The Tail of Emily Windsnap (17 page)

He turned to the class. “Folks, we have a visitor today. He’s come to give us a special talk.”

Mr. Beeston stood in front of the class, a large bag in his hand. “Now then, children,” he said. “Listen carefully. I’m going to teach you about lighthouses, and the dangers of the sea.”

He opened the bag. “But before we start, let’s all have a doughnut. . . .”

I slipped quietly out of the pool as Mr. Beeston held everyone’s attention. It was almost as if I’d been forgotten. I would be soon!

“Thank you,” I mouthed as I passed behind the class. He nodded solemnly in reply.

I crept away from the pool, changed quickly, and slipped outside. Looking back at the building, I smiled.

“Goodbye, 7C,” I whispered. Then I turned and walked away.

We left that night. Mom, Dad, and me, off to a whole new world where who knew what was waiting for us. All I knew for sure was that my life as a mermaid had only just begun.

But remember, it’s just between you and me!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Lots of people have helped this book make its way from my computer into your hands. I would especially like to thank:

Mum, for getting rid of all the pounding hearts and lurching stomachs;

Dad, for noticing all sorts of things that everyone else missed;

Peter B., for the title;

Kath, for her eagle-eyed nitpickiness;

Helen, for everything I’ve learned and gained from working with her at Cornerstones;

Cameron, for lending me books about sea life with great pictures and fantastic facts;

Cath, who hasn’t actually had anything to do with the book, but has been a brilliant pal all the time I’ve been writing it.

With extra special thanks to:

Lee, for an inspirational friendship, and for being so in tune with me and my characters;

Jill, for sharing the journey, and for having endless discussions about mermaids without complaining once;

Catherine, for all her support and guidance, and for finding Emily such a good home;

And Judith and Fiona, for being the perfect editors.

I swam around my cell for the hundredth time. “Let me out!” I yelled, scratching my hands down the rocky walls. My voice echoed around me. Finally, I slumped in the corner.

The next thing I knew, the door was rattling. I leaped up as Mr. Beeston came in carrying a net basket filled with shellfish and seaweed. He placed it on a rocky ledge beside me. Water crashed around me as I reached for it, throwing me against the sides.

“See that?” he snarled as I grabbed the ledge to stop myself from being thrown back against the wall. “That’s virtually constant now. And it’ll keep getting worse, until you’ve done what you need to do.”

I didn’t reply.

“Eat your breakfast,” he said, nudging a finger at the basket. “You need to be strong.”

“I don’t have to do what you say.” The edges of my eyes stung.

“Really? Well you won’t be interested in our new visitor, then. Kyle tells me he’s found someone who might make you feel differently.”

“A visitor?”

“A friend.”

I quickly rubbed my eyes. “You’ve got her here? But how did you know —”

“Eat up quickly,” he growled in a voice that made my skin itch. “It’s time for a reunion.”

We swam up toward the surface, Mr. Beeston’s hand gripping my wrist so tight it burned. The water grew lighter and warmer as we made our way along tunnels and out into clear water. He pulled me down under a clump of rocks, scattering a group of striped triggerfish. A metal gate filled a gap between the rocks.

“Up there,” he said.

My heart thudded. I was really going to see Shona! But what if she wouldn’t speak to me after everything that had happened? She’d probably hate me even more now, for dragging her into it again. I had to explain. “Can I see her on my own?” I asked.

“What for?”

“It’s personal.”

“Ah, friendship, so sweet,” Mr. Beeston snarled, his throat gurgling into a laugh. He gripped my arm, his broken nails scratching my skin. “You can have five minutes,” he said. Then he fiddled with a lock, and the gate bounced open. I swam through it, along a narrow crack. “And don’t try anything smart,” he called through the bars.

“I won’t.”

I swam all the way up to the surface. I was inside a cave, in a tiny pool. Gray pillars lined the edges, their reflections somber in the greeny blue water. A tiny shaft of sun lit up the stalactites hanging from the ceiling like frozen strands of spaghetti. Where was she?

I swam between the pillars, where the pool opened out. Slimy brown rocks lay all around. Thick clusters like bunches of candles protruded upward from the water, black as though they’d been singed.

“Shona?” I called.

And then I saw her. Sitting on one of the rocks, her back to me.

But it wasn’t Shona.

Her hair was short and black. She turned around. For a moment, she looked shocked. Then she forced her angular face into a twisted smile.

“Hi there, fish girl,” she said. There was a smug look on her face, but I was pretty sure her voice wobbled a little. “Long time no see.”

Liz Kessler
is the author of the books in the best-selling Emily Windsnap series as well as the Philippa Fisher books. She lives in Cornwall, England.