I jumped as someone touched my arm. It was Mackenzie.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on,” she said, “this room gives me the creeps. Let’s go look at some pirate treasure.”
CHAPTER 11
There was plenty of treasure to see. The Windborne sank loaded with plunder from nearly two dozen ships, and my cousin and friends and I lingered over the displays of gold and silver coins and jewelry from Africa and South America.
Another costumed guide was standing by one of the exhibit cases, letting people hold a real coin—a silver piece of eight. When it was my turn, I held out my hand as directed.
“Wow!” I exclaimed as she placed the coin in the center of my palm. My fingers closed over it reflexively. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy.”
She smiled. “Nobody ever is.”
I managed to find some decent souvenirs in the gift shop, including fake pieces of eight for Hatcher and Danny, a plush stuffed parrot toy for Pippa, a book called The Pirate Queen for Lauren, and for my mother and Aunt True, the museum’s special blend of Windborne tea. I hesitated by a rack of T-shirts, wondering if my father would get a kick out of one that said CAPTAIN HOOK on it. I finally decided that he would. Lieutenant Colonel Jericho T. Lovejoy had a good sense of humor, and I was guessing he’d wear it proudly with his matching prosthetic arm with the hook on it, the one he’d received before upgrading to the Terminator.
“Ladies!” called Sirena, poking her head in the door of the shop. “Time to set sail for home. Dinner awaits! It’s fish and chips night, our traditional welcome meal.”
We arrived back at Mermaid HQ just in time to stash our loot in our cabins before the dinner gong sounded. Sirena wasn’t kidding when she said we’d be eating a lot of fish this week, I thought, surveying my plate. It was a good thing that I liked seafood.
“Oh man, this is so good!” said Mackenzie, and Delphine smiled.
“You know your way around a kitchen, that’s for sure,” agreed Zadie.
“Indeed she does,” said Sirena proudly. “I’d say she’s a chip off the old block, except I can’t even boil water! I’m hopeless at cooking.”
“I had to learn in self-defense,” joked Delphine.
After dinner, it was time for the “unveiling and tailing.”
“Change into your swimsuits, gather your tails, and meet at Mermaid Crossing—the back porch—in fifteen minutes,” Sirena told us, and we all scattered to our cabins.
Mackenzie skipped happily down the path toward Whelk. “I can’t wait to try mine on!”
I could. Watching the professionals today at the showquarium had given me a little more respect for the whole mermaid thing, but I still wasn’t looking forward to turning myself into one. And my mood did not improve when I got my first glimpse of Mermaid Crossing.
“Over the top much?” I muttered at the same time that Mackenzie exclaimed, “It’s perfect!”
Twinkle lights in the shape of seashells were draped across the porch’s broad screens, and there were fishing nets and glass floats strung up everywhere. Big cushy chairs and sofas covered in faded blue denim were arranged in a semicircle, and scattered atop them were throw pillows that sported jaunty sayings like LIFE IS BETTER AT THE BEACH! and SEAS THE DAY! and MERMAIDS AHOY!
I eyed the enormous full-length mirror that leaned against the back wall of the house. It was encrusted with a haphazard pattern of seashells glued to its frame and looked like something Pippa might have made in kindergarten. Above it was a colorful mural featuring a trio of mermaids seated on a rock, brushing their long hair while whales frolicked in the distance. MERMAID CROSSING was written above their heads in shiny silver paint.
We all found seats and looked over at Sirena, who had changed into a gauzy white dress that fluttered and swirled around her knees as the ceiling fan spun overhead in slow circles. Sparkly flip-flops, full makeup, and yards of costume jewelry completed the look.
“And now,” she said dramatically, “it’s time for the unveiling and tailing!”
At Sirena’s signal, we all opened the packages containing our tails. At first glance, Marina, the style I’d chosen, didn’t look all that bad. I held it up. The tubelike part at the top was made of shiny blue fabric printed with scales, and the flukes fluttered limply at the bottom. I gave it a tentative tug. The whole thing didn’t look very long, but it was stretchy.
“You’ll need to insert the monofin first,” Delphine told me. Unlike her mother, she was dressed simply in denim shorts and a Brewster Store T-shirt.
I gave her a blank look.
Leaning over my shoulder, she rummaged in the box that the tail had arrived in and pulled out a stiff, black crescent-shaped thing. “It’s like a single swim flipper,” she explained. Picking up the fluttery fabric at the bottom of the tail, she inserted the monofin into a hidden opening along the edge, then pulled the stretchy fabric back in place to cover it.
“Voilà!” she said, smiling. “Flukes!”
When everyone was finished prepping their tails, we all held them up.
“We’re quite the rainbow, aren’t we?” said Zadie, whose tail was hot pink.
“It always ends up this way,” said Sirena. “Mermaids are a colorful bunch.”
“Isn’t mine gorgeous!” Mackenzie crowed, scattering audible exclamation points like the glittering sequins on her green Calypso tail.
The last time I’d seen Mackenzie this happy was over Spring Break, when her parents had given her permission to bring a kitten home. But even the thrill of picking Frankie out of a litter seemed to pale in comparison to this.
No two tails were alike, except for Hayden’s and her mom’s. They had ordered matching ones covered
