The Tail of Emily Windsnap by Liz Kessler, Sarah Gibb

The New York Times best-selling series A young girl learns she's half mermaid and plunges into a scheme to reunite with her father in this entrancing, satisfying tale that beckons readers far below the waves. For as long as she can remember, twelve-year-old Emily Windsnap has lived on a boat. And, oddly enough, for just as long, her mother has seemed anxious to keep Emily away from the water. But when Mom finally agrees to let her take swimming lessons, Emily makes a startling discovery -- about her own identity, the mysterious father she's never met, and the thrilling possibilities and perils shimmering deep below the water's surface. With a sure sense of suspense and richly imaginative details, first-time author Liz Kessler lures us into a glorious undersea world where mermaids study shipwrecks at school and Neptune rules with an iron trident -- an enchanting fantasy about family secrets, loyal friendship, and the convention-defying power of love. Editorial Reviews Review Pre-teen girls will likely bite at this novel's tempting bait. -Publishers Weekly Delightful moments. -School Library Journal Light, imagination-tickling fare ideal for middle-grade girls, with charming ink-wash illustrations scattered throughout. -Booklist Middle school girls . . . will enjoy the tale. -VOYA There is no denying the siren-like allure of mermaid stories. . . . Gibb's spot art has a fluid delicacy that adds much to the watery ambience. -Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books Liz Kessler makes a splash with this tightly written, highly imaginative debut. -FamilyFun Charming. -The Wall Street Journal Liz Kessler creates an engaging heroine, full of funny asides and derring-do, and a sparkling, fast-paced story with more plot twists than a mermaid's flipping tale. -Washington Parent About the Author Liz Kessler lives in England, and has worked as a teacher, journalist, and editorial consultant. She says she first knew she wanted to become a writer at the age of nine, when she had a poem published in a local newspaper. The Tail of Emily Windsnap, her first children's book, grew out of a poem she wrote about a mermaid. Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Can you keep a secret? Everybody has secrets, of course, but mine's different, and it's kind of weird. Sometimes I even have nightmares that people will find out about it and lock me up in a zoo or a scientist's laboratory. It all started in seventh-grade swim class, on the first Wednesday afternoon at my new school. I was really looking forward to it. Mom hates swimming, and she always used to change the subject when I asked her why I couldn't learn. But we live on a boat! I'd say (we actually do). We're surrounded by water! You're not getting me in that water, she'd reply. Just look at all the pollution. You know what it's like when the day cruises have been through here. Now stop arguing, and come and help me with the vegetables. She had kept me out of swimming lessons all the way through grade school, saying it was unhealthy. All those bodies mixing in the same water. She'd shudder. That's not for us, thank you very much. And each time I asked her, that would be that: End of Discussion. But the summer before I started middle school, I finally wore her down. All right, all right, she sighed. I give in. Just don't start trying to get me in there with you. I'd never been in the ocean. I'd never even had a bath. Hey, I'm not dirty or anything -- I do take a shower every night. But there isn't enough room for a bathtub on the boat, so never in my life had I been totally immersed in water. Until the first Wednesday afternoon of seventh grade. Mom bought me a special new bag to carry my new bathing suit and towel. On the side, it had a picture of a woman doing the crawl. I looked at the picture and dreamed about winning Olympic races with a striped racing suit and blue goggles just like hers. Only it didn't happen quite like that. When we got to the pool, a man with a whistle and white shorts and a red T-shirt told the girls to go change in one room and the boys in the other. I changed quickly in the corner. I didn't want anyone to see my skinny body. My legs are like sticks, and they're usually covered in scabs and bruises from getting on and o? The King of the Sea. That's our boat. I admit it's kind of a fancy name for a little houseboat with moldy ropes, peeling paint, and beds the width of a ruler. . . . Anyway. We usually just call it King. Julia Cross smiled at me as she put her clothes in her locker. I like your suit, she said. It's just plain black with a white stripe across the middle. I like your cap, I said, and smiled back as she squashed her hair into her tight, pink swimming cap. I squeezed my ponytail into mine. I usually wear my hair loose; Mom made me put it in a scrunchie today. My hair is mousy brown and used to be short, but I'm growing it out right now. It's a bit longer than shoulder length so far. Julia and I sit next to each other sometimes. We're not best friends. Sharon Matterson used to be my best friend, but she went to St. Mary's. I'm at Brightport Junior High. Julia's the only person here that I might want to be best friends with. But I think she really wants to be best friends with Mandy Rushton. They hang out together between classes. I don't mind. Not really. Except when I can't find my way to the cafeteria -- or to some of the classes. At those moments, it might be nice to have someone to get lost with. Brightport Junior High is about ten times bigger than my elementary school. It's like an enormous maze, with millions of boys and girls who all seem to know what they're doing. You coming, Julia? Mandy Rushton stood between us with her back to me. She gave me a quick look over her shoulder, then whispered something in Julia's ear and laughed. Julia didn't look up as they passed me. Mandy lives on the pier, like me, only not on a boat. Her parents run the video arcade, and they've got an apartment above it. We used to be pretty good friends until last year. That's when I accidentally told my mom -- who told Mandy's mom -- that Mandy had showed me how to win free games on the PinWizard machine. I didn't mean to get her in trouble but --well, let's just say I'm not exactly welcome in the arcade anymore. In fact, she hasn't spoken to me since. And now we've ended up in the same swim class at Brightport Junior High. Fabulous. As if starting a new school the size of a city isn't bad enough. I finished getting ready and hurried out.