Forgive My Fins (17 page)

16

P
eri is waiting for me beneath the buoy one nautical mile out from the pier. I can tell from the look on her face that she’s eager to hear all the exciting details of my first week as a bonded mermaid. She’s not going to like them.

“Hey,” she says, swimming over to me. “How are you—”

“I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Why?” Her elegant brown brows draw together. “What happened?”

“Quince is being nice to me.”

Her laugh bubbles out before she can slap her hand over her mouth. “What does that have to do with it?”

“He’s never nice to me,” I complain. “Rude, yes. Obnoxious, always. But never nice.”

“That can’t be true,” she says as we swim down to the seafloor. “The boy is obviously nuts about you.”

“You’ve got that half right,” I mutter as I drag my hand through the sand, idly watching a flathead dart from his uncovered hiding place. “He’s definitely nuts.”

Peri twists into a sitting position and pulls her long brown waves over her shoulder. With swift, elegant fingers she deftly weaves her hair into a braid. “I think you’ve got blinders on, girl,” she says, very matter-of-fact. “He was perfectly pleasant last weekend.”

“It must be the bond.” I reach back for my blond frizz—thankfully turned silken in the sea—and start a braid. “It’s messing with our feelings. I’m like a frogging tidal wave of alternating emotions. And he’s no better. He practically bit off my head for walking with Brody yesterday.”

“You were walking with Brody?”

“Yes!” Why am I talking about Quince when I have Brody news? “Coach Pittman made us it in freeze tag, and we caught everyone in class, and then afterward—”

In my excitement, my hands get tangled in my hair. Peri swims to me, moves my hands out of the way, and takes over the braiding.

“—and then afterward he put his arm around me and said we make a great team.”

I twist around to look at her, tugging my hair out of her hands. Ignoring her annoyed scowl, I say, “Isn’t that great? That has to be a good sign. Right?”

“I suppose,” she says, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around so she can finish my hair. “But terraped boys aren’t as easy to understand as mer boys.”

“Tell me about it.” I think back to the afternoon of the swim meet. “I mean, one second Quince and I are arguing, and the next he’s kissing me because Brody’s ex is walking by. Then, at the swim meet, he’s all hugging me and whispering in my ear like we’re true mermates or something.”

Peri gets really quiet behind me. She takes my now-perfect braid and hangs it carefully over my shoulder. I turn around to find out why she’s gone silent, but then I see. A massive Portuguese man-of-war is floating by just a few feet away.

We may live at peace with most of the ocean world, but there are definite exceptions—namely, sharks, poisonous jellyfish, and killer whales (they aren’t
all
Shamu). We’re no more immune to jellyfish stings than humans—maybe even less so because of our delicate skin.

Without saying a word, I wrap my hand around Peri’s wrist and swim as stealthily as possible in the opposite direction. Man-of-wars aren’t intelligent predators, but disturbing the water around them could send their tentacles into deadly motion.

I know why Peri is petrified. When she was six, her younger brother was killed in a man-of-war attack that left her badly scarred but clinging to life. It took the palace medical staff weeks to nurse her back to health. They never could erase her scars or her nightmares.

When we get out of range, I place my hands on either side of her face.

“We’re okay,” I say reassuringly. “We’re safe now.”

Her eyes are wide and unseeing.

“Peri.” I move my face in front of hers. “Peri, come back to me.”

Slowly, gradually, I see her return to the present. I’ve been with her during sightings before. I don’t know where she goes in that faraway look, but I always bring her back.

“I—I’m—”

“It’s okay,” I say, hugging her close, forcing myself not to cringe at the feel of the scars lacing across her shoulders. I see them in my mind as clearly as I’ve seen them with my eyes a thousand times. Dozens of thin, pearly white, almost iridescent lines crisscrossing over the copper mer mark just beneath her neck. I’ve always been proud of her for not hiding them. I don’t know if I could ever be that unself-conscious.

When she squeezes me back, I know she’s all right.

“I’m s-sorry,” she stammers. “I wish I didn’t go into a panic like that. Won’t do me a drop of good if I freeze up in their path.”

“Well,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, “we just have to make sure you never face one alone. I’ll always be there for you.”

When she leans back, her eyes sparkle with the same copper shade as her scales.

“You know that’s not possible,” she says, fidgeting with the braid still draping over my shoulder. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” She gets a little bit of that far-off look again, but this time it’s different. “You are such a caring merperson, Lily. You deserve someone who will love you as much as you love your friends.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Considering my current romantic mess, it’s either that or cry. And if I go home with puffy red eyes—sparkling or not—Aunt Rachel will know something’s wrong, so I break out in the giggles.

“I’m working on that,” I say. “Just as soon as Daddy separates me from the lug-nut biker boy, I’m confessing everything to Brody.”

Her eyes—sparkling a little less—flash.

“Not
everything
?” she clarifies.

I hadn’t really thought about it until this moment, but it’s fast becoming the only option. My birthday is only five weeks away, and once he’s my mermate, he’ll have to know the truth anyway.

I nod.

“Lily, you can’t,” Peri argues. “If you tell a human who hasn’t been given
aqua vide
—”

“I know. It’s a risk when Brody hasn’t begun the change to water life.” I sigh, thinking of Brody with his arm around me, flying through the water as if he were born to it, smiling down at me from my homeroom TV screen every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Every thought of Brody is more perfect than the last. “But he’s worth it.”

Peri doesn’t look quite satisfied, but she doesn’t argue. She knows as well as anyone—except maybe Shannen—how long I’ve loved Brody. If Quince hadn’t made a mud puddle of everything, Brody might already be mine.

“I need to get home,” I say, thinking of my pile of homework for tomorrow and of Peri swimming back to Thalassinia in the waning sunlight. “Will you be okay getting back?”

“I’ll be fine,” Peri insists.

I hug her once more, just because. “See you tomorrow night.”

Hopefully, twenty-four hours from now, my bond with Quince will be a distant memory. Brody will be mine before Monday.

17

“I
’m home, Aunt Rachel,” I shout as I burst through the kitchen door after school on Friday. “I’m just going to drop off my backpack, and then Quince and I are heading for—”

I stop midsentence when I see the messenger gull sitting on our refrigerator.

Prithi is positioned in front of the fridge, tail curling slowly back and forth, silently daring the gull to leave his perch.

Aunt Rachel walks in from the hall. Nodding at the gull, she says, “He’s been here for two hours. Wouldn’t let me take the message.”

I roll my eyes. The note isn’t private, or the kelpaper around his leg would be pale pink instead of green. Messenger gulls are our primary means of communicating with our land-based and landlocked kin, but they aren’t always the most reliable. This one probably read a signal wrong and thinks this is a top-secret message.

“Hey, Lily,” Quince says, entering behind me without bothering to knock. “I had to get gas on the way home, but I’m ready to go.” He stops when he sees the gull. “Is that a seagull on your refrigerator?”

“A messenger gull,” I clarify, stepping forward to retrieve the message from the gull’s leg. Prithi finally realizes I’m in the room and starts her ritual weaving around my ankles.

“Afternoon, Quince,” Aunt Rachel says. “Want something to eat before you go?”

“No, thank you, ma’am,” he says, pouring on some seriously unnecessary charm. “My mama always told me not to swim on a full stomach.”

They share a laugh—a human joke, I imagine—as I unroll the scroll. My heart jumps. I can’t help the little squeal of joy that escapes.

“What’s up?” Quince asks, coming to my side and reading the note over my shoulder. “‘Come to the Hideaway.’ What’s the Hideaway?”

“Only my favorite restaurant on the entire planet!”

Daddy must be taking us to a celebratory last supper before the separation. I’m so excited that I actually try to hug the messenger gull, who just squawks and flaps his broad wings to keep me away. This draws Prithi’s attention, and she makes a grab for the bird.

As I watch Aunt Rachel and Quince try to separate them, getting the gull out the window and Prithi into the living room, I just smile. Tonight is going to be such a huge relief.

“You’re going to love it,” I say as we swim up to the front door of the Hideaway.

“Why do you say that?” Quince asks.

“Because”—I push open the massive wooden door, unable to hide my grin—“they don’t serve a single piece of sushi.”

“Thank heavens.” But he laughs as he says it.

Daddy first took me to the Hideaway for my twelfth birthday. I remember swimming through these doors for the first time, floating into a little piece of the human world under the sea. It’s a salvager’s paradise. The walls are covered in the rich brown deck boards of a Spanish galleon. All the tables and chairs are made from the square-cut bones of a pirate schooner. They set their tables with actual knives and forks—not a set of seasticks in sight.

But my absolute favorite part is the giant column of glass filling the center of the restaurant. Inside that column is a true piece of land, a terrarium complete with grass, a small pine tree, and—this is the absolute best part—a pair of cardinals!

I’m not sure how it works, how they get fresh air and sunshine, but it is an amazing feat of mer technology.

As we swim up to the hostess counter, Quince looks totally in awe. “Nice,” he says. “Where’d they find all this stuff?”

“The seafloor.” I shrug. “For centuries humans viewed the ocean as a dumping ground.”

“Some of them still do,” Quince says.

So true. “We just cleaned up the mess they left behind.”

Before we can get into some kind of environmental discussion, the hostess swims up. “Princess Lily!” she squeals, her short parrotfish-blue hair waving around her head like a halo. “How nice to see you again!”

“Hi, Tang,” I reply. “Is my father here yet?”

“He’s in the captain’s quarters.”

“Thanks.” The captain’s quarters is a small private dining room in the back. Its walls are covered in the crystal drops of countless ocean-liner chandeliers, making it feel like you’re eating inside a diamond or a giant geode. Daddy doesn’t usually care about privacy, so I’m not sure why he’s making the big gesture tonight.

“Come on,” I say to Quince as I head for the room. “Let’s get this separation over with.”

The second we float through the crystal-beaded curtain covering the door to the captain’s quarters, I know something is up. Daddy is not alone at the big round table. Graysby and Grouper are on one side of him, and Calliope Ebbsworth is on the other.

“Oh, no,” I breathe.

“What?” Quince asks, swimming closer to my side. “Is something wrong?”

I just shake my head—it’s not like I can throw a fit before I’m a thousand percent certain of what’s about to happen. But I know. Daddy’s not settling for a rubber-stamped couples counseling. He’s bringing out the Challenge—an archaic three-test trial to prove irreconcilability. Otherwise Calliope and his advisers wouldn’t need to be here.

“Lily,” Daddy says with a big smile. Then, still smiling, “Quince.”

“What’s going on, Daddy?” I ask, trying to sound even tempered.

As if he senses my internal freak-out, Quince’s hand comes up against the small of my back. I know it’s just the bond easing my emotions, but I’m thankful for the gesture.

“I asked Graysby, Grouper, and Calliope to join us for dinner,” Daddy says as if nothing’s going on.

“Greetings, Princess,” Graysby says.

Grouper smiles. “Master Quince.”

Quince nods at them.

“Calliope,” I say to Quince, because I’m sure everyone else in the room already knows what’s going on, “is the Thalassinian bond facilitator.”

“The what?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “She’s a mermate couples counselor.”

“It’s a matter of protocol,” Daddy says as the server clears the table. “According to Thalassinian law you must prove due diligence in your relationship before you can declare for a separation.”

“That’s a technicality and you know it,” I retort. “No one has enforced due diligence in decades.”

I see the change in Daddy’s face, in his eyes, long before he speaks. He does not appreciate my questioning his judgment or authority in front of his subjects. “Whatever has happened in the past,” he says in his royal voice, “I choose to enforce it now. You are a princess of Thalassinia and therefore subject to greater scrutiny than her citizens.”

“But Daddy—”

“You are not above the law, daughter.” His eyes soften and he adds, “And you are not blessed with a surplus of time.”

“Is
that
what this is about?” I kick up from the table. “You think I’m going to wind up bondless on my birthday? That’s why we have to go through this?”

“Go through what?” Quince asks.

Daddy does not acknowledge him. “Partly.”

“I’ll have you know,” I rant as I swim around the table, “I
have
a mate picked out. If this blowfish hadn’t messed things up by kissing me, then Brody and I might already—”

“Enough!” Daddy’s echoing shout silences me. In his brook-no-dissent tone, he says, “Whatever the situation back on land, the fact is, you
are
bonded to this boy.” He glances at Quince, giving him a curt nod. “You are subject to the law and my rule. You will go through the Challenge before I grant your separation.” Then, just so I don’t mistake his meaning, he adds, “Assuming you have proven the unsuitability of the match.”