FINNED (The Merworld Water Wars) (8 page)

For a moment, I considered telling my mom everything, but if I did, she would surely panic. And, if she panicked, she would get all mother-bear on me and confront Mr. Smarmy. If she did that…it might be her screams I would hear next.

“I am happy. Just a little tired from working out.”

“Well, you relax until dinner. One of your favorites tonight—spaghetti and meatballs.”

Was this really happening? Could Mr. Smarmy have harmed Mr. Campbell? And what the hell did Trey discover that has him hiding? Hello, total mind meltdown.

Thanksgiving Day
. Mom cooked a magnificent Thanksgiving dinner: turkey, dressing, cornbread, sweet potatoes, and Swiss green beans. After watching the parade for the first time in years, I cheered my football team to a win and ate…and ate…and ate.

While Mom curled up for a nap, I dozed off and on in my room, listening to some big band tunes. After listening to one of my favorite songs of all time about a dozen times—Daran Farewell’s
Behind the Waves
—I climbed out of my window to sit on the beach.

There was nothing quite like staring out over the sea and listening to the rhythmic sounds of waves gently caressing the shoreline. Sitting there, completely lost in thought, I felt something fuzzy against my hand.

“Oh! Hey, little fella.” A baby seal pup with the most adorable face I have ever seen hesitantly inched closer to me. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” The pup immediately crawled onto my lap. “Well, you are a brave little guy…or gal. Can I pet?” The little seal pup stuck his butt in the air and positioned it under my hand. “Definitely a guy. I’m petting a baby seal in Texas. Random.”

“Is this sand taken?” Troy Tombolo stood over me, his hands in his pockets.

“It’s your beach, too,” I said, not looking at him.

“But it’s your space.”

Well, that was very thoughtful. “The sand is available.”

He sat down right next to me; I could feel his leg against mine.

“What have you got there?” he asked.

“Baby seal,” I replied.

“Well, hi little one,” said Troy, reaching to pet him. The baby seal started snapping his tiny, toothless mouth at Troy’s hand. “Whoa! Okay, okay, no need to bite!”

Smiling, I said, “It appears he doesn’t care for you. You know, animals can sense the true nature of a person.”

“Yeah, well, seal pups are notoriously moody.” To this, I swear the little seal lifted his tail as if to flip him off. “The Boys won the game today.”

“Yeah, I was actually able to digest my dinner. Wish our QB would stop throwing behind our receivers. Has he always been that spazzy? I mean, the interceptions are just killing us, and the false start penalties are ridiculous! It’s called discipline. What?” I asked, noticing the shocked look on Troy’s face.

“Not many girls speak football,” he said.

“I’m not most girls. I’ll have you know I’m fluent in stock car racing, baseball, bull riding, basketball, hockey, and horse racing,” I said cheekily.

“Impressive. Very impressive. Guess you’re not most girls.”

“So, did you enjoy the parade?” I asked.

“How do you know about that?” He sounded alarmed, almost angry.

“Um, iconic department store, giant balloons, bad lip-synching to good music, all ending with the one and only Santa…kind of a Thanksgiving tradition,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah, right. It was…fine. So, have you heard anything from Trey?”

“No, nothing.”

“Have you been to see his grandfather?”

Something inside me wanted to trust him. I cleared my throat. “Well, I—” Before I could say anything, the little seal started pouncing up and down in my lap. Giggling, I tried to calm him down. “He’s a spunky little guy.”

“As you were saying,” said Troy.

“Oh, well, he’s on a fishing trip…Mr. Campbell, that is. Apparently, he joined Trey on some big fishing excursion.” I figured the seal’s interruption was a sign not to trust him.

“That’s cool. I’m glad he’s gone for a while, but he shouldn’t have left you alone.” The little seal pup let rip a giant fart directly on Troy’s hand.

I began laughing so hard, I could barely sit upright. Then, the most hypnotic sound escaped Troy’s sculpted lips: laughter. I’ve never seen him smile so big before, much less laugh. To hear something so happy from someone so standoffish was truly mind-blowing.

“By the way, how’d you like all the candy corn?” he asked, grinning widely.

“You? You were the one leaving candy corn in my locker every dang day?” He nodded. “Wow, shocked here…um…I loved it, yeah. Of course, I now have you to blame for my butt’s expansion.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” he said. “So, why do you listen to so much old music?”

“Seriously? Did you just knock my music?”

“Not at all. It’s just…lately I’ve heard a lot of old music coming from your room.” His cheeks turned noticeably pink.

“First of all, it’s not old music. It’s ageless music. My great-grandfather played the trombone during the big band era, so I grew up on the Great American Songbook. The songs are peaceful to me, like having him still with me.”

“Did he have a song? One you identify with him?”

“
Deep Purple Dreamers
. It’s a song about losing the one you love, but seeing them in your dreams every night.”

“Sounds…familiar,” he said, placing his hand on the sand next to mine.

His skin felt so warm.

“Anyway,” I said, quickly moving my hand, “I was listening to one of my favorites tonight. I always listen to it when I feel overwhelmed.”

“
Behind the Waves
. Timeless song,” said Troy, smiling mischievously. “It’s probably my favorite song of all time.”

“Right, whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes.

And then, he sang. “
Through the crest, beyond the storm, my crying heart sees its forevermore, and I find you, behind the waves
.” I have never heard a sound more fascinating; his voice was like a mesmerizing lullaby. He looked at me, studied my lips, smiled, and whispered, “You have no idea how those lyrics haunt me. I’m no stranger to big band tunes.”

I was speechless…truly, magnificently speechless. All I could muster was a disbelieving smile.

“What?” he asked.

“You! The longer I’m around you, the more you surprise me.”

“Think I can say the same about you, Rubylocks,” he chuckled, gently tugging my hair. “So, why have you been ignoring me? You’ve barely looked at me since Halloween.”

“Halloween. I heard what you told Benji. Don’t get me wrong, it’s okay I’m not your type. I get it.”

“No, you don’t get it.”

“Oh, yes I do. But, next time, just cowboy-up and tell me to my face you don’t like me. Don’t pull hay from my hair, say little flirty things, give me the gotta-have-it eye, or stuff like that. Not cool.”

“I do like you, very much,” he said, staring blankly over the water.

“Well, that’s not exactly what you said to Benji, now is it?”

“I lied.”

“Which time? To Benji or me?”

“To Benji,” he said, turning to look in my eyes.

I wanted him to kiss me so badly. “Then why did you say those harsh things to him on Halloween?”

“I had to. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You had to protect yourself from ridicule. ‘Ooo, Mr. Popular Fairhair likes a Normal!’ Scandal.”

“Not to protect me. It’s you. It’s all about you.” He wasn’t lying.

“Okay, protect me from what, then?”

“Nothing. Don’t ask again,” he snapped before I could, you know, ask again. “You do believe me now, don’t you? That I didn’t mean what I said to Benji?”

“I don’t know. It’s all just words. Words are the easiest thing in the world to say and the hardest to believe.”

“What will it take to get you to believe I like you?”

“Prove it.”

“You want me to prove it?”

“I want you to prove it. Actions speak louder than words.”

He tightened his jaw for a moment before speaking. “Fine. I’ll prove it. Happy Thanksgiving.” With that, he stood up and jogged back to his house.

“Strange boy, that one,” I said to no one in particular. “Well, baby seal, I have to get inside now.” The little pup started nuzzling my bosom. “You really are a boy, aren’t you? Ouch. What’s this?” Something repeatedly clanged against my boob. Around his neck was a little bottle, and I could see a rolled up piece of paper hiding inside.

The minute I found the bottle, the little seal sat very still and allowed me to retrieve the note. GASP! Trey’s handwriting. Scribbled on the slip of paper was his nickname for me—Squiggle—followed by the word ‘ONLY,’ written in big letters. Beneath my nickname was a circle with odd spikes along the top. Inside the circle was an arrow, which started near the spikes and traveled down until it angled to the right and pointed directly at the number ‘17.’

“Trey sent me this, didn’t he?” I asked the seal pup. The pup simply nodded and waddled off.

Whether the seal pup really understood me or not, I don’t know, but I’d be willing to bet the little guy came to me on Trey’s orders.

“So, ‘Squiggle only.’ Trey clearly wants me to keep this clue to myself. That much I can figure out. But the rest? Seventeen…one, seven…an arrow pointing to the number seventeen written inside a circle with spike-y things along the top. Huh?”

Trey must wear a cloak of vagueness because this was completely nonsensical. What on earth was he trying to tell me? My life has never been weirder.

Chapter Seven

A Christmas Eve Gathering

December: One word—CHRISTMAS!

Monthly Life Caption: “Merry Christmas & A Crappy New Year”

Mood: Merry (well, merrier…at Christmas, you believe in the unbelievable and set aside the inexplicable)

Eating: Christmas cookies, cake, candy canes…oh, just everything

Music: Hello? What else? Classic Christmas tunes

December 5
^th
: Troy & tree shopping.
For my mom, trying to choose a Christmas tree was about as speedy as an ancient and confused turtle trying to decide whether to cross the road. Making the process particularly annoying was the weather: cold, wet, and gloomy. I was most definitely NOT in the Christmas spirit, and my soggy, raw feet weren’t helping.

“Hmm, I just can’t decide which would look better with the ocean as the backdrop,” said my mom, tapping her foot in a muddy puddle.

Ugh, I must remove myself from the cold…now. “Mom, would you mind if I drop by The Bay Shop?” I really don’t fancy spending Christmastime with a snotty nose and sore throat.

“What? Oh, no, not at all. I’ll be here at least another twenty minutes,” she said.

The poor tree lot attendant grimaced and groaned.

While my mom pondered the pros and cons of a fir, I gladly stepped out of the cold and into the warmth of just about the merriest store in downtown Saxet Shores. Every inch of The Bay Shop shimmered with a large variety of unique Christmas decorations. Nestled among the glass ornaments and plush reindeer were all sorts of goodies to buy, from the dinkiest of plastic toys to the rarest of gems. Without a doubt, I could find my mom a Christmas present in here.

While weaving in and out of the narrow little aisles, a familiar voice called out to me.

“Marina?” Troy, cradling a stuffed Christmas bear, sauntered towards me.

“Hey. New friend?” I asked, eyeing the bear.

“Nah, just setting him out for sale. You wouldn’t be interested, would you?”

I wanted to say, “
What, are you for sale
?” I didn’t. “He’s pretty cute, actually. But, I’m here to put my allowance to good use and find something for my mom.”

“What are you looking to get her?”

“Dunno. Something special.” Troy followed me around while I continued browsing. “Oh, wow! What are these?” I asked, pointing to a small glass treasure chest. Inside, earrings, pendants, rings, and bracelets sparkled in iridescent purples, blues, and greens.

“New Zealand pāua shells. They’re known as the sea’s opal,” said Troy. “They’re thought to represent stars, or the eyes of the one you love.”

Swoon. “They are beautiful. Can I see the earrings?”

“Sure,” he said, unlocking the chest and removing the earrings.

“I’ll take them. Her earlobes look lonely.”

“Lonely earlobes? You have a way with words, I’ll give you that. What was it you called me the day we met? An ‘I am man, you are woman Neanderthal’ with a…what was it again?”

“A Jesus complex,” I muttered. “If your smile gets any bigger you can be your own Joker card.”

“Well, anyway, I guarantee she’ll love these. See anything else?”

“The necklace is probably my favorite. It reminds me of one my dad gave to me when I was ten. Helena Hambourg took it from my neck the day I arrived at the institution.”

“It must have been horrible for you and your friends.”

“It wasn’t hoggy-warty fun. I’m half-tempted to get that necklace.” I flipped the price tag and nearly choked. “Oh. So un-tempted now. Just the earrings, then.”

“Would you like them gift wrapped?”

I couldn’t help but grin at him. “You gift wrap?”

“What? Gift wrapping is an art! Really, it’s just that I man the shop for old Mrs. Waterberry from time to time. She’s getting on in age now, but she still loves to impart her knowledge on me, including how to gift wrap.”

“How very Mr. Good Neighbor of you.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, moving behind the counter to wrap my mom’s present. “Besides, she’s all alone. Sometimes she needs someone who’ll listen to her stories…you know, to keep her company.” I think my heart just melted a bit. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Oh, you know, ornaments, twinkle lights, cookies, presents, roast beastie, having faith when common sense tells me not to. Holiday usual. You?”

“Just hanging out at home. And I’ll be going to the Christmas party at the community center on Christmas Eve. Are you going?” he asked.

Ick. I forgot about the town Christmas party. Mom started the guilt trip soon after Thanksgiving, and I always succumb to her guilt-tripping. Really, I’d much rather stay home and work on Trey’s clue. So far, I’ve come up with…absolutely nothing but a headache.