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“Of course, my dear,” Ursula said. “You’d better visit me again before it’s too late.”
“But . . . how do I find you?” Shelly asked, staring at her own reflection in the fogged mirror. She felt crazy for talking to a sink, with nobody else around. “How do I get back there?”
But the voice fell silent.
Then the sinks abruptly shut off. The water that had cascaded onto the floor ran down the drain. No smell of the ocean anymore. No more strange, disembodied voice talking to her.
But drawn in the condensation on the mirror was a simple swirl. It reminded her of something. . . .
The nautilus! Of course!
If Shelly touched the nautilus again, it would transport her back to the undersea lair.
Feeling excited, Shelly fixed her gaze on the swirl. That was the answer. That was the way to solve all her problems. She could keep her friends—and win her next race. She could pay Judy back for the embarrassing prank. They’d get the trophy and have the celebratory party!
Shelly took a deep breath. She knew what she had to do.
She just had to hurry—before her time ran out.
* * *
After dinner out with the swim team, Kendall’s mom dropped Shelly off. As soon as she’d closed the door behind her, Shelly darted through the townhouse, zigzagging around the furniture, through the kitchen, down the hall, and into her room. She needed to get that shell and get back to Ursula’s lair before her time to make her wish ran out. She dove for the hamper, which was shoved into the closet and stuffed with her dirty clothes, and started pawing through it, feeling for something hard. But her hands only sifted through soft, crumpled clothes. She dug deeper, reaching the bottom of the hamper. But nothing.
The nautilus wasn’t there.
“Where is it?” she said in frustration, wheeling around. This was her one chance to fix everything in her life. She had to find that shell. Her eyes darted to the clock. Over an hour had elapsed since she was in the locker room. She searched her memory. She’d been upset from the nightmare—the nightmare that apparently wasn’t a dream but was real after all. But she clearly recalled tossing the shell into her hamper before leaving for school.
Then she saw a note pinned to her mirror.
Scrawled in crayon was Dawson’s terrible chicken scratch: I KNEW YOU STOLE IT, SHELL-FISH! YOU’RE NEVER GETTING IT BACK NOW!
“Dawson, where did you put it?” she yelled at the mirror, ripping off the note. Her cheeks felt hot with anger. Sure, she wasn’t supposed to have the shell. Technically, it belonged to him. She had given it to him as a gift. But he wasn’t allowed to enter her room without her permission. Dawson was many things, but he wasn’t very creative. It had to be in his room.
She had to find it. She couldn’t let Kendall and her friends down again. She needed the sea witch’s help to win their next race. She flew through the hall and pushed open his door. Fortunately, Dawson was staying at their dad’s house that night.
Piles of dirty clothes covered the floor. She couldn’t even see the carpet underneath. Stray toys were strewn through them, just waiting for her to step on them and injure her foot. She started searching through the clothes, but there was no sign of the shell. She tried his closet, but it was so stuffed with toys it was impossible to make headway. The second she opened the door, they all spilled out. No way had he hidden it in the closet. There wasn’t space.
She tried under the bed. On his desk. In the drawers. The bedside table.
Still nothing.
“Where are you?” she muttered, wiping sweat from her forehead. Her eyes darted to his clock and widened. It was almost ten o’clock. She didn’t have much time to find it and return to Ursula’s lair. Could Dawson have taken the shell with him to their dad’s house? If he had, she was done for. Or what if . . . ?
Suddenly, a thought took the breath from her: if Dawson had found the shell, maybe it had transported him into the treacherous undersea lair.
Just as the panic of that possibility set in, her eyes darted to Dawson’s bookshelf, where Mr. Bubbles’s dirty aquarium now sat on the top shelf. She dashed over, reached up, and pulled it down—and sure enough, there it was. The nautilus sat at the bottom of the filthy tank.
“Thank goodness! There you are!” she said, fishing the shell out of the filmy water. But nothing happened at her touch. “You said it would bring me back!” she yelled, feeling silly. “Well, I found it! I’m ready to make my wish!” She clutched the shell tightly in her fist.
She tried yelling again and waving the shell in the air.
Fear rippled through her.
Was she too late?
No—she thought back to her dre
am. Shelly had asked for one more day—and the sea witch had agreed. It hadn’t been a whole day yet. She had a few minutes left. She was sure of it.
