To Catch a Mermaid (6 page)

Boom took a long look at the fishbowl. Ted the Goldfish swam around the pink castle the way he always did. Boom reached his hand into the bowl. He had to make the shrieking stop.

“Not Ted!” Mertyle cried.

Boom pinched Ted’s tail between his thumb and middle finger and flung the surprised goldfish through the air, right into the baby’s eager, open mouth. The ferocious teeth snapped shut and the blue-green tail wiggled with delight. The shrieking stopped. Boom felt slightly nauseated by what he’d done.

“Ted?” Mertyle whimpered.

The baby burped and immediately fell asleep. Mertyle stared at the empty fishbowl, where Ted had been swimming circles for two years. Colored pebbles floated around, stirred-up from Boom’s hand. “Poor Ted.” She sighed and laid the baby on the comforter. Its little green chest rose and fell with every raspy breath.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Boom explained, feeling really bad, regardless of necessity.

Mertyle nodded. “He gave his life for a good cause. I’m going to make a tombstone for him and write that on it.” She picked up her magnifying glass and began to inspect the merbaby’s tail again. “There are really strange markings on some of the scales. They kind of look like little drawings. What do you think?”

Boom looked through the lens, but he didn’t see any drawings. Mertyle always saw strange things with that lens. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” He tried to shake the image of Ted being sliced by those teeth.

Boom pulled back his covers and climbed into bed with his clothes on. He needed the extra layers since the room was so cold. When would they have enough money to turn on the heat? If March turned any colder, he might have to start sleeping in the kitchen.

All of the day’s disappointments and all of the day’s excitements had exhausted him. Mertyle turned off the light and lay down next to what was supposed to have been their evening meal. “I’m so glad you found it,” she whispered. “I always thought they weren’t real.”

Boom nodded, too tired to speak. Usually when he drifted off to sleep, he secretly listened for the sound of his mother’s heels coming up the walkway. But tonight, as he closed his eyes, he drifted along with the baby’s sea-soaked breaths.

Chapter Nine:

Erik the Red

T
he odor of percolating coffee crept up the stairs and seeped under Mertyle and Boom’s bedroom door. Even though it was Saturday morning, Halvor still served breakfast at 7:10. Boom rolled out of bed, bleary-eyed. “So tired,” he mumbled. Something had kept him up half the night, but his blurry brain couldn’t remember what.

“I don’t think I should go to breakfast,” Mertyle said as Boom pulled on a pair of socks that Fluffy the cat had slept on. “I can’t leave the baby.”

“The baby?” Boom’s brain kicked into gear. Hadn’t all that simply been a dream? After all, the Cheshire Cat turned out to be a dream and the Cowardly Lion did too. Boom rubbed his eyes and stared at the green creature that was sleeping amidst waves of pink comforter. It hadn’t been a dream. Amazement flooded Boom once again, from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes.

“Tell Halvor I’m sick. Tell him I’ve got ringworm,” Mertyle said.

“You’re never sick on the weekend,” Boom pointed out. “Halvor will get suspicious if you don’t go downstairs. He might come up here.”

“If I leave it alone, it might start shrieking again.”

That would be a problem, to say the least. Boom couldn’t use the teakettle excuse because Halvor knew that there was no teakettle — coffee only in the Broom household. “As soon as it wakes up, it’s going to be hungry,” Mertyle warned. “Ted wasn’t very big. What are we going to feed it today?”

“I don’t know,” Boom said. “I have three dollars but I don’t think that will buy much. Do you have any money?”

“No.”

“I guess I could go back down to the dock and see if there’s still some stuff in the reject seafood bucket. Maybe the baby would eat some of those crabs.”

“Good idea. In the meantime, I’ll try to sneak some of my breakfast upstairs.”

Mertyle wedged the sleeping baby between pillows so it wouldn’t fall off the bed. Boom figured there was no need to change out of the jeans and sweatshirt he had slept in. It wasn’t like any of his other clothes were cleaner, piled as they were in the corner of his room. The walk to the harbor would take him right past Winger’s house. Boom had agreed not to tell anyone about the merbaby, but Winger wasn’t just
anyone.
Boom couldn’t keep the discovery of the twenty-first century from his best friend.

Halvor was at work in the balmy kitchen, humming happily. His armpits were damp with sweat. “I bought some cod fillets at the all-night Thrifty Mart, half-price, and some day-old bread,” he told the kids when they sat down in the painted chairs. He stood over the black frying pan, his Viking helmet askew. The cat wound between his thick legs, begging for bits of fish skin. “You are a very bad kitty,” Halvor scolded. “Bad kitty for stealing my big fish last night.”

A jar of tartar sauce sat on the table, alongside a pile of buttered rye toast. Boom grabbed two pieces, then headed for the door. “Gotta run,” he said.

“Hold on,” Halvor called, scooting the cat away with his boot. “Growing boys need breakfast. Erik the Red never skipped breakfast when he was a boy.”

Darn it! Boom sat down at the edge of his chair, mentally willing Halvor to cook faster. He tapped his feet on the floor.

“What’s that?” Mertyle asked, pointing to a small wooden box perched at the table’s edge.

“Yah, I got that last night at my meeting. It’s an artifact from Erik the Red. He used to keep his false teeth in that box.”

Oh no, not an Erik the Red story. That would certainly slow things down, and Boom really wanted to tell Winger his big secret. He increased his tapping and held his plate up, waiting for his greasy breakfast while Mertyle took out the magnifying glass and began an examination of the box.

“Erik the Red received that box on his twenty-second birthday,” Halvor said. “It was carved by Thor the Thumbless, a distant cousin by marriage who never ate breakfast. Therefore, he was prone to work-related accidents.”

Mertyle turned the box over. “It says ‘Made in China.’”

Halvor poured more oil into the pan. “That’s a decoy sticker, to protect the box from getting into the hands of someone who wouldn’t appreciate it. Someone who’s not a direct descendant.” Mertyle pursed her lips, skepticism written all over her.

Halvor flipped a fish fillet and it landed with a splat in the hot oil. “We inducted a new member last night. He’s a direct descendant of Thor the Thumbless. He’s carving a genuine Viking dragon ship.”

“What happens when you
induct
someone?” Boom asked. A Velcro dart, an escapee from the dartboard above his bed, fell out of his hair and onto the table. He really needed to take a bath one of these days.

“I can’t tell you exactly what happens. That’s a secret,” Halvor replied with a devilish look. “But I can tell you that it’s an ancient ceremony from Viking days past. Every member must swear an ancient oath of brotherhood and never break it.” He scratched his big belly, held captive beneath his gray sweatshirt.
Erik’s Fan Club
was written across the shirt in red letters. “I can’t say any more than that, for sure.”

Boom stopped kicking the table legs and put down his plate. “What happens if you break an ancient oath?”

“Bad things happen.” Halvor slid a fillet onto Boom’s plate and leaned across the table. His belly knocked over the marmalade. “One time, Erik the Red’s brother, Erik the Black, got caught stealing from Erik the Red’s chest of gold. Fifth rule of the Viking oath is,
Never steal from thy brother.
Yah, never steal, for sure.”

“But the Vikings were always stealing,” Mertyle said in her know-it-all voice. “They invaded villages and stole all sorts of stuff.”

Halvor cleared his throat and gave Mertyle a
So you think you know everything
look. “I said, Never steal from
thy brother.
Anonymous villagers don’t count.”

Boom remembered the three dollars, still tucked into his jacket pocket. Halvor hadn’t asked for any change when Boom returned last night with the fish. It wasn’t stealing if somebody didn’t ask for something back, was it?

“Erik the Red was so angry when he caught his brother stealing, that he called upon the Viking gods to curse Erik the Black. The next day, when Erik the Black sat down to eat his fish fillet and marmalade toast, all his teeth fell out. He had to wear false teeth the rest of his life.”

Boom felt his teeth. Not one of them wiggled.

“You said this box was for Erik the
Red’s
false teeth,” Mertyle pointed out.

“Yah, Erik the Red had false teeth too, from eating too much marmalade and not brushing.” Halvor scooted the cat away again as Boom chewed the bland half-price fillet as fast as he could.

“That’s rubbish.” Mertyle sat up straight and folded her arms in preparation for a “fact” battle. Halvor prepared too. His arms folded as well, he faced her from across the room with an unblinking gaze. “Vikings didn’t eat marmalade toast,” Mertyle said. “Marmalade is made from orange peels and oranges do not grow in the cold north.” Boom was convinced that the title of Reference Librarian lay in his sister’s future.

“How do you know what Vikings ate?” Halvor asked, his chest swelling with pride.

“Because I watch
Jeopardy!
every night. Except for last night. I missed it last night because . . . I had other things to do.” Mertyle raised her eyebrows. “
Jeopardy!
experts believe that the Vikings discovered North America, so that would mean that they would have eaten things like turkey, and sweet potatoes, and corn. Lots and lots of corn — hot and buttery. How come you never cook corn? I wish we had some corn, just like the Vikings used to eat.”

“Oranges grow in North America,” Boom pointed out. He was getting kind of sick of
Jeopardy!
facts. “Florida is famous for oranges.”

Halvor smiled. “Yah, that’s for sure. Very good, Boom. And they turned it into marmalade.”

“Well, North America is also famous for its corn,” Mertyle insisted. “So I think we should start eating corn.”

“The Vikings did not eat hot and buttery corn. I know because I am a direct descendant of Erik the Red, father of Harold the Bald, father of Hjalmer the Hoarse, father of Val the Vicious, father of Karl the Rude . . .”

This could go on all morning, and something had just thumped upstairs. “Uh-oh,” Mertyle said, jumping up from her chair. Boom almost choked on his last piece of fish.

Please, oh please, don’t start shrieking.
Boom crossed his fingers.

Halvor continued. “Father of Erik the Redder, father of Bjorn the Ballerina, but we don’t like to talk about him.”

Another thump.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Mertyle announced, running out of the kitchen. Boom nervously looked at the ceiling. If that green thing started making that horrid noise again, what would he tell Halvor? Oh, it’s just the wind. Oh, it’s just a squeaky pipe. Oh, it’s just my science experiment in which I’m trying to create a sound that actually makes heads explode.

Halvor poured Boom a big mug of coffee. He never seemed to notice that neither Boom nor Mertyle drank coffee. Boom fidgeted, worrying about the baby as Halvor sat down to drink from an even larger mug. Steam swirled from the center of the coffee’s blackness, turning Halvor’s nose red. “Boom, we need to have a little talk, you and I.”

Uh-oh.

“I know what’s been bothering you.” How could he know? Halvor removed his helmet and laid it beside the fake artifact. “You’re worried about your father, still shut up in that attic. I won’t lie to you. I thought he’d be better by now, for sure.”

“Me too,” Boom confessed, relieved that Halvor didn’t know about the baby. But talking about his father wasn’t any easier. It made him feel sad and embarrassed at the same time. “He’s still afraid of the wind. He thinks another twister is coming.”

“Everyone has fears, Boom, even grown men. But if we let fear control our lives, then we lose ourselves. We lose our way.” Halvor’s face creased with concern. “You’re old enough to know the truth. The money’s almost gone. I’ve got bill collectors calling every day, threatening to turn off the electricity and phone. The bank called yesterday because the mortgage payment is overdue. Your father has got to get back to painting soon or I don’t know what will become of this family.” Halvor’s words rang in Boom’s ears. Boom wanted to ask what became of people who ran out of money. But he was afraid of the answer.

The kitchen clock ticked and the coffeepot gurgled. Mertyle came back and nudged Boom in the shoulder. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

He had momentarily forgotten his mission. “Oh, right.”

Behind Halvor’s back, Mertyle took the last cod fillet from the counter. It was still raw. She slipped it into her bathrobe pocket. There was another thump from upstairs. “Hurry,” she whispered to Boom as she rushed out of the kitchen, the cat at her heels.

“I’m finished,” Boom said, showing Halvor his clean plate. “Can I go now?”