Free The Tail of Emily Windsnap by Liz Kessler Page B

wonky smile at me and let go of my arm. “Good,” he said. “Good. Now, will I be seeing you when I come over this afternoon?”
    “I’m going out,” I said quickly. I’d think of something to do. I couldn’t cope with Sunday coffee with Mom and Mr. Beeston. Especially now.
    “Very well. Tell your mother I’ll be over at three o’clock.”
    “Yeah.”
    We stood by the lighthouse. For a moment, I had a vision of him throwing me inside and locking me in! Why would he do that? He’d never done anything to hurt me — before today. I rubbed my arm. I could still feel the pinch of his fingers digging into my skin. But it was nothing compared with the disappointment I felt in my chest. Jake wasn’t my father, after all, if Mr. Beeston was to be believed. And he had no reason to lie — did he? Nothing made sense anymore.
    “Now, let’s see, where’s the, hmm . . .” Mr. Beeston talked to himself as he fumbled with his keys. He had about five key rings rattling on a long chain. But then he gasped. “What — where’s my . . .”
    “What’s wrong?”
    He ignored me. “It can’t be missing. It can’t be.” He felt in his pants pockets, pulling the insides out and shaking out his handkerchief. “It was here. I’m sure it was.”
    “The lighthouse key?”
    “No, not the lighthouse key, the —” He stopped fumbling and looked up at me, as if he’d only just remembered I was there, his eyes dark and hard. “You’re still here,” he said. “Go on. Leave me alone. But don’t forget our chat. It’s between you and me. Remember, you don’t want to cause any trouble. ” Then he unlocked the lighthouse door. “I’ve got some important things to do,” he said. Squinting into my eyes, he added, “I’ll see you again soon.” For some reason, it sounded like a threat.
    Before I had a chance to say anything else, he’d slipped inside and shut the door behind him. A second later, a bolt slid across.
    As I turned to leave, I kicked something up in the dust. It glinted at me. A key ring. I picked it up. There was a brass plate on the ring with crystals around the edges. There was a picture of a pitchfork or something engraved on one side.
    Two keys hung from the ring: one big chunky one, the other a little metal one, same as Mom has for our suitcase. A tiny gold chain hung from the plate; a clasp at its other end was broken and open.
    I banged on the lighthouse door and waited. “Mr. Beeston!” I called. I banged once more.
    Nothing.
    I looked at the key ring again, running my fingers over its crystal edge. Oh, well. I could always give it back another time.
    I buttoned the key ring into my pocket and headed home.

This was it. The moment I’d been dreading. The school board had only gone and re-opened the pool! Apparently some parents made a fuss. So here we were again. I stepped through the trough of icy cold water on the way to the pool. Back at the gym, I had tried telling Mr. Bird I had a planter’s wart on my foot, but he just gave me a couple of rubber socks to put on. So now the game was up, plus I looked ridiculous. Great. What was I going to do? Five more minutes and my secret would be revealed. Everybody would know I was a freak!
    “Come on, people; we haven’t got all day.” Bob clapped his hands together as I walked slowly to the side of the pool and joined the rest of the class. “It’ll be time to get out again before you set foot in the water.”
    My heart thumped so loud I could feel it in my ears.
    “Okay, those who can swim already can jump right in,” he said. Please, please don’t remember that I can swim, I prayed silently. Time was running out.
    “That means you.” Mandy Rushton elbowed Julia and pointed to me. “What’s up, fish girl ?” she sneered. “Have you gotten water shy all of a sudden?”
    I tried to ignore her, but Bob was looking our way. “What’s going on over —” Then he recognized me. “Oh, yeah. You’re the one who got a cramp, aren’t