Dreamland Social Club(89)

Jane was still wiping tears, and Leo pulled her even closer and kissed her—sweetly, softly—full on the mouth. It only lasted a few seconds, but Jane felt as though the whole world had frozen, the moon lost its pull, the tides halted. When it was done, Leo pulled a few inches away and put on a deep voice. “This is your captain.”

Jane felt the start of laughter.

“This is a really bad storm or”—Leo laughed—“whatever it is he says.”

She laughed now, too, and imagined them falling and falling, down into the darkest seas, bumping up against silver eels and translucent fish the likes of which the world had never seen.

“You already know who to be, Jane.” He sighed and let her fall soft against his chest, and she imagined them floating up and up and up again, then resurfacing, into the light.

Triumphant.

Into countless tomorrows.





CHAPTER thirteen


MONTHS HAD PASSED and still no one but Marcus had seen Jane’s mermaid costume. She’d carefully covered it with a trash bag and carried it down to the staging area for the parade.

“Well,” Babette said. “Let’s have a look.”

Jane lifted the trash bag off, and the mermaid’s shimmering skin caught the light and nearly blinded them.

Babette studied it. “Holy crap.”

“That is awesome.” H.T. came closer to inspect the costume as Jane adjusted some of the fabric.

“Nice job!” Babette gave Jane a pat on the back of her leg.

“Thanks,” Jane said, and then Rita came over. She was carrying a heart-shaped flower arrangement with an “RIP Mermaid” sash across it and wearing an old-fashioned hat, the kind with a veil that came down in front. She lifted the black mesh off her face to say, “Cool costume.”

“And I have to say the boys did a good job on the bier,” Babette said, turning to the wagon they’d painted black and silver.

A girl walked over to them then, and Babette looked up, squinting, and said, “Can we help you?”

“It’s me,” she said. “Debbie.”

Jane saw now that she looked almost exactly the same. Just without the hair. It had been a distraction, but it had also been her main identifying trait, and it was gone. “You look the same,” Jane said. “I mean . . .”

Debbie nodded. “I know. It’s weird. I thought I’d look so different, but I’m still me. Thank God, right?” Jane hadn’t actually noticed how pretty she was, had just been too distracted by the hair.

“How’d your mother take it?” Jane asked.

“She’ll come around,” Debbie said, and Jane thought she saw the start of something in her eyes—tears—but then it was gone and replaced by a smile.

Jane changed into the costume, slipping her tail and fin on under her skirt, then ditching the skirt, then taking off her shirt to reveal the seashell top. She perched a crown of pearls on her head and turned back to take in the scene.

Sea creatures made from papier-maché filled the air in every direction; one was long and blue with a mouth that could hold Babette. It looked like a snake but had fins that wagged in the wind. A huge gray octopus was being held in the air by nine people—one at the center and one at each of its tentacles. Another monster was green and scaly, like the beast from 20,000 fathoms, and Jane took a quick look around for a bathysphere but found Leo instead.

“Nice job,” he said.

“You think?” She felt suddenly naked.

“I think.” He smiled crookedly. “Though a true Looky Lou would’ve just come to watch.”

Jane nodded and smiled. The sun was hot right then; her skin, too. “Maybe I’m not a Looky Lou after all.”

Leo had to go round up his dirge band, and she felt a sort of tug when he walked away. But everything had changed since the bathysphere. She no longer had to doubt what was there in the space between them.

It just was.

Legs helped Jane, who was coated in sunscreen, up onto the bier, and when she lay down she was grateful that it was at least a little bit breezy, a little bit overcast. And then she was rolling and it was time for them to join the parade. Two of the school band’s trombone players started to play Leo’s dirge, and they walked down their side street and turned onto Surf Avenue.

At first, the noise of spectators was pretty scattered, but with each block the noise got thicker and thicker, and by the time they neared Nathan’s—Jane was occasionally opening her eyes for a split second to steal peeks, plus Babette was giving her updates—it was out of control. Between the noise of the subway, and the crowds, and the dirge—not to mention the buzzing in Jane’s ears coming from somewhere inside—it was almost too much. She heard a few people say, “Check out the mermaid funeral,” and she heard Leo’s dirge, which wasn’t entirely sad but somehow full of longing, and not exactly the bad kind. Like the mermaid only wished she could climb up off her funeral bier and dive back into the sea.

Over and over again, she had to fight the urge to smile, to say cheese at the cameras she knew were pointed at her.

It was a funeral, after all.

A funeral that took hours. She couldn’t believe how slowly the whole thing moved, how much time was spent hanging around, just lying there and waiting, but it was what it was.