Seven Tears at High Tide (2 page)

Kevin's heart races, but the boy doesn't seem to be injured. In fact, he only seems mildly surprised and looks down at his arms and feet as though he doesn't know what to do with them. He looks up at Kevin and grins, and Kevin is struck by how sunny and bright his smile is and forgets to move. Still holding the boy's hand, he lets the next wave roll in

Water surges around Kevin's body, but he doesn't notice. The boy's sandy brown hair is plastered to his face, and he pushes his hands clumsily at the wet fringe until it's out of his eyes. The morning sun reflects warmly in his brown eyes, on his wet hair playfully tousled by the surf. The next wave pushing past them doesn't seem to faze him. There's a sense of wonder in his eyes, a bright curious joy that radiates outward.

All right. All right
. Kevin realizes he's been staring. He lets go of the soft hand, noticing how cold the other boy's skin is.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kevin asks.

The boy nods his head. Water drips from his dark hair, down his face and the hollow of his throat and pools at his bare collarbones. Dimples form in his plump rosy cheeks when he smiles at Kevin, and there's a smattering of light freckles across his nose. He doesn't speak, just looks warmly at Kevin. Shining droplets clinging to his eyelashes catch the morning sunlight, and Kevin has to catch his breath.

“C'mon, you should dry off. You look like you're about to catch a cold.” Kevin reaches out his hands again and the boy lets him pull him towards the shore. He stumbles a little, and Kevin holds him steady until they're both out of the water.

Kevin blushes when he realizes the boy is naked and quickly averts his eyes. “Did you lose your swimsuit in the tide or some­thing? Or are you one of those guys who doesn't wear anything under their wetsuits?”

Kevin catches a glimpse of a very nice butt as his new friend turns around and gives the ocean a strange look, as if he expects it to answer Kevin's question.

The boy turns back and tilts his head at Kevin.

“Too cold to answer, I get it.” Kevin unzips his hooded sweat­shirt and hands it to him. “Here, warm up in this. I'll go see if the lifeguard has, like, a towel or some spare clothes.”

The boy sets down the wetsuit carefully by his feet, and then takes Kevin's sweatshirt and holds it delicately in his hands.

“Ugh, you're not even shivering; that means you're too cold to even expend the energy. That's bad.” Kevin grabs the sweater and starts tugging the boy into it. It was huge on Kevin, and is clearly much too big for this boy, but at least his junk is covered and he's getting warm. He looks up, wide-eyed, from the hood of the sweatshirt as Kevin zips it up. “Stay here; I'll be right back.”

Kevin rushes off to the nearest lifeguard tower, and Sally is back, with her nose in a chemistry textbook and her red windbreaker wrapped tightly around her torso. Kevin explains the situation as quickly as he can, and after Sally apologizes for not being there and thanks Kevin for helping the boy, she lets him take some clothes from the lost and found pile and gives him a fluffy towel.

When he gets back to the pier, the strange boy is gone.

Two.

The Sea is
a symphony of pleasant noise when Morgan returns; the sounds envelop him warmly as he dives back into the ocean. The water welcomes him, and Morgan can feel a thrum of excite­ment from the Sea. He throws his pelt over his human shoul­ders and swims forward, concentrating and calling forth the magic that lives within him. Going back is easier; his pale limbs disappear in favor of flippers, and then all of Morgan's senses are alight again with awareness—of himself, of the Sea all around him.

Did I do right?
Morgan asks, sending the hopeful question out toward the ocean's depths.

Even though some selkies say they've heard the Sea's voice, Morgan has never heard it; he's just glimpsed an image or felt a phan­tom emotion that some selkies might explain away. Morgan believes, though, like his mother and most of his herd, that the Sea is alive, and not just a magical network of information, not just a collection of memories and stories from which selkies can pull knowledge. He's felt the Sea's life, knows that the Sea, after centuries of emotions and dreams and desires poured into it, is a force to be reckoned with.

Morgan is still a bit lightheaded over his encounter. He's never taken the human form, not even as a pup playing at the shift. Unlike most of his brothers and sisters, he'd never had an inter­est in running around on two legs, playing at being human. Trans­forming meant something different for Morgan, something he wasn't ready to think about.

Water brushes over him as he swims, and Morgan knows this pleased rush of approval flowing through his body isn't only his own excitement. The Sea is telling him his first transformation went well, and there's no judgment for having waited this long to try it.

Shifting wasn't as difficult as he'd imagined it would be. The transformation, slipping out of the sealskin, came easily, almost as easily as breathing. It wasn't planned, but the boy looked so sad. Morgan wanted to let him know he was listening, that the Sea had heard his Request, and it would be filled. He watched the boy walk back to shore and barked out reassurances, but then realized the human wouldn't be able to understand them.

Transforming took more energy than Morgan had thought it would; he closed his eyes and concentrated, willing his body to change. He held on tightly to his pelt so it wouldn't be lost to the water, but then the wave took him by surprise, dragging him under. Disoriented in the churning water and unable to find his balance, Morgan struggled in the surf.

The boy,
Kevin Luong
, the Sea helpfully reminds him, grabbed his flipper—no, hand—pulling him out of the water to a stand­ing position. Kevin's fingers were solid and warm as they held him steady.

Morgan was fascinated; he had never seen a human so close. Kevin's skin was golden and warm, and he had bright brown eyes that stared back at Morgan with a worried expression. He was saying something, but Morgan was too stunned to understand it, too caught up in watching him, listening to the way Kevin's voice sounded, strange and beautiful, traveling directly through the air.

Then Kevin removed his skin, the bright blue one, and handed it to Morgan. He must have thought him cold and suffering, and the gesture—while not the same for humans, probably—still struck a chord with Morgan. Kevin gave him his skin for safekeeping. Morgan held it carefully in his hands, feeling the soft texture. Why anyone would abandon this beautiful person baffled him.

Kevin shook his head, took the skin and helped Morgan into it, then secured it tightly around him. It was warm and soft and quite possibly the best gift Morgan had ever received. As Morgan worked up the courage to tell him the Sea had heard his Request and it would be fulfilled, Kevin rushed off. Morgan watched him race across the sand, and the next wave of water that curled around his feet—what a new, curious sensation that was— brought with it a reminder from the Sea: It had been a long while since the Sea had received a formal Request.

His family is watching over this area for the summer, he'll be needed, at least for the discussion of the Request and who will honor it. His observations could be helpful. Kevin will need someone who appreciates him, who can make him laugh. His sad eyes are beautiful, and they would surely be incandescent when he's happy.

The voices of the Sea sink into his skin like a comforting touch as he swims north. Morgan picks up speed; he'll probably be lectured for swimming so far away on his own. Morgan has yet to convince his mother that exploring is a worthwhile pursuit, fun, even, and he's not needed on the hunt because their herd has more than enough qualified hunters. Morgan does feel a little guilty, though. He shouldn't have transformed to meet Kevin right after the Request was made, but there's a slim-to-none chance he'll be the one chosen to honor it. He has the least experience with humans of any of the younglings, has never spent any time on land, and has never fulfilled any Request. Morgan still regrets leaving Kevin on the beach without saying goodbye, and realizes that he didn't offer any reassurances. Did he speak at all? Morgan makes a sad, embarrassed noise as he swims, startling a school of fish.

Even if it was a bit awkward, Morgan's glad he didn't pass up the chance to meet Kevin, if only for one moment.

Morgan saw Kevin's heart, as all selkies can, and knew the brightness of his soul and the very core of him, from his stubborn­ness and impulsive streak to his huge capacity for love and patience. He knew these things in an instant and loves Kevin for them, and now wants to know more than a simple surface reading of his heart can offer.

Morgan swims past the rookery, hearing the familiar barks of his more mundane cousins sunning themselves, indifferent to the packs of humans gawking at them from the cliff above. Morgan strains his ears to hear what they're saying, but he's always found it diffi­cult to communicate with them;
warmwarmsleepsunwarmwarm
is all he's getting from the excited chatter on the rocks. Morgan barks a greeting and tells them the tide is coming in, but they don't understand much more than his hello.

He carries the skin Kevin offered carefully in his mouth as he swims away from the shore. It's a strange texture, and looks different from the golden color of the boy's skin.
Color.
The way the world exploded into a myriad of different hues when Morgan first transformed was overwhelming. The Sea provides names for the colors humans see, and Morgan has the time now to match them to those he's seen. Black, for Kevin's hair. Brown, for his eyes. Blue for the sky and the ocean, looking startlingly different from those he knows, yet still they're blue, beautifully warm shades that change with the wind.

The skin looks different now that he's a seal again. He remembers seeing with his human eyes that it was a vibrant shade of blue, almost purple, like fish Morgan's only seen in tropical waters, and with large slashes of yellow in a pattern across the front. The humans use these patterns to communicate with each other, Morgan knows. The Sea has this information, and the knowledge spills into his head, trickles slowly at first and then floods though. Morgan is a little dizzy with it, but he can interpret what the skin says:
North Cambria High School
. It doesn't mean anything. The Sea's magic is powerful, but Morgan can't expect it to explain all of human culture. He should ask his sisters. They've spent time on land.

The water is slow to warm this morning. Morgan takes a break, treading water as he looks to the cloudy sky. He's been swimming for an hour, his sleek body cutting through the water effortlessly. He thinks about how strange it was to be in human form, the different way the water felt on his skin and hands, how he felt cold and exposed without his fur, how the sounds felt, flat and jarring on his body. The Sea has an explanation for this too, something about sound traveling in water versus air, but Morgan's still a bit lightheaded from the last big piece of information he's absorbed, so he pushes it aside to learn later.

The water carries the sound of a school of fish approaching, and any other day Morgan would be happy to chase them down and make a meal of them, but he's holding something precious in his mouth. He can eat later.

Morgan dives beneath the water, swimming until he can feel the familiar voices of his family talking excitedly; their chatter brushes across his body like a welcome. A wave carries him ashore, and Morgan's younger brother Dorian waddles toward him, barking excitedly.

“Did you hear the Request? Mother's gathered everyone around to talk about it.” Dorian's words tumble together.

“I was there,” Morgan says around his mouthful of Kevin's gift. He shuffles over to a nearby dry rock and sets it down carefully, nosing it to make sure it stays out of reach of the high tide.

“What do you mean, you were
there?
What were you doing all the way over there? I heard it was out by the Moon's Eye, where the humans live.”

“I was swimming.” Morgan shuffles past Dorian, kicking sand at the pup who sneezes and makes a face at him.

“What is this? Why did you steal a human's clothing?” Morgan's older sister sniffs at the blue thing.

“Eat barnacles, Naida,” Morgan says, pushing her away. “I didn't steal it. It was a gift.”

“From a human?”

Morgan can feel the surprise in her voice; the sound feels different on his skin than it would underwater, but he knows she's about to start pestering him with questions. Luckily, he can hear his mother's voice carry across the shore. “Morgan. You are late. We were waiting for you.”

His mother Linneth is in her human form, sitting cross-legged in the sand with her pelt draped over her. The rest of his extended family sits around her in a vague semblance of a circle. Some, like his mother, are out of their pelts, lying in the sand and enjoying the summer sun. Morgan wonders if he should transform as well, but decides not to. He plops down next to his brother Marin. “You could have started without me.”

“We really couldn't,” his mother says in reply.

Morgan's always found
Council meetings boring. Their herd has always had relatively informal meetings, with everyone welcome to attend, listen and offer input. Their herd is small for selkies, with only thirty-eight of them altogether and seven adults making up the Council. Morgan can't remember many formal meetings—a few Requests, but mostly routine talk about hunting grounds and currents and travel plans, visiting herds they are friendly with, or herds former members have mated into. The most exciting meeting was in his eleventh year when they feared a kraken had come to their territory, but it was just a mistaken report from one overly excited selkie from the south.

Morgan makes a face at his older sister, Naida, who is listening carefully, nodding as the talk veers toward declining herring populations and what that means for the local hunt. Morgan shakes his head. He knows Naida's probably bored too, but she's seeking their mother's approval because she's being considered for leadership. Naida sticks her tongue out at Morgan before replacing the mask of interest and looking back toward Linneth.

Dorian nudges at his side; the pup is yawning already, and Morgan drapes a flipper over him and pets him lazily. His brother makes sleepy, contented noises, and Morgan soon finds himself idly looking around the circle at his family.

He notices his cousin Micah isn't paying attention either, but is caught in a whispered conversation with his new mate, Oki. Oki's only been with the herd since the spring. When they left the icy waters of the north, he came with them to be with Micah. Both of them look quite happy on the beach tonight, curled up with one another in human form, as Oki combs fingers through Micah's blond curls. Micah's arms wrap around Oki's shoulders; his fingers stroke the soft white pelt slung casually over his shoulder. Oki's human form is beautiful, with the broad, flat nose and deep olive skin of the people of the North, and they look good together, laughing softly, lost in their own world.

Morgan isn't very fond of Micah, who's always teased him way too much, but the image of the two of them, young and happy and mated, blossoming in the joy of new love, fills him with a pang of longing.

He wants that, too.

His mother's clear voice breaks through his thoughts. “And lastly, on the matter of Kevin Luong, who lives not far from here, near the Moon's Eye. Kevin has Requested a summer of love and companionship.”

Morgan hopes whomever they choose will give Kevin the summer of happiness he deserves. Kevin is a good soul; he should have all the things he Requested, someone to share all those activities. Morgan didn't understand any of them except for the one about searching for rocks, but he's sure one of the other selkies with more human experience will know exactly what Kevin meant.

“This Request will be fulfilled by Morgan.”

“What?” Morgan freezes.

Dorian whines underneath him now that the petting has stopped and head butts him to keep going. Morgan puts his flipper back, strokes his little brother's back and tries to process what is happening. Everyone turns to look at him with various expressions— awestruck nods from a few of the younger ones, a stern nod from his grandmother, a surprised gasp from Naida.

Linneth gives him a small, proud smile. “Yes, we've decided you're ready for your first Request. You will do well, I think. The Sea tells me you've already made contact with this Kevin, so I believe this will be easy for you.”

“Easy?” Morgan repeats, heart racing. “I've never transformed into a human before today! I don't know anything about them—what if I do it wrong?”
What if Kevin doesn't like me,
Morgan doesn't say, but the fear runs through his body like a cold shudder.

“Do you
want
to take this Request, Morgan?” Linneth walks across the circle to Morgan. Her voice has none of the authority she uses as the leader of the herd, now. It's just an honest question as his mother.