Free Lost Voices by Sarah Porter Page A

Luce suddenly realized. Toddlers. What happened when someone hit a baby girl or left one in a Dumpster? They turned into these mermaids that weren’t quite mermaids, and they could never get any older, never learn how to talk or act right . . .
    Luce shuddered. She was starting to understand why the other mermaids were so repulsed by the larvae, but at the same time she felt sorry for them. They had such sad, mushy, helpless little faces, and they stared at her with such longing in their wet, wide eyes.
    “Couldn’t we try to take care of them?” Luce hazarded, and saw the disgusted looks the other mermaids flashed at each other.
    “That’s a really terrible idea, Luce,” Kayley snapped. “We told you. They attract sharks. It would be a lot better if we could drive them away, but the timahk . . .” She shook her head angrily. “Anyway, there’s no point getting attached to one of them. They can’t swim that fast and the orcas just gobble them up all the time.” She made another grossed- out face. “But there are always more of them. They just keep coming.” Luce realized that it wouldn’t help to talk about it more now. She was just making the other mermaids angry. Maybe later she could try to talk to Catarina.
    Catarina was right there suddenly, leaning on one elbow.
    She’d swum over from her rock so smoothly that Luce hadn’t even noticed her arrive. Now that she was here, though, her 62 i LOST VOICES
    presence was so elegant and so forceful that Luce had to make an effort not to stare.
    “It just occurred to me,” Catarina announced. “We still haven’t explained the most important thing to Luce. She doesn’t know what the timahk is.”
    The other mermaids stopped chattering at once. Their faces turned severe and solemn.
    “What is it?” Luce asked. “Everyone keeps saying that word.” Catarina reached out and lightly, tenderly, touched Luce on her left cheek, right where the golden tail had smacked her earlier that morning.
    “I almost broke the timahk myself today,” Catarina admitted softly. “If I’d slapped you even a little bit harder . . .” There was a low murmuring among the other mermaids. “If I’d actually hurt you, Luce, I would have deserved expulsion from my own tribe. That’s the penalty for breaking the timahk. And a mermaid who’s thrown out on her own like that . . .” Catarina didn’t have to finish the sentence. The grim looks on the faces all around her were enough to let Luce understand the truth: the ocean was full of dangers, and a mermaid swimming off on her own probably wouldn’t survive for very long.
    Luce couldn’t bear the idea of that happening to Catarina.
    With a small start Luce realized that she already loved Catarina, and not only because she was so grateful for the risk the older mermaid had taken in rescuing her. If only she had had a sister like her, so powerful and clear and fair, maybe being human wouldn’t have been so hard at all.
    “It’s our code,” Catarina said. “The timahk is the code of honor for all the mermaids in the world. Breaking the timahk is i 63
    the worst thing that can happen to a tribe. It would be better if we were all killed than if we lost our honor that way. That’s why a mermaid who violates the timahk has to be expelled. It’s to preserve the honor of her tribe.”
    Luce began to grasp how serious this was. She straightened herself, and her voice turned so cold and strong that it surprised her.
    “What do I have to do?” Luce asked. “To obey the timahk?” There weren’t very many rules, really. The most important rule was that no mermaid could ever hurt another. No mermaid could ever be banished from a tribe either unless she broke the timahk first. Anyone who came would be automatically welcomed into the group. And if you saw another mermaid in trouble, you had to do your best to help her, unless it was a situation where interfering could get you killed, too. Luce agreed in her heart with these rules.