§ § § -- March 19, 2005

Haruko had been afraid she wouldn't sleep, but all the events at the beach must have tired her out more than she'd known. By the time she blinked awake the clock showed that it was past eight-thirty. "Oh, no," she groaned and leaped out of bed, scrambling into a swimsuit and shorts and frantically yanking a brush through her jet-black hair. The fine straight strands crackled with static as she tossed the brush back onto her dresser, and she tried vainly to smooth them out with her hands before giving up and bounding downstairs.

Through the window over the kitchen sink she saw Katsumi in a lounge chair on the deck, reading a novel in Japanese, while Chikako marched around the back yard pushing a tiny stroller crammed with five or six baby dolls. Haruko stuck her head out the back door, catching her mother's attention. "Mama-san, I'm going out for a while," she said.

"Have you made your bed?" Katsumi asked, a touch of reproval in her voice. "Is your room neat? Did you have breakfast?"

Haruko tried not to groan. "I'll eat on the way," she said, making a note to grab a rice cake or two off the plate on the table.

"Your room, Haruko-chan," Katsumi reminded her. "You must set a good example for your little sister."

Haruko resisted the urge to tell her it never worked, saying only, "Yes, Mama-san" like a dutiful Japanese daughter, and retreated to her bedroom to make her bed and put away the soft cotton night tunic she had slept in. Back downstairs, she got her rice cake, stepped into her rubber wading shoes at the door and made her escape at last.

The Miyamotos lived on a cul-de-sac in a small residential area just off the Ring Road on the western outskirts of Amberville, where in the mid-70s streets had been carved out of the jungle and mostly townhouses and apartment blocks put up. The nearest beach to this was off the town square, and Haruko headed that way now, finishing off her rice cake in short order and stopping at the All-Natural shop in the square long enough to pick up a bottle of pomegranate juice to wash it down. From there she headed for the beach, capping her bottle and then breaking into a run.

This was the beach where Prince Christian liked to run occasionally; she had seen him there a couple of times, splattering through the surf and apparently oblivious to everything around him. She understood why he ran here; not too many people frequented this beach. Even on weekends, when the guest population peaked, it was rarely crowded here. It was still a little early and for the moment the beach was deserted, which suited Haruko just fine. She approached the waterline, sipping frequently from her juice bottle, wondering how long she would have to wait and hoping Akima hadn't forgotten…or that yesterday's rescue hadn't been a dream.

Three seagulls wheeled in the air over her head, singing to one another. Normally she wasn't fond of gulls because of their squealing; she'd always associated a sort of "crocodile-tear" quality to it, a sly plea for sympathy that they really didn't need. But these gulls were oddly musical. Haruko frowned, watching them swoop and climb, and then realized that what she was hearing wasn't the gulls at all. It sounded more like a chorus of three or four female voices, now in harmony, now in monotone, like an ethereal little choir.

Then she heard a splashing in the shallows and wrenched her gaze away from the birds just in time to see a blonde head break the surface. "Hello, Haruko Miyamoto!" called Akima, waving gaily to her.

"Hi, Akima!" Haruko called back, delighted. She tipped back the last of her juice, stuck the empty bottle in the sand where she'd be sure to see it later to properly dispose of it, removed her shorts and left them nearby, and waded into the water toward Akima. "I wasn't sure you'd come. I slept later than I meant to, and I was afraid I'd missed you."

"I slept long myself," Akima said, grinning at her. "When one is tossed madly about by a storm and then thrown upon the sand and blanketed in low-quality seaweed, one tends to need much rest."

They both laughed. "Rescuing you kind of wore me out," Haruko agreed. "But you look a lot better today. You must've put on fresh makeup or something. Lucky you, you're allowed to wear it. Half the girls in my grade do, and Mama-san says I'm way too young. She's so old-fashioned."

By the time she finished this speech Akima was staring blankly at her. "I do not understand you, Haruko Miyamoto. I do not know what 'makeup' is, or a 'grade', and who is 'Mama-san'?"

Haruko laughed, embarrassed. "Well, you have all that glitter in your hair, and you wear that sparkly gold stuff over your eyes. It must be waterproof or something."

"This is not makeup, this is natural," Akima said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. They were the same transparent blue of the waters around them, making Haruko envious; she had always thought her black hair and brown eyes were so ordinary. "If you wish, you may touch, so that you are assured this is my own skin." Akima closed her eyes, and Haruko tentatively traced a fingertip over one of the lids. Sure enough, not only did the gold glitter not come off, she didn't even feel anything except human-like skin.

"Wow, you're right," Haruko said, amazed. "I guess the glitter in your hair is natural too. I wish my hair were like that."

Akima studied her. "Your hair is like the midnight sky, and I have always loved the sky at night. And it shines like the full moon."

Haruko hunched her shoulders self-consciously. "I never thought of it like that. It sounds so poetic, the way you describe it. But the only way we can get our hair and our skin to look like that is to use makeup, or glitter dust that they make for hair."

"Well," Akima said, preening just a little, "not all merpeople have such coloring—only those of us in the royal line. Other mermaids simply look as you do. I have heard that some in the Atlantic Ocean use seaweed to decorate their hair. How common!"

"You're a princess or something?" Haruko asked.

"Yes, of course. My mother is Nyah, Princess of the Seven Seas. Not that I will be any more than a minor princess, you understand, for I am seventy-third in the family." Akima rolled her eyes. "On the other hand, it frees me of royal duties, so that I can do as I wish and have no real obligations, as long as I treat the sea creatures well."

"Seventy-third in line for the throne, huh?" Haruko said.

Akima corrected, "Seventy-third of ninety. That's how many children Mama and Daddy had together. Daddy was once a regular human like you, till he and Mama fell in love and he became a merman."

Haruko whistled softly. "You have eighty-nine brothers and sisters? That's amazing! All I have is a little sister, and she's only seven. Mama-san and Papa-san wanted another baby, but Mama-san miscarried and she can't have any more. Those are my parents," she added at Akima's odd look. "I was born in Japan, but I've lived here since I was six."

"Oh, of course, of course…that explains how you know of kappas," Akima said and shuddered. "Oh, how I hate kappas. The stars of nightmares, they are. One of them once tried to eat my youngest brother. Daddy beat it off with the skull from a hammerhead shark he killed for Mama on their honeymoon." Akima seemed to come suddenly back to the present. "Oh, I am talking in whirlpools. Why don't you tell me of your life on dry land? It will help to pass the time."

"Pass the time?" Haruko echoed.

Akima made a face. "I suppose I should tell you. My family is somewhere very far away from here, on their way to Pitcairn Island. The storm caught us all by surprise, and I was separated from them. It was unfamiliar ocean, and I lost all my senses. When I knew myself again, I was lying where you found me yesterday."

"Oh my God, and they just left you, without looking for you?" Haruko gasped.

"When we travel in our school, there are nearly a hundred of us, and Mama and Daddy can't possibly keep track of us all. We are all old enough that we are expected to be able to keep up with the rest of the family. But the storm was much stronger than any other I have known. I can now only wait for them to realize my absence and to return for me. But while I am waiting, I would be entertained to know what life on land is like."

And that was how Haruko talked herself nearly hoarse, describing her humdrum daily life at home and at school, frequently interrupted by Akima's requests for explanations of nearly everything. The mermaid seemed fascinated, and by the time Haruko began to lose her voice, Akima had decided that her life under the sea was as boring as they came.

Haruko was astonished. "But how can that be? What makes it so boring, when you have so much to see? I mean, geez. When I was in third grade, we learned that almost three-quarters of this planet is covered with water. There is waaaaaay more ocean floor to explore than there is land to travel. People have even visited Antarctica. But no human's ever been to the Marianas Trench, for one thing, and cripes…when the Titanic went down it took them almost seventy-five years to find the wreck! It was lying in freezing-cold water two miles down and nobody'd ever been there before!"

Akima sniffed. "I have, and so have a great many merpeople. You do not understand, Haruko Miyamoto. You say that three-quarters of this earth is covered with water and that this means we have much more to see. Well, I have seen it!" The last sentence came out with an imperial impatience that startled Haruko. "That leaves one-fourth of the world I have not seen, and it is all land. I have never been on land."

"What about yesterday?" Haruko broke in.

"That was an accident! And all I could see around me was the same boring material I always see: sand, seaweed, and water! Oh, I saw a few rocks, yes, and that strange wooden structure with the colorful human boxes mounted on it, but I saw nothing else. Bah! I am simply bored!" Akima paused to catch her breath, then focused on Haruko, her high color suddenly that of excitement. "Suppose we were to trade places? You wish to see my world and I wish to see yours. Would it not be wonderful?"

Haruko gaped at her, so taken by the idea that all she could see in her mind's eye was herself, decked out with a tail as gorgeous as Akima's, swimming gracefully among schools of brightly colored fish, exploring shipwrecks, making friends with dolphins, outwitting sharks…maybe even meeting some cute merboy. "Oh wow, wouldn't it just! It'd be positively awesome! I could do anything I wanted, go anywhere I liked…" She sputtered to a halt and stared at Akima with sudden pity. "And poor you, you'd be stuck going to school and babysitting my sister. Maybe it's not such a great idea, at least not for you."

"Better to babysit merely one human sister than twenty annoying little merbrats who never listen to a single thing I say. I want to do it."

"I do too…only, how are we going to switch? You have to be in the water or your tail and skin'll dry out, right? And I don't have gills, so I can't breathe underwater."

Akima thought for a moment. "What place is this? I have wondered ever since I woke on that beach. What do you call it?"

"Oh, this is Fantasy Island," Haruko said.

Akima went very still and gawked at her, her eyes slowly getting bigger and bigger till Haruko was afraid they might spring out of her head like a cartoon. "Fantasy Island!" the mermaid breathed, as if invoking the name of some sacred place. "Oh, I never dreamed in all my life that I should be so fortunate as to come here!" She grabbed Haruko's arm. "Is that wonderful Mr. Cork still here?"

Haruko couldn't help it and started to giggle. "His name's Mr. Roarke, and yes, he's still here, still owns the island. Mama-san's friends with his daughter, and I babysit her triplets a lot."

"Mama knew Mr. Roarke for many, many years…centuries even. When she met Daddy, she thought never to see him again. Once Mama even thought she was in love with Mr. Roarke…but oh, that is another story. You must ask Mr. Roarke, Haruko Miyamoto! It is the only way we can exchange our boring lives! Will you do it?"

Haruko bit her lip. "It's gonna be awhile," she admitted. "Usually I babysit Miss Leslie's triplets on the weekends, but not this one, 'cause Prince Christian just got back from Arcolos and he's taking a week off from work, and he's staying at home with the babies all week, I guess…and Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie are both working this weekend, and then on Monday I can't 'cause I have to go back to school…"

"When can you ask?" Akima persisted.

"I don't know," Haruko said helplessly. "I probably can't do it till at least next Friday, and even then I'd probably have to take my pesky little sister with me 'cause I always have to watch her after school. Oh, drat it! Maybe this won't work after all!"

Akima frowned. "It will work, because I am a princess and I get what I want. And I will get this too—for both you and me. I will think about it, Haruko Miyamoto. When I know what to do, I will call you. As soon as you hear me, come quickly to this beach."

"Okay," Haruko promised. "Oh…before you go, there's one thing I should tell you. You don't have to use both my first and my last name. Just call me Haruko."

"Oh, I am glad you have told me. When we have exchanged lives, I will not sound so strange now when I call someone's name. Oh yes, we must do this, and we will. If I must wait for my family to return for me, I will not be bored while I wait. Do not worry, Haruko, my friend. I will think of a way!" Akima beamed at her, then bobbed below the waves and twisted away, iridescent tail reflecting bright flashes of sunlight into Haruko's eyes. Haruko watched her go till her form was swallowed by the blue-green depths, then made her way back onto the sand, retrieving her bottle and shorts and heading back to the town square. If there was a way, she was sure, Akima would find it. Wouldn't it be cool if we could actually pull it off? Just imagine what she'd do to stupid David Omamara the first time he made fun of her—she'd probably invite him to the beach and drown him, and he'd deserve it, the smug jerk. And imagine the incredible report I could write for my science class—I could see exotic fishes right up close. That's one thing I bet nobody else on this island's ever done…be a mermaid for a while. Giggling to herself with anticipation, Haruko broke into a skipping run, taking her time about going back home.

§ § § -- March 21, 2005

Leslie came into the house Monday morning to find the triplets scattered around the living room and Christian on the sofa, engrossed in applications. Susanna was just pulling herself onto her feet using the coffee table; Karina, having recently mastered the art of crawling, was trying to keep up with Ingrid, who was doing laundry; and Tobias had managed to untie his father's shoe while remaining completely undetected by the shoe's owner. Leslie stopped, took in the scene and started to laugh. "Christian, my darling, are you watching the triplets, or are they watching you?"

Christian's head came up sharply in startlement and he looked around for a second or two, then added his laughter to hers. "I suppose you'd have to say they're watching me," he admitted good-naturedly. "How was the weekend, then?"

"Successful as usual," said Leslie, removing her shoes and coming into the living room. "Susanna Shannon, just look at you, baby girl! Before we know it you'll be walking, and then you'll get yourself into every kind of mischief, won't you?"

"Ya-ya-ya-ya-ya," Susanna chattered happily back, and this seeming agreement made her parents laugh again. Christian took in the sight of his little daughter on her feet, clinging to the edge of the coffee table, and shook his head with pride.

"They're Enstads…they're going to be overachievers," he said, unaware of Leslie's half-incredulous, half-indulgent grin. Karina had been crawling across the room, making a beeline for her mother, and Leslie picked her up now as Christian went on, "My nephews and nieces were fast developers too. I seem to remember during my late teens that it felt as if every time we had a press conference, one of them had hit another milestone and it had to be reported for the people. I think maybe we should have a blog, my Rose…keep visitors to the royal website informed of the triplets' progress as they grow."

"Boy, you don't have much paternal pride, do you," Leslie remarked with amused irony, sitting beside him and settling Karina in her lap. "Who's going to write this wonderful new blog? And incidentally, why do you have your shoes on in the house?" They had always followed the Scandinavian custom of going shoeless indoors.

The last question made Christian look down at his feet and break into more laughter at the sight of his son yanking on his shoelaces. "I guess I was pretty absorbed if I didn't even notice Tobias untying my shoes," he observed, "much less forgot to take off the shoes in the first place. Actually, I had a call yesterday afternoon from the office, telling me I had quite a stack of applications for the open position and suggesting I come and pick them up to go through at my leisure. I didn't manage to do that till this morning, and I want to get someone installed as soon as I can. Perhaps if I do, that empty desk won't be such a reminder."

Leslie nodded sympathetically. "How are they over there?"

"Doing well enough, I think, though understandably they tell me it's quite strange without Mateo. They sent Anna-Kristina a joint sympathy card a few days ago. Oh, and as for your question about the blog, I think you should write it. Mothers always enjoy bragging about their children, don't they?"

Leslie shot him a dirty look that made him grin. "This from the guy who says his children are going to be overachievers. Tell you what, Proud Papa Prince, suppose I write the English version of this blog and you translate it into jordiska—or better yet, just write your own version in jordiska. You shouldn't be allowed to get off easy by copying my words."

"Hmm, that sounds reasonable," Christian said and grinned again. "You know how much I enjoy tinkering with websites, even our own family's. So you and Mr. Roarke had another weekend of smooth sailing, then, did you?" He set aside the applications and lifted Tobias into his lap.

"Yup. There was one odd little thing on Saturday morning, though. We were still at the plane dock greeting the guests, and Father got this funny look on his face and stared at nothing—as if he were listening. But when I asked him what was wrong, he just shrugged it off." She put Karina into Christian's lap beside Tobias and stretched out her hands toward Susanna, who was beginning to fret from frustration at not knowing how to sit down from her standing position. "Come on, sweetie, take Mommy's hands. Anyway, I could swear I've seen that look on him before, I just can't place it yet. Good girl, Susanna!" Susanna had latched onto Leslie's hands and was walking toward her, one hesitant step at a time.

"Why do I have the feeling that within a month, she'll be doing that on her own?" Christian mused, looking on with pride gleaming from his eyes. "Well, whatever Mr. Roarke may or may not have encountered, you're more than likely to see the results sometime in the next few weekends."

"Probably so," Leslie said, hoisting Susanna into her lap. "I bet it'll be interesting, at the absolute minimum."