Before the landfolk woman leaves, she steps to the glass and stares at us. I stare right back. I don’t speak—I’ve learned my lesson about speaking to anyone but Finn and Jen—but despite my silence, her eyes narrow. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.
I glance at Finn, but all his energy is focused on this woman, like a seahorse waiting for a treat. For some reason, everything changed when she walked into the room. I hope I never see her again.
She taps the glass with her fingernail. “This one stares back like K does. I don’t like it.”
Finn’s smile fades. “It’s okay, Aunt D. She’s just curious.”
“I don’t like them curious; I like them cowed. You know how important this place is to me, Finnegan. Do something about it before the next show.”
She turns her back on me, and I bare my teeth at her, but Jen—standing off to the side, giving me the impression she doesn’t like this “Aunt D” much, either—shakes her head “no.” Who is this woman, to declare that I can’t look at anyone? And why is Jen listening to her? Jen doesn’t even listen to Finn, who’s basically groveling now.
“Don’t worry, Delmara. I won’t let Io hurt anyone. I promise.”
I bristle at my stage name, at the fact that anyone thinks I would hurt Finn. Or any of the landfolk. I know what happens if I misbehave.
The woman wishes Finn luck again and leaves, and when he turns to me, it’s clear that whoever she is, when she’s around, Finn belongs to her. His full attention isn’t even on me when he says, “No more staring, okay, Erie?”
I cross my arms and glare at him.
“I’m serious.” He grimaces. “Remember when I told you about ‘Corporate’? Well, Delmara is Corporate. We have to do what she says when she’s around, so please don’t stare at her.”
So she’s the one keeping Niku and me here. She’s the reason for the blackened shells. She’s the one who broke Huron and made Clair bow. Someday, I will make her pay for that.
“Fine,” I say, though I keep staring at Finn, arms crossed.
He shakes his head, but before he can say anything more, Sergio walks back into the room. “Showtime. You ready?”
My stomach plummets into a pit of feather duster worms, the nerves making my hands and fins shake. Is this how Clair and Huron felt before their first show? Or had they been shocked into indifference already?
I glance at Niku, but his features are unfocused and bored. “Ready, Neek?”
“To make a fool of myself in front of a bunch of landfolk?” He bats the water with an annoyed flipper. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“I guess not.” I turn to Finn and nod—might as well pop this bubble and get it over with.
He puts his hand on the tank, and his face radiates excitement. “Good luck, sweetness. They’ll love you.” Then he follows Sergio out of the room while Jen opens the tube door.
An overwhelming energy travels through the water as I enter the tube, and as soon as I’m out the other side, I freeze. Landfolk of every shape and size fill the space. Finn told me that five thousand landfolk could fit in the stands, but that number meant nothing before now. Wrapping around one whole side of the arena, and far up into the sky, is a sea of snail-skin, impossible to distinguish as individuals. The noise of them is deafening.
Niku bumps me to move out of the way so he can enter, but my tail refuses to work. Even he glances around, nervous, as the landfolk notice us. They cheer so loud, I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut.
The cacophony reverberates through the water and presses into my scales. Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream.
I need to make these landfolk love me. That’s all I’m here for. They think I’m here to entertain them, but really, they’re here to fall in love with me and help me get free. I’m using them. I’m in control.
“Erie?” Niku whispers. He’s allowed to talk because Finn says the “microphones” can’t hear his voice. “It’s okay. They can’t hurt you.”
I take a deep breath and open my eyes. The landfolk can’t hurt me—they can’t come into the water, and if they do, I’m in control. I can do this.
Some of the smaller landfolk—the children, I guess—have their hands pressed against the glass. I swim toward them. A few shriek and step back, but the braver ones stay put. I need to make them love me, so I smile, mouth closed so my sharp teeth don’t scare them, and put my hands on the glass, covering the palm of a brown-haired child. It screams in delight. My nerves are so on edge that I jump back, then wave sheepishly at another.
“Mama, Mama!” it squeals with a little girl’s voice. “She waved at me!” Then it runs forward and smacks its hands on the glass.
I put my hands over hers and very quietly, hoping that the microphones won’t hear, whisper, “Tag.”
She squeals again, and other children run forward. I move down the glass, tagging and waving and flicking my tail at them until Finn’s voice booms through the arena and the crowd grows quiet.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Oceanica, the world’s only mermaid marine park! I’m Finn, and I’m here to introduce you to Oceanica’s two newest performers. Please give a warm welcome to Iodine and Cadmium!”
We jump, and the crowd cheers. When the noise dies down, I swim to the middle of the tank and pop my head out of the water so I can see Finn. His small eyes are lit up with excitement and pride. I raise my hand and wave like we practiced. “Good morning, Finn!”
The audience laughs just like Finn said they would. No one’s heard a mermaid speak before; they probably think it’s a “recording.”
“Good morning, Io. Do you want to say good morning to the audience?”
I turn and wave to them, and when I say “good morning,” I swear every little girl in the audience screams “good morning” back. I wish I had known the audience would be this loud.
I do a small jump and get out of the way for Niku. “Good morning, Cad!” Finn says, and Niku makes a happy noise I don’t think I’ve ever heard come out of him before we started practicing. “Why don’t you greet the audience?” Finn says. Niku swims to the other side of the arena, jumps, and lands on his side, soaking the first row. It made Finn angry when he got wet, but the audience loves it.
I will never understand the landfolk.