Read Online To Catch a Mermaid by Suzanne Selfors - Free Book Online Page A

feelings just like everyone else.”
    Fish do not have feelings,
Boom thought.
Half fish don’t have them either.
    “That poor little squirrel,” Ms. Kibble whispered.
    “I love squirrels,” Boom said, which wasn’t really a lie. He actually didn’t have any feelings about squirrels one way or the other, but he didn’t go around throwing rocks at them. “I need goldfish and I’m kind of in a hurry.”
    “I love squirrels too,” Winger added from behind Boom’s back.
    “You can come tomorrow.” Ms. Kibble started to close the door but Boom stuck his kicking foot in the way — risking a bruise or even a broken toe, but it was a risk he was willing to take.
    “Please, Ms. Kibble.” What could he tell her? Certainly not that he needed to feed the goldfish to a mutant sea creature.
    Think, think.
    “I agree with what you said, with that thing about goldfish having feelings too.” The lies were stacking up. Ms. Kibble tilted her head with interest. “Goldfish are direct descendants of . . . of the same primordial ooze that we all came from. That’s why they have feelings just like everyone else. Feelings like being scared or . . . or lonely. My sister’s goldfish is lonely. He needs some friends.” Boom waited, shuffling his feet with Winger. That was one of the best lies Boom had ever concocted on such short notice.
    Ms. Kibble closed her bloodshot eyes for a moment. When she opened them her lips curled into a little smile. “Dear boy,” she said, a tear pooling at the corner of her eye. “I underestimated you. Not everyone understands the needs of the world’s smallest creatures. Come in, come in.”

Chapter Twelve:
    Jay the Miracle Fish

    M s. Kibble’s house smelled like cat litter. And guinea pig litter and ferret litter. All sorts of sounds greeted the boys as they stepped into what seemed to be the living room, but so much of it was taken up by critters, it was hard to tell. “Wow,” Winger said when he came eye to eye with a blue and yellow parrot.
    “Bad kitty, bad kitty,” the parrot chanted.
    “Polly want a cracker?” Winger asked. The parrot stretched its neck and delicately picked a doughnut sprinkle off Winger’s cheek.
    “Sit down, boys,” Ms. Kibble said, motioning to the couch, where a fat white cat lay curled. Tufts of white hair covered each of the couch cushions. The cat opened one lazy eye and hissed as the boys sat. Winger moved closer to Boom.
    Ms. Kibble pointed to the coffee table, where two fish swam in a fishbowl. “That’s Jay the Miracle Fish,” she told them. “And his little friend, Walter.”
    Jay was a big goldfish, about three inches long. He’d make a great meal for the merbaby. “How much?” Boom asked.
    “Bad kitty, bad kitty,” the parrot chanted.
    “Oh, Jay the Miracle Fish is not for sale,” Ms. Kibble explained. She sneezed again, then sat down on a stool. “He’s my special fish.”
    “Why’s he called the Miracle Fish?” Winger asked.
    Rats! Why did he have to ask that? Now they’d be stuck there listening to some long story when Boom had to get back to the house and feed the merbaby so it wouldn’t shriek and so Mr. Mump wouldn’t complain to the police.
    “Jay used to be all alone in this bowl, swimming around his castle day after day after day,” Ms. Kibble told them. “Then one day, he leapt out and landed on the coffee table.”
    “Out of the bowl?” Winger asked, leaning forward. “On purpose?”
    “Yes,” Ms. Kibble declared, unwrapping some sort of throat lozenge. “On purpose. He started leaping out every morning at exactly the same time — right when Kitty finished her breakfast and came to curl up on the couch for her morning nap, just like she’s doing now. So every morning I’d put Jay back into his bowl, but he’d leap out again the next morning.” She paused for a moment to pop the lozenge into her mouth. Boom took a breath, intending to interrupt, but he wasn’t quick enough. “It never occurred to me