Forgive My Fins (23 page)

“Because I—”

“Because you know the truth,” he says, again not letting me finish. “You haven’t told him—about yourself or your feelings—because deep in your soul you know that it will mean the end of your fantasy.”

He turns to walk away, out of the classroom and into the hall, but the fury welling up in me at his ridiculous statement bursts out. “You’ll see! I’m going to tell him and he’ll fall head over heels and we’ll be bonded before Daddy can finish the last line of the separation ritual!”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back, just waves his hand back over his shoulder and says, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Aaargh!
He makes me so flip-flopping furious. I’ll show him. I’ll tell Brody and he’ll think it’s the coolest thing ever, and he’ll confess to secret feelings for me, too. I’ll be done with Quince and ready to move on with my future. With Brody. In Thalassinia.

I’ll tell him. After the city championship on Thursday night.

What could be more perfect?

21

T
he week that I thought would drag on forever—like the time Peri and I sat outside Daddy’s office waiting for our punishment for sneaking away to spend a day on Paradise Island—actually races by faster than I could imagine. Before I know it, I’m sitting on the bleachers in the natatorium, swim-team record book open across my lap, watching Brody swim for the city championship.

I’m still committed to the idea of telling Brody, as the adrenaline racing through my veins can attest. I’m both terrified and thrilled and, to be honest, totally nauseous. But there’s no time like the present, and—not that I’d admit this to
him
—Quince was right. I’ve put off going after my dream for too long.

“You seem kinda stressed,” Shannen says. “Something wrong?”

Unable to look away from the pool, I start to say, “No, I—” But something stops me. I’m about to tell Brody the whole truth, but what about Shannen? She’s my best human friend. It feels kind of wrong to tell Brody when she doesn’t know. If I can’t tell my best friend, then how on earth can I tell my future mermate?

Besides, it’ll be good practice.

Handing the record book over to the freshman towel girl, I stand. “Can we talk outside for a second?”

Shannen looks confused but follows me with a shrug. We slip out the back door—passing by Quince, who’s busy skulking in the back row of the bleachers—to the steps overlooking the parking lot. The night air is cool with the ocean breeze whistling through the palm fronds above.

I take a deep, calming breath.

“Shannen, I have something to tell you.” I step down into the parking lot, wrapping my arms tightly around my waist so I won’t spend the entire confession fidgeting. Shannen sinks onto the bottom step, and I walk over and sit next to her so I can whisper. “This is something I’ve never told another soul.” Then I have a mental wince. “Except Quince.”

But that almost doesn’t count, because I didn’t really have a choice.

“Okay…” She sounds a little dubious, like maybe I’m too much of an open book to have any juicy secrets.

Boy, will she be surprised.

“Before I came to Seaview,” I explain, squeezing my arms tighter around my waist, “I didn’t live in Fort Lauderdale.”

Aunt Rachel and I came up with that cover story when I first moved in with her. We thought it would be easier to use something as close to the truth as possible—and we couldn’t just say Daddy was dead, because, well, first of all, that just
feels
wrong, but also because I might let it slip that I was going to visit him or something, and that would be really awkward to explain.

“Oh,” she says. Then she gets this kind of appalled look on her face. “You’re not from the panhandle, are you?”

A little laugh escapes. “No, I’m not from the panhandle.” I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and say, “I’m from Thalassinia.”

“Where’s that?” she asks. “Georgia?”

“It’s about forty-five miles east of here.”

“East?” she repeats, confused. I can tell from her tone that it doesn’t make sense. “But the only thing forty-five miles east of Seaview is…”

“Ocean.” Ready to deal with her shock, I turn to her and say, “Thalassinia is a mer kingdom. I’m a mermaid.”

She looks out over the parking lot, eyes narrowed like she’s putting puzzle pieces together in her head. Shannen’s a brainiac, so I can bet that she’s getting a pretty complete picture. Pursing her lips in consideration, she says, “You’re a mermaid.”

“Uh-huh.”

Then her brown eyes turn on me, evaluating me head to toe as if she might have missed some scales or gills or something.

“Well, that makes sense,” she finally says. “You do have an obsession with ocean-related terminology. Though I am surprised by your affinity for sushi. I thought mermaids were supposed to be friends with fishes.”

“Only in animated movies,” I say with a laugh. Leave it to Shannen to intellectualize the fact that I’m a mythical creature.

She falls silent, studying the pavement. This is when the worry first hits me. What if she’s flipping out? What if she thinks I’m some kind of freak of nature and she never wants to talk to me again? I might have just lost my best human friend by telling her the truth about me. And if Shannen, who’s been like a sister for three years, can’t see past my mer side, then how on earth will Brody? What if Quince is right, and Brody will never—

“You didn’t trust me,” she finally says, stopping my snowballing mental freak-out.

“Of course I did,” I insist. “I do! That’s why I told you.”

“But you didn’t,” she replies. “Not until tonight.” The look of hurt in her warm eyes makes me want to cry. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me? And why did you tell me now?”

“I wanted to, Shan,” I insist. “Oh, how I wanted to. But we have to be so careful about revealing ourselves to humans. The laws are insanely strict. There were some incidents, back in the eighteenth century, when the sea was swarming with pirates. Our world nearly made front-page headlines.” I take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, but the safety of my entire kingdom comes first.”

“Then why are you telling me now?” she asks.

“Because…I had to tell you before I—” The fear creeps up my throat again, but I swallow around it. Why am I suddenly, after three years of waiting for tonight, so full of doubts and fears? “Before I tell Brody.”

“You’re going to tell him?” she gasps. “Tonight?”

I nod, expecting her to squeal with excitement. To be proud of me for finally—
finally!
—taking action.

Instead, she looks worried.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “You trust him that much? You trust him with your kingdom’s safety?”

All the air whooshes out of my lungs. She’s just voiced the same nagging doubts I’m trying to ignore. Do I trust him? Part of me, the part that’s mooned after him for three years, is screaming Yes. The rest of me, the part that knows all that mooning happened from afar with very limited personal experience, quietly whispers No.

And it’s not like I can take the confession back—at least, not without an unpleasant mindwashing ritual.

“Maybe,” I say, voicing my confusion. “Maybe you’re right. I can’t let Quince goad me into doing something stupid. This is more important than showing him up. I won’t tell Brody I’m a mermaid, but I
will
tell him that I love him.”

But…that didn’t even sound right. It doesn’t feel right to call what I feel for Brody love. That’s just too—

“No freakin’ way, Lil. You’re a mermaid?”

Oh, no! I feel my eyes bug out at the sound of Brody’s voice. I didn’t hear the door open behind us—I was too focused on Shannen and her deep questions.

“Omigod,” she whispers, so softly I almost don’t hear. I give her a pleading, panicked look, but all she can offer in return is wide-eyed sympathy. “I think,” she says, pushing to her feet, “I’ll leave you two alone for a minute.”

I pop to my feet at her side, willing her not to go.

She leans close and whispers, “I’ll be right inside if you need me.” Then she jogs up the steps and disappears through the gray metal door.

My stomach takes a dive toward my feet. It’s in this instant, this moment of total fear, that I realize how wrong I was about Brody. How—Quince was right—delusional I’ve been. I’ve been living in a fantasy world, where Brody was safely removed from reality. Only in my imagination was he the perfect mate for me. If that fantasy were real, I wouldn’t be so utterly terrified right now.

“Brody, I—”

“That is the coolest thing ever,” he exclaims, eyeing my body as he descends to ground level. His gaze lingers over my cha-chas. “Do you wear coconut shells?”

My first reaction is revulsion. I mean, sure, there are
some
mermaids who wear things like skimpy shell bikini tops—
cough
, Dosinia,
cough
—but it’s not exactly tasteful attire. My second reaction is extreme disappointment. He heard me confess my feelings—or at least what I believed were my feelings—and he obviously didn’t care about that at all. He doesn’t care about
me
.

And now he knows my kingdom’s secret.

I have to take care of him. (No, not in a Mafia kind of way—remember, merfolk are peaceful people.) And if I can do it without resorting to a mindwashing ritual, then all the better. Because, seriously, the last thing I need right now is a weeklong killer migraine.

Forgetting my terror and embarrassment and humiliation, I burst out laughing, trying to joke it off. “You thought I was serious?” I giggle like this is the funniest thing in the world. “I was teasing. I was playing a joke on Shannen.”

At first Brody looks confused, like he’s not sure how he might have misinterpreted the situation. Then he shakes his head with a smile. “Nice try, Lil,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t play your best friend like that. You’re too nice.”

It’s amazing how much your life can change in just a moment. An hour ago, I would have died to be in this position with Brody, close enough to feel him breathing, and with his attention fully focused on me and him finally knowing all my secrets. But now? I’ve never been so scared—for myself, for my kingdom—in my entire life. Not even when I had to lure those fishermen away from Quince.

Quince! My mind flashes back to the moment on the beach when I told him the truth, when he threw back his head and laughed. There was no fear, no humiliation, just a little relief at finally telling
someone
my secret. Who’d have thought two weeks ago that I’d be terrified because Brody found out but fine with Quince knowing?

My subconscious must have known he was trustworthy all along.

As if I’d conjured him with magic, the door above swings open and Quince is filling the doorway with his leather-jacket-clad self.

I practically sag with relief…until I sense the fury pounding through his blood. He felt my fear and now he’s here to protect me. By any means.

That can’t end well for anyone.

“Something going on I should know about?” he demands, not moving from the landing. Even though Quince makes no move, Brody steps back. “You bothering my girl, Bennett?”

“Your girl?” Brody echoes. “Not according to her.”

“I lied. I am his,” I blurt, desperate to keep this awful situation from going tsunami on me. Then, looking at Quince, I say, “And he’s mine.”

Even though I never thought it before, the moment I say it, I know it’s true. It’s been building and bubbling since the night he first kissed me. Maybe before.

“Does he know you’re half fish?” Brody asks me. Then, turning to Quince, he says, “You know your girl’s a—”

He doesn’t have time to finish before Quince’s fist connects with his jaw. I’m not sure how Quince made it down the steps so fast—goodness knows he’s got a corner on the laid-back-lazy market—but one second he was in the doorway, and the next he’s pummeling Brody into the pavement.

Bright lights swing across the scene. Brakes squeal against the blacktop. Shannen’s car stops in front of the scuffle, and the passenger door flies open.

“Come on, Lily!” she shouts. “Let’s get out of here.”

I stare at Quince, who has Brody pinned to the ground and held motionless beneath his knees. Quince looks at me and nods. “Go home.” He bounces Brody’s head against the concrete. “I’ll meet you there later.”

I’m tempted to nod, to let Quince beat the living carp out of Brody so I don’t have to deal with the consequences of my accidental revelation. But if this whole bond fiasco has taught me anything, it’s that I need to start taking control of my life. I’m almost eighteen, almost an adult in my world and in this one. I can’t let someone else solve my problems for me.

“No!” I shout, diving onto Quince’s back. “This isn’t going to fix anything!”

Quince lets me drag him off Brody. “It’s sure making me feel a hell of a lot better.”

“I know.” Because I felt his rush of satisfaction when his fist connected with Brody’s face. “But unless you’re planning on killing him—”

“I might.”

I release my grip on his shoulders. “No, you’re not.”

“He shouldn’t know,” Quince says.

Brody, who is moaning into a sitting position and wiping the trail of blood trickling from the side of his mouth, grumbles, “Damn, Fletcher. What’s your glitch?”

Quince ignores him. “He can’t be trusted to keep your secret.”

My heart tightens when he says
your
secret. As if it’s not his secret, too.

But I don’t have time to explore that feeling right now.

“I know,” I repeat. “Pulverizing him won’t change that.” Even though I know he hates feeling helpless, I have to add, “Nothing you can do will make him forget.”

Quince shrugs his jacket back into place. Then, as if my words finally hit home, he asks quietly, “But you can?”

As I nod, his brows drop into a worried scowl.

I feel compelled to reassure him. “I would never use this on you,” I explain. “I don’t need to.”

Because I trust you.

I don’t have to read his mind to know that he gets my subtext.