A jumbo snail made its way—leaving a trail of slime—across the top of my dresser. Was it a pet or just something that had wandered inside? Really, those were the sorts of details Chrissy should have told me before dropping me into a story.

A metal cup with an English insignia sat on the dresser. Probably from a shipwreck. It held quill pens whose pale feathers undulated in the current. Did quill pens work in the water? I picked one up and realized it wasn’t a pen. It was some sort of thin spiny creature that let out a tiny shriek, pulled its feathers inside its shell and squirted black liquid from its bottom. I quickly dropped the thing back into the cup and wiped black stuff off my fingers. Gross. Butt ink.

You know, mermaid life seemed more quaint and charming in the movie.

A short knock sounded on my door, and then the door swung open revealing a large merman. He didn’t look like Disney’s King Triton. Instead of white hair, his hair and beard were a brownish green, as though algae had taken hold there. He was also younger than his cartoon version, but I still knew he was the undersea king.

A coral crown sat atop his head, and he wore a gilded breastplate. But even if he hadn’t worn these adornments, I would have still pegged him as the Little Mermaid’s father. It was in the look he sent me. Half concern, half frustration.

He swooshed into the bedroom with one flick of his powerful tailfin. “Your sisters said you were sick.”

I sat down on the bed and attempted to look ill. “I threw up earlier.”

He cocked an eyebrow like he didn’t believe me, but didn’t press the subject. Instead he sat beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. “Are the mermaids at school still giving you a bad time about your . . .” He sounded uncomfortable saying the words. “. . . your crush on that human fellow?”

I was getting mocked at mermaid high school? Honestly, how did Chrissy think this life was an improvement on my real one? I shrugged nervously. Anything I said would be a lie.

“Are they?” he prompted.

I gave him another shrug. “You know how mermaids are.” He knew better than I did.

The king patted my shoulder consolingly. “It’ll all wash over soon and they’ll forget. Especially if you go study with the Sirens for awhile.”

I shifted away from him. “I don’t think I could do that. I mean, it just seems cruel to lure sailors to their doom. They probably have families and stuff.”

The king made a low, disapproving sound in the back of his throat. “Humans are nothing but selfish, arrogant creatures. The fewer of them, the better.”

“They’re not all like that.” I wasn’t. Although, come to think of it, when Chrissy offered me three wishes, I’d never even thought about asking for something altruistic. I vowed to change that. Next wish I’d do something good for the world.

The king let out an unhappy sigh. “Prince Jason is like the rest of his kind. What you feel for him is infatuation, not love. You need to learn the difference or you’ll never be happy.”

I wanted to say I did know the difference. I wasn’t in love with Jason. I just thought the possibility for love existed.

“You don’t really know anything about that boy,” the king went on.

The Little Mermaid might not have known much about her prince, but I’d seen Jason interviewed. I knew all sorts of things about him. He loved snowboarding, dancing, and his dogs. He wrote his own songs, worked hard, and did charity benefits. He’d always seemed so nice. Back on the ship when he’d yelled and acted like a prima donna—he’d just been in shock. And who wouldn’t be?

“How can you tell the difference between infatuation and love?” I’d meant the statement as a challenge. It tapered off somewhere in the middle, becoming a question instead.

The king dropped his hand and looked at me solemnly. “When you can tell me the difference, I’ll believe you’re really in love.”

I couldn’t reply to that. What did I know? I’d never even had a boyfriend.

The king gave my shoulder another pat and stood. “I’ve meetings to attend, and you need your rest.” He swam toward my door, but turned back before he left. “Think about what I’ve said.” Then he was gone.

I did think about what he’d said—especially the part about me living with Sirens. I had to get out of here, had to get Jason out of here too.

I called Chrissy again.

Still nothing.

I floated around my room in a pacing sort of way and wondered what Jason was doing. Had he realized he was now the prince in the Little Mermaid? Had he figured out who I was? Did he know he needed to kiss me to break the sea witch’s hold on me?

I’d never kissed a guy before, although I’d imagined more than once what it would be like to kiss Jason Prescott. Was it possible he’d be my first kiss? Instead of feeling expectant and dreamy, the thought prickled me with anxiety.

I knew you were supposed to shut your eyes when you kissed a guy, but if I shut my eyes, how could I tell where to put my mouth? What if I missed his lips altogether? Like most things I did the first time, I’d probably be horrible at it.

I called Chrissy again. She didn’t come. My anger built as minutes stretched into hours. I circled around my room so fast the clown fish hovering near the anemones in my hair had a hard time keeping up. “You can’t leave me at the bottom of the sea.” I muttered. “My contract says I have three wishes.”

Another knock came at the door, sending a spike of hope through me. Maybe Chrissy had come.

An older mermaid with a seal tail glided inside. “I thought you might be well enough for lunch.”

“Oh. Thanks.” I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and I’d deposited most of that food on the America’s Top Talent stage.

A large sea turtle swept into my room, carrying a covered dish on his back. His eyes were half-lidded, like he was bored or sullen or both. He stopped by my bed, sunk to the floor, and sat there like a grumpy coffee table. He had been carrying utensils in his mouth but dropped them to nibble on the edge of my seaweed blanket.

Well, that was another difference between the mermaid world and mine. Unsanitary room service.

“Thanks,” I told the woman.

She curtsied, swam back to the door, and shut it behind her.

I drifted over to the turtle table and lifted the dish lid to see what was for lunch. Fish slices. Raw fish, I supposed, since a fire would be impossible in the ocean. Even from where I stood, the fish smelled oily. The meal came with a seaweed salad, sprinkled with something I hoped weren’t fish eggs.

I was going to starve here. The only seafood I liked was breaded, fried, and dipped in sauce. I took a spear from the floor and jabbed one of the slices. Maybe now that I was a mermaid, fish would taste good.

Lots of people ate sushi. And caviar was an expensive delicacy. Ditto for escargot and oysters. Instead of regarding the food here like it was something my cat would refuse, I should pretend I was in an exclusive, elitist restaurant.

“So,” I said to the turtle, delaying taking a bite. “How long have you worked as a table?”

The turtle only stared back. Either he wasn’t the talkative type or, despite what the Disney movie depicted, sea creatures weren’t actually capable of speech. I didn’t know which.

Sheesh. If someone had asked me yesterday if I thought crabs and fishes could perform song and dance numbers, I’d have laughed along with everyone else. Now that I knew fairies, leprechauns, and mermaids existed, anything seemed possible.

I turned the spear, peering at the fish slice from a different angle. “Is any of the castle food better than this?”

Again, no response.

“Okay, I’m ordering you to speak. I’m using my royal power and all that.”

The turtle turned its attention to the food in my hand.

I tried again. “If you understand me, blink.”