A pill changed nothing. It only delayed things for a time.
She returned to the handwritten page before her, making edits with a red pen. Coral had convinced herself she didn’t care about the contest. She only wanted to avoid more questions from Miss Brandes or meetings in her office. Still, Coral couldn’t turn in a piece of work she wasn’t proud of. So she focused on the black letters, reading them aloud to help her set the tone and feel.
“My soul is bleeding,” she started.
“The sand beneath me is cool and damp, the high tide from last evening lingering between the grains. The water will turn
“Maybe it always has,” she told the sea. Coral shook her cramping hand, glanced up at the waves for an instant, before she took her red pen to paper again.
“I bury my feet,” she read. “Allow
Her own heart ached with each written word she uttered. Maybe she shouldn’t turn this in. What if the humans thought—
Who cared what they thought? She’d been in that position before. She’d never put herself there again. She looked down at the next line. Spoke it, feeling its truth.
“Her heart is where mine
Coral blew a stray hair from between her eyebrows. It floated up, then down. When she tucked it away, it fell right back where it didn’t belong. After placing her pen inside her notebook, she closed it, hugged her knees, and rocked in place.
“She’s never coming back,” she whispered to the sea. “Never.”
Coral blinked and allowed the constant thought to sink in. Shoulders hunched and eyelids heavy, she rested her forehead on her knees. She pictured the crown princess as she once was. A caring sister. A companion. A friend. But then she gave up. On life. On Coral.
For the first time since Red Tide, Coral let herself be angry with her sister. She turned that anger into new words as she flipped over the typed page and wrote new ones. They poured from her. Like a squall, their course could not be stopped. She bit her lip, dug her feet deeper into the sand, and let the words flow . . .
The soul I don’t possess aches with a phantom pain I can neither
“My prince never loved me.” Coral whispered her sister’s words, hoping the line repeated would bring some sense of comfort. “He never will.” It didn’t. Because words wouldn’t bring her sister back.
Shudders racked her body as the sun dove, then sank, then drowned beneath the horizon.
But then something warm and heavy draped her shoulders. Something smelling of summer and salt and everything warm.
“So we meet again.” Merrick squatted beside her.
“Hi.” She kept her eyes on the horizon, waited for the vibrant colors to sing, though they never even whispered anymore.
“I hope this isn’t too stalkerish, but full disclosure, I may or may not have gone to the school to ask Miss Brandes where I could find you. She told me to check the closest beach.”
She ought to tell him to go. To throw his jacket back at him and race for the pier. But she also wanted to explore the angelfish living inside her center, flapping their fins at her core.
What if my sister was wrong?
Guilt chafed her insides, killing every last angelfish flutter.
She swallowed, then found her voice. “How’d she know I’d be here?”
“She said you walk this way after school . . . and you’re always taking off your shoes.”
“I don’t like shoes. They hurt my feet.”
“That may be the best excuse to go barefoot I’ve heard yet.” Merrick kicked off his own shoes.
They sat that way for a while. Listening to the ocean and soaking in the heat of the sun and sand. The pleasant silence between them contradicted every preconceived notion. Comfort wrapped her.
“Why did you help me that night?” She drew circles in the sand at her feet. “You could’ve been hurt. Duke—”
“Was that the guy’s name? Duke?” Merrick buried his hands in the grains.
“My sister’s boyfriend.”
“For her sake and yours, I hope that’s no longer the case.”
Coral shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
“Do you miss her?”
Did she? Maybe. “Sometimes.”
They grew quiet again. The longer Merrick stayed, the more Coral feared his inevitable absence.
She shoved the feeling away. The Disease wanted to fool her. It wanted to make her believe in love and hope and friendship. Lies. False hope. If he ever got the chance, this human would break her.
“To answer your question,” Merrick said at last, “I helped you because that’s what you do when someone is in trouble. As my good friend likes to say, you’d do the same for me.”
Would she?
A frustrated sigh escaped and Coral held her head in her hands. Her eyelids drooped from lack of sleep.
“Anyway, you asked me something last time. You’re looking for someone. A prince? Turns out I’m looking for someone too. Maybe we can help each other.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She didn’t know anything anymore. Lost didn’t cover half of it. Coral drifted without a purpose. Without an end. She existed for now. Eventually she’d be forgotten.
If she was nothing to no one, did she exist at all?
“Seems the universe keeps bringing us together,” Merrick said.
“Or the ocean,” she added before she could stop herself.
“Yes, that too. So, why a prince? Do you have a fairy-tale complex?”
Folks, we have a comedian. “It isn’t for me. It’s for my sister. The one who—” She couldn’t finish. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “I think this bracelet was a gift from him to her. It’s the only thing I have left—” Again, Coral couldn’t finish. The more she tried to push the words out, the larger they grew in her constricting throat. “I’d rather keep my reasons to myself.”
She’d thought about her anger for so long, she hadn’t actually gotten to the part where she confronted the nameless prince. Coral wasn’t a murderer, though her thoughts grew murderous at times.
Would Merrick help her if he saw the Abyss inside?
He eyed her.
Coral bristled. She didn’t know if she liked the way he looked at her or if she loathed it.
“Fair enough,” he said. “How about this? If you help me find my someone, I’ll help you find yours. Promise.” He offered his pinky.
Was that fair? That he got his way first? He’d promised to help her. Would he abandon her the moment he got what he wanted?
“I have a reason for doing it this way,” he said. “Trust me?”