The Mermaid's Mirror Read online

  So I can see the mermaid, thought Lena. “Why wouldn’t I?” she said. “I mean, if I ever got to be a really good surfer.”

  “Isn’t that where your father almost . . . ?”

  “What?” said Lena.

  “Not to mention—” Ani broke off quickly.

  Lena stared. “Not to mention what?”

  Ani glanced back at the shore. “I think we should call it a day. Why don’t we dry off?”

  “Wait. What were you going to say?”

  Ani refused to answer. “Nothing. Really. Let’s get out.”

  Chapter 15

  Lena and Henry developed a nonverbal relationship. When Max was yammering on about cars, they pantomimed snoring. When he whined about how hard his college classes were, they used their thumb and finger to play tiny violins. When Pem giggled over-brightly at some attempt at humor by Max, they rolled their eyes and pretended to vomit.

  Sometimes Henry was already plugged into his iPod when Lena climbed in the back seat. Then he just nodded at her and returned his attention to his music. Lena figured there were days when he couldn’t even muster up the enthusiasm for mockery.

  “Bye,” called Lena as she hopped out of the car one afternoon. “Thanks, Max.”

  “Call me later,” said Pem.

  “Yep.” Lena waved at Henry, who made a “Save me!” face. Giggling, she watched Max drive away, and went into the house.

  “You’re home early,” said her mom.

  “Oh,” said Lena. She had never told her mom about getting rides home from Max. Lately her mom had arrived home from work later than Lena got home from school, so there was no need to account for her time. But it looked like today was the day. “I got a ride home,” she said.

  “You did? That’s nice,” said her mom, frowning at her laptop screen. “Darn it. They’ve double-booked the lower ballroom that day.” She began to tap madly on the keyboard.

  “Mom,” said Cole. “Let’s go to the beach.” He was holding his Nerf football.

  “Pretty soon, sweetie,” said their mom. “I have to fix something for work.”

  “I’ll take him,” said Lena.

  “Oh, that would be great, honey,” said her mom. “I’ll try to join you guys when I finish.”

  “No problem. Come on, bud. Let’s beach it.”

  Cole rocketed out the door, football tucked under his arm like he was running for a goal.

  As they strolled down the street, Cole chattered about his most beloved subject. “You know what, Lena?You know who my favorite player is?”

  “No.”

  “Ronde Barber. He’s a cornerback. So maybe I’ll be a cornerback when I grow up. He holds the record for . . .”

  Lena made sounds that indicated she was listening, although her mind was on surfboards. If she had her own, would she want a long board or a short board?

  As they neared the beach parking lot, Lena could see Max’s car parked in the lot. The windows were rolled down, and two dark heads leaned close together.

  Maybe they’re just talking, she thought.

  But even at this distance, it was obvious the occupants of that car had not come to the beach to admire the view.

  With a jolt, Lena realized that Pem’s relationship with Max had made the shift from friendly to physical . . . and Pem had not told her.

  Thinking back over the past week, Lena felt like smacking her forehead. Pem had become more relaxed in the presence of Max-the-College-Guy, and Lena had figured it was Pem’s natural confidence. Now she realized it was because Pem and Max had moved beyond casual rides home, and into parked cars.

  “Come on, Coley,” she called, and ran down the beach path.

  Cole raced after her.

  Lena breathed easier once she reached the sand. Wading into the surf, she felt the familiar delicious shock of cold, followed by a feeling of warmth as her skin adjusted to the water temperature. She stood still for a minute while little waves washed over her feet, a constant, hypnotic ebb and flow.

  Cole dashed toward a flock of seagulls, scattering them. The birds rose lazily into the air and settled down on the sand again a few yards away.

  Lena stared out at the sea for a few minutes. Where are you, mermaid? Then she walked back up the beach and sat down. She dug her toes into the top layer of soft, warm sand and into the chilly layer underneath. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would spend the rest of her life searching the waves for a creature that would never appear again.

  “Want to play catch?” called Cole.

  Lena opened her eyes. She didn’t really want to play catch, but he looked so small and hopeful that she couldn’t say no. She grinned up at him, then rolled over quickly, catching him by the knees. He squealed, his legs buckling, and sat down in the sand.

  “That’s not catch!” He laughed. “That’s a tackle.”

  “I know,” said Lena. “Because I’m an awesome football player, and you never knew it.”

  “You are?” He looked amazed.

  She stood up, holding out her hand, and he grabbed it, pulling himself up. “Well, not really. But I’m an excellent tackler. Or wait . . . no, I meant TICKLER!” She caught him in her arms and gently took him down to the sand again, tickling him.

  He laughed and squirmed. Finally she helped him up, his blond hair full of sand and his cheeks rosy. They tossed the Nerf football back and forth for a while, then Lena said, “Time to head home, bud.”

  Cole didn’t complain, just followed her back up the beach and across the gravel parking lot—which was blissfully free of classic Mustangs. When they reached the sidewalk, Cole took her hand, this time chattering about his teacher, Mr. Neil, and the classroom’s hamsters.

  As Lena held his hand, she thought, This is what’s important. Not elusive sea creatures that are possibly all in my head. A rush of love swept over her, and she squeezed his hand, murmuring, “Really? You might get to bring Nutmeg and Cinnamon home some weekend? That’s so cool.”

  When they got home, their dad’s car was in the driveway.

  “Dad’s home!” cried Cole, and he turned to Lena with wide eyes. “Let’s surprise him.”

  “Okay,” said Lena. “We’ll sneak in through the garage door instead of the sliding door.”

  They entered the garage from the side and went to the door leading to the kitchen. Lena turned the knob quietly and eased open the door. She could hear her parents’ voices in the family room, but they couldn’t see the kitchen door. She tiptoed inside, and Cole followed.

  “. . . not the right time,” she heard her dad say.

  “Yes, it is. Brian, you can’t keep putting it off. It’s not fair to her! How do you think Lena’s going to feel when she finds out the truth?”

  Lena froze when she heard her mom’s voice, usually so calm, raised to a cry.

  “Allie, I told you I just need a little more time. Don’t you think I’ve had enough going on? Starting a new job, and—”

  “You’re trying to pretend it’s not happening, but it is. We can’t go on like this!”

  Lena had an overwhelming desire to push Cole back out the door so he wouldn’t hear their parents fighting, but he was already standing next to her, his face dismayed. She put her arm around him and said, “It’s okay, Coley. They’re just having a disagreement. Just like you and Austin do sometimes.”

  His lower lip trembled. Their parents never fought in front of them.

  “Mom,” said Lena, stepping into view.

  There was a shocked silence.

  Mom walked into the kitchen and took note of Cole’s expression. “Oh, honey.” She put her arms around him. “Sorry you heard that. Dad and I aren’t mad. We’re just talking.”

  He clutched her, and she stroked his hair. “Did you and Lena have fun at the beach?”

  Cole nodded wordlessly.

  Lena looked at her dad. He looked back at her, trying to smile and failing.

  What’s not fair to me? she thought. What’s going on?

  �
��We wanted to surprise Dad,” said Cole.

  “Good job, bud,” said their dad, and he opened his arms. Cole ran to him. Then Dad reached out an arm. “Group hug?” he asked.

  Lena walked over to them, and after a moment, Mom followed. The four of them stood holding one another, as if they would never let go.

  Chapter 16

  Consoled by cuddling and thirty minutes on his Mindbender game, Cole recovered from his parents’ argument right away. During dinner, he described in detail the battle between the robot dogs and the ninja cats on his game, then he stopped talking as he fell upon his dessert—a chocolate-chip brownie.

  Mom picked at her food, while Dad tried to overcompensate by talking animatedly to Cole and questioning Lena about school. She responded with short, unsatisfying answers, and he gave up.

  If you’re keeping things from me, she thought, I don’t feel bad keeping things from you.

  After dinner, Lena loaded the dishwasher while her mom watered the flowers in the backyard. Her dad and Cole lay on the couch, reading a book. Lena hovered at the sliding door for a minute, wondering if she should go talk to her mom, or just leave her alone.

  As if reading her mind, her dad said, “Don’t you have homework, Lena?”

  The words Don’t you have something to tell me, Dad? were bitter in her mouth, but Lena swallowed them and turned to leave the room. She stopped to open the coat closet. I need my—Closing her eyes, she fought down a wave of panic. Okay, this is not even funny anymore. This must be some bizarre syndrome: looking for something and not knowing what it is.

  She forced herself to do some homework before she went online to chat, but she felt annoyed by everyone’s banter as she watched variously colored lines of text scroll by. Kai opened a private window:

  Kaiborg: Ur quiet tonite.

  Sea_girl: *shrug*

  Kaiborg: Everything ok?

  Sea_girl: Sure, the rents are just bugging me.

  Kaiborg: Want me to come over? ;-)

  “No,” Lena said out loud, then felt guilty. I kind of suck as a girlfriend, she thought. I should be all lovey and telling him how awesome he is all the time. She typed an answer that she knew would make him happy.

  Sea_girl: I wish! U would make everything right. <3

  Kaiborg: I’m calling u now.

  Lena sighed. Well, that backfired. Now instead of typing words he wanted to hear, she would have to speak them. Her cell rang. “Be a good girlfriend,” she told herself, and answered the phone.

  At eight o’clock, Lena heard her dad going through the bedtime routine with Cole—tooth-brushing and bath time. Lena heard Cole singing in the tub, his voice echoing in the tiled bathroom, “I love to go swimmin’ with bowlegged women and swim between their knees . . . swim between their knees . . .”

  She grinned. Her dad had taught him that song.

  After his bath, Cole came to her room and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  He opened the door and ran to her. “Night, Lena.”

  She hugged him, inhaling his freshly shampooed hair. “G’night, Cole Dog.”

  He giggled, as he did every time she called him that. “I’m not a dog!”

  “Yes, you are. You’re my dawg.” She hugged and kissed him. “Sweet dreams.”

  “Sweet dreams.” He left, and Lena got up to close her door. She looked across the hall to his room, where their dad was sitting on Cole’s bed, holding a Magic Tree House book. Lena always thought of her dad as a sunny, happy guy—with his California-boy blond hair and easy grin—but right now his whole body was slumped and his eyes were focused on the floor. It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked so miserable. When he glanced up at her, she signed I love you to him, and he smiled, blinking a little.

  She went downstairs and found her mom crashed on the couch, watching a rerun of Top Chef and eating a candy bar.

  Her mom looked up at her guiltily. “This show is more fun to watch when you eat junk food,” she said, indicating the candy.

  “Yep,” said Lena. “And you didn’t eat much dinner.”

  Her mom returned her gaze to the TV, not answering. She reached up to twist one of her diamond stud earrings. They were a wedding present from Lena’s dad; she never took them off.

  Lena waited a few minutes, then said, “Mom?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “What’s not fair to me?”

  Her mom tensed. She hit Pause on the remote, and stared at Lena for a long time before she finally said, “I’m really sorry, Lena. I wish—” She hesitated, then said, “It’s not for me to tell you.”

  Lena stared back until she felt tears approach, then she left the room.

  Lena heard a soft knock at her bedroom door.

  She opened her eyes, disoriented. Her light was still on—she must have fallen asleep while she was reading. She squinted at her clock radio: 12:32.

  Then she heard Cole’s voice. “Lena?” he called softly.

  She jumped out of bed and opened her door.

  He stood there in his pajamas, hair tousled, shielding his eyes against the light in her room. “I woke up,” he said.

  “I see that. Come in, bud.”

  Cole shuffled into the room and climbed up on her bed. He slid his feet under her covers and pulled the quilt up to his chin. “Can you turn the light out?” he asked.

  Lena obliged, then lay down on the bed next to him. When he was little, Cole used to come into her room in the middle of the night sometimes after he’d had a bad dream. But he hadn’t done that for a long time.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I woke up. I thought I heard Mom and Dad yelling again. But I got up, and it was dark.”

  “Aw, it was just a dream, bud. Everything’s okay.”

  Cole sighed, already half-asleep. His fingers stroked the satiny moon on her quilt. “Will you sing me a song?”

  Lena put her head on the pillow next to him. “Sure.” She thought for a minute, then sang very softly:

  “By the light

  of the blueberry moon

  we sang this song

  in Lena’s room . . .”

  She repeated the verse once more, then waited to see if Cole had fallen asleep.

  “Sing it again,” he mumbled.

  She smiled and sang the short verse again—twice—getting softer with each line. When she had finished, Cole’s breathing was regular and deep.

  “Love you, buddy,” she whispered. She lay awake in the dark for a long time, her own fingers worrying the satin moon. Finally she got out of bed, tucking the quilt closely around her brother.

  Still wearing yesterday’s clothes, Lena went downstairs and took her jacket and stocking cap out of the hall closet. She unlocked the kitchen door and went out through the garage. Opening the side door, she stepped out into the darkness.

  She shivered and pulled her coat closer as she reached the sidewalk. There was a fine, misty rain falling, which made the night seem even colder and darker. She headed down the street toward the beach, glancing back at her house once to make sure no lights had come on.

  I’ll be back before anyone else wakes up, she thought.

  She peered warily around as she walked. Anyone out wandering around in the middle of the night could not be up to any good. A wry grin quirked her lips. Unlike me, who is so sane and sensible.

  She turned onto the paved bike path above the beach that led to Magic Crescent Cove. She kept her eyes on the path as she walked, since it was so dark. She didn’t want to trip and fall. That would be just her luck: sneak out, fall, break her ankle, and have to lie here in the path until morning, until some jogger or bicyclist came along.

  She picked her way along the path cautiously, occasionally pausing to lift her eyes to the sea. Without admitting it, she was hoping to see a head out there in the waves. And not the head of a dolphin or a sea lion.

  This obsession must be another symptom, she thought. Whatever my particular mental illness is, it makes me halluc
inate fairy-tale creatures and look for things without knowing what they are. Oh, and sleepwalk. Can’t forget that. At least I didn’t sleepwalk my way out here this time.

  Lena’s jacket was wet now—she hadn’t thought to bring an umbrella. She stood uncertainly for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to return home. She would have to hang her coat somewhere to dry where her parents wouldn’t see it. She frowned down the path and kept walking. She would just go as far as the edge of Magic’s.

  Shivering, Lena came to the park bench viewpoint on the walking path and sank down to rest. She gazed out at the sea. The blackness of the ocean met the blackness of the sky. The regular sweep of light from the Pelican Point Lighthouse whirled in the distance.

  Shoulders hunched against the rain, she thought, So this is what craziness feels like. Wandering around outside in the middle of the night, in the rain, looking for something that doesn’t exist, and even if it did . . . I can’t see it now, because of the rain and the dark!

  Lena stood up, giving one final look at the sea, then turned her face up to the sky. She closed her eyes as the rain slid down her face like tears, and whispered, “I just wish I knew for sure.”

  She remained standing, emptying her mind, visualizing the smooth interior of a conch shell. And like a conch shell, her mind filled with the sound of the ocean.

  As she stood in stillness, her soul opening like a night-blooming flower, words floated into her mind: “I beheld you, child.”

  Lena opened her eyes. Where did that come from? She looked around, although she knew that the words were only in her head. “Beheld” was not a word she had ever used in her life. But the sentence had formed in her mind as fully as if it had been spoken in her ear. Heart beating faster, she looked out at the black ocean again. It was as if she had asked for a sign and been given one.