Suppressed: A Little Mermaid Retelling

by Wendi Wilson

  Suppressed

  Wendi L. Wilson

  Copyright ©2017 by Wendi L. Wilson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or distributed, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who my quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Molly Phipps

  www.wegotyoucoveredbookdesign.com

  Created with Vellum

  For Alisa, who told me I could do it and made me believe it. I will be eternally grateful.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Want to know what happens next?

  Keep in touch!

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Wendi L. Wilson

  Chapter One

  “I’m done.”

  “What do you mean, you’re done? You’ll get back to work right now, or so help me, I’ll make you regret it, Princess.”

  “I told you not to call me that, you old hag! I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Clean this crappy house yourself.”

  “Kailani!”

  “What?”

  I’m ripped from another daydream by my mother’s urgent voice. I’m disappointed, because this time I was really letting Ms. Coraline have it. My body is on autopilot as I start mechanically rubbing the mirror with the soft cloth in my hand. I try to retreat back into the fantasy because I’m pretty sure I was going to slap the old lady just before I walked out the door.

  “You should have finished this room an hour ago,” my mother says in a quiet voice.

  I give up on continuing my glorious dream exit and turn to look at mom. Her bright red hair is tied up with a blue bandana, and she has dirt smudged on her nose. The urgency in the green depths of her eyes makes me want to roll mine but I somehow manage to refrain.

  “Mom, she’s not even here. I’ll be done before she gets back.”

  “Just go, Kai. I’ll finish here.” She smooths my hair, tucking a lock as vibrant as her own behind my ear with a smile. “It’s almost time for school. You should go get ready.”

  I take a look at the watch on my arm, a large masculine piece, the only thing I have of a father I’ve never met. He left us when I was a baby. I don’t know why I treasure a watch from a man who couldn’t be bothered to stick around for me but I do.

  The hands tell me it’s nearly eight. I’ve been cleaning for two and a half hours, trying to take some of the workload off mom. She’s been looking tired lately, so I’ve been doubling up on my chores. I don’t know why Ms. Coraline works her so hard, or why my mom stays. She refuses to talk about it, only saying that this is where we have to be.

  I rush up the spiral staircase to my room, all the way up to the third floor of the spacious mansion. I pull the rubber band from my hair as I walk, shaking the red tresses free while trying to finger comb out the tangles. Once in my room, I pull off my dirty work clothes and cross the space to my closet. It only takes ten steps to get there. The room is barely big enough to hold my twin bed and a dresser but it’s mine. My only refuge in this place from the old hag who owns it.

  I snatch a pair of jeans and a faded flannel shirt from the closet and walk quickly across the hall to the small bathroom my mother and I share. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I get dressed and head back to my room for my shoes and backpack. Another glance at my watch tells me that if I hurry I’ll have enough time to swing by the kitchen for a bagel before I need to leave. I slip on a pair of dock shoes with no socks and grab my bag.

  I screech to a halt halfway down the stairs, nearly losing my balance and toppling the rest of the way, when I hear it. It’s the one thing guaranteed to dampen my spirits and ruin my day. It’s the dreaded voice of Ms. Coraline.

  “Why isn’t this room finished? I expected it to be one hundred percent spotless by the time I returned.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  I grit my teeth at my mother’s words. Oh, how I hate when she calls that old hag ma’am. I tiptoe my way down the rest of the steps, silently thanking God for the carpet runner that muffles my footsteps. I decide to forgo breakfast, for the path to the kitchen leads right by the parlor where my mom is pandering to that hateful old lady she calls boss.

  I slip through the front door and close it with a soft click behind me. Swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I run down the driveway as fast as my legs will take me… which isn’t really that fast. I am, by no stretch of the imagination, a runner. My legs are better equipped for the water. I inhale deeply at the thought of water, breathing in the briny breeze blowing from the back of the house.

  The house’s proximity to the sea is the only, and I mean only, positive thing about living with Ms. Coraline. A set of rickety wood steps leads from the back veranda straight down to the beach. The small window in my bedroom overlooks it. I can swim whenever I want, which is pretty much every day. It’s my escape when the confines of my room close in on me.

  A large truck rattles by, pulling me from my reverie. I slow my steps, watching the bright white and orange cargo vehicle slow down as it passes me. I get a little nervous because, well, I’m alone, on a private road, and it’s a cargo truck. This is every would-be kidnapper’s dream. I stop and pick up a jagged rock just to be safe.

  The tension leaves my body as the truck turns right and slowly drives out of sight. I release the rock and stare at the red marks on my palm where the serrated edges cut into the flesh. I shake out my hand, wipe it on the leg of my jeans and start walking again. As I reach the drive where the truck turned, I notice the word “sold” printed in bright red letters on the faded real estate sign.

  Someone bought the old McCormick place. The thought rolls through my brain as I walk the rest of the way to school. It feels weird having neighbors. Mr. McCormick lived all alone in that huge house for most of my childhood. He died when I was ten, and the house sat empty the last six years while wrapped up in probate. I wonder what the new people will be like. Ms. Coraline hated old Mr. McCormick so I never actually met him. Of course, she hates everyone, so she’ll probably forbid me from talking to the new people too.

  The high school comes into view and I break into a jog, knowing it’s useless. Thanks to my slow, thoughtful pace, I’m late. I walk through the doors of the L-shaped, one story building and head straight for the office. Santa Lorelei High services the entire island, which has a population of only about two thousand. The entire high school houses only about a hundred and twenty-five students at any given time, so there’s no way I can sneak into my homeroom class unnoticed. I gave up trying two years ago
.

  “Miss Ericson. So nice of you to join us.”

  The receptionist in the main office speaks to me in a pleasant voice, just as she always does. It doesn’t matter when I arrive, she is always kind. I’m sure she knows Ms. Coraline, knows what I have to deal with every day and takes it easy on me out of pity. Whatever. I’ll take it.

  “Sorry, Mrs. White,” I mumble.

  “It’s quite all right, dear,” the older lady tells me. “You’re actually just in time to do me a favor.”

  I raise one eyebrow, wondering what I could possibly do for her. She smiles, then nods her head as her eyes focus on something behind me. I take a quick peek over my shoulder to see what she’s looking at. At least, I mean for it to be a quick peek. There’s a boy I’ve never seen before sitting against the wall. As I turn, I catch him staring at my butt before his eyes rise to meet mine.

  I’m sure my face is a glowing red sea, my freckles standing out like tiny islands. I quickly forget the embarrassment, however, when he continues to stare without speaking. His eyes are a deep blue, like the ocean in my backyard, and I can’t seem to look away as a calm settles over me.

  “Kailani, this is Bryce Howell,” Mrs. White says, breaking me out of my trance. I turn toward her as she continues. “Today is his first day, and I would like you to show him around.”

  I open my mouth to object but a stern look from Mrs. White has me snapping it shut again. I hate being the center of attention and walking into class with a hot new guy is going to put me right into the fire. I frown at the thought. Hot? I turn and take another look at him. At least this time he’s looking at Mrs. White, not my butt.

  His dark hair is sticking out at weird angles and, as I watch, he runs his fingers through it showing me the cause of its disarray. His face is smooth and clear, not sporting that day-old stubble most junior boys have, trying to look sexy but failing. He is wearing faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt, which doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Is he hot? Why, yes. Yes, he is.

  A smirk turns up one side of his mouth as his eyes turn toward me and he catches me staring. I spin back toward Mrs. White, feeling my face heat up again.

  Gah, having pale skin and freckles is so annoying. I couldn’t hide a blush if my life depended on it.

  I shoot her a pleading look but she ignores it, saying, “Thank you, Miss Ericson. I’ll excuse your tardy. You two better be on your way.” And just like that, we’re dismissed.

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I turn to face him. He unfolds his frame from the chair, stretching as he stands. My eyes are drawn to a sliver of bare skin exposed between his shirt and belt as he bends slightly backwards during his stretch.

  “Ahem.”

  My eyes snap to his, and he smiles that cocky boy smile I’ve seen so many times in this school. The I-know-I’m-hot smile. I hate that smile. But on this boy, it’s...I don’t know. It has a ring of truth I can’t deny. Then, he opens his mouth.

  “My eyes are up here.”

  I blush for the third time in five minutes but my embarrassment quickly turns to righteous indignation. I’d seriously just caught him ogling my behind, and he’s calling me out for taking a peek at his abs? What a jerk.

  I push through the door, not waiting to see if he’ll follow. If he gets lost, it’s his problem, not mine. I shake my head at the thought. Nobody could get lost in this tiny school. If I hurry, I may be able to slip into homeroom before him and people won’t assume we’re together. I quicken my pace.

  I reach the door and make to grab the handle but instead of smooth metal, my hand closes around warm flesh. I jerk it back as if burned and see a hand with long, well-manicured fingers already wrapped around the knob. A voice close to my ear startles me.

  “If you wanted to hold hands, you should have told me,” he says.

  The mockery in his voice is evident. I grit my teeth and step back, allowing him to open the door. He motions for me to precede him and I do, walking quickly with my head down, eyes on the floor. I drop my tardy pass on the teacher’s desk and stride to my normal seat in the back.

  “Class, we have a new student,” Mr. Jonas says, but I refuse to look up. I can’t stand the thought of those eyes mocking me again.

  “This is Bryce Howell. Tell us a bit about yourself, Mr. Howell.”

  You could hear a pin drop, everyone is so focused on Bryce. We don’t get many new students here. In fact, the last one was my friend Ana Fuentes, who moved here in second grade. The whole class is riveted. I sneak a glance around and see most of the girls in the class leaning forward in their seats, waiting for him to speak.

  “Hi,” Bryce says. “I’m Bryce, and I just moved here from California. I am an only child, and I like long walks on the beach.”

  A smattering of giggles erupts in the class. The girls are eating this crap up. I roll my eyes in disgust, only to see Bryce staring at me again. He smirks and heads to an empty seat in the front row.

  “Thank you, Mr. Howell. That was...enlightening.” Mr. Jonas shakes his head. He doesn’t like this guy any more than I do. “All right class, homeroom is over, so open your math books to page seventy-eight.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Bryce look around in confusion. I smile, knowing he’s probably wondering why we aren’t moving to a new class with new students, the way most high schools do. Santa Lorelei has only twenty-eight kids in the junior class, so we all have the same classes together. All day. Every day.

  I see him shrug and tap Sandy Evans on the shoulder before whispering into her ear. She giggles. What is it with the giggling today? Bryce scoots his chair next to hers and puts his arm around her back so he can lean in to see her book. It’s disgusting, the way she starts tittering and preening. I feel like I could vomit.

  It’s the same the rest of the morning. We move to our next class, which is chemistry, in the science lab down the hall. There’s no need for Mrs. Gardner to introduce him, so we put on our safety goggles and light our Bunsen burners. I glance around the room and spot Bryce, this time next to Amelia Boggs. He’s half standing, half sitting on the stool, whispering something, his mouth close to her ear. She doesn’t giggle, I’ll give her that. She is smiling at him though, a seductive curve of the lips as if she has a secret she’d like to tell only him.

  The stool next to me is empty. Ana is my lab partner but she’s absent today. I could really use her sarcastic wit right now. She’d be tearing these girls to shreds for their simpering antics. My lip curls with the thought. I can’t wait to hear what she’ll say about this.

  I feel eyes on me and glance around. In their turn about the room, my eyes are snagged once again by the dark blue depths of Bryce’s. For some reason, I can’t look away. Then he smiles. It’s a sardonic smile, one full of challenge. Two can play this game so I continue to stare, refusing to be the first to fold. His smile grows bigger, showing a row of bright white teeth. My face grows hot, once again, as I stare at him.

  I don’t know what it is about this guy. I’ve blushed more this morning than I have in the last six months. Suddenly, his eyes flit away, and I realize that Mrs. Gardner has called his name. Looking back at my chemistry notes, I smile and mentally pat myself on the back. It feels like a victory, staring down this obnoxious boy. The challenge that is Bryce Howell suddenly seems promising, making me feel more alive than I have in… well…forever.

  Chapter Two

  School is finally over, and I’m walking home. Today was so strange. The rest of my classes went much the same as the first two. Bryce picked a different girl to sit by in each one, never picking me, thank God, and flirted shamelessly with each one. I tried to ignore him. On most counts, I failed. As much as I feel like I should dislike him, something draws me to him. I hate that it does.

  I kick a pebble and watch it skid along the ground. The action pulls me out of my deep thoughts, and I become aware of footsteps behind me. I glance quickly over my shoulder and see him about ten yards back. I don’t know how lo
ng he’s been there but I can only assume he has been since I left school. Emotion flares inside me. I don’t know if it’s anger, frustration or fear but I feel the need to confront him.

  I turn and glare, giving him a few seconds to reach me. He looks at me, curiosity making his eyes a shade lighter. I blow a few strands of my hair out of my face, tapping my foot until he stops in front of me.

  “Why are you following me?” I demand, my voice angry.

  He jerks back slightly at my words but recovers quickly, that sardonic smile fixed on his face. “What makes you think I’d ever follow you?”

  I motion between us. “Uh, you’re following me right now. It’s creepy.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Kailani, but I’m just walking home.”

  “It’s Kai,” I say absentmindedly as I ponder his words. “You live this way?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, the only houses down this drive are mine and...oh.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve moved into the old McCormick house, haven’t you?”

  “Is that the big white one down here next to the brick mansion?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “Then, yes.”

  “I guess we’re neighbors,” I say.

  I turn and start walking again. I mull over this news, remembering the moving van I saw heading onto the property just this morning. I feel stupid, not realizing that it must be Bryce’s family as soon as I saw him. It would be too surreal if two different families moved to Santa Lorelei at the same time. I slow my steps, letting him catch up to me.