Emily Windsnap and the Siren's Secret (27 page)

We shuffled along the rows of seats to find ours. Right in the center, three rows back. Good seats. We’d see everything from here.

The event was at the seaside edge of the development. In front of us, a hastily thrown-together stage stood right in front of the ocean, so that the sea itself was virtually a part of the stage. A town’s worth of temporary seating had been set up in the space, thanks to Mr. Beeston’s contacts. For the first time in his life, he’d done a great job.

I could hardly concentrate on the show. All I could think was that this was my one and only chance to make Neptune happy. If it didn’t work, that was it. Mission failed, and I’d have to face another of his punishments.

What would it be this time? Would he throw me in a prison like the one Dad had been in for nearly my entire life? Perhaps he’d even put me back down in the sirens’ caves, now that I didn’t have the power to get myself out again.

I took a few deep breaths and tried not to think about it.

A hush fell over the auditorium. Someone was coming onto the stage. A spotlight came up, and I saw who it was.

Mom nudged me. “Mr. Beeston! What on earth has he got to do with this?” she whispered.

I hadn’t told her what we’d organized. She’d spent all week with her parents and hadn’t stopped smiling once. If she knew how high the stakes were, she’d be as worried as I was, and I couldn’t bear to do that to her — not when she was so happy.

Mr. Beeston cleared his throat.

“Thank you for coming here tonight,” he began. “It seems like practically the whole town is here.”

I looked around me in the darkness. The place was packed to the rafters. Every seat was taken, and people were squeezed all around the edges, on the stairs, along the back wall. Good thing it was an outdoor event or we’d probably have broken every fire regulation in the book.

“This is a historic moment, and I am very proud to be bringing it to you,” he went on. “But there is someone else I would like to thank before I go any further.”

His eyes scanned the crowd. They stopped on me — and so did a massive spotlight. I stared up at Mr. Beeston, and he smiled across at me and reached out an arm.

“Someone quite special,” he went on. “Someone who has done more good in her twelve young years than I have achieved in my lifetime. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight would not be possible without Emily Windsnap. Emily, will you stand?”

I shrank lower in my seat. What was he
doing
?

Mom nudged me. “Go on, chicken pie, you’d better do as he says,” she whispered.

I stood awkwardly in front of my seat, burning from the heat of the spotlight shining down on me and all the eyes I could feel staring straight at me.

I’d spent all week trying to avoid anyone’s eyes, and now the entire town was looking at me! Mr. Beeston started clapping, and it spread awkwardly around the whole place. Not a single person there knew why they were clapping — including me!

Eventually, Mr. Beeston indicated for me to sit down, and I sank gratefully back into my seat, my face still on fire and my legs like jelly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “We have brought you to this particular place for a reason. If we are successful here tonight, the performance you are about to see will change your lives; it will change all of our lives. We will talk to you again afterward. For now, though, without further ado, allow me to introduce to you . . . my mother.”

With that, he waved an arm in a grand flourish and left the stage. The spotlight was switched off, and we sat and waited in the growing darkness.

The anticipatory hush turned into whispers and giggles. “His mother?” I heard someone say. “We’ve come all this way to be entertained by an old woman?”

“What’s she going to do?” said another voice. “A clog dance?”

The whispers grew louder, as did the laughter. Soon it seemed the whole place had become restless and impatient.

And then, the sound of whispering was replaced with something else. Something so soft and gentle it could have been the wind, sweeping gently through the crowd, touching everyone, taking away the cold, taking away fear, sadness, leaving nothing in its wake except itself.

It was a song. A siren’s song. It had no words, but its melody was so perfect that it felt familiar. It felt as though we had been born knowing the song, as though everything in nature existed because of the song, grew stronger, brighter, and more beautiful because of it — could hardly survive without it. The song felt like breath itself.

Everywhere, people were craning their necks to see where it was coming from; tears ran down their faces from the sheer beauty of it.

And then the spotlight came on again.

“Look, down there, on the rocks,” someone cried out.

And there she was. Melody. She sat on the rocks, her head slightly bowed, her tail snaking down the length of the rock, her eyes looking into the darkness of the auditorium — bringing us all together.

The applause was like thunder. People stood on chairs, raised their hands high above their heads to clap and cheer and call for more.

Even when Mr. Beeston came back onstage, the applause went on. Eventually, he gave up, and the spotlight fell on Melody for the umpteenth time as she took yet another bow.

At last, the crowd began to quiet down. Mr. Beeston was back on the stage. He was scanning the auditorium. This time when his eyes met mine, he didn’t say anything. He just tilted his head, and I knew what he meant.

I got out of my seat. “’Scuse me, Mom,” I said. “I’ve got to do this.”

I shuffled to the end of the row and made my way to the stage.

Every eye was on me again, but this time it didn’t matter. I knew exactly what I had to do, and what I had to say. Eventually, the crowd hushed enough for me to speak.

“Over the last few weeks, many of you have remembered seeing mermaids,” I began. “Some of you have wondered where these memories came from, if they were real, and if so, why they had been buried for so long.”

I paused as a ripple of whispers spread through the auditorium. People nodding:
Yes,
they were saying,
that happened to me, too
.

I took a breath. “Your memories were real,” I said. “As you have seen tonight, merpeople are real. For many years, the two worlds have been divided. But we need to change this. My family —”

I stopped. The enormity of our task was clogging my throat. There was so much at stake. Suddenly, I didn’t know if I could go through with it. What if we failed? Up here, in front of the whole town? I couldn’t do it. The words froze inside me, refusing to come out of my mouth.

“My family and I recently made a promise.” A voice had come from behind me, continuing from where I’d left off.

I spun around. The spotlight searched the back of the stage for whoever had spoken. And then in the water, it found him.

Dad!

He held out a hand, and I ran over to the water’s edge and grabbed it.

“We made a deal,” he went on. “We committed ourselves to bringing together the world of the mer and the world of humans. And tonight, you can help us do this. If you like what you heard, if you’d like to know more, you must allow the reality of merpeople into your lives, and into your hearts. Tonight’s performance is taking place on land that the council wants to use to build houses on. What you don’t know is that this building work will devastate the nearby community . . . of merpeople.”

Dad paused as a series of gasps and mutters went through the crowd. “I knew it!” I heard someone say. “I told you!”

“Yes,” Dad went on. “There is a town of merpeople living nearby. The folks of Shiprock want nothing more than to carry on with their lives in peace — as I’m sure the people of Brightport do too. Only now,
their
survival is in
your
hands.”

He paused again and took a breath. This was it. The part where he had to convince them they could make a difference.

“Tomorrow, the council will make a decision about this land,” he said. “This decision will devastate Shiprock and its inhabitants. But if we all work together, we
can
stop that from happening.
You
can stop that from happening. If you are with us, if you want more nights like this, if you want to turn this land from a bulldozing disaster into a bridge between two worlds, you
have
to tell the council. Go to their meeting tomorrow. Make them halt the plans. If the town is united, they will listen. Ladies and gentlemen, if we can count on you to do this, please show us your support by joining us now. Some merpeople and humans have already united to try to halt this project. Let’s turn the whole town against it! Thank you.”

With that, he held tightly on to my hand, and we waited to see what would happen next.

I looked out at the auditorium. The first person I noticed was Mom, getting up from her seat. Next to her, Nan and Granddad were standing up too. A moment later, they’d shuffled to the end of the row and were clambering up the steps to join us onstage.

Mom took my hand, Granddad holding firmly on to her other hand. Nan came around to the other side of me.

“Let go,” she said to Dad — and with those two small words she destroyed the hope that had been building so high inside me. After everything that had happened, in front of the whole town, she was still trying to separate us. No! How could she?

“Emily, it’s not what you think,” she said. “Please.”

Dad nodded to me, and I reluctantly let go of his hand. Nan instantly stepped in between us. Then she took my hand in one of hers, and with the other she reached out to Dad.

“We’re your family too, Jake,” she said firmly. “We’ll build this new world together.”

Then she squeezed my hand and turned toward the auditorium. I did the same. Everywhere I looked, people were standing, all clapping, all smiling.

And then someone else was behind me. “Hey,” she said. I turned to see her, in the water beside Melody.

“Shona!” I let go of Mom’s hand and beckoned her over. She swam to my side and took my hand in one of hers. Mom grabbed Shona’s other hand.

I searched out Aaron among the crowd. There he was with his mom, next to Mandy and Millie, with our empty seats around them. He was getting out of his seat. A moment later, Millie got up too. Grabbing Aaron with one hand, Mandy with the other, and nudging Aaron’s mom, she barged her way to the end of the row.

When she got there, she stopped and said something to Mandy and Aaron. Aaron nodded. Mandy hesitated, then whispered something to her parents in the row behind. A moment later, they got up too, and all of them headed for the stage.

Millie squeezed in between Mom and Shona. “Well, you’re not starting a new world without
me,
” she said, taking a hand of each of theirs in hers. Mandy squashed in between Millie and Shona and her parents, and Aaron’s mom joined the line next to Mom. Aaron squeezed in next to me and took my hand in his. For a moment, I thought perhaps Neptune had given us our powers back. My whole body tingled as I felt his fingers curl around mine.

“Yes,” he said with a shy smile. “I can feel it too.” Then he leaned close to whisper in my ear. “But I don’t think it has anything to do with Neptune.”

Then Mandy nodded toward the auditorium. “Look,” she said. I looked up — and I could hardly believe what was happening.

People were getting up from their seats in droves. Not to leave — but to join us on the stage. Rows and rows of people holding hands, joining us, introducing themselves to each other, coming up to shake Melody’s hand, to congratulate her, talk to my dad, and then join the ever-growing line of people holding hands. Soon it was impossible to tell where the stage ended and the auditorium began.

“We did it,” Aaron whispered in my ear. “We really did it.”

Just then I heard splashing behind me. I turned to see some people in the water.

“It’s folks from Shiprock!” Shona gasped. “They’re joining us!”

A line of them, stretching out as far as you could see, were swimming toward us. And then I recognized a face among them. Sharp-featured, swimming briskly, and followed by a line of pupils from Shiprock School — Mrs. Sharktail! Even she was joining us! That was when I truly knew we’d done it.

I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I didn’t know if any words would be able to get past the tears in my throat, so instead, I just squeezed Aaron’s hand as hard as I could. I shut my eyes and, for what felt like the first time since we’d been back in Brightport, I let out a long, slow breath.

“Come on,” Aaron whispered. “Let’s get out of here.” He glanced over at Mandy and Shona. “You coming?”

“We’ll follow you in a bit,” Mandy replied.

We sneaked through the crowds, ducking to get past people, slipping through gaps, edging along the sides until we were out in the cool evening air.

Brightport was completely deserted as we walked to the pier, talking at high speed about everything that had happened, laughing and repeating it all to each other.

We walked along in silence, our fingers still linked, watching the waves brushing the sand, listening to the jangle of the pebbles as they were swept out again.