Fathom

by L. L. Standage

  “Ah, shoot,” she said after a few minutes. I opened my eyes.

  “What?”

  “I’m out of space on this memory card. Sit tight while I go back and get my other one.”

  I propped myself up on my elbows. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I took a lot of pictures yesterday and I forgot to switch the cards.”

  “You don’t keep one in your camera bag?”

  “I just got a new one—it’s still in the store bag and everything. I left it in the car.” She swung her camera bag over her shoulder and started up the beach.

  “Just go through and delete a few from your camera.”

  She stopped. She turned and gazed at me as though I asked her to delete the last ten years of her life.

  I frowned. “So you’re going to leave me here?”

  “It’ll only take a few minutes.” She turned back.

  “Samantha!”

  “I’ll be right back. Don’t move!”

  I heaved an exasperated growl. As if I could move if I wanted to. Sam had my pants. Just pull off this stupid costume and run back up the beach in my underwear? That’d make a nice photo for the portfolio.

  I sighed and waited. In spite of my circumstances, I closed my eyes. The sound of the surf lulled away the worry. I breathed in the peaceful, freeing solitude. The breeze, the taste of the ocean mist on my lips, the sand touching my skin—it was too perfect.

  Sam should be back soon. I opened my eyes to check…and screamed.

  A guy about my age leaned over me, watching me with eyes as round as quarters and his jaw hanging open. He cried out too, then stumbled back and almost tripped. I sat up and threw my arms around my half-naked torso, embarrassed at my ridiculous attire. I never even heard him coming.

  “What are you doing here?” I shrieked, as though this wasn’t a public alcove near a public beach.

  He shook his head, his mouth still open, his eyes still wide. His bleached hair stuck out at all angles. He sputtered as he backed away. I noticed a cell phone clutched in his hand. Had he taken a picture of me?

  I scowled at the phone, then at him. He took off running.

  “Hey! Hey, wait!” I called after him, but the sound of the surf drowned out my voice. I scooted around the rock to see the twitchy weirdo tearing down the beach. I rolled my eyes. In case more joggers decided to come by, I scooted back, leaned against the rock, and tucked my mermaid knees under my chin. Then I heard the laughter. I looked up.

  “Oh, that was priceless!” Samantha cried. “Did you see his face?”

  I put my hands over my own face. “That was so humiliating. Please get me out of this costume.”

  “Not yet, I need more pictures.”

  “Did you see the whole thing?” I asked through my fingers.

  “Yep. Well, from the pier.” She laughed again. “Thank goodness for zoom lenses. I could almost swear that guy thought you were real.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “If he did, he’s an idiot.”

  “Then you shouldn’t worry about him seeing you like this.”

  I shook my head and lay back down. Sam started clicking away again.

  “I think he took my picture,” I said.

  “So? They won’t be as good as mine. Close your eyes.”

  “So? I don’t want my picture on some creeper’s phone!” Especially the phone of some guy who may or may not have thought I was—by some ridiculous stretch of the imagination—a real mermaid.

  “Come on, Liv,” she said, lowering the camera. “It’s not a big deal. He’s probably just a tourist. I saw him jogging along the beach. I knew he’d see you, so I went up on the pier to watch the hilariousness. Close your eyes again and turn on your side.”

  “Ugh. What if he’s a stalker?”

  “He’s not. He’s perfectly normal.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I don’t. But if he’s staying around here, we’ll probably see him again. We can find out what he’s like and tell him to delete the picture.” She giggled. “Maybe he’ll ask you out.”

  “No, thank you.” I threw some sand at her.

  After heading home to change and eat lunch, Samantha and I went back to La Jolla Beach—this time to play in the water with normal swimsuits instead of a mermaid costume.

  “Ugh, no surfers again!” Sam lamented.

  “Waves must be bad.”

  “When do they get good again?”

  “Well, the position of the moon and the Earth’s rotation affect the tides, along with weather conditions. High and low pressure, wind, shapes of the shoreline…” I trailed off after Samantha’s eyes glazed over. I smiled. “I don’t know, Google it. Or ask a local.”

  “Hmm. Okay,” she said with no reservation. She looked around and saw some guys tossing a Frisbee. “Be right back.” She put down her bag and towel, then walked away.

  Meanwhile, I scanned the people on the beach for signs of the blond, feathery-haired guy who had dropped by the “photo shoot” that morning. Not to bat my eyes and ask why the mediocre waves were driving surfer boys away, but to make him delete my picture. Having my picture in a stranger’s phone felt so violating, like somebody spying on me.

  My search was futile; in all the crowds of people playing on the beach, I couldn’t find him.

  A few minutes later, Sam returned with a giddy spring to her step.

  “Well, there’s no sign of Hottie McScottie,” she said as she sat on her towel.

  “Who?” I asked, even though I knew perfectly well who.

  “The Scottish guy! You know, the one we met yesterday.”

  “Oh, right.” Yeah, he moved on. As I thought he would. No reason to hope.

  “—but I’m getting surfing lessons starting tomorrow.” She turned and gave a flirty-fingered wave to the boys with the Frisbee, who seemed to have had enough of the game and were walking away. One of them waved back—a bulky one with hair the same length as Samantha’s and board shorts sagging near indecency.

  “From that guy?”

  “Yeah. His name is Cooper.” She turned back to me. “And I might have found out who the guy is from this morning. The picture-snatcher.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Cooper thinks it could be a guy named Brock Mallory. He lives nearby. Jogs early in the morning. Blond hair.”

  “Yeah?” I replied bitterly, “Did he mention anything about him butting into other people’s business and take pictures of strange girls?”

  “Nope. Didn’t know a thing about it, but he did say Brock was pretty cool. Like I told you. No weirdos or stalkers, see? Cooper offered to set you guys up…”

  “Not interested.” I leaned back on my beach towel.

  Sam sighed. “Olivia, you’ve had your heart broken once. It doesn’t mean every guy is like that.”

  I stared at my feet. In truth, it went beyond getting cheated on. I didn’t know what a successful relationship looked like. I thought my parents had had one. I thought I had had one.

  “I’m done with guys. Marine biology is way more interesting right now. Fish don’t lie, cheat, or otherwise humiliate.”

  She sighed again and lay on her back. I wasn’t trying to annoy her. She’d been trying to get me to jump back into the dating pit for months. For some reason, she seemed to think my nonexistent love life reflected badly on her role as best friend.

  “Someday, Sam,” I said to placate her. “Right now, I just want to enjoy my summer and figure out my project for the NOA scholarship. No boys and no more drama.”

  Soon, we fell into a routine. Samantha got up early to go surfing with Cooper, and I slept until the tide pools opened. That first time I went soured my taste for after-hours exploring. But every time I went back over the next few days, I never saw any sign of the two shady men from my first night in San Diego. Surely I’d never see them again as long as I avoided the really stupid inclination to go back when negative tide fell in the middle of the night.

  Problem was, I never sa
w anything else at the tide pools either. The tourists I’d tried to avoid showed up in droves. And the tides had stopped following the forecast. Despite checking and double-checking the website, the water levels sat disappointingly high. After that second morning of struggling to find anything, I gave up. I watched the ocean as I hiked back up the trail, passing group after group of visitors hiking down. What secrets were left to find in that ocean? What ecosystems, plants, and animals were left to discover? I frowned at the loss of what could have been a great morning. By the time I reached my car and climbed in, I had launched quite a promising pity party.

  Any hopes I’d had to come home to a quiet, comforting house were dashed once I walked inside and found Cooper sitting at Aunt Shannon’s dining room table, scarfing down waffles like a long-haired pig in a trough. Sam walked in from the kitchen, her wet hair pulled into two pony tails at the base of her neck. She wore an old tee shirt and swim shorts while Cooper sat shirtless, slurping syrupy waffles. Oh, well. At least I didn’t walk in on them making out.

  “Hi, Liv,” said Sam. “Your mom called. She said she’ll deposit some money in your account for a new phone tomorrow. I guess your dad was supposed to do it, but he dropped the ball. Her words, not mine.”

  “Oh.” I scowled, hating my parents for still fighting, even now. Cooper chomped another bite of waffle. I grimaced at him, then met Samantha’s eye. She glanced at him, looked back at me, and shrugged.

  “How were the tide pools?” she asked.

  “Lousy,” I replied. “Too many people. And the tides are too high. It’s weird. Low tide was supposed to shift to mid-morning, but it hasn’t.” I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge for a drink, only to find nearly empty shelves. I settled for the last bit of milk. We needed a trip to the grocery store. “Someone needs to fire the idiot that posts the tidal flow on the website. The guides are usually pretty spot-on. At least they were, up until a couple days ago.” I walked back into the dining room, but Cooper and Samantha didn’t seem to be listening.

  “Any more waffles?” he asked. My scowl deepened.

  “That’s the last of them,” she replied, pointing to a lone waffle sitting on a plate in the middle of the table. He grabbed it. Okay, guess I wasn’t getting any waffles.

  “Did you have a good time surfing?” I asked, barely masking my irritation. Maybe bringing it up would make him want to go back out.

  “Yeah, it was fun,” said Sam. “Tiring though.”

  “Dude,” said Cooper, spraying a little chewed waffle. He stuffed another bite in his mouth. “Sammy’s a fast learner.”

  “He said I have the perfect body for surfing,” she said. I snorted milk. The dude was a complete hound. Cooper jumped from his seat, leaving his syrupy plate and empty glass on the table.

  “Welp, tide waits for no one,” he said. “You wanna come back out, Sammy?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe another day.”

  “Alrighty. Text me,” he said as he made his way back to the front door. The door shut behind him. I raised my eyebrows in distaste. Samantha gave me an apologetic half smile. Or was it a grimace? I took my empty cup back to the kitchen, washed it out, and filled it with tap water. One sip made me gag.

  “Is there any bottled water?” I asked.

  “Cooper drank the last one,” she replied. I rolled my eyes and opened a drawer for the food money envelope Aunt Shannon had left as payment for housesitting. Sam stayed quiet in the next room. I went back and watched her stare at the messy plates for a minute. She huffed, grabbed the dishes, and took them to the sink.

  “Didn’t even say thank you. Just ate everything,” she muttered.

  “How about a trip to the grocery store?” I asked. Her dishes clattered into the sink. She came out of the kitchen without looking at me.

  “Okay. I’m not buying waffles though.”

  An hour later, Sam and I strolled down a grocery store aisle, our cart full. She’d gone straight to the ice cream aisle first and dumped four cartons into the shopping cart. I put two back. She gathered six pizzas. I put back three. Marshmallow cereal, chocolate milk, easy cheese—half of it I put back and replaced it with some eggs, regular milk, bread, and cheese. I left the box of marshmallow cereal in the cart. A girl can have her indulgences once in a while.

  “So, anything else we need?" Sam asked.

  “Let’s get some bacon. I want a good bacon, egg, and cheese burrito,” I said as I pushed the grocery cart toward the produce section. “And water. I haven’t had hardly anything to drink all day. The tap water at Aunt Shannon’s tastes like a hotel swimming pool.”

  Samantha laughed. “I’ve never been grocery shopping on my own before. This is so fun. It’s like we’re college roommates or something.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, only we don’t have to pay for any of it.”

  “I know!”

  Both of us laughed this time.

  After picking up a few more things, we turned down the aisle toward the cash registers and found a place in the shortest line. I sidled around the cart and reached in to put our food on the conveyer belt.

  “Ooh, let’s get some yummies,” said Sam. She went for the candy bars, then gasped and grabbed my arm. Her fingernails pinched me.

  “Ouch, what?”

  “Look,” she whispered, pointing a finger at one of the magazines on display next to the candy. I looked and dropped the box of frozen pizza.

  One of the tabloids had a picture on it. My picture.

  I snatched the magazine up, examining the picture up close. It was definitely me. The hair, the tail, the seaweed—identical to the scene Samantha had set up yesterday morning. The bold caption read Stranded Mermaid Found on the Shores of San Diego.

  “Sam,” I hissed. “Did you send this in?”

  “No.”

  “Then how…” I stopped. There I was, lying on the beach in the exact way I remembered before Brock Mallory came. I gasped. “That Brock Mallory guy! He must have done it!”

  “Ugh, what a shmuck.”

  “How did it get into a magazine so fast?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I wonder if it’s online.”

  I reached for my phone but remembered again what had happened to it. I growled in frustration. Sam typed on her phone, snorted, and turned the screen to me. There was the picture, with a similar headline, on the magazine’s website. I took phone and looked at the post. It had been shared thousands of times.

  “What am I going to do?” I gripped the hair near my scalp with one hand. Sam, on the other hand, laughed again.

  “Psh…nothing. You can’t tell it’s you.” She stared at the magazine. “Come on, it’s cool. You’re famous, mermaid girl.”

  “Shut up. People are starting to stare.” I looked to the line next to us, where a thin woman with long red hair stood, holding two huge bottles of water and watching me with a wrinkle to her brow.

  “I’m going to buy this.” Sam threw the magazine with my picture onto the conveyer belt.

  “Let’s hurry up and go.” I lobbed the rest of our stuff onto the conveyer and waited with my foot tapping and my mouth dry. The pack of water moved up the conveyer, but I grabbed it and pulled one out. “Sorry,” I said to the clerk scanning the groceries. “I’m dying of thirst.”

  The store clerk nodded. I opened the bottle and chugged half of it out of a combination of nerves and thirst while she scanned the groceries. Was she staring? I felt like a spotlight shone over me—the girl stupid enough to dress up like a mermaid and go lay on the beach like some Comic-Con freak. And then I was stupid enough to get caught!

  We hurried—or at least, I hurried—with buying our food. After loading our bags, I made a hasty exit. Sam trailed behind, her nose stuck in the pages of the tabloid.

  “Olivia, this stuff is so great. These people think the end of the world is going to be next year on the autumn equinox.”

  “Yeah, I’ll make a note of that,” I said as I paused to let traffic clear and then pu
shed the shopping cart into the parking lot. I popped the trunk of my car and loaded the groceries, while Sam continued cracking up over the stories in the tabloid. I stuffed the last bag into the trunk, slammed it closed, and pushed the cart away, not caring where it stopped.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Right,” Sam said, distracted by the bogus yet somehow compelling articles as she climbed into the passenger seat. In the rearview mirror, the same red-haired woman from the checkout line stood at the entrance to the grocery store, watching the car as we pulled away.

  Creepy.

  Sam laughed yet again. It made me jump. “You have to read this when we get back. It’s fantastic.”

  “Does it say who gave them the photo?”

  “No. Keeps it anonymous. Good thing too. If he’d taken credit, I’d have to kick his—”

  “That jerk,” I said through gritted teeth. “I better not have any trouble from this.”

  Samantha sighed. “Olivia, you need to relax. This tabloid is just a bunch of sleaze-and-cheese people make up. And no one is going to know it’s you in the picture. Stuff like this gets passed around, then forgotten after two days. Chill.”

  I felt stupid for getting anxious, but I couldn’t help it. What if my parents saw it? I felt like a victim of some weird kind of identity theft, only instead of having my social security number stolen, I had my face unwillingly plastered all over the front of thousands of magazines, and possibly all over every social network.

  Most people would leap at a chance for their picture to spread like wildfire. I just wanted to crawl into a cave. After punching Brock Mallory in the face.

  “You want some more chips?” asked Sam.

  “No thanks.”

  “You want to watch a movie?”

  “Not really.”

  “Ugh, come on, Liv, I’m bored.”

  I was bored too, but mostly I wished I could go to every convenience and grocery store in Southern California and burn all the tabloids with my picture on it. It wouldn’t do any good on the internet articles though.