Free To Catch a Mermaid by Suzanne Selfors Page A

to
me
so I can sell it, and maybe I’ll give you a rematch.”
    A rematch? Boom’s heart soared, but only momentarily. Shortly after takeoff, it crash-landed on the pavement because —
there was no doll.
“L-leave me alone,” Boom stammered, clutching the bag of goldfish. He turned back up the walkway.
    “You’re a loser, Boom,” Hurley called.
    “I’m not a loser!” Boom cried. Every muscle in his body went tense and he tightened his grip until the plastic water-filled bag popped.
    “Oh no,” Winger moaned as goldfish flew through the air.
    “Oh no,” Hurley mimicked. “Was that your dinner? Your teeny, tiny fish stick dinner? Is that all you can afford?” Hurley started to laugh as Boom and Winger scrambled to collect the fish. Winger chased a flapping one under the tire of a parked car while Boom found one balancing on a dandelion.
    “I want that doll,” Daisy whined, sniffling with fake tears. “Daddy! I want that mermaid doll!” Mr. Mump dumped an armload of corn into his truck and looked over at his daughter, who was stomping her boots on the sidewalk.
    “Daisy Waisy,” he called, holding out his arms.
    Boom pulled the final fish out of the newspaper box. He’d love to show
Daisy Waisy
the mermaid doll. He’d love to see the look on her face when he handed her a stinky, slimy, teeth-gnashing, yellow-squirting, green-faced merbaby. But that wasn’t going to happen because the last person he’d sell a Meet the Merbaby ticket to was a Mump person.
    “Come on,” Boom said to his best friend. He and Winger dashed past the broken gate, leaving Hurley and Daisy watching from the street.
    They avoided Halvor by going through the front door and straight up the stairs, where Boom dumped the goldfish into Ted’s fishbowl. The fish took to swimming right away and not one of them looked brain damaged. “Phew!” Boom said. He shoved his backpack under his bed. If Mertyle knew about the conch shell she might get all soft-hearted and want to take the baby back to the dock to find its family. That would mean no Meet the Merbaby tickets. No paying the bills or buying decent food. No brand-new Galactic Kickers. Boom collapsed onto his bed.
    Winger, however, did not collapse. He stood as rigid as a wax museum statue. He had not closed his mouth since entering the room. It was possible he had not even breathed. He stared at the merbaby, who lay in a doll cradle at the foot of Mertyle’s bed. It was unraveling one of Boom’s socks with its teeth. The baby growled at the boys.
    “What took you so long?” Mertyle asked. She looked a bit strange. Her face had a slightly green tinge to it. She must have forgotten that it was Saturday and that she didn’t need to fake being sick.
    “There were no fish at the dock so we had to go to the pet store and get goldfish,” Boom replied with exasperation.
    “Oh,” Mertyle said, looking sadly at the new goldfish. “I don’t think the merbaby is hungry right now. It ate that cod fillet from breakfast.”
    Winger raised his arm and pointed at the baby. He took a huge breath and said, “Wow.”
    “Look what I found,” Mertyle said to Boom, pinching something between her fingers. It looked like a small bluish Dorito. “It’s a scale from the baby’s tail. It fell off. It’s got that weird drawing on it, just like some of the other scales, but my magnifying glass isn’t strong enough to see exactly what it is. Could you take it to the print shop and have them enlarge it?”
    Boom shook his head. “I’ve got to go to Mr. Jorgenson’s.” What was she talking about anyway? How could something be drawn on a scale?
    “Winger?” Mertyle asked sweetly, holding the scale in Winger’s face.
    Winger blinked, snapping out of his daze. Then he turned bright red. “Uh, sure, Mertyle. I’ll take it for you.”
    Winger pocketed the scale while Mertyle stared at the swimming goldfish. “I don’t like the idea of feeding these to the baby,” she said. “It just