To Catch a Mermaid (16 page)

There, he’d said it — he’d said it all. But it didn’t make him feel any better.

Mertyle’s eyes suddenly rolled back and she fell to the ground. Boom dropped to his knees beside her. “Mertyle?” He shook her. “Mertyle?” He knew that words could sting but he didn’t know they could kill. What had he done? “Mertyle?”

“Huh?” She opened her eyes and sat up. “I don’t feel so good.”

Winger’s words rang in Boom’s head —
Ick is fatal!
They had to get some help. “We’ll have to tell Halvor. I can’t take you to a hospital by myself.”

“Hospital?” She clenched her jaw. “But the hospital is outside.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to leave the house, Mertyle. You have to go or you might . . . die.”

She took a deep breath. “I might die?”

Boom nodded. “Fungus is a very serious condition.”

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “But then we have to come right back home, just in case today is the day Mom comes back.” She started madly scratching her chin. “How do we get rid of Daisy?”

“We’ll think of something. But first I have to go downstairs and get the baby out of the closet.”

But when he got downstairs, Halvor was standing outside the closet door, about to hang up the party guests’ coats.

Chapter Twenty-two:

Unwanted Guests

W
ait!” Boom yelled, squeezing through the clump of little girls — through ruffles and lace and plastic doll limbs. “Don’t hang up the coats. The party is canceled.” He blocked the closet door. The knob pressed into the small of his back.

“Don’t be rude,” Halvor said. “What’s the matter with you, leaving these poor little girls to catch pneumonia on the porch?” He dumped a load of velvet and fake fur coats into Boom’s arms. “Show Mertyle’s guests to the living room, for sure.” He started humming again as he strode back to the kitchen.

Daisy Mump wrapped her arms around her doll, then kicked Boom in the shin.

“Ouch! What’s
your
problem?” Boom asked.

“You’re a rude turd,” Daisy said. “It was very windy out there. If I catch a pneumonia, my dad will sue your dad.”

“I’m rude? I’m not the one who invited myself to someone else’s house,” he pointed out.

“You should be honored,” Daisy told him.

Boom peered over the top of the coat pile. Honored? Daisy Mump needed to take a long look in the dictionary at the definition of “honored.” Clearly she thought it meant
repulsed.
“Whatever,” Boom mumbled, wanting desperately to return the kick.

“So?” Daisy demanded. “Where’s the party?”

“Go home. There is no party.” He shoved the coats at Daisy.

“I say there is a party.” She shoved the coats back, then led her followers through the narrow arched opening into the Brooms’ tiny living room.

Boom didn’t like going into that room. Memories floated around in there like escaped balloons. Memories of his mother filling out paperwork for the latest fingerprint investigation. Memories of the whole family playing Scrabble and Monopoly. Mr. and Mrs. Broom had shared the pullout couch since the small house had only one bedroom, and the four of them would squeeze together to listen as Mr. Broom read
Huckleberry Finn
or
The Wind in the -Willows.

After the unwanted guests had crowded into the living room, Boom slowly opened the closet door, letting in just enough light to search for the merbaby. The light bounced right back at him, reflected from two watery eyes that peered over the tops of Halvor’s fishing boots. “It’s okay,” Boom whispered. The baby made a soft gurgling sound. Boom motioned to Mertyle, who had been waiting at the top of the stairs. “Hurry,” he said.

She ran down the stairs and scooped up the merbaby. The two looked at each other for a moment, and though Boom didn’t understand much about his sister, he did understand the look that passed between Mertyle and the baby. They loved each other, they really did.

Mertyle rushed the baby back upstairs as Boom threw the coats on the closet floor, hoping that each one got covered in green slime, especially Daisy’s. He closed the closet door, trapping the scent of mud so it would permeate each coat. It would be Daisy’s own fault for inviting herself over.

A clap of distant thunder rattled the single-pane windows. Mr. Broom poked his head out of the kitchen. “It’s coming,” he stated, his gaze flying wildly about.

“Dad?”

“Did you hear that? It’s coming, Boom. The twister.”

Boom remembered the captain’s words of warning and he took a step toward his father, wanting to comfort him.

“We must find a safe place,” Mr. Broom urged. His eyes rested on the closet door. “We must hide from the twister.” He opened the door and leapt into the pile of coats. “Get your sister. There’s room for us all in here.”

“Sure, Dad. I’ll get Mertyle,” Boom said. “You just wait in there until the storm has passed.” He closed the door. Yet another aspect of his life he didn’t want the little girls to know about. Hide the stinky mermaid, hide the fatal Ick, and hide the frightened father.

“We’re not leaving unless you show us that doll,” Daisy threatened from the living room.

“Did you hear that?” Boom yelled up the stairs.

“Yes,” Mertyle yelled back. “I’ll figure something out.”

Like a sentry, Boom took his place under the archway, determined that no one would sneak by and see anything they weren’t supposed to see. Daisy and three other girls sat crammed together on the checkered couch. The two remaining girls nestled in Mr. Broom’s reading chair. Each girl had a ribbon in her hair that matched the ribbon in her doll’s hair. They held their dolls in their laps, with the painted faces pointing out like a little plastic audience waiting for the show to begin.

Boom started to sweat. He could see no way of pulling this off. It was only a matter of time before the baby started thumping, or shrieking, or decided to go surfing again. Only a matter of time before Halvor tried to kill the merbaby with an axe in the name of Viking revenge. Boom paced, flashing Daisy the evil eye every time she started to squirm off the couch. No Mump would get her hands on the merbaby. When he and Winger sold the Meet the Merbaby tickets, none of the Mumps would get one. He’d make them wait in line, in the rain and snow, and never would they get a ticket. Well, Hurley could get a ticket, but only if he agreed to a rematch. Only then.

“Boom, fluff the couch pillows for the guests,” Halvor ordered. Boom ran into the living room and gave each pillow a good, solid kick as the girls screamed in terror.

“Boom, turn up the heat so the little girls don’t get chilled,” Halvor barked.

Boom pretended to turn up the heat, but he didn’t actually turn the knob. Why should these intruders get to bask in the glow of precious, expensive warmth that he wasn’t allowed to bask in? He ran back to the archway.

“Why is your house so ugly?” a girl asked.

“Why would anyone put dandelions in a jar?” a redheaded girl inquired. “Dandelions are weeds.”

Mertyle must have tried to decorate the room, because more jars than usual sat on the cluttered shelves, crammed with multicolored dandelions. A single paper chain, made of newspaper, hung above the couch. Cutouts from catalogues were taped to the walls. What her attempt lacked in festivity, it made up for in sheer craziness.

“My mother hired a decorator for my party,” a girl with frizzy hair boasted, plucking at the paper chain with contempt.

“Appetizers,” Halvor announced. With a grand, sweeping gesture he presented a doily-covered tray of greasy fish -kebobs. Daisy and her cohorts crinkled their noses and pushed the tray away.

“My Faraway Girl Doll, Adelaide of Australia, gets diarrhea if she eats fish,” the redheaded girl pointed out.

“My Faraway Girl Doll, Beatrice of Bavaria, thinks that fish stink,” said frizzy head.

“Where are the finger sandwiches?” one asked.

“Where are the cream-filled cupcakes?” whined another.

Halvor tapped his heavy boot on the floor and furrowed his brow, clearly not appreciating the fish comments. “I’ll just put the tray over here so you can help yourselves,” he said, making room on the coffee table. “I’ll bring everyone a nice hot cup of coffee.”

“Coffee will stunt my growth,” Daisy said matter-of-factly to Halvor, “and I don’t want to grow up and be short and fat just like you.”

Halvor mumbled something in Norwegian, then left the room. Boom would have bet his last three dollars and all his future mermaid ticket earnings that Daisy Mump would grow up to be short and fat whether she drank coffee or not. A simple glance across the street at her gene pool proved that.

How in the world could he make these girls go away? Dr. Buncle’s bad gas might have cleared the room. The old guy was probably still shuffling down the walkway.

“This party stinks,” Daisy complained.

“Great. Then go home.”

“Not until we see Molly Mermaid.” The girls nodded and squirmed. It was possible that they drooled as well, because a couple of them wiped their lower lips. How could anyone get so excited about a doll? It wasn’t like a doll did anything. It wasn’t like a good kicking game, where the players had to have skill to survive, where a hot summer day tested endurance, and pouring rain tested dexterity. What did a Faraway Girl Doll test? One’s ability to spend a parent’s money — that’s what.

At that moment, Mertyle made her grand entrance. Actually, she had probably hoped it would be grand, but it wasn’t. She tripped over the hem of her long skirt and stumbled into the room, plopping herself in the chair that Fluffy the cat had claimed. She arranged her turban and pulled the turtleneck to the middle of her chin. Boom motioned that her fuzzy ankle was showing, so she quickly covered it.

“You look weird,” Daisy told her. “Where’s the doll?”

“The doll is taking a nap.” The girls nodded, as if this were a perfectly reasonable explanation. “We will have to reschedule the party for another day.”

“Then we’ll just wait for her to wake up.” Daisy folded her arms and glared at Mertyle. Mertyle glared back.

“Do you have anything else to eat?” the redheaded girl asked.

Mertyle tried her best to be pleasant. “I wish we had cream-filled cupcakes and finger sandwiches, but I didn’t have time to order them.” She reached forward and pinched one of the fish kebobs between her fingers, sticking out her pinky as she ate it. “This, however, is the next best thing,” she lied, licking her lips as if she had just eaten a macaroon. “I have never tasted such a delicious appetizer.”

“I’m not eating that filth. Wake Molly Mermaid up,” Daisy insisted. “We want to see her right now.”

“We mustn’t interrupt her beauty sleep,” Mertyle said, scratching under her turtleneck. She grimaced as she scratched her back against the chair. The chair rocked as she scratched harder. “Let’s reschedule for next Sunday.”

“Get the doll!” Daisy threw one of the pillows across the room. It hit Mr. Broom’s painting of an amber sunset settling over a sleepy harbor. The painting fell to the floor with a loud thunk. Mertyle gasped. Another thunk followed, from upstairs.

Boom stomped right up to Daisy Mump. “That was my mom’s favorite painting,” he angrily told her.

“So what? I’ve seen better paintings on fire hydrants.” Daisy stood on the couch, eye to eye with Boom. “My mom says that paintings of the ocean are boring.”

“They’re not boring,” Mertyle cried. “They’re beautiful. My dad’s a master.”

“My mom says that your dad is washed up.”

Boom heard a scurrying sound and turned to find Mertyle charging at Daisy. She wasn’t moving very fast because of the extra-long skirt. He actually had to hold her back. She was crazed with anger. He understood crazed with anger.

Another thump sounded from upstairs.

“I’ve got an idea. Let’s go up to Mertyle’s room to see the doll,” Daisy said, shoving her stout self off the couch.

“No!” Boom and Mertyle cried. Boom felt as though the painting wasn’t the only thing that would come crashing down — like the moment before a pot boils over and scalds the cook. All faces turned to the ceiling as the thumping continued. What the heck was that baby doing now — swinging from the curtains?

“Boom,” Mertyle insisted. “It would be rude of me to leave my guests. Please go get the doll.”

“Doll?” The fuzz had obviously gone to Mertyle’s brain.
Sure, no problem,
he thought.
I’ll just go upstairs and get a doll that . . . DOESN’T EXIST.
What a day. Totally nuts.

He stomped upstairs, conjuring a plan along the way. He’d pretend to look for the doll and then tell everyone it had been stolen. The girls would leave, Halvor would take Mertyle to the hospital, and Boom and Winger would start making the tickets. And when the storm passed, Mr. Broom would come out of the closet.

Boom paced a bit just inside the bedroom door, guessing at the amount of time needed to pretend to look for something that didn’t exist. A gust of cold air hit him in the back of his neck. Why was the bedroom window open? He went to close it but tripped over something that lay on the floor next to Mertyle’s bed. He picked it up and found himself staring into the painted green eyes of a doll with long black hair and a fabric tail. A tag read,
MOLLY MERMAID.
That reject fish had granted another one of Mertyle’s wishes. Boom squeezed the doll as hard as he could, hoping its head might pop off. He thought about kicking it out the window, until he noticed that green slime covered the windowsill.