When I wake up the next morning, I look over the edge of my bed. Stacey is still asleep in a sleeping bag on the floor. I lay back and think about all the fun we had last night. Building the shrine. Guarding the mermaid from wicked screwdrivers. Making her offerings of root beer and candy bars.
I push off my covers and tiptoe to my desk. I pick up a pencil and open my sketchbook. I flip past the drawings I did at the park and write The Secret Mermaid Club across the top of a new page. Then I draw two girls. I give one straight hair and one curly hair, but I give them both the same smile. Then I get out my colored pencils and start filling them in.
"What are you doing?"
I turn to see Stacey sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
"I'm making a sign for the shrine," I say, coloring Stacey's eyes brown and mine blue. I hold it up to show her.
"Nice," Stacey says. "But aren't you forgetting someone?"
"Who?" I ask, studying the picture.
"The mermaid!" Stacey says, stretching.
"Oh, yeah," I say, turning back to my desk. Then I draw the mermaid, a little smaller and off to one side.
"I'm starving," Stacey says, crawling out from her sleeping bag.
"Me, too. Let's get some breakfast and then go back to the attic and start having more fun!"
Stacey crawls over the blankets that fell off my bed and heads out the door. I close my sketchbook and wade after her. I stop when I step on something squishy.
I look down and see George under my foot. I pick him up and unsquish his stomach. "Be careful, George," I say. "Or you'll get hurt."
I fluff up the blankets and set George on top, like he's king of the mountain.
My foot snags a corner of the mountain on the way out and George tumbles back to where he started.
Dad makes pancakes for breakfast with whipped-cream hair, strawberry eyes, and chocolate chip mouths.
"I'm going to bake cookies this morning," Mom says as we carry our plates to the sink. "Want to help?"
"No, thanks," I say. "We've got some important stuff to do ... um ... upstairs."
Me and Stacey take off for my bedroom, throw on some clothes, and head to the attic.
"Let's pretend the shrine is hidden in a deep, dark cave," Stacey says, finding a flashlight on the workbench. "And we're searching for it."
"Okay," I say. "We can draw a secret map on one of the boxes, and use it to find her!"
I grab the pens and pencils we dumped out of the jar last night and we start drawing.
Before long, we're crawling so deep into the cave we hardly even hear the doorbell when it rings. And a few minutes later, when my mom calls our names from downstairs, it's like she's a million miles away.
"Let's pretend we didn't hear her," Stacey says.
"The cookies are probably done," I say back. "If we don't go downstairs, she'll bring them up here. And then she'll see what we're doing and it won't be a secret anymore."
Stacey flicks off the flashlight. "You're right," she says. "Let's go and hurry back!"
We race each other downstairs. As soon as we hit the bottom step, our feet freeze.
My mom is standing just inside our front door. So is Kelli.
"Kelli?" Stacey says. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just going to ask you the same question," Kelli says. She folds her arms across her chest. "Guess who called me this morning?"
I hear Stacey swallow. "Who?" she asks.
"Your dad," Kelli says. "He wanted to know if you were still sick."
"Oh," Stacey says, quietly.
My skin starts to prickle and I could use a little air.
Kelli continues, "I told him, 'Stacey's not sick, and she told me you were going out of town.'"
Stacey stares at the step.
My mom looks at me. "Ida, did you know about this?"
I fidget. And nod.
Kelli starts pacing. She runs her fingers through her spiky hair. "What have I said about the lying, Stace?"
Stacey doesn't answer.
"Get in the car," Kelli snaps. "I'll get your stuff."
Stacey's eyes are bright with tears. She storms out the door.
My mom zeroes in on me as she follows Kelli upstairs.
If I was wax, I would be a puddle right now.
I wait until Mom walks Kelli out to her car. Then I run to the attic. I put away the flashlight and pick up the pens and pencils and candy wrappers that are still scattered across the floor. I walk over to the mermaid and put my hand on her glowing head. "Please don't let her be too mad," I say and pull out her plug.
I'm lying on my bed when Mom walks into my room a few minutes later. She sits down next to me. "We need to talk," she says.
I sit up and fiddle with George's tail.
"Tell me what happened," Mom says. "Everything."
So I tell her the whole story. Only I leave out the part about the mermaid. "Stacey's my best friend," I say. "I didn't want to let her down."
"Lying lets everyone down, Ida," Mom says. "Sometimes you have to stand up to a friend if you want to stand up for her."
"But I don't think Stacey even likes going to her dad's," I say. "It just reminds her that they're not a family anymore."
"Ida, they're still a family," Mom says. "They still need to work stuff out." She reaches over and brushes back my bangs. "I'll talk to Dad. Then we'll let this one go. But if you ever do something like this again—"
"I won't," I say. "I promise."