Doe looks, as usual, unaffected. I might as well have only caught her sneaking an extra bowl of plumaria pudding before bed for all the guilt she’s showing. She doesn’t even seem to care what she’s forced onto Brody, a boy she supposedly cares about.
I know she’s only sixteen. I was sixteen once, and I remember what it felt like—the emotions and the desperation and the acting without caring about the potential consequences—but what she did . . . well, that makes every other teenage rebellion pale in comparison. She’s not only screwing up her own life, she’s screwing up Brody’s, too.
And me? I can’t see myself, but I’ve been clenching my jaw so hard for so long that my cheeks are getting cramps. My back is stick straight and my fingers are wrapped tightly around the seat beneath me—mostly to keep me from flying across the table and wringing Doe’s unapologetic neck.
I just knew she was going to do something like this.
If we were underwater right now, I’m sure the sea would be boiling around me.
“Oh, dear.” Aunt Rachel sighs, sinking into the empty seat at the table. “What happened?”
“We just—”
“Shut. Up,” I snap at Doe. She has no right to speak at this point. She forfeited the right to defend herself when she kissed a human! Turning carefully and calmly—though probably more abrupt and furious—toward Aunt Rachel, I take a tight breath and say, “She. Kissed. Him.”
Clearly, full sentences are not an option at this point.
Prithi meows at me from under the table, as if defending her new favorite fish girl from my wrath. Turntail. She can go home with Doe if she loves her that much.
Aunt Rachel’s gaze swings to Doe, who is pouting petulantly in her seat. “You didn’t,” she says sadly.
“I caught them.” I turn my scowl on Doe.
Brody clears his throat. “Mrs. Sanderson, I—”
“It’s Hale,” I spit at him. He’s magically bonded to a mergirl, and he doesn’t even know her guardian’s name. What was he thinking? Sure, the whole bond thing is not his fault, but he was an equal party in the kissing. He should know more about Doe than that she’s hot. He just slid down another two notches in my estimation, and he didn’t have too far to go before reaching the ocean floor. “Her name is Rachel Hale. Ms. Hale to you.”
“Now, Lily,” Aunt Rachel says, laying a hand on my forearm. “I know you’re upset, but anger is not going to help the situation.”
I flop back against my chair, jamming my arms across my chest. She’s right, I know, but that doesn’t mean I can magically send my anger away. That would take more bath salts than there are fish in the sea.
“What has the boy been told?” she asks me.
“Nothing,” Doe says. “Lily hasn’t let us—”
“I said, Shut. Up.” I jump to my feet and start pacing. “For the love of Poseidon, you’ve done enough damage for one day.”
“I know what we did was disrespectful,” Brody says, coming to Doe’s aid. I begrudgingly give him points—one point—for that. “But it’s not like we actually . . . you know.”
“No,” I say as I suck in a deep breath. “What you did was worse.”
“You’re being a little melodramatic, Lily,” Aunt Rachel chides. “You know there is a solution to this problem.”
I pace my way over to the kitchen sink, gazing out at the faded gray house across the driveway and wishing Quince didn’t have to work so many late hours at the lumberyard. If he were here, then everything would be easier.
He and I went through this very thing just a few weeks ago—although, at the time, I’d thought it was Brody kissing me. I’d been in the throes of a three-year crush, so I shouldn’t be held accountable for my actions. It was one big screwup from start to finish, but it worked out okay in the end. Quince is always far more levelheaded in crises—case in point, the earthquake. He’d know what to do, how to say it. Like a true princess. Prince. Whatever.
He isn’t here, though. I’m on my own. I’ll have to pull on my big-girl finkini and deal with the problem.
Putting it off will only make things worse.
Turning away from the sink, I lean back against the counter and face the table. Deep breath.
“There are a few things I need to explain to you, Brody,” I say, hands gripping the edge of the counter behind me for support. “Are you ready for some earth-shattering news?”
Turning in his chair to face me, he looks confused.
This won’t be easy. Until that kiss Quince and I shared a month ago, I’d never told a single human about my magical secret identity. Aunt Rachel already knew when I’d come to live with her three years ago, and everyone else . . . well, protecting my kingdom was far more important than sharing a juicy secret.
Now, once again, the revelation is unavoidable.
“First of all,” I explain, clutching the counter tighter as if that will give me courage, “Doe and I are not exactly average human girls. We’re”—I squeeze my eyes shut—“mermaids.”
Silence washes through the room. I can’t even hear anyone breathing. No movement, not even a meow from Prithi. Finally, when I can’t stand it any longer, I force one eye open.
Brody hasn’t moved. Even the expression on his face is still one of complete confusion. Clearly, he’s in shock.
“Mermaids,” I repeat. “We live in the ocean and can breathe wa—”
“I know.” He shakes his head. “I mean, I know what mermaids are, but . . . I think I already knew that’s what you are.” After a quick glance from me to Doe and back again, he smiles. “Not about Doe, you know, but somehow I knew about you, Lily. I mean, I didn’t know, but as soon as you said it, I felt like I already knew.” He smiles wryly. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Actually, it kind of does.
When the whole thing was going down with Quince a couple weeks ago, I decided to tell Shannen the truth. She is my best human friend, after all, and if I can trust anyone with my secret, it’s her. Brody overheard the confession, and in that instant I realized I didn’t want him to know. I didn’t really love him.
So I performed a mindwashing to make him forget. It was my first—and, I hoped, my last—so maybe I didn’t entirely erase his memory.
For a second I consider telling Brody about the mindwashing. No, maybe not. It’s nothing bad, of course, but he might not be too happy about the fact that I’d messed with his memories. Who would be?
Not that it matters, because I’ll just have to do it again as soon as he and Doe are separated. Nothing’s changed in the last two weeks to make me trust him with the safety of my kingdom. Which brings me to part two of the revelation.
“The other thing,” I say, bouncing nervously back against the counter, “is that a mermaid kiss isn’t just a kiss.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Doe says, “stop swimming around the issue.” She grabs Brody by the shoulder and makes him face her. “Our kiss ignited a magical bond, and now we’re connected and you’re turning into a merman. Are you cool with that?”
“Am I—?” Brody laughs. “What?”
“Doe!” I can’t believe she just said that like that. No tact, no leading into the issue. Just blam, you’re a merman. As my brain processes the last bit of her declaration, I jump forward. “Whoa! Brody is not turning into a merman.”
“I’m not?” He sounds almost sad.
“I mean, you are,” I amend. “Technically.”
“Then what—”
“But we’re not going to let it get that far,” I say to Doe. “You’re getting a separation just as soon as we can get you two to Thalassinia.”
Doe’s smile is positively evil. My skin prickles with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Slowly she turns in her chair, wraps a hand around her curtain of caramel blond hair, and pulls it out of the way. Prithi takes the opportunity to pounce into Doe’s lap.
“I won’t be going home anytime soon,” she says, her voice laced with lava. “Remember?”
Her
neck bared, I stare at the spot at the base where all merfolk are branded with the mark that makes them mer. But where Doe’s two-part mer mark should be, only a hot pink kelpflower remains. The circle of waves around her mer mark is gone.
“Oh, honey,” I gasp, losing my anger for a moment. “I-I’m sorry, I forgot.”
That must have happened when Daddy revoked her powers. It’s part of her punishment. The outer ring represents a merperson’s aquarespire, our ability to live and breathe beneath the water.
I can’t imagine losing that part of myself. Even though I’ve chosen to live on land, I still meet Peri off the Seaview pier a few times a week, and I still plan to visit Daddy at the palace every few weeks. I still feel the magical power of water in my nightly bath. I still get energized by the rain. I still feel mer in every way.
Being without that is unimaginable.
The line Doe crossed must have been really, really bad if Daddy felt the need to take the punishment this far.
Really bad.
“What does that mean?” Aunt Rachel asks. “Dosinia cannot enter the sea?”
I nod. “That’s right.”
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Rachel says. “Are there any other options?”
The room falls silent for a heartbeat.
Before anyone else has a chance to think, Doe says, “I know.” She lets her hair fall back into place. “You will have to take Brody to the palace.”
“Me?” I stammer. “No, I can’t. I have SAT prep and my interview and homework and college applications and, and, and—”
I look helplessly around the room, at three sets of eyes watching me expectantly. Okay, two expectantly, one gloating.
“Is there any other way?” Aunt Rachel asks.
“There must be,” I insist.
I spend a few desperate moments racking my brain for any alternative. Maybe we could rent a submarine, or just a boat, and Daddy could swim up to the surface to perform the ritual. Or I could send a messenger gull to the palace and ask him to come to Seaview. That’s when I know I’m defeated. I can’t ask the king of Thalassinia to take a day out of his royal duties just because my schedule is kind of tight. Talk about unprincesslike behavior.
“There isn’t,” Doe says, her voice full of smug finality. “And you know it.”
Slumping back against the counter, I know she’s right. Doe can’t return to Thalassinia until Daddy lifts her punishment, I can’t ask Daddy to come here, and we need to get her and Brody separated as soon as possible. Definitely before next weekend’s new moon. The last thing we need is the two of them feeling even more connected than they already do.
I mentally calculate my schedule for the next few days.
“It’s too late to go tonight,” I think out loud. Nightfall makes the ocean too dangerous to travel without an escort of palace guards. “If we leave right after school tomorrow, we might make it back here before midnight. Does that work for you, Brody?”
He shrugs. “I guess so.” Then he laughs. “I’ll miss a swim practice, but I can tell Coach I’ll be doing an open-water swim.”
“Brody . . .” I push away from the counter and approach him. “You know you can’t tell anyone, right? No one can know our secret, or we all—you included—will be in serious danger.”
“I know, Lil,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically serious. His sober gaze flicks to Doe. “I wouldn’t betray you guys like that.”
“Good.”
Surely he can keep a secret until tomorrow, until Daddy performs the separation and thorough mindwashing.
Maybe this D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R isn’t as bad as I’d thought. Maybe it’s just a Disaster. Or even a disaster. It can all be cleared up in one quick swim home.
I ignore the niggle of doubt that reminds me that that’s what I thought last time. That quick trip home turned into a two-week, life-changing ordeal.
But that won’t happen this time. Daddy has no reason to keep Doe and Brody bonded. Doe’s not a royal princess who will lose her title if she’s not bonded by eighteen. That’s just me.
Soon this will be nothing but a bad memory.
“The change won’t get too bad in one night,” I explain. “If you start to feel dried out, drink a glass of salt water. And if it gets really bad, take a salt bath.”
“Okay. . . .” Brody sounds like he’s still in shock, and I can’t blame him.
“Don’t worry,” I say, “it’ll all be over before you know it.”
He scowls, like he wants to argue with me. He doesn’t get the chance.
The kitchen door swings open.
“Hey, I saw the light on—” Quince steps into the kitchen and, in a repeat of Aunt Rachel’s earlier reaction, freezes on the spot. “What happened?”
“Hey, Fletcher,” Brody says with a grin. “I’m turning into a merman. How cool is that?”
“Brody,” I growl.
“Oh, sorry,” he says. “Did he not already know?”
“He did,” I say through clenched teeth, “but—”
“Then it’s no big deal.”
“Lily?” Quince sounds a little nervous. Or jealous.
“Don’t look at me,” I say, pointing at Doe. “I’ve learned my Brody lesson.”
“Dosinia,” he says, sounding like a disappointed father.
Doe rolls her eyes.
Just wait until my father hears what happened.
“I don’t know about you kids,” Aunt Rachel says, “but I’m famished. Who wants pizza?”
Everyone but Doe does. I’m so angry about her stunt, I forget about her human education. She can starve for all I care.
While we’re waiting for Lorenzo’s to deliver, I fix Brody a glass of salt water and focus all my energy on thinking positive thoughts about the quick trip to Thalassinia. I don’t have time for things to go awry like last time. I really don’t.
“Why do you think she did it?” Quince asks.
I look at him, barely making out his features in the waning moonlight. Two feet is too far away, so I scoot across the worn planks of his front porch until our shoulders touch.
“I have no idea,” I finally say. “Who knows why she does anything? She’s a toadfish who doesn’t care about consequences.”
A strong arm wraps around my shoulder and tugs me closer against his side. “I’m sure she has her reasons.”
I sigh. “That’s what I’m worried about.” Losing your parents at a young age must lead to all sorts of behavioral issues. Her parents died in an awful fishing-boat accident when she was nine, and she’s been a bit of a rebel ever since. Doe always does whatever she wants to do, for reasons that make sense only to her. Maybe if I’d known Mom for a few years before that drunk driver hit her, I might be the one with a rebellious streak. Thankfully, I have Daddy and Aunt Rachel.
I can’t fathom what would make her human-hating self actually and knowingly bond with one, though. Why? She’s not exactly the sharing type, so I’ll probably never know the answer.
“That doesn’t make what she did any less wrong,” I say, laying my head on Quince’s shoulder. “She didn’t give Brody a choice.”
I stare out toward the street, toward the thick green grass Quince mows every weekend, the cracked sidewalk and the small hibiscus bush trying to consume his mailbox. What I see, though, is the mental image of Doe’s well-kissed lips, and me swimming home with Brody. Hopefully by this time tomorrow night the whole thing will be a memory.
“She’s not completely lost, you know,” Quince finally says. “She’s just trying to find her way.”
He has tons more sympathy for Doe than I have. He didn’t grow up with her. He wasn’t the focus of most of her tantrums and pranks. He can’t possibly understand.
“She’s old enough to know better.”
“I know you two have a history,” he says. “But I think she wants your respect.”
“My respect?” I roll my eyes as far back as humanly—or mermaidly—possible. “She has never done anything to earn my respect.
”
He faces me, his blue eyes steady. “Maybe she’s never thought she had a chance of getting it.” His free hand finds mine in the almost-darkness, and he twines his fingers through mine. “Maybe you need to open the door a crack.”
I look away. He can’t be serious. If Doe ever wanted my respect—and that is a Great Barrier Reef–size if—then she would have shown me respect, too. Instead, she treated me like sea slime.
“It’s not that easy,” I say.
“You’re the princess, Lily,” Quince says, his voice low and gentle. “How should a princess deal with Dosinia?”
I almost say, “I’m not a princess for very much longer,” but I don’t. Because he’s right. Until midnight on my birthday, I am the princess. I have a responsibility to my kingdom, to my family, and to Doe to figure out how to get through to her.
If I don’t, things will only get worse from here.
With a deep breath that pushes away all the history between me and Doe, I turn and lean toward Quince until our foreheads meet. So close I can feel him breathe.
“How do you always know just what to say?” I ask.
His laugh rumbles through me. “Practice, I guess.”
I pull back and give him a quizzical look.
“I spent three years imagining what I would say to you if you were mine,” he says, tugging me back close. “I should hope I know what to say now that I’ve got you.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had almost eighteen years to practice being the princess,” I say, “and I still get it wrong half the time.”
“Maybe bigger things take more practice.”
“Maybe.” But I don’t have much more practice time left. This is my final royal duty, and I need to get it right. I just don’t know how.
There are digital cameras, sketchpads, and graphite pencils sitting on the art tables when Doe, Shannen, and I walk in after lunch.
Shannen and I exchange a glance and say, at the same time, “Self-portraits.”
My shoulders slump. This is my least favorite kind of art project. When we did self-portraits at the beginning of the year, Mrs. Ferraro said we would do them again near the end so we could see how “our perceptions of ourselves” had changed. I’ve been dreading today ever since.