by Kristie Cook
Frustrated and freezing, I grabbed my bag and headed home.
“Ash? Is that you?”
Dad popped his head out of the kitchen. Garlicky aroma from firehouse spaghetti blew past me, rekindling my hunger.
I blinked back at Dad in surprise. “You’re home tonight?”
The caterpillar of fur on his upper lip formed a smile. “I decided to let some of the young bucks get an overtime shift tonight. I missed my girls.” I walked over into his awaiting bear hug. He kissed me on the top of the head. “Is your mom with you?”
“She’s buried under a new shipment.”
“Sounds dangerous.” He let go and went back to stirring his sauce. “Can you call her and see if she’s clawed her way out? I’d like to eat together.”
I slumped down at the kitchen table. Last thing I wanted to do was give Mom an opportunity to chew me out for bailing. “I just left the store and I’m sure she is right behind me,” I fibbed.
“Perfect. So, how was your day?”
I chuckled. Absolutely ridiculous. “Fine.”
“That doesn’t sound like plain ol’ fine to me.” Dad winked before he tossed two half loaves of bread, slathered in garlic butter, into the oven.
“I don’t know. Same old crap.” I looked down at my fingernails, noticing they were in dire need of a manicure. “Just preparing for the big meet on Saturday.”
“That’s right. I’m going to be able to make that meet after all.” Dad dusted his hands off on his jeans and parked next to me at the table.
“Really?” With his erratic fire-station schedule, he rarely made any of my swim meets.
“I’m home,” Mom called from the back door. Her keys hit the countertop in the hall much louder than normal. My body tensed involuntarily. “Is Ashlyn home? I need to speak with her!”
“Ruh-roh,” Dad whispered, giving me a raised eyebrow. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing.” I batted my eyelashes innocently, then faltered under his questioning stare. “Just left early. She tried to rope me into doing the entire display.”
“Go on then,” he shooed me up the stairs. “I’ll talk to her.”
Behind me I heard her complain I’d abandoned her and made a mess of all the shirts in the bins at the store, doubling her work. Dad soothed her frustration by pouring her a glass of wine. After a few minutes of griping, she settled down and their conversation became low mumbles. I tiptoed into my room.
Lying on my bed, I looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars peeling off the ceiling. Tatchi’s house had one solitary light illuminating the interior. The Jeep remained parked where it was the night before. My cell phone on my nightstand taunted me to call her and hang up if someone else answered.
Then like magic, it rang.
I lunged for it.
“Tatchi? Where the heck have you been? You weren’t at work today and I’ve been waiting to talk to you all day. Why was Jack’s closed? I have to tell you what happened. I’ve been nominated for Senior Ball royalty. Can you believe it? Holy crawfish!”
“I know,” said a low voice I didn’t expect—one belonging to a guy.
My pulse quickened. “Who is this?”
“Callahan.”
My breathing stopped, leaving both of us in silence.
8 - FIN
Dinner at Badge and Sandy’s was what I needed to help with my mainland homesickness. And afterward, Sandy brought out fresh chocolate chip cookies which made my night complete. When I’d questioned how she got all the ingredients, Badger broke down and swore me to secrecy. Apparently, Sandy’s cousin, Dorian, guarded the Loch Ness gate under Scotland and let her come and go as she pleased—completely breaking Natatorian law because she didn’t have the King’s permission.
With a flip of my fin, I dolefully swam with an uncomfortably full belly towards my water-filled mer home, which was vacant most of the year. Though we did well financially on land, we didn’t have much Natatorian tender of jewels and gold to buy an air interior like Badger’s, nor had we needed to. I would have stayed longer to stretch my legs, but their incessant flirting made me uncomfortable so I made an excuse to leave.
“Fin.”
I stopped and spun around to scan the nearby kelp bed at the sound of my sister’s panicked voice.
“Tatch?”
She slowly rose up from the weeds in her new technicolor glory. Whatever they did to her at the palace today, my sister now resembled a Christmas ornament. I tried not to overreact, holding my face as straight as possible.
“It’s okay. You can laugh.” She slumped down on a nearby rock and put her face in her hands.
“You look—”
“Ugly, just say it.” She held up her multicolored tresses encrusted with beads and shells in disgust.
“I was going to say colorful.”
“Colorful? They dyed my hair! And put these stupid things in it. I’m never going to be able to get them out. And look at these weird tattoo things.” She scrubbed at her arm, but nothing came off. “It’s horrible! How can I go back to the mainland looking like this?”
“It’s not that bad.” Purple and aqua painted vines wrapped around her shoulders and down her arms. They were so realistic they seemed to move with the water, and pulled at me with some hypnotic ability.
“Fin, get real. Fin?”
I snapped out of the trance and looked at her eyes framed in green lashes. Out of nowhere, she broke down into raspy sobs.
“It’s only been one day and look what they’ve done to me. Imagine what I’ll come home looking like tomorrow. Or the festival. For the love of the kraken!”
Unsure what to do, I awkwardly patted her on the back.
“We only have to endure a few days until Dad gets back, and when he does, we’ll return to the mainland and wash this crap off with something stronger than soap.”
Tatiana pulled her face up, mid snivel. “Fin, Dad isn’t coming back anytime soon.”
My eyes met her crestfallen expression. “What do you mean?”
“He whispered to Mom when they said goodbye that he might be gone for several months. Months!”
“What?” Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he take me?
I moved away and pounded my fist on a nearby barnacle-laden rock. Why was I the last to know?
“Sorry. Mom didn’t want me to tell you. She hoped the mission would end early.”
Suddenly, I felt as if lead weights were attached to my flukes like the mobsters at the bottom of Tahoe. Dad’s absence meant we’d be stuck here. For once, I finally understood what Tatiana was complaining about. I’d joined the ranks of merwomen trapped in Natatoria’s big fish tank under the earth’s crust.
“Come our eighteenth birthday, I’ll get us out of here.”
“You can’t be a chaperone unless you’re promised.”
“It could work. I’d be the male figure, and Mom the chaperone.”
“That’s not until May.” Tatch rolled her eyes. “No, what we need to do is disappear and go to Fiji. We could stay on that desolate island we vacationed on last summer.”
I shook my head. If we ran away, I’d forfeit all chances of acquiring Tahoe in the future. We’d have to stick it out and hope the King would let us go back as a family in May.
“Holy crawfish!”
She dashed for the kelp bed as I turned to spot Azor, swimming in our direction.
“Please, get rid of him,” she whispered in my head.
“Finley,” Azor called as he approached.
I tried to act casual. “What’s happening?”
Azor looked beyond me and scanned the surrounding landscape. “I’m looking for your sister. Have you seen her?”
“For the love of plankton, get him to swim away from here!”
I cleared my throat to cover my laugh. “Did you check the house?”
“I was just there. Magdalene said she hadn’t come home from the palace yet.”
“Oh, well, maybe she’s still there … you know
how she loves to get all dolled up.” I shot Tatch a sly wink.
“Finley! Stop it! I’m going to kill you!” Tatch screamed in my mind.
“Hmmm,” he placed his index finger on his lips, “that she does. Maybe she didn’t receive my message to meet afterwards at her house. If you see her, tell her I was looking for her, would you?”
“Will do.”
He swam past me, headed towards the palace.
I watched him disappear over the sand dune. “Azor wants you.”
“Shut-up!” She punched me in the arm, but the water prevented her fist from actually doing harm. “Oh my starfish, you are so dead. Let’s get out of here.”
“Oh, let’s,” I said with a laugh, until her tail flipped back and hit my bloated gut, this time causing me pain.
9 ASH
ASH
I stood shaking with the cell phone in my hand.
“Are you still there?” Callahan asked.
“Yes.” My voice squeaked as a flame of heat rushed to my cheeks.
“I’m sorry—are you expecting a call? Should I call back?”
“No. It’s fine. I can talk.” I swallowed as my hands grew clammy. “How did you get my number anyway?”
“I tried to catch you after practice, but you’d left. So, I asked Georgia for your number.”
Georgia? Georgia! Oh, no. Images of her ambushing me with a million questions before morning practice already started to haunt me.
“I had to leave early.”
“Oh.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
Blood hammered in my ears while I waited for him to speak. Was this really happening? Callahan O’Reily, the hottest guy in school, could not be calling me. This had to be another horrible prank.
“I—” He hesitated. Then another painful silence. I wanted to say something, anything to rescue the conversation.
Speak, Ash. “If this is a bad time for you—” Stupid, of course it’s a good time for him or he wouldn’t have called. Please just tell me why you called already.
“Uh, no, it’s good. So, Senior Ball.”
He said it. He called to talk about the dance. Was Holly right?
“Senior Ball,” I echoed like a dummy as my nerves rattled like loose change.
“Are you going with anyone?”
My heart hammered harder. “Um—hadn’t planned on going.”
“Really? But you’re nominated for the court.”
I chuckled nervously. “Funny you’d mention that. I don’t know how that happened.”
“You … don’t want to be in the court?” His voice sounded confused, like he had no clue why I’d be upset about that. I’m sure in his mind, all girls wanted to be nominated.
“I—I’m honored,” I lied. How could I explain to him that I was mortified someone pulled this prank on me?
“You should be. It’s not just a popularity contest.”
Yeah, right. I couldn’t help it. A snort slipped out.
His sigh sobered me up. “Well, then blame me.”
“Why would I blame you?”
“I nominated you.”
“You … what? Why?”
“The ballot said to nominate someone who they believed represented the ideal student. Someone who’s kind to everyone, of high character, and scholarly. I immediately thought of you.”
My mouth opened but only air whooshed out. No snippy comeback, nothing.
“See? And even in the admission, you’re humble. I rest my case.”
I clenched my jaw. “Not fair.”
“How’s that not fair?”
“I was late to class that morning. I couldn’t remove myself from the ballot,” I stammered.
“Exactly.” I heard the grin in his voice and my knees weakened.
“Ashlyn, time for dinner.” My mother’s voice floated upstairs—a little more urgent than normal, like this was the second request.
“Dinner,” I mumbled.
“Do you need to go?”
No. “Yes.” If it weren’t for the fact that at any second my pesky sister would be barging through my door, I’d ignore my mom and keep this magical conversation going forever.
“Can I ask you one last thing before you go?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I bored holes into the back of the bedroom door with my eyes, wishing my lock actually worked. Dinner didn’t need to center around the first phone call I’d ever received from a boy. Callahan, unfortunately, needed to get on with it.
“I know it’s late, but would you go to the dance with me?”
The world slowed down as his words fluttered into my ears and the door flew open at the same time. Lucy huffed and perched her hands dramatically on her hips.
“She’s on the phone!” she barked down the hall.
I blinked at my sister and clenched the phone, my hand shaking. The little brat. I made a “knock-it-off” motion by slicing my finger across my throat and fervently pointed for her to leave.
“Ash?” I heard Callahan ask, slightly pained.
“Ashlynnnn,” Lucy whined at the same time. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Unable to get Lucy out of my room so I could talk some sense into Callahan, who obviously suffered over his break-up with Brooke, I caved. “Yes. Yes, I’d love to. I have to go, though. Sorry, bye.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “About time!” She stormed out of my room.
I stayed an extra minute, blinking at the contraption that just bridged me into the world I’d only talked about with Tatchi. Was this happening? Did Callahan actually invite me to the dance? As his date? In the mortal words of my best friend, “Holy crawfish!”
I saved his number in my phone and floated down the stairs to dinner. Elbow to elbow, everyone else swarmed the kitchen counter like ants and loaded up their plates with noodles slathered in tomato sauce, giant meatballs, and salad. I waited in a daze until they finished. Once we settled in our seats at the table, Dad took a moment to say grace before he pronounced we “dig in.”
“You seem to be in a good mood,” Mom said to me, after passing the basket of garlic bread to Dad.
“Um-hm,” I mumbled with a mouth full of noodles. Though my stomach still played the cha-cha from Callahan’s phone call, I did have an appetite. I pinched my fingers together like a crab to signal I wanted a piece of bread too.
“I’m glad to see all my beautiful ladies around the table with me,” Dad said, passing the basket towards me.
From a choice between a slice and a heel, I snagged the slice before handing it to Lucy. She stuck out her tongue.
“There’s more in the oven,” Mom remarked to Lucy after giving me a disappointed look.
“Did you say beautiful?” Gran lifted her glass of red wine into the air, and everyone followed. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Salud!” we all said in unison.
“So, Ashlyn,” Mom said while cutting her noodles with a knife. “You came into the store and asked about Jack’s today? Did you find out why they weren’t opened?”
“No.” I set down my glass of milk and swallowed my bite. “No sign or anything. They were just closed.”
“Hmmm. That’s weird. They usually let me know if something’s up. I hope they’re open tomorrow. We’ve got customers interested in the Tessie tour.”
I scoffed. “I’m not surprised. This was bound to happen. Jack is kinda unpredictable.”
Mom stopped mid-bite and stared at me. “What do you mean by that?”
I squinted back while visions of the past floated by—his booming voice, the crash of broken glass, Tatchi’s anguished cry. “You know. He’s an—” I glanced at my sister’s huge inquiring eyes and tried to think of a way to disguise what I wanted to say. “A-L-C-O-H-O-L-I-C.”
Dad looked upward and mouthed the letters.
“All colic?” Lucy wrinkled up her nose. “Ewww.”
“You don’t mean—?” Mom stopped when I opened my eyes really huge to say “shut-up.” She squinted. “Ashlyn, that’s
quite an accusation—”
I dropped my fork. “Don’t you remember what happened? When he got upset—when I asked if Tatchi could spend the night? You told me he was one.”
“I did?” She looked to Dad, who finally caught onto the conversation. She shrugged. “When? Just recently?”
“No. It was a couple of summers ago. Her dad broke the glass hutch with his fist! You seriously don’t remember? I told you and you said that was probably what was wrong.”
Mom looked at the table and pressed her lips in a line. “I must have been mistaken. Jack appears a little gruff, but we’ve been friends for years now. He’s an upstanding businessman and a gentleman. I highly doubt he’s got that kind of a problem.”
“Does colic mean he’s got a lot of gas or something?” Lucy asked.
“Garlic cleans you out. That’s what it does,” Gran said with a bang of her knife against the table, obviously not wearing her hearing aid again.
Everyone chuckled but Mom.
“No one is colic and I couldn’t agree with you more about garlic, Mom. But I think we need to change the subject. We’ll talk about this later, Ashlyn.” She gave me a stern warning look to drop it. “Anything exciting happen at school today?”
Lucy answered, assuming it was her turn, starting on her regular banter. I pursed my lips and pushed the meatball around my plate—slightly nauseated.
The summer I’d met Tatchi, back when we were only ten, I’d invited her to spend the night. In excitement, we ran to her house to ask her parents’ permission. To be polite, per my mother’s instructions, I waited on the porch for the answer. But instead of the “yes” we’d expected, her father burst into a rage and punched his hand into a nearby cabinet, shattering the glass door and a shelf full of china. My feet hit the pavement as I burst into tears. When I told Mom what happened (after she calmed me down, of course), she simply responded, “Poor thing. Her father must have a drinking problem.” At the time, the statement made absolutely no sense.
But after I got older I figured it all out. The fact that Mom claimed she didn’t remember the incident angered me. She could say now he was upstanding, but she wasn’t there. She didn’t see how mad he got.