Cerulean (One Thousand Blues) (14 page)

“Thank you.” I wrap both hands around it.

Jesse laughs. “You need to open it!”

I slowly pull away the wrappings and find my whistle. The strong nylon chain is folded around the transparent waterproof box.

Jesse has gifted me my whistle.

He watches me silently.

“How?”

“I saw you throw it into the ocean and figured when your anger went away, you would want it back.”

I have thought about that moment all day long, of saying farewell to betrayal… and of the final splash of my whistle hitting the waters.

“How did you find it?”

“Well, it took a bit of searching, but luckily, the waterproof box kept it afloat.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling the return of that foreign emotion hope.

Jesse pulls two candles and a small container of matches out of his bag. “I know one more thing that’ll cheer you up. We have to head downstairs to see it, though.” He scratches a single match against the stone surface of the balcony. The sparks flare to a golden flame. Jesse lights both of the candles, then hands one to me.

I stare into the flickering yellow glow. Fire has been one of the most intriguing discoveries about Land. We had been taught about fire in the learning pod, of course, but it is impossible to truly describe the smell that infuses you, the heat invoked by even the tiniest of flames, the way the colors change—dancing gold, orange, red, and sometimes blue. They taught us how humans controlled fire in the A.W., but how can anyone control something that is so
alive
?

“Ready?” Jesse stands at the doorway, waiting.

As we retrace our steps, head down the staircase, I gaze into the candlelight. The coolness of the water contrasts the warmth of the land. The sun’s heat, fire’s flame, a hug’s blanket are all missing from the depths. I cannot help but wonder: does the ocean itself snuff out our flames?

*

“Did you find your dolphin?” Captain asks.

Jesse shakes his head. “Chey needs some cheering up.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Captain grins.

“Yep. Let’s tap into the solar reserve tonight.”

Sydney claps her hands, while Danny and Jesse disappear from the room. Cloth-covered tables fill the center of the room, while booths line the walls. After choosing the closest one, I sit and force myself to eat the food that Captain hands me, but I have no real appetite.

“I’m mighty sorry your dolphin didn’t show.” Captain sits down beside me in the tiny booth. “It pains me to see you so sad.”

“Do you think they h—hurt her?” My disappointment over Haku’s absence has transitioned into worry for her. Would the Authority harm her because of my disappearance?

“Nothing your authorities do would surprise me at this point.” He scowls.

“Could—could I try one more time?” I finger my whistle. Maybe…

Captain’s face softens. “Hey, we don’t need to leave first thing tomorrow. Why don’t you head back to the Rock in the morning?”

“Really?” Hope surges through my body.

“There’s one condition,” Captain adds. “Let yourself enjoy the surprise tonight.”

*

“Keep your eyes closed.” Jesse leads me through the hotel while my hands are clasped over my eyes. He turns me to the side. “Now open them!”

A tree reaches toward the ceiling—not one of the palms that grow around the island—but a dark conical tree, wide at the bottom and pointy near the top. Instead of the wide leaves of the palm, this tree is covered in hundreds of tiny needles. Best of all, it twinkles and glows with a rainbow of little lights. The tree
spins
around, showing off its treasures: colorful glass fish, shiny sea stars, and green metallic turtles.

“Do you like it?” Jesse grins.

“What
is
it?”

“Before the Disaster, people celebrated their biggest holiday with these trees,” he says.

“How does it still live after all this time?”

Sydney laughs so hard she snorts. “The needles are plastic. Feel them.”

“Sammy got the Whaleside’s solar running a few years back. We turn it on every now and then for special occasions.” Danny wraps his arm around Sydney. We all stand, watching the tree.

“Flip the music on,” Captain orders.

Suddenly the room fills with Human-song. The music comes from all directions, beautiful voices singing with a whole background of instruments. How amazing that Human-song can be saved and played on request. Even more astounding, though, are the lyrics…

“Joy to the world…”

“… Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh…”

“Oh, come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant…”

“… While you dwell within it, you are ever happy then. Childhood’s joy-land. Mystic merry Toyland…”

“…’Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la…”

They had a
season
to be happy? The joy radiates from each song, and I imagine our ancestors standing around this tree as they sang in elation. So many words for happiness pour out—merry, joy, fun, jolly, happy—as song after song tells the true tale of all that we have lost.

Cold reality cuts the poignancy of these songs: our ancestors, struck down during their happiest of seasons; the children of the waters, robbed of their parents; my world, bereft of all happiness.

Worst of all, the Authority and his Committee perpetuate this joylessness with their lies and deceit.

Silent tears fall—first just a few, then a steady stream—until finally, after all these years, I allow myself to sob. There is danger in mourning, truly grieving, while under the seas. Grief can easily overcome you in the blues of the water, so I have always kept my own carefully locked—only allowing small, controlled slivers of memory to escape.

Sydney wraps her arms around me from the back. Jesse embraces me. Without words or invitation, Captain and Danny join, enclosing me in a giant group hug. Their collective heat warms me, outside and in, and slowly, the tears stop.

I look at the tree again, but view it differently this time. Rather than a sad reminder of what used to be, the majestic pine stands as an example of what
could be
. My resolve grows. I will not abandon my people. I
will
find a way to bring back joy.

18

The first rays of sun peek through the open windows, coating the bed in golden light. The light shines upon Jesse’s face and highlights the light brown hairs sprouting from his chin. After the warmth of the group hug, I couldn’t bear to disappear into one of the giant rooms by myself. Jesse offered to share his room, and he held me in his arms all night long. Interconnectedness starves off the sadness, I am finding.

The glow dances across his eyelids, makes his long eyelashes glisten. Jesse has been the best of friends since he pulled me from the ocean, supportive and caring, but I wonder if something more could be forming.

The frequent touches, his lips upon mine, his words—
I like you, Chey
—all lead me to think a bigger bond grows between us. My smile forms at the thought, but the sound of the waves calls to me. My two worlds tug just a bit more.

While he sleeps, my curiosity takes charge. I run one finger along the hairs sprouting from his chin.
Bristly, like a whale’s baleen.
I stroke his golden brown curls.
Soft and like nothing from the waters.

I wonder if he still smells of the sea. As I lean close to find out, his eyes open.

I whistle in surprise. How odd that some instincts remain above the Surface.

He wraps me in an enormous hug. “What a nice way to wake up. Did you sleep well?”

“Better than I ever have. These beds are so comfortable. Why hasn’t everybody moved in here, with the beds and solar power and all?”

“It’s too far from the House of Sun. We wouldn’t be able to make the weekly pilgrimage.” Jesse rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“Sundays are that important?”

He rests on one elbow. “The Disaster was a fight over stuff. We try to focus on kin, and Sundays help us remember our focus.”

Was there a focus under the waters? Everybody went about their duties—the young learning, those of age working—but there was a mindlessness to it. Maybe beginning each day with a deeper purpose helps. Today, I will have a focus: I will find Haku.

“I want to go to the ocean myself this morning. Maybe Haku will come if I am alone.”

Jesse bites his bottom lip. He takes a long time to respond. “Do you think it’s safe?”

“Haku would
never
hurt me.” Of this I am certain.

“What about your authorities? Could they be looking for you?” Jesse runs his fingers over the little scar that remains on my forehead.

“I have never heard of such a thing.” But there is so much the Authority does that I am not aware of. I think of my goal: finding Haku. “I am willing to take the risk.”

Jesse remains silent, but a slight shadow passes over his face.

“I will be cautious,” I promise.

“Be careful,” he urges, hugging me once more.

*

The beach is different in the morning’s light. The brilliant heat of yesterday’s afternoon is absent; instead, the pinky glow of the morning greets me. I sink into the soft, dry sand as I memorize the light of new day.

The water is nearly still. There is only the gentlest of breezes, the tiniest lap of waves, but the glassy surface of the ocean does not reveal Haku’s familiar fin.

I carefully fold my sundress and set it high in the sand, then walk toward Black Rock. I climb the enormous boulder. The motions are unfamiliar, but my muscles, strong from swimming, pull me higher and higher. Finally I stand atop the highest peak.

I look out onto the ocean and blow my whistle—long and sharp—then dive down… down… down until I cut through the water’s surface. The familiar aqua of the morn surrounds me. I blow again and again and again.

I hear her familiar whistle back.
Haku
. I tremble with excitement.
Haku
.

A silver streak darts through the seas toward me, closer and closer.

She’s here! Our embrace, fin to arm, tail to foot, seems awkward after days of hugging humans. But her hug is also familiar—the only touch I knew for so many years.

“You came.” I rest my forehead against her beak.

“I was worried you would not come,” she clicks back. “I’m sorry.” Her keen whistle of distress shows how real her regret is.

“I am sorry too… for not understanding.”

Time passes quickly. Stories from the seas mix with my adventures from the land. Soon, the aqua has deepened to my favorite of the ocean’s hues, cerulean.

Haku swims back and forth: a dolphin’s sign of agitation. “Chey, I have not returned to our sector. I have been investigating… rumors from the waters.”

It pains me to imagine Haku all alone while I have been surrounded by budding friendships. “Rumors?”

“Some have survived… the Unmentionable.”

“Survived?” While the waters never truly slow in the ocean, things seem to freeze for a moment. I struggle to find my own words. “W—what do you mean?”

“On the far end of the island lies the Land of Black Sand. I have seen survivors there.”

Black sand? The sand on this island is the gold of the sunshine’s rays. I want so badly to believe, but the pain of false hope has cut me down so much already. “Who? How many?”

She shakes her head. “I cannot get close enough to be sure.”

A tiny ray of hope breaks through the clouds. “My mother? My father? ’Bow?” Could they really have survived?

“You must find the Land of the Black Sand. I will meet you there, in one moon’s time, at the entrance of the tube that leads to the seas.”

Haku embraces me once more, then darts away through the waters.

19

I burst through the doors of the Whaleside. Everyone sits around a table littered with empty plates. They concentrate on a card game.

“Did you find her?” Jesse is the first to greet me.

I nod. Sydney rushes up to give me a hug. “Was she happy to see you?”

Captain pats me on the back. “I’m glad you met up. How’s your dolphin faring?”

I ignore all their questions and ask the most important of my own. “Do you know where the Land of the Black Sand is?”

The friendly chatter stops. Nobody looks at me.

The absence of response gives me my answer. Just when I was building new friendships, I am cut by another round of betrayal.

Jesse reaches for my hand, but I shrug away. The nighttime conversation atop the House of the Sun comes to mind:
Kin belongs with kin.
“There are really survivors? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Captain gently pushes me down into a chair. He sits across from me and looks into my eyes. “Li’l mermaid, we weren’t trying to deceive you. We weren’t sure you were strong enough yet.”