Real Mermaids 2 - Don't Hold Their Breath by Helene Boudreau

she saw I hadn’t touched my fries yet.
    â€œToo salty?” she asked.
    â€œOh.” I looked down at my plate and popped a fry in my mouth. “No, no. They’re perfect.”
    Bridget paused. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Are they expanding the mall? I haven’t been shopping there since the spring.”
    â€œYeah. They’re putting in a new wing and landfilling the back part by the shore.” I looked down at my plate imagining each load of dirt going into the tidal pool. What would happen to Mom if we didn’t get to her on time?
    Chelse called over from her perch. “Is that what all those trucks are for? I could barely find a parking spot last time I was there.”
    â€œIt’s too bad they’re filling all that in.” Bridget poured the old coffee in the sink and began to make a fresh pot. “It’s really pretty back there with the pond and everything.”
    â€œYou know where I mean?” I asked. My eyes stung. I wiped a tear away.
    â€œYeah. Hey.” Bridget reached out and touched my arm. Chelse looked over from the ice cream counter. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œIt’s just…” How could I explain why I was so upset without revealing the fact that Mom was floating in the mall’s tidal pool? “That place is— was —really special to my mom.”
    â€œIt is pretty special,” Bridget said thoughtfully. “Especially when the Monarch butterflies are migrating.”
    â€œOh, I have a picture of that.” I scrolled through the pictures on my phone to find the one of Cori from the day before. I held it up for her to see. Bridget smiled as if remembering a similar time.
    â€œHow can they just landfill a place like that?” Chelse took my phone in her hands and studied the picture.
    â€œWell, they shouldn’t really ,” Bridget said slowly. “Considering.”
    â€œConsidering what?” A hopeful feeling rose in my chest.
    â€œMonarchs are a ‘species of special concern.’” Bridget finger-quoted the last bit. “Kind of one step away from being endangered.”
    â€œI didn’t know you were such a nature lover,” Chelse said.
    â€œKind of a sucker for a good cause, more like.” Bridget pressed the button on the coffee maker and wiped down the counter with a cloth. “I actually tried to get that area protected by the town a few years ago.”
    â€œWhat happened?” I tried to keep cool, but the possibility of protecting the tidal pool somehow was the first glimmer of hope I’d had all day.
    â€œI couldn’t get enough people behind it.” Bridget rinsed her cloth in the sink and hung it to dry over the faucet.
    I sighed, unable to hide my disappointment.
    Chelse looked from me to Bridget, a look of disgust on her face.
    â€œAre you kidding me?” Chelse asked. “Over a thousand people will watch a stupid video on Facebook but you couldn’t get enough people to speak up for an almost-endangered species? What is wrong with people?” Then a smile grew on her lips. “Or maybe…”
    â€œWhat?” I looked from Bridget to Chelse. “Maybe what?”
    Chelse pulled out her phone.
    â€œI’m friending you on Facebook. Send me that picture?” She nodded to the picture of Cori with the butterflies.
    â€œSure, but what are you going to do with it?”
    â€œI’m going to attempt to restore my faith in humanity.”

By dinnertime, Chelse had set up a Facebook page and had 37 likes. Dad was reheating Mrs. Blake’s lasagna in the microwave while I filled Cori in on the news over the phone.
    â€œButterflies versus Boutiques.” I read the title of the Facebook page as I surfed the web at the kitchen counter.
    â€œShe used my butterfly arm. Cool!” Cori said.
    Chelse had cropped the picture from my cell phone to show just Cori’s arm and a dump truck off in the