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Why on earth had she dreamed about that?
But then more details surfaced. The nautilus . . . pulsing with yellow light. And when she had touched it, she was teleported into a dark underwater cavern . . . where Ursula offered to grant her a wish. I want to be the fastest swimmer. That had been her wish. She could remember it clearly. The details were fresh and sharp in her mind. But it wasn’t real, she reminded herself.
With that reassurance, Shelly climbed out of bed, padded to her closet, and examined her appearance in the mirror. She didn’t look feverish. She ran her fingers through her curly brown hair, still mussed from sleep. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least.
Shelly changed into her pink tracksuit and turned back toward her bed—and that was when she saw it. Her skin pricked. A soft gasp escaped her lips. “No. That’s impossible,” she blurted.
She rushed to her bedside table and blinked, thinking she must be seeing things. But no matter how many times she batted her eyes, it was still there, right beside her mermaid lamp.
The nautilus.
The one from the beach.
The one from her nightmare.
How had it ended up back in her room?
She studied it. Water had pooled around it. She struggled to understand how it got there. Dawson probably was snooping around her room again, like he always did. That was it! He probably left it there by mistake. How else could she explain it?
Feeling a surge of irritation—at both the nightmare and her snooping little brother—she reached for the shell. But then she hesitated. She didn’t want to touch it. She remembered that touching it in the dream had transported her to an undersea lair. She didn’t want to take any chances, even though she knew it was just a nightmare. Quickly, Shelly used a sock to protect her hand while she tossed the shell to the bottom of her laundry hamper. I’ll deal with you later, she thought as it vanished among dirty clothes.
With that, she flew from her room and to the kitchen. She quickly poured herself a bowl of cereal. A few minutes later, Dawson’s voice rang out. “Mom, I can’t find my shell!”
Shelly tried to ignore him and focus on her soggy cornflakes. But it was a lost cause.
A second later, her little brother charged into the kitchen with an indignant expression on his face. He wore a striped T-shirt, khaki shorts, and a red sheet tied over his shoulders like a cape. He had the same olive complexion and brown eyes as his sister, but his dark hair had an uneven, choppy bowl cut from when he had tried to give himself a new hairstyle, much to their mother’s horror. Now he was banned from playing with the scissors. He put his hands on his hips and squared off to face her. “I bet Shelly stole it!” he added.
Shelly glared at him. “I didn’t steal it. Besides, why would I give it to you just to take it?”
“Because it’s special,” Dawson said. “And you’re Shell-fish!”
Shelly rolled her eyes. “You probably lost it in that dumpster you call a room.”
Their mother ambled into the kitchen, workbag slung over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Mom, Shelly stole my shell,” Dawson whined. “And now she’s lying about it!”
Shelly rolled her eyes. “Mom, I didn’t steal it. He probably lost it.”
“Liar pants!” he cried.
“Shelly, did you take it?” her mother asked. “Maybe on accident?”
Shelly felt sick. She shrugged, not sure what to say. Had she stolen it? Had she been sleepwalking and taken it? Had Dawson been snooping around and left it in her room? All she knew was that she couldn’t afford to get in trouble. Not with the first swim meet coming up.
She had enough to worry about already.
Before she could respond, her mother checked her watch. “I’m going to be late for work,” she sighed. “You two need to stop fighting all the time. Now please apologize.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Shelly said, feeling guilty. “I’ll do better. I promise.”
After their mother kissed them each goodbye and headed for the door, Shelly approached Dawson. “Hey, bud, it’s time for school,” she said gently. “Listen, I’ll help you look for the shell tonight, okay? After I get home. And maybe we could clean up your room a little, too. Okay?”
Dawson snuffled but then relaxed. “Okay, thanks. I love you.”
She ruffled his hair. “I love you, too. Now let’s go!” After Shelly raced to the front door to grab her backpack, her eyes darted to her bedroom door, where a stain had formed on the carpet.
Wet footprints led from Dawson’s room to her door.
