Real Mermaids Don't Wear Toe Rings by Helene Boudreau Page A

cousin named Stewart from D’Escousse.
    Pity date.
    Idiot.
    I turned, trying to hide the burning fire in my cheeks. In my usual graceful manner, I bumped the nearby table, toppled over the Gatorade cooler, and sent it careening onto the ground. The top of the cooler popped off and I watched in silent horror as a fountain of orange liquid sprayed everyone within a ten-mile radius.
    “Ah!” Lainey’s hands flew up. She looked down at her white capris, now bedazzled in Technicolor orange. “Great. Just great! Good one, Jade. And look what you did to Cori’s dress!”
    Cori’s dress! The outfit she’d been working on all spring! It was now splattered in a spray of orange specks as well.
    “Oh, no! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
    Of all the times in my life to be a klutz, this had to be the worst.
    “It’s okay,” Cori whispered.
    “No…here. Let me help you.” I searched the table for a roll of paper towels and ripped off a large brown strip. “I’m such a jerk. I wasn’t looking…” I dabbed Cori’s dress, my heart in my throat.
    “Really. Don’t worry about it.” But Cori’s voice was tight and small.
    “Don’t pat it!!” Lainey brushed my hand away. “You’ll crush the fibers. This is going to need a special stain remover. We’ll take it to Mother’s dry cleaner.” She took Cori by the shoulders and led her back to the school. Her voice rang across the school yard, a hundred times more piercing than Finalin or Medora’s screeches.
    Dad would say that every action has an equal and opposite reaction and this was no different. I turned the other way and ran off the field, head down, mumbling apologies.
    As I brushed past Luke I thought I heard him mumble something too.
    “I guess I’ll take that as a no?”

Chapter Twelve
    T O HER CREDIT , C ORI called and left a message. I called back and left another. The whole situation went all sideways and as days turned into weeks, it got harder and harder to say anything without looking like a big jerk for letting so much time slip by.
    The Great Wall of Lainey didn’t help with her snide comments and withering looks. Plus, the long nights spent with Dad, combing the banks of Talisman Lake for Mom, didn’t put me in the best mood for relationship building.
    So, between the Great Gatorade Fiasco and Mom disappearing, a huge gaping hole grew in my heart, threatening to bust wide open.
    The only good news was that I managed to last three weeks as a two-legged, land-dwelling mammal. The bad news was that the boat lock was still closed (though Dad had gently suggested they dredge some of the rocks out of the lake to avoid another “rock slide”), Shaky Eddie was still on vacation, exams were looming, and I’d barely had time to study.
    “English tomorrow?” Dad asked one evening.
    I looked up from my study notes and took another bite of grilled cheese. With ketchup. And a chaser of grape soda. Dinner of champions.
    “Mm-hmph,” I mumbled and nodded to the leather-bound book opened at Dad’s spot. “Whatcha reading?”
    He flipped the book closed for me to see.
    I swallowed.
    “Mermaidia: Fact or Fiction?”
    “I special-ordered it from Copenhagen.”
    Dad stifled a yawn. I knew he returned to the lake every night once he thought I was asleep. His yellow fog lights caught the reflection of the disco ball hanging from the curtain rod in my bedroom window, sending shards of dancing light across the darkened walls. Each night while he was gone, I lay awake, listening for his key in the door, his footstep on the bottom squeaky stair, and the soft whoosh of the office door next to my room. It wasn’t until I heard the whirr of the computer booting up before I was finally able to fall into a body-numbing sleep.
    Dad pushed the book toward me and went to the fridge to get milk for his granola. Another complete and balanced meal.
    “Did you find anything good?” I leafed through the raw-edged pages of the book.
    “A few interesting tidbits, but