Breathless (20 page)

“Morgan.” I bit my lip. “I’m up to my ears in trouble. I can’t skip school again.”

She rol ed her eyes. “Relax, Smal s. We’re not skipping. School doesn’t start for an hour and I can’t go without my java fix. Want something?”

“Sure.” I fol owed her into the coffee shop, where she ordered two marble lattes.

Morgan settled into a corner booth, then tore the lid off of her cup and blew on her drink, splattering the table with dots of whipped cream. After another couple minutes of awkward silence, she looked up at me. “Okay, I’ve been thinking . . .”

I paused mid-sip and set my cup down. So this was it—when she told me that what happened over the weekend was too insane for her and she could no longer be my friend. I mental y braced myself for impact.

“This weekend,” she continued, “we didn’t do any drugs or drinking that I’m aware of, did we?”

I sucked in a gulp of air before answering. “No.”

“No,” she repeated as if saying the word out loud made it more real. “Good. I gave that shit up a long time ago. I hate feeling out of control, you know?”

I nodded even though I didn’t agree. While I’d never done drugs or drank even a sip of alcohol, I loved the out of control, loosing myself feeling that came over me whenever Bastin was near.

“But . . . it was crazy, wasn’t it? Surreal.” She lowered her voice beyond the level of a whisper, so much so, that we had to duck our heads together so I could hear. “I just want to make sure that I’m not losing it. That it real y happened. That there were mer people in my bedroom.”

I nodded, bumping our foreheads together. It probably looked to the passersby like we were sharing an intimate moment—not that it bothered me. Nothing about Morgan bothered me. That’s why I was so afraid to lose her.

She surprised me by leaning against the seat with a grin. “Wicked.” A dreamy look glazed her eyes. “So very wicked. I’ve been waiting my whole life for something like this.”

I couldn’t hide the shock in my voice. “Real y?”

“Oh, yeah. I always knew there was more out there. That this,” she gestured to the room around us, “couldn’t be al there is.”

Unsure how to respond, I took a sip of my latte.

“That’s why I knew we were gonna be good friends, Smal s. You get it. I could tel from the moment I saw you sprawled on the bathroom floor that there was something different about you.”

Different.
The word echoed around my brain like a gong. I couldn’t help but think about the leaky faucets and wonder if my being
different
had something to do with that.

“Do they visit you al the time?”

I took another sip before answering. “Bastin does.”

“Wow.” Morgan scooped her finger into her latte before licking the whipped cream from the tip. “You two are pretty tight then?”

I didn’t answer, I didn’t have to. The tel tale blush burned on my cheeks. “It’s not as simple as that. Bastin and I . . . we both know that we can’t be together.”

“Why not?”

“Mers can’t survive on the surface.” I stared at the liquid in my cup, wondering what it would feel like to be able to suck water in through my nose like air. “And Bastin says that if he takes me under with him, I’l be in constant pain. So he won’t do it.”

Morgan sputtered on the coffee she’d gulped. After her coughing spel passed she splayed her fingers on the table. “Hold the phone! Mermaids can take people underwater?”

I nodded. “I don’t know how it works, but they can do something to a human so they survive. But Bastin says the people down there are miserable. He says you’d feel like you were drowning and the weight of the ocean curves your spine. He also says that once you’ve been taken under, you can never return to the surface.”

“Interesting,” she murmured. A strange look came over her face, causing a chil to run down my spine.

“Morgan . . .”

She blinked a couple of times before she was able to focus on me.

“What are you thinking?”

She waved the question away. “Nothing. I just find the whole thing fascinating, don’t you? I mean, who’d have thought it would be possible for people to live underwater?”

I took another sip. “But I don’t know that I’d cal it living. Bastin says it’s a miserable existence.”

Her eyes narrowed, al of the excitement they’d held replaced by something dark. “And this isn’t?”

She had me there.

Morgan lowered her eyes to the table. “There are other ways to cause agony than physical pain.”

It was as if invisible hands were clawing their way into my stomach. I’d wanted Morgan’s life to be perfect—needed it, even. I’d long ago accepted the fact that my life was a joke and Sir was the punch-line. I’d surrendered to my fate but carried the hope that happy families did exist.

That mothers, fathers, and their kids spent weekends curled up on the couch watching movies. They took vacations to Mount Rushmore and returned home with bobble-headed presidents. That was not only my hope, but my dream for the future. If a happy family was nothing more than a myth . . . what was the point of living?

Morgan scooped more whipped cream from her drink and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m just curious how they do it. Maybe if they didn’t take you to the deepest part of the ocean, there could be a way around al that bone-crushing pain.”

She held so much hope in her voice that I didn’t want to voice my disagreement. Because, if there was a way for Bastin and I to be together, he would have said something . . . wouldn’t he have? But doubt burrowed into my brain like a botfly. What if he didn’t want to be with me the way I wanted to be with him? What if I was just something fun and different and when the novelty wore off, he’d return to the ocean using the excuse he’d given as a way to leave me behind?

My stomach cramped in nauseous waves and I pushed my drink away. On one level, I realized that I was letting my insecurity eat me alive. On another, I found myself sliding out of the booth pul ing my backpack with me.

“Smal s?” Morgan was next to me, though I hadn’t noticed her get up. “Where are you going? Did I piss you off?”

“No.” But I didn’t stop walking. I had to get outside. It was suddenly hard to breath. “I’m fine—just not feeling wel al of a sudden. Sir had me run three miles this morning. Probably a side-effect from that.”

“Jesus,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. I’l drive you to school.”

I shook my head. “If it’s al right with you, I’d rather walk. School’s not that far and I could use the air.”

She frowned. “In case you didn’t notice, I have a convertible.”

“I-I-just . . .”

Morgan’s eyes softened. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. I get like this, too. Take a Midol and I’l see you at lunch.”

I smiled, relieved. “See you at lunch.”

Morgan climbed into her car as I started down the sidewalk. The air real y did feel good on my skin, not as thick as it had been in the coffee house. It blew through me and loosened the knots of tension inside, al owing me to think clearly.

Bastin had told me that there was no way for a human to live underwater without being in pain—and I believed him. If there was a way for the two of us to be together he would have said something. I believed that. I had to. Because if Bastin lied to me . . . I didn’t think my heart could survive.

Once again, I was reminded that there was no good way for this to end. Either I could convince Bastin to take me underwater with him, or we’d be torn apart when Sir sent me to military school. It didn’t matter if I was underwater or above it—there was no escaping from pain.

When I’d told Morgan that I’d meet her for lunch, I had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t make it past first period. Ten minutes into homeroom, the intercom announced my presence was requested in the principal’s office.

I’d expected this—just not this fast. I took my time shoving my books back into my bag, ignoring the whispers and stares of the students around me. It didn’t matter—nothing mattered now.

The hal ways were quiet as I walked through them. The heels of my sneakers squeaked on the fresh wax, as if trying to warn me to turn back.

When I arrived at the office, I reached for the handle only to have the door burst open. Gabriel e stood before me, her face swol en and blotchy—a sure sign she’d been crying. When she saw me, a cruel smile curled the edges of her lips, signaling an end to whatever act she’d been performing.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

My skin tingled as the blood underneath boiled. “Move, Gabi.”

She tilted her head. “I wouldn’t be so eager to go in there if I was you. I told them everything.”

My hands tightened in fists. Normal y, I avoided confrontations and would have backed away and found myself a nice, dark corner to hide in. But now, with nothing to lose, I no longer cared. “By
everything
I assume you mean your
lies.
”

She pushed away from the door and strode toward me so that only inches separated us. “I told them you were responsible for the boat accident because your lesbian lover put you up to it. Oh, I also told them you’d been skipping school and doing drugs with that freak.” She adjusted the brace around her neck. “Your dad looked real y pissed.”

“You lying bitch!” Before I could stop myself I thrust my arms out and shoved, sending Gabriel e staggering backward.

She regained her footing before hitting the door and lunged for me. She grabbed my shoulders and rammed me into a locker. My head snapped back and connected with metal, sending jolts of pain down my spine. I blinked several times to clear the blurriness from my vision.

Gabriel e stil held me, her fingernails digging into my skin like claws. “Better a bitch,” she whispered next to my ear, “than a murderer.”

Murderer.
There was that word again. The accusation that’d fol owed me every day since the death of my brother.

A red haze blurred my vision and I no longer cared about Sir, military school, or anything else. In that moment, my sole purpose of living was to kick Gabriel e’s ass.

I clenched my hand into a fist and reared back, but just before I plunged my fist into her three-thousand dol ar nose, a faint rumbling sounded overhead.

“What the—” She released my arms. We both looked up at the florescent lights shaking overhead. Seconds later, the fire sprinkler directly above burst open, showering us with water.

Gabriel e shrieked and darted away, only to land in the path of the next sprinkler that turned on. She shuffled back, fel on her butt, and scrambled up again as she tried in vain to shield her hair from the pouring water. Her screams alerted the office staff, who came to the window to stare but didn’t dare come out in the downpour.

Gabriel e spared me one last withering look before she fled down the hal way, screaming after each sprinkler she ran under burst open.

I smiled when she disappeared behind a corner. A smile that quickly disappeared the moment a hand clamped down on the curve of my neck.

“Clear out your locker,” Sir’s voice rumbled from behind me. “You’re official y enrol ed at the Saratoga Military Academy.”

Sir drove me home, where I immediately ran to my room and col apsed on the bed. My worst nightmare had come true. In the car, Sir said that because the boat accident was caused by my drinking (as told by Gabi), that I’d skipped school and lied about it, and I was apparently worshipping Satan (as evidenced by my clothing and hidden stash of makeup), he felt it necessary to send me to Saratoga, California, where I could be molded into the kind of person society deemed “useful.” I’d toured a military academy before and knew the term “useful” was just another word for compliant.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t known this was coming; Sir had been threatening to send me away for years. But after Sir had packed my bag, I’d hoped I would have more time to be with Bastin. The only good news was that my bus to California didn’t leave until Friday afternoon. That gave me three days . . . hopeful y enough time to convince Bastin to take me into the ocean.

Mom checked on me a couple of hours later. Her eyes were glassy and her face flushed, like she’d been crying. Stil , she said nothing as she placed today’s assigned dinner—beef stroganoff—on my desk. No reassuring words. No Dog of the Day. Just a few sniffles and she was gone.

When the door clicked shut, I threw my pil ow against it. My hands shook and I hugged my chest to keep from throwing anything else. I wanted to scream but knew better than to attract any more of Sir’s attention. Mom could do something if she wanted. She was my mother for crying out loud, and this man, this monster, was going to send me away. If she’d just speak up for once . . .

But the thought brought fresh tears to my eyes. She hadn’t chal enged Sir the entire time they’d been married—there was no chance she’d start now.

For the rest of the night I laid on my bed watching the shadows climb the wal s. As the hours went by the shadows grew larger until the pressing darkness threatened to swal ow me whole. I had to get out.

When the footsteps overhead quieted, signaling Mom and Sir were settled in bed, I was out the door and running down the paths to the bayou. It felt strange to navigate them alone—even stranger to arrive on the dock without Bastin. But I couldn’t wait for him. Half of my heart was in the ocean, a part that I would cling to until I left.

I didn’t know how long I sat on the sun-bleached wood, hypnotized by the gentle lapping of waves and glittering reflection of stars dancing on the surface. Eventual y, one of the stars peeled itself from the water, growing larger as it moved, until it stood before me with arms stretched wide.

“Edith.” A faint smile played on his lips. “I—” but he stopped short after catching sight of my face, his brow folding into lines of concern. In an instant he was out of the water. Even faster, and I was in his arms. Soft and warm. A place where I felt invincible when the rest of the world threatened to pul me apart.

Bastin tightened his hold, molding me against his side. The wind blew through the gaps of his arms and I shivered, reminding me again how different we were—how impossible our love.