The water sucked me down. I thrashed wildly, feeling like the fish I had seen on the docks yesterday—the fish that had almost died.
No. Stop.
But I could no longer control my mind, or my body. The inevitable loomed toward me, and I felt myself begin to go limp. I was going to drown. This was how it was going to end. I was going to die a virgin. I was going to die without telling Leo I loved him. Without telling my mother what I had learned about Isadora. Without ever speaking to Linda again.
My lungs seemed to be on fire, and I could no longer fight, no longer struggle to stay afloat. I was collapsing backward, into a black blanket that swallowed me whole.
And then, just as abruptly, the blanket was gone, and I no longer felt limp or tired, and my lungs no longer burned.
I realized that someone was holding me, carrying me underwater, and I felt safe and calm. I looked up and saw that it was Leo, his golden hair streaming, his green eyes the color of the tall grasses that surrounded us. Leo. Of course! He had come to rescue me. He wouldn’t have let me drown.
“Miranda,” Leo said, gazing at me with tenderness. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
How strange that he is able to speak underwater, I thought, nodding dreamily at him, and that I am able to hear him. Yet it all seemed so natural.
And when Leo began to kiss me, that, too, seemed natural. We kissed and kissed, our kisses as fluid as water. Then I glanced down, amazed at the speed at which we were swimming. And I saw—was it?—the briefest blur of red and gold.
Was this what it was like with Isadora and Henry? I wondered. Was this how she had seen him for the first time?
“I know,” I said into Leo’s ear as we swam past schools of brilliantly colored fish. “I know about you now.”
“Shh,” he said, cradling me close.
“I don’t want to leave,” I whispered, and Leo kissed me again. He kept on kissing me, drawing back and then looking at me from a great distance before kissing me once more. I wanted to kiss him back, but I couldn’t quite move my lips.
And then the heaviness descended again, and I closed my eyes.
“Miranda? Miranda, can you hear me?”
Leo’s voice was coming from very far away.
“Miranda, I know you can hear me. Miranda?”
Why was his tone so pleading, so frantic? I wanted to tell him not to worry, that I wouldn’t ever tell his secret.
If only I could speak. Or open my eyes.
It was quiet around us; I could hear the rushing of the ocean, and the slow rise and fall of Leo’s breath. I felt the grit of sand between my teeth, and my body was completely drenched, waterlogged. Had Leo taken me to some sort of hiding place underwater?
I parted my lips—why were they so cracked?—to ask where we were, but instead I coughed, a wracking cough that shook my whole body. I caught a cold, I thought. From swimming for so long. I coughed again, and somehow felt more awake.
“Miranda?”
I managed to open my eyes and saw Leo hovering over me, soaking wet and bare chested. Was I lying down?
“Thank God,” Leo muttered, gazing at me as if he could never look anywhere else. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He repeated this like a mantra.
I blinked at the dark rocks above Leo’s head and realized that we were inside the grotto. Not under the sea. And I was lying on the ground, but there was something soft and dry beneath me. The checkered blanket? I tried to turn my head to see, but my neck ached.
“Careful,” Leo murmured, scooting closer to me. “Don’t move.”
His own movement gave me the chance to run my eyes down his body. I saw, with a pang of disappointment, that only his tanned, muscular legs extended from his wet swim trunks. Of course. He would no longer have his tail out of water. But earlier, his tail had been there. I had seen it. I had felt it.
“You—your”—tail, I wanted to say, but my voice, croaky like a frog’s, wouldn’t cooperate with me.
“Don’t,” Leo said, moving my sopping hair out of my eyes. “You have to rest.”
“What—what happened?” My voice still came out hoarse. I coughed again, feeling feeble and frail. How could it be? Only moments ago, I’d been happily gliding beneath the waves in Leo’s arms. Dimly, I looked down at my arms and saw that Leo had wrapped me in his red hoodie.
Leo frowned. “You had…an accident. Do you remember? You got caught in a riptide, and it pulled you under.”
A riptide. The word seemed faintly familiar, but my mind felt too cloudy to chase the memory down.
“You started panicking and you swallowed a lot of water,” Leo went on, brushing what felt like sand off my forehead. “If I hadn’t swum out to you in time…you could have…” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
“You saved my life,” I whispered, regaining my voice. I reached my trembling, wet hands up to touch Leo’s lips, wondering if I could ever repay him.
“It was my pleasure,” Leo replied, his tone slightly playful but his face serious.
Everything came back to me then in a rush of clarity—the way the water had seemed to suck me down, and how hard I’d fought against the current.
“The sea serpents,” I rasped, struggling to sit up, wanting Leo to understand. “The—the sharp-toothed sea serpents. They…tried to pull me down.”
I motioned to my bare legs, which were spattered with drops of water and streaks of mud and sand. There were also long scratches in my calves—where I’d been bitten, no doubt. Oh, my God. How was I even alive?
Leo stared at me for a long moment, frowning. He seemed to be questing for the right words, and finally he spoke softly.
“Miranda, you had seaweed around your legs when I pulled you out. That’s what you must have felt. Strands of seaweed.”
Seaweed? Yes, I had seen seaweed when I’d gone underwater, but what I’d felt had been much fiercer. “But—but what are those cuts from?” I demanded, pointing.
“Rocks,” Leo said, lightly caressing one of the scratches. “The ocean floor gets really rocky in the spot where you were. When you sank, you must have cut yourself.”
I looked back at Leo, trying to process his logical explanation. Was he right? I had been so certain, in that moment, of the sea serpents’ existence. As certain as I had been about Leo’s underwater transformation.
The wind whispered through the grotto. Our candles had long been extinguished. I was sitting up now, my wet hair hanging down my back, and Leo and I were facing each other, our knees pressed together and our faces inches apart. I had to try to ask him.
“I—when you swam out to get me…” I began haltingly. Now that I was coming to my senses, my heart began to pump harder. “Underwater…you looked…I could have sworn I saw…” I bit my lip, trying to read Leo’s reaction in his gaze.
There was a second—a millisecond—of joy in Leo’s eyes, of relief and excitement. But it was so quick, so fleeting, that I might very well have conjured it. Then Leo cupped my cheek in his warm hand, studying me with concern.
“You were unconscious when I got to you,” he murmured. “I was so scared. I took you in my arms and managed to swim back to shore with you, one-armed. As I was carrying you toward the grotto, you started to say things I couldn’t really make out, but one of the things you said was, ‘I don’t want to leave.’”
“I remember that,” I whispered, grabbing Leo’s arms and holding on tight. “And then you kissed me,” I added.
Leo’s mouth curved up in that indelible crooked smile. “I didn’t kiss you. I was giving you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It probably just seemed like a kiss to you.” As if to demonstrate a true kiss, Leo drew my face toward his and touched his lips to mine.
His kiss, however brief, sent pleasure racing through me. But I couldn’t get over the fact that Leo and I had seemingly switched roles—suddenly, he was the one with explanations for everything while I was willing to follow the tide.
Had it all be
en a hallucination, a dream? Or had I, in that suspended state before I lost consciousness, seen what was true, what Leo had tried to hide?
Would I ever know?
And then it occurred to me that maybe I didn’t need to know. Maybe some things didn’t require an explanation.
“Are you feeling strong enough to stand?” Leo asked as I rubbed my cold, bare legs. “We should get you home.”
Home. Where Mom waited. Even if she would sleep through my return, I would have to tell her about what had happened in the morning—there would be no hiding the scratches on me or whatever other side effects I bore from my accident. I let out a sigh as deep as the ocean.
Slowly, Leo helped me to my feet, and he gently guided my feet back into my flats. My legs wobbly, I watched as Leo pulled his T-shirt on and then picked up Isadora’s dress. He shook it out before balling it up and tucking it under his arm. He offered to carry me, but I refused, wanting to see if I could walk all right. And I could, only with an unsteady gait. As a compromise, Leo wrapped his arm tight around my waist and told me to hoist most of my weight onto him.
As we slipped out of the grotto, I was thankful for the cover of night. I knew we must have made a strange sight, me in my swimsuit and Leo’s hoodie, wet and shaken. And Leo in his swim trunks and bare feet, holding my dress and holding me up.
Silently, we crossed the beach toward the docks and made our limping, careful way up the pebbly path to Triton’s Pass. Before I knew it, we had reached the thick oak trees and hanging Spanish moss of Glaucus Way.
“I think I’m okay here,” I told Leo, coming to a standstill. I felt so secure in his arms—as secure as I had felt underwater—but I knew that if Mom happened to see him again, he’d endure a wrath worse than that of the kraken. I reached for Isadora’s dress; I’d stashed my door key inside the skirt pocket. “I can walk the rest of the way, and I’ll just let myself into the house—”
Leo gave me a you’ve got to be kidding look before wordlessly releasing my waist and then scooping me up into his arms. There was no room for argument as he carried me down Glaucus Way, toward the looming specter of The Mariner.
I felt distinctly old-world glamorous—almost like a Southern damsel from the Civil War era—as Leo carried me up the porch steps. He retrieved the key from the dress pocket and inserted it into the lock.
“I want an explanation!”
I heard Mom’s furious voice first so at least I was prepared for the sight of her, standing in the foyer. Pale-faced, she was wearing her dress from dinner, holding her cell phone in one hand and a flashlight in the other. And at her side was Mr. Illingworth, looking less polished than usual in jeans and an untucked button-down shirt.
Leo and I stood frozen.
“What happened?” Mom demanded, looking wildly from Leo to me. “I—was about to call the police. Or go look for you. I called Teddy first. How—what—I—”
For the first time in my life—and maybe hers—Mom was at a loss for words.
“Did he hurt you?” she finally asked, rushing up to me.
I was so confused that I simply stared at her—and then I realized she was talking about Leo. I shook my head vehemently, but I did wriggle out of Leo’s grip and he, understanding, let me drop slowly to the floor.
Mom turned to Leo, her eyes fiery. “If you so much as laid a hand on my daughter, so help me, I will—”
“Amelia.” I was surprised to hear Mr. Illingworth’s voice. He sounded gruff, and worried. “Let them explain.”
I shot a thankful look at T.J.’s father, then faced my mother. “Mom,” I managed to say. “Listen to me. Leo saved my life.”
My mother’s cell phone fell from her grip and clattered to the wooden floor, landing on the compass. She studied me, my battered, soaking wet figure. Leo stood by my side, his body tensed, not speaking or moving.
“I almost drowned,” I added, for clarification. Speaking that phrase gave it a sudden, frightening realness, but I still didn’t feel afraid. I was with Leo. I’d been with Leo the whole time, whether his transformation had been real or imagined. He’d been with me.
“What were you doing?” Mom asked, putting a hand to her head. “I came home late from Delilah’s, past one o’clock, and when I saw your bedroom door wide open, I thought you’d run off and—”
“I went for a swim,” I replied truthfully. “I left to go meet Leo on the beach. When I went in the water, I—” I thought once more of the sea serpents, of everything I had believed back on the beach.
Leo cleared his throat. “She got caught in a riptide,” he said, stepping forward.
Mr. Illingworth took a step forward, too. “Those are very common around here, Amelia,” he put in, and gave Leo an I’m on your side nod.
“It was lucky that I was there to swim out and bring her back to shore,” Leo said, looking at Mom in his impassioned, earnest way. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I hope you know I mean your daughter no harm. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Mom didn’t speak. I could practically see her mind working over everything, her natural inclination not to trust people being won over by the impossibility of Leo and me, before her. Together.
“I know you don’t,” she finally told Leo, her tone resigned. “I know you don’t.”
Mr. Illingworth came forward and extended his hand to Leo. “You were very brave, young man,” he said.
I blinked at Mr. Illingworth, as if seeing him for the first time. Maybe he was a good match for Mom, in a way; he could be calm in those few moments when she wasn’t.
While Leo, looking as surprised as I felt, shook Mr. Illingworth’s hand, I saw Mom’s gaze land on the dress under Leo’s arm. Her eyes widened, and she looked at me.
“Isn’t that,” she began, a question in her voice, “one of Isadora’s? Why…”
“It fit,” I said, by way of explanation. I was too tired to say more.
Mom nodded dazedly and she accepted the dress from Leo. She studied the bunched material in her hands, then gave Leo a meaningful look.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Something—some inner reserve of strength—had been keeping me together during our interaction, but just then I felt myself weaken with relief. Mom, seeing this, announced that she was going to walk Mr. Illingworth out, and then she’d be back to tend to me. Mr. Illingworth told me he was glad I was all right, and then he and Mom stepped out the front door, murmuring together.
Leo and I turned to each other, and I caught my breath.
This was it—the briefest of windows in which we could say our good-byes. I no longer heard the whirring of the ceiling fans, and the dwindling night seemed to hold its breath as he and I stood in the dim foyer. An idea came to me.
“Maybe,” I began, my voice plaintive, “I can stay here on Selkie. With you.” I took his hand. “I’m sure there’s room for another intern at the marine center, right?” After all, I couldn’t see myself at the Museum of Natural History now, among the dinosaur bones and data charts, pretending I didn’t know deeper secrets. “And I could even—maybe—help you out on your dad’s fishing boat.”
I realized how ridiculous my offer sounded. But the thought of parting with Leo felt as impossible as what I’d seen underwater.
“Miranda,” he said tenderly. He reached out to stroke my hair, his fingers getting tangled in my sandy curls. “You know that wouldn’t work. You have to go home.”
“I know,” I replied as tears blurred my vision. “A girl can dream, I guess.” Not that I’d ever been a dreamer before.
Leo’s own eyes were very bright, and he swallowed a few times before speaking again. “I wanted to thank you,” he said.
“Me?” I asked, shaking my head. “For what? I didn’t rescue you.”
“For giving me a chance,” Leo said, and the mischievous expression I’d come to love crossed his face. “I know I wasn’t always straightforward with you.” His cheeks colored a little.
I smiled through my tears. “It’s ok
ay.”
Suddenly, I remembered a quotation of my own, one I had learned back at the beginning of the school year, in physics class. I decided to tell it to Leo then.
“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious,” I said.
Leo raised one eyebrow, and his thumb traced my mouth in a way that made me shiver. “That’s true,” he replied. “Who said that?”
“Who else?” I smiled. “A scientist. Einstein.”
Leomaris Macleod and I leaned toward each other and kissed, soft and sweet. Then we hugged, and I breathed in his fresh smell, tried to memorize the warmth of his body, the firmness of his chest against mine. When we parted, I gave him back his hoodie for the second time. I couldn’t believe I was letting him go. I watched, my heart racing, as he walked to the door. Before he opened it and stepped out into the night, he glanced over his shoulder and smiled at me.
“Hey, Miranda?” he said.
I waited for him to quote Shakespeare. To tell me that he was a merman. To actually say the word good-bye.
“Remember, on the beach walk, when we talked about happy endings?” he asked.
“I do,” I said quietly. I wouldn’t forget anything about Leo.
“We’ll get ours,” Leo said. “Soon.”
And then he was gone.
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, still feeling the ghost of Leo’s lips on my mouth, hearing his voice whisper in my ear. I wanted him to come back, but I also felt tired and achy, wrung out. Slowly I settled down on the staircase’s bottom step. I knew Mom would come back any minute, but before she did, I wanted to sit still and imagine Leo. I imagined him walking down the pebbly path and across the dock as the sun began to peer over the ocean. And I imagined him back on the beach, diving into the water, his body moving gracefully with the current. Returning home.
Fifteen
TRUTHS
After the bath and the cup of hot tea Mom insisted on, I crawled into bed and fell asleep instantly. And for the first time since arriving on Selkie, I slept without dreaming.