Coral

by Sara Ella

  The boy raised his oar in the air and swung it at Duke. The boat rocked. The merman’s eyes went wide. He released Coral and swam off.

  Coward.

  Conflicting emotions and thoughts tore her heart in two.

  When she looked up at the human, she found fear in his expression. He breathed so hard his back rose and fell. He blinked and shook his head. As if steeling himself, the human boy reached down and lifted her sister into the boat.

  Horror overcame Coral. But not because of the human or even due to the confrontation with Duke.

  Her sister’s tail was gone, vanished, replaced with a pair of legs.

  Coral recoiled, a net of fear trapping her in place.

  For the first and last time, she saw her sister as human. Did the crown princess’s love for a human change her? Had she been human all along?

  The boy reached for Coral next, offering a hand. Compassion shone in his dark gaze. The sight was nearly foreign. So foreign that all Coral could do was stare into his eyes for a few extra fathoms.

  His black irises were the most beautiful she had ever seen. Dark but warm. Deep as the uncharted sea. So different from the terrifying black of the Abyss.

  Temptation urged her to take his hand. But then she looked at the crown princess. At her lifeless human body that had seen so much pain.

  Pain at human hands. At a prince’s hands, no less.

  And Coral backed away.

  She noticed for the first time that the water around them had turned to blood.

  Her own blood drained from her head. It had finally happened.

  Red Tide had come.

  A fragment permanently broke from Coral’s heart. The emptiness it left behind turned gray, leaving a procession of dread in its place. She twisted the pearls on her wrist, vowed never to take them off. Coral would wear the bracelet as a constant reminder.

  Her sister was gone.

  The future queen was no more.

  Eleven

  Brooke

  After

  “Come on, Brooke. It’s not much farther.”

  Hope says my name as if we’ve been friends for years. She’s beginning to act like a pesky little sister, something I’ll need to nip if she grows too clingy.

  I don’t want a sister. And I don’t need one. Hope with all her innocence will never change that.

  The trek up the hill takes longer than I expect. Sweat sticks to the small of my back. Cooling me to the bone. Making me wish for a jacket. Though warmer than usual for winter, the wind still bites. I pant and my side cramps, reminders I’m too out of shape for this.

  Hope, however, has clearly made this hike recently. She’s all confidence and determination, a kid at recess, excited for her chance to play outdoors.

  We pass several adults on our way. They nod as we walk by, smiling. Watching.

  Babysitting.

  “Don’t mind them.” Hope spins and skips backward. “They’re here to make sure we don’t—”

  “Kill ourselves? Run away?”

  “Something like that.” She winks. Runs ahead. Rather than letting me make her uncomfortable, she appears to take my bluntness as playful teasing.

  But we both know those are real possibilities for this place. For people like us. I don’t know Hope’s story, but I do know mine.

  I’m not afraid of death. For more reasons than I care to remember.

  “Can I ask you something?” I say when I catch up, out of breath and aching.

  “Anything,” she says.

  I hate that I believe she means it. “Are you on meds?”

  She nods. “I’m not afraid to say I need them. It’s okay to need them, Brooke. It doesn’t make you weird. I’ve learned that at least—that I can talk about it and it’s not weird. Being able to say, ‘Hi, I’m Hope and I take medication for depression.’” The way she says depression makes it sound like she’s discussing something as common as the weather. “Your meds don’t define you. They’re your normal, you know? Everyone needs a normal.”

  I want to tell her I don’t need anything and I don’t want to talk about it. That I’ve avoided taking my own meds off and on for months. I’m tired of feeling like an experiment.

  I’m about to snuff out her “normal” theory when we approach one of the babysitters about halfway up the hill. The grandmotherly woman wears a lanyard with the word volunteer stitched into it. The handwritten name tag at the lanyard’s end says Beck.

  “Mornin’, girls.” Beck offers a salute that would make any Girl Scout proud. Though her weathered face tips off her age, she matches our upward pace without hesitation, falling into step on Hope’s other side. “Headed to see the view?”

  “We promise to be good, Beck.” The ease with which Hope speaks to the woman at least six times her age lets on they’ve made this walk together before. On more than one occasion. “Brooke here hasn’t had the grand tour yet.”

  Beck picks up speed, her smile as long as her stride. “Allow me, then. It isn’t much farther. You’re a lucky one, by the way,” Beck says to me. “This girl’s special. Hold on to her.”

  I frown but follow, purposely falling behind. How could I have thought for a minute we’d be able to roam without supervision? Maybe Hope needs a sitter, but I’m almost an adult.

  Ha, some adult I’ll make. No job. No home. Nowhere to go but nowhere at all.

  This is it for me. The end. Last page. Final word. Jake and Hope and Beck . . . They can try all they want. But the truth is my time here is only prolonging the inevitable.

  At the hill’s crest, a breeze greets us, spraying us with salty air from the ocean. It’s several miles off, the peaks of the cypress trees between here and there standing like sentinels, guarding the precious secret the water seems to hold.

  “Return to me,” she calls. “Remember.”

  I give her the cold shoulder. Find a rather interesting rock to study.

  “Storm’s comin’ soon.” Beck rocks back on her heels and whistles. “We probably shouldn’t stay out here too long, girls.”

  I scoot toward the ledge, hyperaware of Beck’s close eye. The fall would be a long way down. I’d hit branches and needles before I met the out-of-sight ground below. It might not even kill me. I’d suffer. Maybe live.

  I’m not okay with that.

  “Isn’t that smell amazing?” Hope flings her arms wide, offering herself with abandon to the view. “I wish we could go down there.”

  I almost say what I’m thinking but bite the inside of my cheek instead.

  “As a matter of fact, I think Jake’s cookin’ up a field trip to do just that.” Beck takes out her phone, scrolls, and taps. “Yep. In March. Should be fun.” She pockets the device and closes her eyes, basking in the beauty.

  I picture myself plummeting with nothing but the wind in my face and life at my back. Who would notice? Who would care?

  “You are not nothing.” Hope repeats the words from earlier. They etch themselves into my skin.

  Resentment traps me in silence. She doesn’t know me. This place is temporary. The people, seasonal. I stick to my guns. Lifelong friendships cannot be formed. Things do not get better. I’m about to say as much, but then the wind whips around my head, brushing against my ears, urging me to look up.

  And there she is again, the one who will not be ignored. Her water is so blue, the waves ebbing and flowing, inviting the storm in, welcoming the clouds to do its bidding. The ocean is not afraid.

  And neither am I.

  An ache inside threatens to break open the cracks I’ve worked to fill. I look away, back toward the ranch. Seeing the ocean, so close but a million miles away, is a pain I cannot endure. I don’t want to wait anymore. The hurt is a death of its own.

  “You okay, dear?” Beck doesn’t touch me, but her compassionate voice wraps my heart, offering a place to rest. An invitation to confide.

  “Fine.” I cross my arms. Inch away. Out of reach. “It’s too cold up here. Can we go back?”

  �
�I thought you wanted to see the view.” Hope lowers her arms and faces me. Her innocent question makes her sound even younger. What could’ve happened to bring her to this point? To make a child need this place?

  “Changed my mind.” I don’t look back as I begin my descent. “You two can stay. I’m going.”

  Hope and Beck follow but keep their distance. Twigs snap and the dirt path turns to mud as rain begins to pour like a crashing tidal wave. Every step grows hindered. My shoes suck and slip with each step forward. Still, I continue faster, pushing through the weather that seems to have a vendetta against me. My walk turns into a jog, then a run. I drop the paper heart I’d been holding for Hope, abandon it in the mud where the hill’s path meets leveled grass.

  When I reach the ranch house, I take the steps up the wraparound porch, wring out the hem of my shirt, rainwater drip, drip, dripping onto my already soaked shoes. Everything in my aching bones wants to head inside, to hop in a hot shower and stay there for days.

  But Jake is in there. And the other girls. The thought of returning to the group, of introductions and trying to keep everyone’s name straight, overwhelms me to the point of a fatigue so cumbersome, I think I might be sick.

  I can’t people right now. No matter how frozen I am.

  I veer left, retreat to the side of the house. My sneakers squeak and my drenched hair hangs straight, sticking to my cheeks and neck. Maybe I can slip in through a back door. Avoid the group at least until someone comes to search for me.

  Volunteers and staff members run for the ranch house from all angles. A few twentysomethings emerge from a massive barn, covering their heads with pieces of cardboard. Several more middle-aged women join them, sweatshirt hoods their only armor. I spot Beck and Hope too.

  Everyone is taking shelter.

  If I ever had a chance to escape, now would be the time.

  I don’t think. I run. Down the porch steps and across the wide field. I slip on the grass twice, land straight on my rear. I came so close to letting Hope in today. She peered deep into a place I keep hidden. Where no one is allowed. She wasn’t welcome, but she found her window. Nearly made me reconsider—

  What’s the point in postponing? Nothing ever lasts. Nothing.

  “You are not nothing.”

  “Get out of my head!” I push Hope’s voice away and press forward. My shout is drowned by the storm’s call.

  When I reach the hill we hiked, I catch my breath. Fold in half and brace my hands on my thighs. A wooden sign on a stake that reads “Beachfront—2 miles” stares back at me. How did I miss it earlier? I glance up the muddy hill that might as well be a landslide, then down the level path ahead. How fitting.

  I take the low road and never glance back.

  Soon I find myself encompassed by sky-high cypress trees and the sky’s thunderous soundtrack fades. Branches wave and whip, fighting off the wind. The battering rain transforms to a bearable sprinkle. I slow my pace, inhale the wet dirt and bark scent. Wings flap somewhere in the distance and a critter scampers into a nearby bush.

  This is how it should be. Inhale. Exhale. This is my send-off.

  My joints relax with each new step. The more ground I gain, the less anxiety I feel. A longing deep within pushes me closer to the world I’ve missed. The leveled path begins its descent, a steady decline to sea level. The trees thin. I smell it now. Though my senses have dulled over the past year, this one never dwindles.

  The ocean. Angry and heartbroken. Tossing and turning, high tide unforgiving, leaving little left of the shore.

  The muddy path meets a knee-high barrier of smooth stones. Their slick, rough surfaces buffed by seawater and sand. I swing one leg over, then the other. My soles sink deep. My left shoe comes off first, then my right. The walk is painful, the white sand littered with shells and rocks and bark.

  But there she is. The ocean I once loved.

  And soon my pain will be no more.

  Twelve

  Merrick

  Merrick stared after the ambulance. After the second set of sirens he’d seen in less than a week.

  He’d come to the seaside town where he’d spent summers as a kid to get away from everything. To clear his head following his sister’s episode and his mom’s disappearance. But he couldn’t escape any of it. His problems followed him even here.

  “Your mother has been looking for a way out for a long time, Son . . . She’s finally found her chance.”

  Merrick combed his fingers through his hair and tried to shake off the feeling of dread that coursed through his veins. More than that, he needed to drown the sound of Hiroshi’s voice, forever stagnant in his mind.

  That woman from the water had died in Merrick’s arms. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. What were the chances he’d encounter this sort of thing twice in such a short period of time? First Amaya, and now this stranger?

  And the girl with her. Those eyes. They looked straight into his soul.

  By the time his boat had reached shore with the older girl and he’d called 911, it was too late. He’d taken off his shirt and attempted to stop the bleeding, but he didn’t know where to begin. Her blood had been everywhere and nowhere. When the paramedics arrived and took over, the woman was nothing but a ghost.

  That could have been Amaya.

  “A cry for help,” that nurse had called it. Now all Merrick wanted to do was get back to the city so he could be that help his sister needed.

  “Son, we need to ask you some questions.” A police officer approached Merrick, jarring his thoughts, apology and compassion unspoken in his gaze. “Would you mind coming down to the station with us?”

  Merrick swallowed and followed the officer to his patrol car. He had taken the two-and-a-half-hour bus ride from the city down to the coastal tourist trap nestled near Monterey and Pebble Beach three days before. Slept in a cheap hotel, nothing but the clothes on his back and the harmonica in his pocket. Which of course meant he didn’t even have his own way of transportation. When he sat in the back of the car and watched the ocean disappear from view, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were the criminal here.

  Not because of the woman. But the other girl in the water, the younger one. And that man. He’d tried to grab her. Somehow it was all related. Was that girl in danger? Where had she gone after Merrick had taken the woman ashore?

  “Come on in.” The officer opened his door.

  Merrick shielded his eyes from the bright streetlight above. They’d arrived already? He followed the officer up the station steps. Once they were inside, he said, “Wait here.”

  Unlike what Merrick had seen on TV shows, the lobby area of the station was empty. No criminals with handcuffs waited to be booked. No one screamed profanity as they were dragged back to a jail cell. It was quiet. A popular talent show played on the TV hung high in one corner, and a half-full coffeepot sat on a table with some Styrofoam cups, stirrers, and packets of sugar and dry creamer.

  Merrick moved to make himself a hot drink when the woman at the front desk said, “You can come back now.”

  He followed her to a small room that did not have a two-way mirror as he’d expected. The room did have a wall of regular windows. It was just a big office, not all that different from the ones in his dad’s building.

  “Have a seat . . .”

  “Merrick.”

  The officer wrote down his name, then proceeded to ask him a series of questions before Merrick’s rear even hit the chair.

  “We need you to fill out a statement before you leave since you’re eighteen,” the officer explained after Merrick had given his last name and date of birth. His phone buzzed in his pocket. That would be Nikki. Again. Wondering where he’d disappeared to.

  “Now, did you know the woman who committed suicide this evening?”

  Suicide. A word Merrick had heard too often recently. The way the officer said it, so matter-of-factly, caught Merrick off guard. Maybe it wouldn’t have if his sister hadn’t attempted it three days b
efore. Or maybe it was that no one ever talked about this kind of stuff. Not until it happened to them.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “What happened? In your own words. Take your time.”

  Merrick leaned back in his chair and blew a puff of air through his lips. He blinked up at the fluorescent light overhead and ran through the events, frame by frame, in his mind. Then he leaned forward, hung his clasped hands between his knees, and told the officer everything.

  Had it only been a couple hours since he held a lifeless girl in his arms?

  * * *

  The sun had barely set when he left his hotel that afternoon, the lingering scent of salted sea air before him.

  Merrick hadn’t intended to end up here, exactly. And he certainly hadn’t planned to stay more than one night. But somehow, after wandering around the small beach town’s historic area of shops and restaurants that first day, he’d found his way to the shoreline. The same shoreline where he spent so many summers as a child. It had been years since his family came for a season here. They used to come the weekend after school let out.

  Those summers were the best. Merrick and Amaya and Mom. His father would come on weekends, only to be pulled away for work by noon on Saturday. Then he’d commute back to the city, Bluetooth glued to his ear.

  Watching him drive away brought Merrick true relief.

  He’d wished Hiroshi would never come back.

  Merrick glanced at his phone. One missed call from Amaya. He made sure to call her each day since he left the city. He tapped on her name and pressed Call.

  “Hey, dork,” she said after one ring. “Still MIA?”

  He shook his head. The girl was ten going on twenty-two. “I told you, I needed to clear my mind. You’re still in the hospital a few more days, right?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Dad says I have to stay until Doctor What’s-His-Name with the black hair who totally looks like Professor Snape, FYI, says I’m free to go.”