She’s nowhere around. I avoid Kurt’s stare, because I don’t know if he
sensed what was happening. I don’t know if anyone saw. Then again, if
they did, they’d be a little more shocked than now. Shocked like
Layla’s eyes. Something in me broke, and as Coach blows his whistle to
resume the races, I’m almost positive that I wanted her to see.
Are you joining us?” Kurt hovers around the entrance that descends
to the locker rooms.
“I’m going to hang for a bit. I’ll meet you guys outside.”
“You’re sure?” I don’t know what it is about Kurt. His seemingly
all-knowing violet eyes, his I’m-103-and-I’ve-seen-the-world attitude.
Or just that he can see right through me.
“I need to swim.”
“Take your time. Your parents aren’t gathering us for another
forty-five minutes.” He turns and follows the echo of the rest of the
team down the stairs.
Coach locked the entrance to the pool, so the only way in or out
is through the locker rooms. I grab a towel from the bin, leave it at
the edge of the pool with my Speedo, and jump in feetfirst. I let
myself float, close my eyes, and feel the shift. I don’t hold my
breath as I feel the quick burn at either side of my throat where my
gills open, and my legs stiffen and cramp where my fins grow. I trace
the splatter of blue scales along my forearms. I swim just an inch
above the white tiles, flip and twist, then lie right in the center
with my arms behind my back. So this is what it’s like to sleep
underwater. The surface of the water dances with the light, back and
forth and back and forth, making its own patterns. I wish I could stay
here all day.
Then there’s a splash at the end of the pool. I push myself up,
willing my legs to shift back. The split is the hardest, a burning
that only lasts a moment but feels like forever. My thighs cramp up on
the first couple of kicks. I swallow a mouthful of chlorine when my
head breaches the surface, my neck stinging where my gills have closed
like shutters.
“What the hell was that?” Layla surfaces when I do. She’s in her
bra and panties.
And I’m naked.
I grab on to the metal steps on the end of the pool. “A little
privacy, do you mind ?”
“Oh, who cares. It’s not like everyone else hasn’t seen it.”
“Shut up, Layla. You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Why is she here? I thought they were all gone. My brain is a distorted
jumble of curses and poor excuses. I grab for my towel and pull myself
out of the water. Bad move, bad move. I try to rub off where my scales
are still dissolving into sand.
“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” If I’ve gotten one thing
right from my experiences with the opposite sex, it’s that I know how
to be a jerk.
“In the water. You were-?” She can’t say it. She knows how crazy
she’ll sound. “I thought I saw-”
“-me naked? Congratulations. Your wildest dream come true.”
She grazes her hand across the surface, splashing me. She swims to
the steps and pulls herself out. She slides to the towel bin and grabs
one to wrap around herself. It’s too late, though. I’ve already seen
what I needed to see. It’s different from seeing her in a bathing suit
all summer or during meets. This is more intimate, all lace and
good-night dreams. Her hair is dark with water, curling at the tips.
“Don’t tell me I didn’t see what I think I just saw. You ignore me
for days. And your two new mysterious cousins show up out of nowhere
with matching tattoos.”
I breathe in her panic, anger, sadness. “It’s a family crest,” I
go, pulling on my Speedo under the towel.
“More like the freaky-eye cult.”
I gasp. “You told me my eyes were beautiful!”
“We were six .”
“So?”
“And you told me I was your best friend. Or did your near-death
experience make you realize that I don’t matter anymore?” She’s
reaching out to me. She holds my wrists in her arms.
I think about the whirlpool in my dreams. The silver mermaid, her
sharp white teeth and eyes. Opening my eyes after the storm and seeing
Layla’s face, the hot white sun around her skin. The smile on her face
when she realized it was me. The times we snuck into the aquarium
after hours on a dare, and her face at the sight of glow-in-the-dark
sea horses. If she got hurt, it would be because of me.
“I-I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you what’s going on. Maybe one
day. But not now.”
“You can tell me anything.” Her hold tightens.
“This is different-”
“But- why? ”
When I don’t answer, she looks down at our wet feet. She’s giving
up on me, and I’m going to let her. She’s about to say something else,
but we’re interrupted by the loudest crack of thunder, a reminder that
I have somewhere to be. “Good-bye, Layla.”
I turn from her and go back into the dressing rooms, breathing in
deeply so at least I can sense her near me-lavender and salt and
crushed flowers, sticky between her fingertips. She loves me not .
The farther we walk along the boardwalk, the more lost in the mist
we get, and the less I can make out the outline of the Wonder Wheel or
anything beyond a few feet or even my mom’s red hair. This doesn’t
feel like my Brooklyn, my Coney, my home. Something in the air, the
smell of the belly of the sea churning, is a different kind of
familiar. My gills itch with expectancy, a longing for something I
only feel when I’m in the water.
Funny how a few days ago I was diving off the pier just for the
hell of it, and Layla was diving in after me just to show everyone she
could. I wish I’d said something else to her, something that might
make her still have a little hope in me. I’m losing her, and in the
dark fog that hugs us, I fear I already have.
Thalia grabs hold of my hand, our feet crunching on the thin layer
of sand on the creaky floorboards. She sighs, and her sigh sounds like
a cloud deflating. I don’t know what to say to her that wouldn’t seem
corny. She’s wearing the red and black bracelet Ryan gave her after
school, a skinny rubber thing with our team logo-the Guardian Knights.
She lifts her hand periodically to look at it, as though she can read
the time on it.
“Tristan.” My name comes out in such a whisper that I can barely
recognize it as my mother’s voice. Soft thunder rumbles in the
distance. “We’re here.” She holds on to Dad’s hand and leans in to
kiss his cheek. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s looking down.
“Ready or not,” Dad says in the same way he always did when we
played around the apartment, the park, or the white hallways of his
office building.
My eyes focus for the first time on the small wooden ship bopping
along the pier. Sheer and iridescent sails puff against the breeze.
Two small creatures zoom back and forth, pulling on deep green ropes,
pushing crates, and rolling barrels. A line of people are making their
way onto the deck one by one.
“Solitary merfolk,” Kurt answers before I can even ask. “They’re
not bound to our court in any other way than being of the sea folk.
Still, they make their offerings when we’re here, just to have our
protection.”
Protection? Protection from what? I’m about to ask, but we’ve
already stopped walking.
Dad pulls me into a hug, and we clap our hands against each
other’s backs. We’ve never really had to say good-bye for anything,
just the one time at swim camp, and we knew exactly where I’d be going