Straight On Till Morning (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,50

They seemed to like what she had said quite a bit.

“We can’t see you very well,” the purple one called out. “We can’t see your hair. Our eyes don’t work very well above water. Come down so we can see you.”

“Yess,” a green-haired beauty begged. “So we can see your hair.”

“So we can comb it,” another said.

“So we can brush it,” a third said.

The mermaids swam back and forth in the lagoon, pleading and making dizzying patterns. They were beautiful and plaintive and hypnotizing to watch.

Wendy’s heart tugged with a terrible pain. Such a scene had only existed in her wildest, most secret fantasies, ones she hadn’t even told her brothers about: How she would make friends with a beautiful mermaid and the two would comb each other’s hair, and laugh and sing. And maybe the mermaid would make fun of her voice, for Wendy could manage simple hymns and popular songs all right, but she was no siren. And then they would trade combs; Wendy would give the mermaid the silver-handled brush the Darlings had given her for Christmas one year, and the mermaid would give her an ivory comb, or maybe one made from a fish skeleton with tiny white translucent teeth. And they would forever remain friends, and even if they were far apart, they would think of each other every time they brushed their hair.

Wendy wanted nothing more than to lean over and plunge into the water below, to sit on a rock and have them do her hair in proper mermaid style. Long and down and flowing, with a flower or sea star for decoration.

But their enticements were a little overmuch, their teeth a little sharp.

“Oh, I would dearly love to, after I’ve asked a few questions,” Wendy said apologetically.

“What?” the leader called out, putting a hand to her ear. “I’m afraid I can’t hear you.”

“I said I have a few questions!”

The mermaid was silent—all of them were silent. They stared at her without blinking. It was like she had reached a dead end in a game.

Wendy groaned inwardly.

“I will come down to talk to you,” she said, regretting every word. “But not to the water’s edge. I’m afraid of falling in, you see. I’m not a terribly good swimmer.”

She thought it was a good story. But Tinker Bell shook her head and slapped a hand over her face.

There was another ledge just a little bit below the one they sat on that still seemed a safe distance from the water. Wendy clambered down to it as neatly as she could, trying not to further tear her already ruined dress. Never Land was not easy on one’s clothes. Perhaps that’s why the little fairy’s skirt was all ragged at the hem. If Wendy wasn’t careful, she’d wind up in animal skins and purloined gear like the Lost Boys…or, heavens forfend, as naked as the mermaids!

Tinker Bell was wary, taking a long, lingering moment before drifting in a lazy spiral down to where Wendy now stood four or five feet above the water. She crossed her arms, upset that they had given in even this much.

But the mermaids leapt and played in joy at this development, swimming up close to and almost under Wendy—and then away again on their backs, like otters.

“What are you wearing?”

“Take it off this moment!”

“You can’t swim in that!”

“I do not plan on swimming anytime soon. As I mentioned before, I cannot swim very well,” Wendy said primly. “And anyway I…we…came here with rather urgent business.…”

“Bah!” The blue-haired mermaid stuck out her lip and splashed water with the tip of her tail so expertly that it hit Wendy squarely in the face.

The mermaids laughed and tittered and dove and flipped.

“Here’s to business,” another one said, hitting her tail even harder on the water. This time Wendy managed to cover her face, but it was a much larger volume of water, drenching her head and her hair. It was a hot day and the water was cool, so it wasn’t the most unpleasant thing at first. But the jungle air at the edge of the lagoon was close and her dress stuck to her in clumps now, not likely to dry anytime in the near future.

Her shadow seemed outraged; she shook herself from top to bottom and wrung herself out like a towel, throwing little shadow droplets everywhere.

Tinker Bell peeped out from a large monstera leaf she had managed to duck behind. Her eyes widened in wonder at the giant, salty droplets that