Aunt Rachel manages to take what feels like two hundred thirty-eight pictures before I leave for the dance, and I think Prithi meowed her way into about two hundred thirty of them. I’m excited, too, but I think the first hundred captured every last detail for posterity.
“Your father will love these,” she says, snapping a couple more.
Glancing at myself in the front hall mirror, I’m not so sure. After pulling on the skirt and blouse from Quince’s bag-o’-costume-fun, I found some accessories in the bottom of the bag. Big gold hoop clip-on earrings. A red bandana headband. And a brown leather beltlike thingy that turned out to be more of a corsetlike thingy that laces up the front. If Daddy saw me like this, he’d strike his trident to the seafloor with enough force to start a minor tsunami, for sure. That whole idea that mermaids swim around topless? Totally untrue. That’s why we invented the bikini top.
I’ve untucked the blouse and tugged it up a few inches in order to pass Aunt Rachel’s chaperone test. No way she’s letting me out of the house with my cha-chas hiked up for the world to see.
“You look like a pirate princess,” she says, setting down the camera and stepping closer. She gets that sad look in her eyes, and I know she’s thinking about Mom again.
I never knew my mother, but I’ve seen pictures. I know I got my blond curls from her—although hers never looked frizzy. I know she was always smiling. Always at the beach or in the pool. And I know that, until three years ago, I thought she was a mermaid. When I found out she was human, it was like my entire world crashed against the shore. Imagine finding out at fourteen that you were adopted and your real parents were the king and queen of France. (I know France doesn’t have a monarchy anymore, but this is a hypothetical imagining.) That’s how amazed and startled and confused and excited I was.
Some merfolk hate terrapeds. They think humans are a plague upon the seas who should be banned from the waters they so often abuse. But not me. And not Daddy, obviously, since he fell in love with one. I’d always been a little intrigued by humans and their culture—how very Little Mermaid of me, I know—but when I found out I was half human, then my interest became more personal. The longer I live among them, the more connected I become. I don’t even think of them as terrapeds (the mer term for humans) anymore. That connection I feel will never go away. I belong in the sea, but hanging out on land has its perks (aka Brody, Aunt Rachel, Shannen, and, you know, lip gloss). Plus, it makes me feel closer to Mom.
The look in Aunt Rachel’s eyes now is the same look she had when I first showed up at her front door. Sorrowful joy.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
“With that makeup on, you look twenty-five.” Her eyes, green like mine, fill with tears, but she smiles like she’s trying to hide them. “You look just like your mother.”
Before she can erupt into sobs, I wrap my arms around her and squeeze. Even though it makes her sad sometimes to have me around because I remind her of Mom, I think we’re both glad to have a new way of connecting with her. For Aunt Rachel, I’m the living heritage of her sister. For me, my aunt is the scrapbook of Mom’s life.
We stand there for a few minutes until I hear a horn outside.
“That’s Shannen,” I say, stepping back. “I have to go.”
“Have fun tonight, Lily.”
“I will,” I say with a smile. “Tonight’s going to be special, I just know it.”
Her brow wrinkles into a concerned frown. “You’re not going to do anything reckless, are you?” Her eyes search my face. “You have to be careful. You’re not like other girls.”
Don’t I know it.
The horn sounds again.
“I promise.” I say. “Nothing reckless.” Although our definitions of reckless might not match up perfectly.
Before she can say more, I press a quick kiss to her cheek and dash out the door. “I’ll check in when I get home.”
Prithi meows in protest of my departure.
Honk, honk.
“Don’t rush into anything,” Aunt Rachel calls as I hop down the front steps.
Don’t rush into anything? I laugh, hurrying down the sidewalk. I’ve been waiting three years for this night. That’s taking it slow for a sea slug.
“Nice costume,” Shannen calls out as I approach her car. Through the passenger window I can see she’s dressed as—you guessed it—a mermaid. “Where’d you get it?”
“Actually, I—”
“From me.”
My entire body tenses.
Speaking of sea slugs.
I should have known he wouldn’t let a chance to humiliate me go by. I spin around in the direction of his voice. In the setting sunlight, I don’t see him at first. Then he shifts and I see him leaning against his front porch, just a few feet away, that cocky, one-sided smile making him look like an arrogant blowfish. Which he is.
But Shannen and Peri and I all agreed that I should let him help me—whatever that means.
“Yes,” I bite out. “From Quince.”
“You make a pretty pirate wench, princess.”
I open my mouth to retort, but then I realize…that might have been a compliment. At least the closest to one Quince has ever gotten.
The polite thing to do would be to thank him.
I turn and yank open the car door.
“You know,” he says, his voice velvety soft, “you could go to the dance with me. Jealousy would grab Benson’s attention.”
I am so stunned by his suggestion that I don’t even correct Brody’s name. I am frozen, hand on the door handle. Then I feel warmth at my back, and I know he’s standing right behind me.
My skin prickles.
Tonight he still smells of mint toothpaste, but instead of leather the other scent is something…earthy. Like Aunt Rachel’s garden after a rain.
“Um, no,” I stammer. “No thanks. I’ll stick with the original plan.”
I feel something brush the back of my neck.
“Your loss, princess,” he whispers in my ear.
The warmth disappears, and I know he’s gone. My body erupts in goose bumps at the sudden chill. Without turning to look, I open the door and slip into the passenger seat.
“Let’s go.” My voice sounds breathless.
When Shannen doesn’t start the car right away, I look up. She is staring at me. Did something happen to my makeup? I’ve actually managed—with Aunt Rachel’s help—to successfully apply some mascara. But maybe it smudged during pictures or something. I flip down the visor to do a spot check. Nope, everything still in place. Maybe she’s just not used to seeing me with face paint—
“What,” she asks, “was that?”
Oh. That. Since I don’t know what that was, I can’t exactly answer. I think Quince just enjoys toying with my sanity. He’s pretty much beyond comprehension.
“Nothing,” I assure her. “He just wanted to make me nervous.”
She stares at me a few seconds longer before shrugging and pulling out into the street. She knows Quince defies explanation.
All the way to school, my insides quiver and churn like rough seas in a squall. I don’t know if I’m going to make it through the night. Then, as we pull into the parking lot, I see Brody get out of his Camaro dressed—just like Quince told me—as a pirate. For the first time in three years, seeing him actually settles my nerves instead of agitating them.
That’s when I know everything will be okay. Brody is my mermate, and tonight is the beginning of our future. Nothing is going to stand in my way.