Sink or Swim Read Free Page A

wear but soggy pajamas and hundred-pound shoes. With a large sigh and a lot of effort, I heave myself onto the dry sand.
    SQUISH. When I pull off one of my sneakers, a piece of seaweed and a gallon of sandy water spill out.
    Jonah is right behind me. “Abby! I see someone! Is that Jack?” He points to the ocean. In the distance, there’s a blob moving toward us.
    I squint toward the water. I see a head! A guy’s head! But it can’t be Jack. Jack climbs; he doesn’t swim. Also, Jack is about my age, and this guy looks like a teenager. Wait! Behind the guy’s head another head keeps bobbing in and out of the water. A girl’s head. At least I think it’s a girl’s head. I can see long blond hair. They’re getting closer … and closer … and … Yup, it’s a girl. And then behind her is something green and orange. A towel? A floatie?
    It’s shiny and triangle-shaped and reminds me of a paper fan I had as a kid.
    Oh! It’s a tail! The girl has a tail!
    Which can only mean one thing.
    “She’s a mermaid!” I exclaim. “We’re in The Little Mermaid !”
    “But who’s the mermaid holding?” my brother asks. “Maybe it’s Jack?”
    “I am one hundred percent sure it is not Jack,” I snap.
    The guy has dark-brown hair and his eyes are closed. His head is rolling from side to side. That’s not a good sign.
    I can’t tell if this mermaid is the Little Mermaid or just a mermaid. I need to remember the original story. My nana read it to me a million times. I just have to focus, and it’ll all come back to me. Too bad there’s no time to focus.
    From about twenty feet away, the mermaid’s head bobs above the surf. She looks right at us, gasps, and disappears under the water. A second later, she pushes the guy toward us and swims in the other direction.
    “We scared her,” Jonah says.
    “Wait!” I call to the mermaid. “Don’t leave!”
    “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to the people in the story!” Jonah exclaims.
    Right. Crumbs.
    No time to worry about that now.
    The guy is sinking under the surface and it’s up to us to save him.

W e jump back into the water and each grab one of the guy’s arms. He’s wearing a yellow shirt and dark-brown pants that are soaked and torn. He’s handsome. Really handsome. Floppy brown hair, chiseled cheekbones. Full lips that are tinged blue.
    Uh-oh, that’s not a good sign.
    “Don’t drop him!” I order.
    Jonah’s eyes are wide with worry. “Is he okay?”
    A wave crashes into my back and I ignore the question. “Let’s just get him to the shore!”
    We pull and we heave, and a few minutes later we lay himdown on the sand. I cup my ear against his mouth. He’s breathing! “He’s okay! Just unconscious, maybe?”
    Jonah exhales in relief. “Who do you think he is?”
    As I collapse on the hot sand beside him, the original story floats back to me. Prince … shipwreck … the Little Mermaid saved the prince … “Oh! That was the Little Mermaid! And this is the prince she saved from the shipwreck!”
    “But why was the prince in the water?”
    “Don’t you remember?” I ask. Nana read him the same stories she read to me. Although I paid attention 110 percent of the time and he paid attention about 10 percent of the time.
    He shrugs. “Just start at the beginning.”
    “Fine,” I say. I lie down on the sand and close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “There was a mermaid. And she was, um, little.”
    “What was her name?” Jonah asks.
    Hmm. Good question. “I don’t think she has a name in the actual story.”
    “Who wrote the story? Was it the Grimm brothers again?”
    “No, it was a Danish guy. Hans Christian Andersen.”
    “He liked Danish? The cheese kind?”
    I open my eyes just long enough to roll them at my brother and then close them again. “No, he was from Denmark. The country.”
    “But the Little Mermaid lived in the ocean, right?”
    “Obviously.”
    “Why are you being mean?” he whines.
    “Because you’re asking