I surfaced again and swished my tail back and forth, sculling my arms and treading water like a mermaid the way Zadie had taught me. I was trying to decide what to do when I heard a loud shriek from the interior of the island: “GOTCHA!”
Dr. Appleton had found the tunnel that led to the cave!
That did it. My Lovejoy competitive genes kicked in with a vengeance. I took a deep breath and dove down again. When I reached the tangle of roots and vines this time, I grabbed them and pulled with all my might. At first they didn’t budge, but as I kept pulling and tugging, bit by bit they shifted. Not much, but enough for me to at least poke my head through. I could see that this was definitely the entrance to the cave.
But I could also see that this was definitely too dangerous for me to try and explore by myself.
Unlike last time, I didn’t have a headlamp, I didn’t have a rope, and, most importantly, I didn’t have backup. Never swim alone, Sirena had said, and deep down I knew she was right. Thinking about entering the cave on my own reminded me of how I felt about hot sauce—it just wasn’t worth the risk.
Still, I consoled myself as I swam to the surface again for more air, Dr. Appleton would be finding the tunnel by the boulder a tight squeeze. And it wasn’t like she was going to be able to lower herself into the hole in the ground without help.
That meant the score was even for now. We’d both hit a roadblock, and the deciding factor for who got to explore further was the finders keepers law. My best bet was to wait for the witnesses to arrive and stake my claim again in front of them.
There was still no sign of the boats, though. Had my signal not been clear? Was everyone still on the other side of the island looking for me? I weighed my options. While I was waiting I could at least explore a little more around the outside of the cave’s entrance, couldn’t I? There was no harm in that.
Slipping underwater again, I dove back down to the bottom, then swam back and forth in front of the opening, patting the sand beneath me with both hands. Nothing. All I managed to do was dislodge a layer of leaves and debris.
I decided it was probably okay to poke my head through and take another look, which I did. There wasn’t much light to see by, but what there was revealed a whole lot more nothing. Certainly nothing remotely resembling a treasure chest.
This time when I went to pull my head back out, though, my hair caught on one of the roots. I tugged at it impatiently. Still stuck. I twisted and turned, scratching my face in the process, but I couldn’t break free.
Stronger measures were called for. Drawing my knees to my chest, I positioned my body as if preparing for a kick turn in the pool. Steeling myself for what I knew was coming, I thrust out with the shimmertail as hard as I could.
The pain was sharp. I’d yanked out what felt like a fistful of hair. I had to press my lips together hard not to cry out, which would only result in me gulping down water.
But my head was free!
Unfortunately, though, now my tail was not.
My flukes were wedged firmly into the tangle of roots. Taking off the shimmertail was out of the question. I didn’t have time for that. And I was starting to grow short of air. Sirena had said that she used to be able to hold her breath for almost two minutes, back when she was a professional mermaid. But I was just an amateur, and a slightly panicked one at that.
I flailed around, grabbing for something—anything!—to help me escape. My fingers closed on an object lying nearby in the sand. It was round and flat and heavy. A rock. Clutching it, I hammered away at the roots and at my tail, but to no avail. I was really truly stuck.
I floated there for a moment, exhausted, feeling the downward drag of the heavy shimmertail. I wasn’t sure that I had the strength to make it to the surface.
And then a hand appeared in front of me—a pale, skinny hand.
Lucas!
I grabbed him and held on for all I was worth. As he pulled, I mustered all of my remaining strength and yanked, too. Together we finally managed to free my flukes, although not without nearly shredding them.
And then the two of us floated up toward the air and the light and the sun.
EPILOGUE
The water-ski boat was waiting for us when we surfaced. The canoe was tied up behind it. As Artie Olsen and my father pulled me aboard, Bud Jefferson leaned over and plucked Lucas from the water as easily as if he were a fish.
“You had us worried went you went overboard there, son,” Bud said, wrapping him up in a big towel and an even bigger bear hug. Lucas didn’t resist, I noticed.
“Lucas saved my life!” I blurted, and everyone turned and looked at me.
“What on earth were you thinking, going down there alone?” my father thundered.
“Hatcher and R. J. told us everything,” said my mother.
I could tell by the expressions on my parents’ faces that I had given them a fright. I could imagine I was a sight to behold, as Grandma G would say, from the scratches on my face and the bald spot on my poor scalp, which was bleeding profusely, to the rips in the flukes on my shimmertail.
I knew they wanted explanations.
But first I had something I needed to say. “I
