched net. The fairy lights, the food, the people and the falling cushions were all reflected on the mirror-covered walls and the oohs and aahs of the partygoers showed how pleased they were.

  The moment of admiration, however, was brief, as everyone started scrambling for a seat. In this case, scrambling for a seat turned out to be a giant slow-motion pillow fight. The people moved fast enough, but the pillows dragged against the water. Anyone under attack had plenty of time to escape the slow-moving pillows aimed at their heads.

  Verona and Grandma and Grandpa Sky had disappeared somewhere into the crowd. I didn’t think my tiny seahorses would be very happy about people hitting me in the head with pillows, so I just watched, and learned about slow pillow-fighting strategy. Truly, a life-enhancing skill.

  Ganging up worked and there were quite a few knots of people pummeling some hapless victim in the middle. Many took advantage of the crowded circumstances to beat on their neighbors. Laughing too hard was a distinct disadvantage since it left you helpless to fend off attacks. Sneaking up behind was an excellent strategy if you could do it. Most people couldn’t maintain the necessary silence. Giggling gave them away.

  “Is this how people work up an appetite around here?” I asked, wondering if the seahorses could hear me above the noise that seemed to consist primarily of the screaming, giggling and laughing that accompanies any contact sport among mixed company.

  “It’s a sea fairy thing,” someone said, “…and we have a great view from the top of your head.” I refrained from a sudden desire to scratch my head.

  Talking directly into my ear was a real advantage in such a noisy place. But I couldn’t see anyone, so I had no idea who was doing the talking.

  “There’s so many of you. How do I know who I’m talking to?”

  “You were talking to me. My name is Redragon.” Redragon was so close I could feel the water move in my ear as he spoke. Even so, he said his name so softly that I almost didn’t hear it.

  “Well, how do you do, Re…?” I began, and just like that, I knew. I knew that I mustn’t speak his name where anyone could hear it. I put my hand in front of my mouth so no one could accidentally read my lips and whispered as low as I could. “Thank you, Redragon. Thank you for telling me your name. I’ll always know who you are, now.”

  First in one ear, then in the other, the rest of the seahorses told me their names. Now I could hear the differences in their voices. I also knew that when I saw them they wouldn’t look alike anymore.

  “I didn’t know that seahorses were magic,” I said when they had told all.

  “We’re not,” Leviathan said. “It’s a fairy gift. Most of the stories about how we got the gift have to do with rescuing a land fairy, but it’s been so long that no one knows for sure.”

  “Heads up!” said Darkflower. “Here comes your dinner.”

  “Thanks, Darkflower,” I whispered.

  Groups of two or three people, each clutching their trophy pillows tightly with one hand, began to take the mirrors off the wall, unfolding coffee table height legs before setting them down. No one tried to steal pillows from the people carrying tables. Holding onto a table was ‘safe on base.’

  Gradually, there were more and more people sitting on cushions around mirror tables, and fewer and fewer still up in the water playing pillow games. The last few pillow fights ended quickly when they saw everyone else waiting patiently below.

  Grandma and Grandpa Sky brought a mirror table to the platform and sat down. Others came, dragging their captured floor pillows along with them. There were ten of us sitting shoulder to shoulder on our squished and overlapping pillows. The table didn’t look so big anymore.

  I ended up sitting on my tail, on the dent between two floor pillows, wedged in between Verona on one side, and the first really old-looking Sky I had seen. Old as in, ancient. Old, as in, doddering. So, here I was, with Verona trying to shoulder me out of the way on one side and Old-as-in-ancient drooling on my head on the other. The best thing I could say is that I was really glad we were underwater at the moment.

  Grandma and Grandpa were across the table. On Verona’s other side were two more Sky. The one next to her was the reason I was getting squashed. She was surrounded by herself, like a quivering jellyfish with a silly grin on its face. I could forgive Verona breathing down my neck. If I had to cuddle up to one of us I would
choose me, too.

  I was already leaning over onto Old-as-in-ancient who didn’t seem to mind, so it was no big deal to move my bottom half the last few inches that separated it from my companion’s tail end. Verona filled in the gap, before it was empty. I was still squished, but I was squished straight.

  “Thanks,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, making no effort to remove her elbow from my ribs.

  Another Sky sat next to the jellyfish. Her immense presence made him look even smaller than he was. Only the dainty salt-and-pepper beard told me that this pint sized person was not a little kid People don’t get dirty enough down here to get smelly, but this Sky must have done something along those lines, because, unlike the rest of us squashed and mashed around the table, he occupied the very center of a floor pillow and occupied it exclusively, with a faint smile and a glazed expression. There was no way of knowing if he was always like that, or just not interested.

  I noticed the jellyfish looking me over, and looked back.

  Howww do you dooo?” she said. “YOU,” she emphasized, “must be Miriam. It’s sooo nice to meet you. I am YukTwotuktuk and this is MY salt sibling YukOnetuk. We are fourth generation salts,” she said proudly.

  “Welcome, dear, to our little salt community. YukOnetuk acknowledged the introduction with the barest nod and a small lip-twitch (one side only). I smiled, a real smile, and nodded at both Tuks. The other Tuk did her best to smile without unpursing her lips.

  “This is Ert,” Grandpa said, indicating the man sitting next to him, “Verona’s culture mentor.”

  “Here, Miriam,” Ert said. “Catch.” Ert reached under the netting, pulled out a random piece of food and threw it at me. There was plenty of time for me to unstartle, unstick my arms from my sides and still catch the unknown edible floating my way. I was holding something about the size and color of a mandarin orange.

  “Consider this your first insea etiquette lesson,” he said. “Now, let’s get this net off,” he announced to the assembled Sky at the table, “and show Miriam how it’s done.”

  CHAPTER 23

  DINNER IS SERVED

  Ert took hold of the net with both hands and pulled. The net floated up a few feet, and then started to sink back down, threatening to land not on, but in our dinner. Squished bodies unsquished and re-tangled as everyone made a grab for the renegade net. Grandpa won, bundled it up and shoved it under the table with his tail.