The Tantalizing Tale of Grace Minnaugh Page 5

  Chapter Seven: Testing, Testing

  With only four days until school began, Grace had limited time to research her mermaid transformation. She would need to conduct live experimentation, Grace determined, with herself as the subject. She had loved doing science experiments in Floral Park, and had delighted in making foaming yeast concoctions and cornstarch slimes, and in rubbing combs through her hair to cause electrical currents. But this investigation into mermaid-hood would be her most ambitious science project ever. Retrieving a box from the back of her closet, labeled SCHOOL SUPPLIES AND OTHER JUNK, she pulled out a blank notebook.

  Grace wrote TOP SECRET in red Sharpie on the cover.

  Opening to the first page, she made a list: Experiment One. Problem. Hypothesis. And what was it that came next? she wondered. Oh yes. Materials and Procedure. Then, lastly: Result.

  Grace paced her room, trying to think of a logical first step for her experiment. After three rock-hard Hershey’s kisses from her secret stash, an idea came to her. She would begin with an already known variable—a chlorinated pool.

  SOMETHING FISHY EXPERIMENT 1

  Problem: Will I turn into a mermaid in a chlorinated pool?

  Hypothesis: It is likely that I will transform in any body of water.

  Materials: A swimming pool, me, at least one towel.

  Procedure: Immerse myself fully in the chlorinated water, wait for the result.

  Grace had just the pool in mind. Janis and Len Wiener, an elderly couple, lived three houses down and had brought over a fruit basket when the Minnaughs first moved in.

  “Come over anytime to use our pool, sweetie,” Janis Wiener had told Grace.

  “And feel free to bring some friends,” Len added.

  With all her spare time spent on the beach, Grace had barely had time to consider the Wieners’ offer, but now, with experimentation looming, tonight was the perfect time.

  There was just one problem. Grace couldn’t do her testing with people around. She giggled, imagining the horror on Len Wiener’s face as gills sprouted from her neck and her legs turned into a scaly tail. So Grace revised her procedure accordingly:

  Procedure: Sneak into the Wieners’ pool at night, immerse myself fully in the water, and wait for the result.

  Grace tried to remain cool, calm, and collected that evening while eating supper with her family. Luckily, her father was his usual chatty self, describing his new lab and university colleagues. While Grace nodded every now and then and said “uh-huh” whenever it seemed to be required, in her mind she was gathering her wits for her night’s adventure. After dinner, Grace kissed her parents and Stuey goodnight, yawned a couple of times for good measure, and went to her room. By midnight, all was quiet, and she assumed everyone was asleep. Slipping into her bathing suit, Grace gathered her notebook and two beach towels and tiptoed barefoot through the house and out the front door.

  The street was deserted, and most of the houses were completely dark. Grace draped the towels over her shoulders and walked quickly down the sidewalk. She was almost at the Wieners’ front lawn when a car came roaring down the otherwise silent street, music booming from its open windows. There was nowhere to hide, and Grace, panicked, did the only thing she could think of—she threw the towels over her head and fell to the ground, praying that she looked like a pile of trash or a big rock.

  The car passed as she lay under the towels, her cheek pressed against the cold cement. The music was so loud that Grace could feel the bass notes pounding in her chest, keeping company with the unsteady beat of her nervous, racing heart. Maybe she should just go home and forget this whole thing, Grace thought. But then how would she ever find out what was happening to her? Information is power—at least, that was what her dad had always told her. When the street was again quiet, Grace scrambled to her feet and made her way down the street to the Wieners’ house, where all was dark and quiet. She crept around the side of the house and opened the gate to the pool. FLASH!—a motion sensor spotlight turned on, illuminating Grace like paparazzi shining lights on a movie star. Quickly, she scurried back outside the fence, out of the light, and waited, heart pounding frantically in her chest. No one woke up, and after a minute the light automatically switched off.

  Walking around the fence line to the far side of the pool, she tossed her towels and notebook over the fence, then clambered over herself. So far so good. Grace lowered herself into the pool. In the deep end and standing on tiptoe, she could barely keep her head above the surface. She timed herself on her stopwatch—fifteen minutes in which a big fat nothing happened. No itches, bumps, gills, or fins. Time for the next step, she thought. Sinking below the surface, she counted to eighty before catapulting out of the water. She touched the skin behind her ears—completely smooth. She wiggled her toes—ten in all, and decidedly separate. Sure, the chlorine stung her eyes, but that was normal. Feeling cold and tired, Grace really wanted to go home. But any good scientist knew that an experiment had to be repeated to make sure that the data were viable. So, Grace plunged beneath the water again, this time forcing herself to last to the count of ninety. Her lungs were on fire by the time she surfaced, and for a moment she was sure she was going to be sick in the Wieners’ pool. Hanging on to the edge, she took some deep, quiet breaths, then hauled herself out of the pool, wrapped herself in her towels, and scurried home.

  Once she was back in her room, Grace put on her warmest pajamas and got into bed with her notebook and pencil and wrote:

  Result: Chlorinated water: Safe.

  Grace snuggled deep under the quilt, rubbing her chilly feet together as if they were sticks with which she was trying to start a fire. Eventually she drifted off to sleep, knowing that the next day would bring a whole new set of variables into play.

  Grace woke up in the morning with her hair chlorine-crusted and her skin smelling undeniably like a pool. She scampered immediately to the bathroom and ran a shower. As she let the warm water run over her body, Grace thought of the experiment she planned to run later that day in that very same environment. After her shower, she got out her TOP SECRET notebook and wrote:

  SOMETHING FISHY EXPERIMENT 2:

  Problem: Will I turn into a mermaid in a bathtub filled with regular water?

  Hypothesis: It is likely I won’t transform in any body of water unless it is salty.

  Materials: A filled bathtub, me, at least one towel.

  Procedure: Immerse myself fully in the bath water, wait for the result.

  That afternoon, while Minerva was in L.A. looking at art galleries and Walter was at the park with Stuey, Grace filled the bathtub with water, climbed in, and submerged completely, holding her head under the water for an excruciatingly long time. She even surpassed her record of ninety seconds, getting to an unprecedented ninety-eight. Still, no bumps, lumps, or fish tails. And so, in her notebook, she added:

  Result: Safe.

  But Safe didn’t sound exactly right. While morphing into a mermaid in a bathtub would lead to a whole host of complications, as she got dressed Grace realized she was a bit disappointed she’d remained plain old Grace. What was the phrase her old science teacher had used, Grace wondered. That’s it—no reaction.

  Result: No reaction

  Time to add the missing ingredient, Grace concluded. With her hair dripping down the back of her T-shirt, she rode her bicycle to the Super Stop & Shop and bought a big box of sea salt. She wrote in her book:

  SOMETHING FISHY EXPERIMENT 3:

  Problem: Will I turn into a mermaid in a bathtub filled with homemade salt water?

  Hypothesis: It is likely I will transform in any body of water that is salty.

  Materials: A filled bathtub, a box of sea salt, me, at least one towel.

  Procedure: Immerse myself fully in the salted bath water, wait for the result.

  Grace dumped the entire box of sea salt in her still-full bath. Once
again, she willed herself to stay underwater until she nearly passed out. Still no mutant blisters or weird purple skin. Cleaning up the salty residue was an ordeal, but Grace could check another experiment off her list.

  Result: Homemade saltwater: No reaction

  Experiment Four would be the real test. Grace thought carefully about how to get the results she wanted in what real scientists called “a controlled environment.” Finally, she figured it out:

  SOMETHING FISHY EXPERIMENT 4:

  Problem: Will I turn into a mermaid in a bathtub filled with real salt water from the Pacific Ocean?

  Hypothesis: It is likely I will transform in the real deal.

  Materials: A bathtub filled with Pacific Ocean seawater, me, at least one towel.

  (note: make sure there are enough dry towels left in the house after the final stage of Operation Something Fishy)

  Procedure: Immerse myself fully in the authentic saltwater, wait for the result.

  Grace set her alarm for three a.m., when no one else would be awake. Armed with two of Stuey’s prize beach buckets, she tiptoed outside across the moonlit sand to the water’s edge. Carrying two full buckets of seawater back to the house without spills was a challenge, but Grace managed to hold the buckets steady. When she dumped the water in the bathtub, it barely covered the bottom. It took four more trips to get the seawater bath to test-worthy depth.

  Finally Grace lay down in the tub. At first nothing happened, but when she slid her head under the surface, she could feel the bumps behind her ears begin to throb. Then her skin flaps opened and floated at the sides of her head like little wings. Grace felt a tickling sensation up and down her legs, and she watched as her skinny thighs and knobby knees turned a deep purplish blue. Her leg skin got bumpy, then separated into shiny fish scales. Oh boy, Grace thought, here we go! It was different seeing and feeling the transformation in the stark fluorescent bathroom light than it had been in the murky ocean. Next, her legs fused into a super-glued purple scaly uni-leg, and her feet spread like Silly Putty, spanning out into a thick, webbed fin. The unwieldy appendage that was now her lower body slapped the sides of the tub like a fish on a line. With her head still underwater, Grace gurgled, “Result: seawater: major reaction.”

  Grace rose above the water and watched as her legs returned to their normal state. It was like seeing a 3D animation in reverse. She felt the neck flaps shrivel and close up. Grace still couldn’t quite believe this was happening in real life, that it wasn’t some kind of crazy dream. She might have a name for what she was—mermaid, mergirl, merperson, or merthing—but she hadn’t a clue why or how she had become one.

  A sudden knock on the door startled Grace.

  “Gracie? Are you in there?” It was her father. “What’s with all the splashing and thumping? Are you taking a bath?”

  “Um…yeah, it’s me,” she hollered, struggling to keep her voice casual.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Yeah, just dandy, if your life is a fantasy novel, thought Grace. “Yep, Dad. All’s good. No worries.”

  “Are you sure, Gracie? This is a very strange time to be taking a bath.”

  Talking to her dad was the last thing she wanted to do. “I’m fine. I’m just…um…anxious about school. You know—new kids and all. I couldn’t sleep so I thought a bath would be relaxing.”

  In truth, Grace wasn’t overly concerned about school. Sure, it would be horrible, but it was the kind of horrible she knew how to deal with. What she was really worried about was how to contain her urge to take another dunk in the saltwater tub, even with her dad standing right outside. Mer-hood was way too exciting.

  “Do you want to process your feelings about the new school? Maybe we could identify the specific stressors.”

  “I don’t think so, Dad. But thanks for the offer. Right now I think I just wanna go back to bed. G’night.”

  “Well…okay,” Walter said, his voice muffled through the door. “Don’t forget I’m taking you and Stuey on a little road trip tomorrow morning.”

  “Got it, Dad. G’night.”

  “Goodnight, Gracie.”

  Grace waited until she was sure Walter was gone before taking one more deep dive to experience freckled flesh changing into shimmering purple scales, and the rhythmic water breathing of silky gills. She kept as still as she could, not letting her tail flop around, avoiding another parent-alerting ruckus, and marveled at the underwater beauty of it all.

  Eventually Grace sat up and returned to girlhood. She emptied the tub, rinsed it clean, and replaced Stuey’s buckets in their spot beneath the sink. She wrapped herself in a towel and headed back to her room where she collapsed on her bed. She’d add her final conclusions to SOMETHING FISHY in the morning.

  “Mermaid,” she said out loud for the first time. “I am a freakin’ mermaid.” At least now she had put a label on her gloriously mutant state.

  Chapter Eight: Intervention

  “We’ll see you later,” Walter called, waving to Minerva from behind the wheel of his new red sports car. “Good luck with the Smeltzer!” Now that the Minnaughs were living in sunny California, Walter had decided to indulge his lifelong desire for a convertible, which he claimed allowed him to “channel his inner James Bond.” Walter was as obsessed with his new car as Stuey was with Michael Banks, but that was okay with Grace. In Floral Park he’d insisted she help him wash their old station wagon every few weeks, whereas he wouldn’t let anyone near his shiny new car.

  “What’s a smeltzer?” Grace asked from the passenger seat while she stretched and yawned. The last, late-night stage of SOMETHING FISHY had left her exhausted. “And why won’t you tell us where we’re going?”

  “Smeltzer is a name, Grace,” Walter laughed. “Mr. Daniel Smeltzer is an art dealer from Los Angeles who’s taken a liking to your mother’s paintings. He’s traveling down today for a studio visit.”

  “That’s cool,” Grace sighed. She was mostly super happy that her mother seemed back to her old self. Minerva was chipper as could be, painting up a storm, traveling to Los Angeles to make connections with art dealers and gallery owners, and visiting museums for inspiration. With a happily distracted mom, Grace had found that she was able to sneak out of the house more easily, to swim undetected. She was still sure that the less her parents knew, the better it would be for all of them. How would her mother—a woman deathly afraid of aquariums and algae—react if she learned her daughter was part fish? Her father might take the news more easily, being a scientist and hard-wired toward inquiry and exploration, but he’d be really annoying about it, wanting to know every detail, details Grace still didn’t know herself. Relaxing into her seat in the spiffy little convertible, Grace decided that this surprise trip might actually be a nice break from thinking about the whole marvelous mermaid conundrum.

  “So you’re really not going to tell us where we’re going?” Grace asked her dad.

  Walter shook his head. “Nope. Don’t worry. We’re gonna have a blast!”

  “Yay, yay, yay!” Stuey shouted from the back seat, where he was strapped in his car seat like an astronaut preparing to travel to Mars.

  The wind was so strong and loud on the highway that Grace could barely hear herself think, her hair blowing all over the place like a wild mop that had suddenly come alive. Walter grinned from ear to ear, happier than a pig in mud, and from the back seat, Stuey sang his fourth rendition of “Wheels on the Bus.” Grace clutched the armrest. So much for relaxing.

  “Here’s our exit,” Walter yelled as they left the highway, passing a sign that read Dolphin Intervention Program, 1/2 mile.

  “Hey, Dad, are we going to that dolphin place?” Grace asked.

  “You betcha,” Walter said.

  Dolphins, thought Grace. This could be cool.

  As they drove down the hill toward the Dolphin Intervention Program campus, Grace coul
d see the ocean that skimmed the edge of the property. From a distance the facilities looked like fairy tale cottages, each painted a different color, with thatched roofs and small windows.

  They pulled into the parking lot surrounded by neatly landscaped palm trees and flowering bushes. As they approached the buildings, Grace could read the signs that hung over each door—Nursery, Medical, Education, Administration, Exhibits. Between Administration and Exhibits was a gate with a ticket booth next to it and another sign that read, THIS WAY TO MEET YOUR DOLPHIN FRIENDS.

  As Walter paid the admission, Grace felt a strange excitement well up inside her. She felt her heart race, her palms sweat, and her breath come quick in her throat. What is going on? she wondered. I am way too young for a heart attack. Just thinking about the dolphins made her want to leap and skip about like a fawn in springtime.