I breathed sleepily and let Tallulah sink into my side, but minutes later Maris interrupted the moment of satisfaction
28
by throwing the car into park. I crashed into the back of her headrest.
Tallulah sat up, and for a second, we all just stared out the window. Across the river, the city of Minneapolis shone with cool steel and glass, its buildings seemingly huddled together for warmth.
I dragged myself out of the car and followed my sisters down the winding path and over the wobbly footbridges. Maris carried our bag and led our line. When we got to the bottom, my feet sank into the sated ground. A blue heron was wading tentatively in the shallows at the base of the Stone Arch Bridge. The river was so high from the winter runoff that it climbed the tree trunks along the bank. Other than the birds, there was no one else around. That was good. It was impossible to strip down with an audience— not to mention let the metamorphosis take over.
Maris pulled our bag over her head and set it on the ground beside her. She waded in. The water lapped at her ankles. She pushed her shoulders back and arched. Pavati’s long skirt dragged in the water. In the middle of the river, a duck stretched its neck and shook off the cold. That caught my attention. If ducks were complaining . . .
“You know what? Forget it,” I said. “I’m not doing it. Not this early. No way.” Tallulah startled, and Maris and Pavati turned around slowly to stare at me. “If you’d only waited. Would a few more weeks kill you?” I hated sounding like a baby about this, but I hated the cold. I mean, I
really
hated the cold. Maris raised her eyebrows to suggest that big boys didn’t act like this.
“It’s always cold,” she said.
29
“Really? Have you ever swum the river this time of year?” I gesticulated wildly at the swollen waterway.
Maris looked at me as if I were a petulant child.
“I’ll do whatever you say when it comes to Hancock. But I’m not getting in that river, Maris. You can
drive
my ass north.”
Tallulah leaned toward me, her hand on my lower back. “Come on,” she said to Maris. “I think compromise might be a good thing right now. And it might be useful to keep the car.”
Pavati looked to Maris for direction, and Maris considered Tallulah’s pleading expression. She conceded with a quick nod, and Pavati shrugged. She wrung the water out of her long skirt and picked up our bag.
We retraced our steps back to the car, and when Maris put it into gear with a rough jerk, Tallulah laid her head against the window, saying, “Play nice,” though I wasn’t sure whom she was admonishing.
A stream of obscenities flowed steadily under Maris’s breath. I would have never won this battle without Tallulah, and it put Maris in a sour mood. Fortunately, she was opting to give me the silent treatment. That was good. It gave me room to think.
Pavati passed me a box of saltines and a bottle of water, and I mouthed the words
Thank you.
It had now been twenty- three hours since I’d last submerged, and I needed to retain as much moisture as I could. Already my skin stretched taut across my cheekbones. I put the box between my knees, dug into it absentmindedly, and powered down the water.
The first decision: Which Hancock sister would be easier to get at? Which one had the closer bond to the father? The
30
younger one was small, possibly weak. I remembered her words to her sister— she was looking to make friends.
I
could be a friend. Or maybe I looked too old for that. The goal was to get closer— not to repel.
I’d reached eighteen years by human standards, so I looked nearer in age to the other sister.
Lily,
I thought, picturing the sign on her door. That might make better sense, and she was definitely the more appealing of the two. Plus, she was old enough for me to use my more practiced skills on. I imagined my fingers trailing her neck, over her shoulder, down her arm, my arm encircling her soft waist. I swallowed down the lump rising in my throat. But was she close enough to her father that she would bring me to him?
Personal preferences had to take a backseat to practicalities. I decided on the younger sister. My money was on her being the daddy’s girl. She’d be easier to manipulate, too.
I smirked. I had nothing on Pavati and her way with human beings, but I had a few tricks. I’d take the big brother tack. Find a common interest. Barbies? I snorted and Tallulah sat up quickly to see what was wrong.
“Nothing,” I told her. A second later, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Tallulah. She wiggled her eyebrows at me as I shot her a puzzled look.
LU: Wanna talk?
I looked at her again, and she tipped her head suggestively toward Maris. Oh. So that was what this was about. I really didn’t want to get into my bargain with Maris. Tallulah would only want to talk me out of it.
31
CALDER: ur not gonna change my mind
LU: You won’t even let me try?
CALDER: u don’t know what it’s like
LU: Want to bet?
CALDER: it’s diff for u— I’M diffrent
LU: You know I never saw you as different. That’s
just Maris. You got to stop thinking like that. CALDER: too late. besides, doesnt mattr. she’s giving me a way out. i’m taking it.
Tallulah turned back toward her window and laid her head against the glass. The road jogged north through sleepy Wisconsin towns— some barely more than the sign their names were written on— past plowed- over cornfields, hunting- supply stores, and cheese chalets. My phone vibrated again.
LU: You shouldn’t let Maris affect you like that. There’s no way you can make it on your own.
CALDER: watch me
LU: So . . . what . . . ???? After this summer you’re gonna stay in the Bahamas year round?
CALDER: got a better idea?
LU: Yes. One. Stay with us. :)
CALDER: Drop it. >: (
Tallulah bent over and held her phone in her hands, between her knees. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard.
LU: You’d never come back? CALDER: that’s the idea LU: WHAT ABOUT ME?????
32
CALDER: ????????
LU: Screw you, Calder. CALDER: u could visit
Tallulah sat up, scowling, and pinched my chest. Hard. I knew I wasn’t being fair. She would always be compelled to follow Maris on the migration north, just as I was (for now). Call it the school mentality so common in fish. Call it whatever you wanted. Didn’t really matter to me. Bottom line: It just plain sucked.
Five hours after leaving Minneapolis, we caught our first glimpse of Lake Superior, what the ancients called the Great Gitche Gumee. Despite my earlier reluctance, I had to admit there was a relief in having arrived— a sense of coming- home completion that no other body of water could provide. My sisters’ faces expressed the same eager expectancy. Pavati trembled in her seat with her palm pressed against the glass; Maris’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Tallulah rolled down her window and leaned out into the wind.
Only a few hours of daylight remained when we pulled into Bayfield. Nearly every front yard was a yellow smear of daffodils, and many of the small storefronts were still closed for the season. Maris parked our car by the town playground at the end of Dock Road. The sun hung like a ripe orange over the trees.
Inhaling, I took in the familiar smells of my new environment— rotting fish, charcoal grills, and pine sap. It didn’t smell like the channel had frozen over this winter, but it would still be cold— even colder than the Mississippi. The wind off the lake promised me as much. I didn’t have to look at Maris to know she was enjoying my discomfort. I’d run out of excuses.
33
The Madeline Island ferry was halfway across the channel on its five- thirty run. It was early in the season and there were only a few people making the crossing, their cars topped with kayaks and luggage racks. They stood along the rail on the upper deck bundled in down parkas.
We watched from the car, fighting against the ubiquitous lure of the humans’ happy expressions and the raspberry- colored glow that outlined the ferry.
“Patience,” Maris said. “Maintain focus on Hancock. We’ll need to pace ourselves this summer. I don’t want anything to put him on alert.”
We nodded. There was work to be done. Maintaining focus on our target was Job One.
I regretted not having made a kill when I was still in the Bahamas. It was a stupid experiment— seeing how long I could go— and what did it get me? Nothing in the end. The too- familiar threads of depression were already pulling through my veins. I could have used the emotional fix that a human life would provide— particularly now that I was stuck with Maris 24/7. I closed my eyes to the ferry riders and repeated the mantra:
Focus, focus, focus.
34
6
TRANSFORMATIONS
F or over two hours we sat in the car, staring out the windows, barely speaking. Occasionally one of us would glance at Maris to see if she thought it safe to go. My muscles tensed in preparation for the shock, but by this point my body craved the water— whatever its temperature. Thirty hours had passed since my last submersion. This was new territory for me, and Maris studied me curiously in the rearview mirror. A dozen empty water bottles lay at my feet. I’d only drunk half of them; the rest I’d poured directly on my skin.
Outside my window, shrouded sailboats stood in dry
35
dock. I stared at the name on one of the sterns.
Kismet.
Was that the one? Since falling out of my parents’ sailboat as a toddler, I’d struggled to remember the name of the vessel. Not knowing how to read at the time made it harder to remember now. My only memory was a vague shape of letters. Maybe a
K
? Or an
R
? Unlike me, my sisters had been born to this life. I envied their easy minds, never fighting against nature, never wondering
what if.
When the sky finally darkened, Maris gave a short nod and we all scrambled out of the car. It was late on a school night, and the park was finally deserted. Still, I couldn’t help but look behind me to make sure we were alone. The girls didn’t bother. They were stripping down and shoving their street clothes under the seat of the car. Maris grabbed the canvas bag and slung it across her bare chest.
“You’ll adjust, Cal,” Tallulah said, the bitter remnants of our last text messages lingering in her tone. “You always do.”
Pavati winked. “Just swim fast. You’ll warm up.”
We were all naked now. The wind raised goose bumps on my arms. “Try and catch me,” I said. I ran across the grass to the fishing pier, jumped onto the railing, and dove, my sisters a half second behind.
As my hands pierced the surface, the icy temperature sliced through my skin, upward and outward, like a thousand razors. My heart constricted, and my mouth contorted with pain. White blossoms of clean bright light bloomed in my field of vision. Water filled my ears with a tinny ringing. The freezing water rushed into my lungs, and I took my first deep breath in what felt like days, luxuriating in the fullness of it. Despite the night sky, underneath the surface, light still bounced and
36
played between my fingers and around my arms. I barely noticed as my body temperature dropped to match the water’s.
Surrendering to the inevitable, I relaxed my muscles and dolphin- kicked my legs as one unit, propelling myself with a fluid thrust, reveling in the liquefying feeling that hummed and pulsed as the ripple of change washed through my body. My thighs tingled, then burned, as the metamorphosis took place— first knitting my bones, then breaking through the skin with scales and fin.
As usual, Pavati changed quickest and burst forward with admirable speed. Her cobalt- blue tail flashed by my face.
“Showoff!”
I teased, and heard a trickle of a laugh in response.
Tallulah swam beside me, waiting for me to finish the change. A metallic silver ring appeared around her throat, as I knew it eventually would around mine. Her lower half was already covered in rows of scales, like silver sequins.
Maris tore by without a backward glance; her sleek onyx- colored tail nothing more than a shadow. The girls always changed quicker than I did. They were born to this life, plus they never went as far south as I did. Their bodies didn’t take as long to acclimate.
My body heaved and—
Ah
— with one big whip of my legs, my tail was fully embodied. I reveled in the freedom— as close to happy as I ever was— and shot through the shallow water like a torpedo.
Tallulah and I coasted along the sandy bottom and searched ahead for any danger. It was still too early for there to be much vegetation, so we stayed clear of nearby boats. It would only take one person peering over the rail to start a scandal. Usually that meant more trouble for the witness
37
than for us. The general public tended to frown on mermaid reports. But we didn’t need Hancock to hear that kind of noise— particularly on the off chance he’d heard his father’s story and believed it was true.
As I cut through the dark water, constellations of tiny particles streamed by me. My ears welcomed the familiar squeaks of lake trout and the low vibration of boats returning to port. I shot over sunken timbers and chased a sturgeon. Its rough skin reminded me of the sand sharks I’d played with only the day before. I dragged my fingers across its flat head and down the row of spiny bumps on its back. It was young, only half my size.
Tallulah grabbed my arm and tugged me in a different direction. I looked away from the fish and saw why: A row of nets along the shore. I whipped my tail, stirring the sand and scaring the sturgeon, and tore off perpendicularly to my original path. Tallulah never left my side.
We followed Madeline Island’s far shoreline and rounded its northern tip. Tallulah looked at me playfully, challenging me to a race. We circled Madeline twice before she tore off in the direction of Basswood Island, and I followed in the plowed path of her wake. Within a few minutes Basswood’s familiar rocky ground came up to meet us, welcoming us home.