Even before I lifted my head, I knew that it was Sailor Hat. He looked unchanged, wearing the same clothes he had worn last time. His sailor hat, too, was at the same jaunty angle.
“It’s Miranda,” I told him brusquely, blinking back my tears. I did not want him to see me crying. It was safer to return to the old dance we had performed.
“Well, looks like you survived, Miranda,” Sailor Hat said, smiling at me as he tore my ticket in two.
On the one hand, I was not remotely in the mood for Sailor Hat’s ribbing. On the other hand, I now had a new appreciation for everything he had told me.
“I guess,” I said nonchalantly, but he was watching me in a quizzical way.
Maybe he knows,
I realized with a rush of inspiration. He couldn’t have known exactly what had happened to me during
my stay, but he might have had answers about Leo. About the sea serpents. About Henry Blue Williams.
“Miranda,” Mom said from behind me, giving me a gentle nudge. She was clearly aggravated that I was standing there exchanging pleasantries with this old man.
“No need to be sad,” Sailor Hat said as I finally walked past him and up the gangplank. “You want to know the true legend of Selkie Island?” he called after me.
I turned and looked at him. I nodded.
“The island stays with you,” he said. “Always. Even if you leave it behind. But one never really leaves Selkie behind. If you’ve been here once, you’ll be back.”
Mom had obviously heard him, and he’d obviously made an impression because she cleared her throat a few times, and, once he’d torn her ticket, she caught up to me and whispered, “Who
is
that guy?”
“I’m not sure,” I replied, smiling. I suddenly felt light, as light as a bird skimming the water.
Without conferring first, Mom and I seemed to agree that the upper level was where we wanted to be. We climbed the winding metal staircase, and we positioned ourselves by the railing. As the wind blew my curls across my face, I inhaled the salty air and held it in my lungs. Then I looked one more time down into the sea.
And I saw something.
A movement, a flash, a glimpse that was familiar. It could have been a dolphin. A turtle. Or a sea serpent. Or really anything at all. But the sight of it, like Sailor Hat’s words, made my spirits rise.
“See you soon,” I murmured. Then, touching a hand to my lips, I threw a kiss down to the water.
Mom watched me, wearing an understanding smile. “Thinking of someone?” she asked. When I nodded, looking up at her, she put her arm across my shoulder. “He’s a nice boy,” she said. “A very nice boy.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said as the ferryboat honked its horn. “I think so, too.”
We slid away from the harbor, and my legs felt steady this time. I thought again of sailors—fearful, excited, half mad, their minds filled with krakens and mermaids. It was easy to go a little mad out on the ocean, I thought, with no specific chart or guide other than the sky. But madness could be lovely sometimes.
The ferryboat turned its great bulk, aiming its nose toward the opposite shore, but I spun around and watched Selkie Island: the trees and the houses and the boardwalk. I watched the land for as long as I could, until it disappeared behind its shawl of mist, and until I had it fixed in my mind—unchanged, mysterious, and beautiful.
My deepest thanks to those who have been my ports in the storm:
My magnificent editor and mentor, Abby McAden, for restoring my sanity when necessary. Morgan Matson, Cheryl Weisman, Becky Terhune, Sheila Marie Everett, and the whole fantastic team at Scholastic, for helping this book come together. Jaynie Saunders Tiller and Chad Tiller (for the mullygrubs); Joshua Gee (for believing in merfolk); Lisa Ann Sandell; Siobhan McGowan; Marni Meyer; Adah Nuchi; Robert Flax; Jennifer Clark; Elizabeth Harty; Martha Kelehan; Emily Smith; Nicole Weitzner; Jon Gemma; and especially Daniel Treiman, for the friendship, support, advice, and love (and a special thanks to those who have tried, with interesting results, to teach me how to swim).
Of course my family—my brilliant sister, brother-in-law,
and nephew, and my patient and wise parents, for forever reading and listening and soothing.
And to the memory of Ann Reit, and most especially to Craig Walker, without whom none of this would have ever been possible. You will always be remembered and loved.
Sea Change
The Year My Sister Got Lucky
South Beach
French Kiss
Hollywood Hills
Breaking Up: A Fashion High Graphic Novel
A Novel Idea
Short Stories in
Mistletoe: Four Holiday Stories
21 Proms
Copyright © 2009 by Aimee Friedman
All rights reserved. Published by Point, an imprint of Scholastic Inc.,
Publishers since 1920
.
SCHOLASTIC, POINT
, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Friedman, Aimee.
Sea change / Aimee Friedman. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When her estranged grandmother dies and leaves her mother the family home on Selkie Island, seventeen-year-old Miranda meets her mother on the Georgia island, where she discovers mysterious family secrets and another side to her logical, science-loving self.
ISBN-13: 978-0-439-92228-9 (alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-439-92228-3 (alk. paper)
[1. Islands—Fiction. 2. Secrets—Fiction. 3. Social classes—Fiction. 4. Southern states—Fiction. 5. Mermen—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.F89642Se 2009
[Fic]—dc22
2008046959
First edition, June 2009
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E-ISBN: 978-0-545-23198-5