Emily Windsnap and the Monster From the Deep (23 page)

Emily! I won’t tell you again.”

I opened an eye to see Mom pulling back the curtain across the porthole in my bedroom. Outside, an oval moon hung low in a navy sky. Almost full, I thought automatically. We’d been learning about the moon’s cycle at school.

“It’s still night,” I complained as I pulled the quilt over my face and snuggled back into my pillow.

“It’s half past seven,” Mom replied, perching on the edge of my bed. She folded the quilt back and kissed my forehead. “Come on, sweet pea,” she said. “You’ll be late for school.” As she got up, she added under her breath, “Not that you’d miss much if you were. They haven’t exactly taught you anything useful at that place so far.”

She’d left the room before I had a chance to reply.

I let out a heavy sigh as I lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Mom seemed to be really down lately. That was the third time she’d grumbled
about something in the last week. Personally, I couldn’t see what there was to complain about. We were living on a beautiful secret island: Mom, Dad, and me, all together on an elegant old wooden ship half sunk in the golden sand and sparkling water that surround the whole island. Merfolk and humans, together in peace.

I realize that last part isn’t necessarily a requirement in everyone’s ideal living situation, but it comes in handy when your mom’s a human, your dad’s a merman, and you’re half-and-half.

I pulled my bathing suit on and joined Mom at the breakfast table. As with everything else in our home, the table lay on a slant, so I held on to my cereal bowl as I ate.

Dad swam up to the trapdoor next to my seat and pulled himself up to kiss me on the cheek. “Morning, my little starfish,” he said with a smile. “Ready for your ocean studies test?”

“Test me!” I said.

Dad scratched his head. “How big can a giant Japa nese spider crab grow?”

“Ten feet,” I said instantly.

“Very good. Hm. What color is a banded butterfly fish?”

“Black and silver. Too easy!”

“Too pointless, more like,” Mom said under her breath. What was wrong with her?

Dad turned to her with a frown. “Not again!” He sighed. “What is the matter with you? Don’t you want our daughter to do well at school?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching down for Dad’s hand. “It’s just . . .”

“What? What is it? She’s learning a lot; she’s enjoying herself, getting good grades. I couldn’t be more proud.” Dad smiled at me as he talked. I smiled back.

Dad and I hadn’t gotten along all that well when we first came to Allpoints Island. I mean, we didn’t get along badly; it just wasn’t easy. I’d spent most of my life without him, and we didn’t really know what to talk about, or where to start.

I didn’t know he existed at all till recently. It was only a few months ago that I’d even found out about myself — that I became a mermaid when I went into water. It terrified me in the beginning. The first time it happened, I didn’t know what was going on. It was in a school swimming lesson, of all places. But then I got used to it, and I’d sneak out to swim in the sea at
night. That’s how I met my best friend, Shona. She’s a mermaid too. A real, full-time one. She helped me find my dad. When I sneaked into Neptune’s prison and saw him for the first time that was the best day of my life.

I guess it all took a little getting used to. But the last few weeks had been fantastic, once all the trouble with the kraken was sorted out. That’s the most horrific, fearsome sea monster in the world, and I accidentally woke it up!

Since then, Dad and I had been out swimming together every day, exploring the golden seabed around Allpoints Island, racing against the multicolored fish that fill every stretch of sea around here, playing tag among the coral. Dad was officially the BEST dad in the world.

“That’s just it,” Mom was saying. “You couldn’t be more proud. And you have every right to feel proud. Yes, Emily’s coming along in leaps and bounds in . . .” She paused to reach over to the pile of textbooks I’d brought home the previous day. I loved all my schoolbooks. They weren’t like any schoolbooks I’d ever had before, that’s for sure! For one thing, they were all made from the coolest shiny materials, or woven with seaweed and decorated with shells and pearls. And, for another, they were in the swishiest subjects! School had never been so much fun.

“. . . Seas and Sirens,” Mom read from the top one. She picked out a couple more books from the pile. “Or Sailing and Stargazing, or Hair Braiding for Modern Mermaids. I mean!”

“You mean what?” Dad asked, his voice coming out pinched and tight. “Why shouldn’t she learn about these things? It’s her heritage. What exactly don’t you like about it, Mary?”

That’s when I knew something was really wrong. No one ever calls my mom Mary, least of all Dad. Most people call her Mary P. Her middle name’s Penelope, and Dad’s always called her Penny — or his lucky Penny, when they’re being particularly gooey. Which they hadn’t been for a while, now that I thought about it. And while I was thinking about it, I guess Mom had a point. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I loved all my new school subjects. But maybe I did sometimes miss some of my old subjects, just a tiny bit. Or just English, perhaps. I used to love writing stories. I even liked spelling tests! That’s just because I was good at them.

“What’s wrong,” said Mom, “is that while you may be happy for your daughter to learn nothing more than how to brush her hair nicely and tell the time by looking at the clouds, I’d like my daughter to get a real education.”

“‘My daughter,’ ‘your daughter’? You make it
sound as if she’s two different people,” Dad said. Below the floor I could see the water swishing around as he swirled his tail angrily. It splashed up onto the kitchen floor. Something swished and swirled inside me too, stirred up by his words. Was it true? Was I really two different people?

“Yes, well, maybe she is,” Mom snapped, picking up a dish towel and bending down to wipe the floor. They were right. I wasn’t like either of them. I was made up of two halves that didn’t match. The swirling inside me doubled.

Then Mom glanced up at me and her face softened. “I mean, of course she’s not. She’s not two different people at all. It’s not Emily’s fault.” Mom smiled at me, reaching up to hold my hands. I snatched them away, turning my face at the same time so I couldn’t see the hurt look in her eyes. That’s one thing I absolutely can’t stand. Her words didn’t do much to soothe me, either.

And, anyway, it wasn’t fair. She wasn’t being fair. I’d never enjoyed school this much in my life! OK — so maybe it would be nice to write stories sometimes, but so what if I wasn’t learning social studies and science or fractions and French? Who said there was any point to those either? Was I ever really going to need to know how much John earns in a week if he gets 4 percent commission and 3 percent interest? Surely learning
about my surroundings was more important. Knowing which fish were the most dangerous and which were almost friendly. Learning how to look and act like other mermaids, like a real mermaid. Even if I did feel a little silly perching on a rock combing my hair sometimes, at least I was learning how to fit in. Didn’t Mom care about those things? Didn’t she want me to be happy?

I went on eating my breakfast.

Mom drew a breath. “It’s just that it’s two different worlds,” she said in a quiet voice. “And I sometimes wonder if they’re just too different. I mean, look at my life here. What do I do all day? Sunbathe, comb my hair, maybe go to synchro swim a couple of times a week. This isn’t a life for me, Jake. I want more than this.”

She’d been saying things like this quite a bit lately. Only last week she’d complained that there was too much ocean and not enough land, and that it made her feel a bit stranded and lonely. I hadn’t paid much attention at the time. Perhaps I really should have.

No one spoke for ages. Mom and Dad stared at each other. I’d just taken a spoonful of cereal and didn’t want to chew in case it crunched really loudly, so I sat there with my mouth full of cornflakes and milk, waiting for one of them to say something.

“We’ll talk about this later. I need to go out,” Dad said eventually, and I swallowed my mouthful. It was too soggy to chew by then, anyway.

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.