Oceanborn

by Amalie Howard

  “And Lo’s memory loss?”

  Echlios’s face is compassionate. “That’s a bit more complicated. The biotoxin inhibits the brain from healing itself. He could be trying to repair those neurons as we speak and yet be completely limited by the toxin’s effects.”

  Speio’s voice is small. “Will he be able to remember who he is?”

  “Probably not without help,” Echlios says. “If we don’t counter the chemical effects, and soon, I’m afraid the memory loss could become permanent. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he adds gently, seeing my stricken expression. “For all we know, Lo could start remembering things tomorrow. We Aquarathi are nothing if not strong. We fight even when we are down—it’s the core of who we are. And that is true, too, at a base, cellular level.”

  I try not to put too much faith in Echlios’s words, but a part of me fervently hopes that Lo’s Aquarathi side will step up and defend itself. I can’t imagine any part of myself not fighting to survive. It’s in our nature. Hybrid or not, he’s Aquarathi through and through, and he’s bonded to me. That has to count for something.

  The small bloom of hope blossoms into something bigger, and takes root deep in my abdomen.

  I have to make him remember who he is.

  * * *

  Slamming my locker shut, I make my way out to the parking lot. Jenna has hockey practice and I’m left to my own devices. She’s the mastermind, not me, but I have a plan and one that I hope is going to work. The first step is to get Lo out of Cara’s clutches. Shaking my head as I exit the school, I can’t help comparing the incongruous parallels of the whole situation. Cara Andrews is like the human part of Lo fighting for dominion, and I’m his Aquarathi side, determined to reclaim what is mine. I’m not in the least bit threatened by Cara, but I am worried that Lo will want to gravitate toward his human side and to the familiar. In the grand scheme of things, I’m someone new to him.

  That has to change, starting with evening shifts at the Marine Center. It wasn’t easy to get my old job back, but thankfully the manager, Kevin, hasn’t lost his memory and remembers my involvement last year. Plus, a sizable donation from the Marin family fund for the oceanic conservation drive didn’t hurt matters. As a result, I’ve been able to secure a few hours during the week after school.

  Hefting my backpack into the rear of the Jeep, I climb in and surreptitiously peek at Lo and Cara in the rearview mirror, standing next to her car.

  “So you can’t come over to study?” Cara is saying to Lo in the parking lot, her arm wrapped around his. Seriously, it’s like she can’t stop touching him every infernal second.

  “Sorry,” Lo says with an easy grin. “Some of us have to work. Can you give me a ride over there? Caught a ride with Sawyer this morning after our surf lesson, so no car.”

  And that’s my cue.

  Putting the Jeep into reverse, I swing out and pull alongside. Cara’s face immediately tightens. “I can give you a ride,” I say to Lo. “I’m heading over there myself.”

  “Since when?” Cara says.

  “Since I work there,” I say sweetly.

  “How did you—” she begins, and then snaps her mouth shut, eyeing me with a suspicious frown. “I thought you said they didn’t have any open slots,” she says to Lo. The flirtatious tone has gone into accusatory mode. Obviously she tried to get a job there to spend more time with Lo.

  “They didn’t,” he says, shrugging.

  I smile widely. “What can I say? I’m special. Come on, Lo. We’re going to be late. Get in.”

  Resisting the urge to peel out of the parking lot and leave black tire marks in my wake, I drive more sedately, keeping my exhilaration contained. I don’t even know why I’m keeping score, because it’s so childish, but I do, anyway. Nerissa two, Cara zero.

  My exhilaration wanes into acute awareness of Lo sitting in the passenger seat, and all of the unsaid things from the other day in the cafeteria lying between us. Neither one of us says anything, but the silence is comfortable instead of awkward.

  “Hey, what song is this?” Lo says, twisting the volume button on the car stereo.

  I fumble for my phone on the middle console and chuck it at him. “It’s just a playlist I’m working on. That one’s called ‘As the Rush Comes’ by Motorcycle.”

  “I like it. Very mellow,” he says, stroking the face of the phone with his thumb and scrolling through the playlist. “I know some of these. You have good taste.”

  I laugh. “You know some of those because they’re yours. You and I started this playlist.”

  With a raised eyebrow, he selects the next song. The opening chords of Blackmill’s “The Drift” comes on. “This is one of my favorites. I love the piano instrumental with the backbeat. It’s tight.”

  “Yep,” I say. “You got me into them. Here, hand that over for a second. Bet you don’t know these guys, but this one is all you.” With a quick swipe, I select the last song I added to the playlist. I don’t add that I’ve listened to the chorus of the song at least a hundred times while torturing myself about what he’s been doing all summer with Cara.

  “Who is it?” he says after a few bars, his foot tapping against the floor.

  “Morgan Page’s ‘The Longest Road,’ Deadmau5 remix.”

  “Catchy.”

  “Great lyrics,” I add.

  “I can see that,” he says quietly. His gaze flutters on me for a second and then drifts away when mine flicks to his. I don’t know if he’s agreeing with me or appreciating that they mean something to me. He looks as if he has more to say, but then he bites his lip and releases a slow sigh. He stares out the window for a moment before shifting in his seat to face me. “Sorry about the other day at school,” he blurts out. “I didn’t realize we were a couple. I mean, it makes sense. When you were at my house, I felt something. It was so strong, like this weird pull toward you. Sorry, it wasn’t weird...” He trails off with a stammer. “I am totally screwing up what I want to say.”

  “I know what you mean, Lo.”

  “I wish I could remember. I don’t know how I could forget you or us, that’s all,” he says, shooting me a look that makes my heart flip-flop. “Sawyer told me that it was love at first sight,” he adds with a laugh, “and then he told me the truth...that I had to work hard to even get you to go out with me.”

  “Hardly,” I protest, but I can’t hide the blush that heats my neck, nor the fact that it threatens to go supernova at his next words.

  “I’m sure it was worth it,” he says quietly.

  At a stop sign, I turn to smile tremulously at him, my heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “It was for both of us. You helped me figure out a lot of things about myself. We’re pretty similar, you and me.”

  “Seems like it,” he says with a thoughtful glance, studying the playlist on the phone’s screen. “You know, I was surprised that people didn’t tell me about you. I asked because I found a prom photo earlier this summer.” His teeth flash white for a second. “One of me dressed in some seaweed with this totally hot girl.”

  I know the one he’s talking about—it was one of the few photos we took together at Jenna’s house right before Junior Prom. “We were Neptune and Salacia. Roman gods of the ocean.”

  “I figured it was some kind of theme,” he says with a somber smile. “I think Bertha thought it would be better if I didn’t know. It’s not like you were still around, so she told me you were someone I’d gone with. Maybe she thought it would be too painful if I couldn’t remember. I mean, there I was staring at this girl with this expression...like she was everything to me and I couldn’t even remember her name. I think Bertha felt sorry for me.” He trails off to stare out the window, his voice going so quiet that I have to strain to hear him. “I wish someone had told me, because maybe I could have tried harder. Maybe I could have done some
thing differently, made myself remember somehow.” He shrugs, watching me, his tone wistful. “Because now here you are, and all I want is to be that guy in that photo.”

  Lo’s eyes are intense and it’s all I can do not to start crying then and there. “That guy is still in there, Lo,” I say. “And that girl will always be here, waiting for you. You just have to take it one day at a time.”

  Everything inside me tenses up when he reaches over and slides his palm over the back of my hand on the gearshift, holding it there for the rest of the ride. I’m afraid to even look at him, so I swallow hard and keep my eyes on the road, barely conscious of anything but the warm seal of his skin on mine. We listen to the rest of the playlist in silence until I pull in to the Marine Center parking lot.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, drawing his hand away. “I didn’t mean to overstep—”

  “You didn’t. This is new to me, too. One day at a time. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Lo says, then hops out of the Jeep with an overbright grin as if to make up for the earlier turn in the conversation. “Thanks for the ride. So this is going to be like old times, right?”

  The question takes me aback for a second before I realize that he’s joking. “You can’t even remember last week,” I toss back. “What do you know about old times?”

  “I guess you’ll have to show me.”

  I take a breath to calm my racing pulse and manage a half-teasing smile. “I don’t think you’re quite ready for that, but I’ll let you know when.”

  “Promise?”

  The evocative meaning in that single word makes my bones dissolve into nothing. Which explains why you couldn’t knock the smile off my face as we walk into the Marine Center.

  “Hey, Riss!” Kevin shouts, jumping over the counter to sweep me into a huge bear hug. “So glad you’re back. Place just hasn’t been the same without you. Where’s your partner in crime?”

  “Jenna? Don’t worry, I’ll get her back here to do her share. She’s at a hockey game.”

  “No hockey for you this year?”

  “I’m focusing on other things,” I say. Yeah, like finding a cure for my boyfriend’s imminent doom. I smile brightly. “But hey, at least Lo’s been here holding down the fort.”

  Kevin grins, chucking Lo in the shoulder. “Well, if he could only remember his name, it’d be awesome,” he teases.

  “That joke never gets old,” Lo says good-naturedly. “So, what do you have for us today? Beach cleanup?”

  Consulting a clipboard on the desk, Kevin purses his lips. “Actually, someone just called in from La Jolla Shores saying that they thought they saw a bunch of garbage bags caught in the kelp beds. You guys want to check it out? Just radio back if you need help. Standard swipe and dump, shouldn’t take the two of you too long.”

  “We’ll take care of it,” I say.

  “Riss, you remember where the boat is, right?” Kevin asks, tossing me a set of keys attached to a bright yellow foam oval. “It’s good to have you back.”

  “Great to be back.” I find that I mean it. I’ve missed the Marine Center and doing my part to protect the world’s oceans. It is where I live, after all, and although we aren’t allowed to interfere in the day-to-day politics of people who share the planet with us, marine conservancy is an area where we can get more actively involved.

  Lo and I get changed in the respective bathrooms and meet out on the beach near the shed where all the gear is stored.

  “We probably won’t need these if those bags are just floating, but do you remember how to scuba?” I ask him, tugging on one of the air tanks and tossing it into the back of the dune buggy.

  “I do,” he says, grabbing a hold of another tank. “It’s weird that I remember clearly how to do something like diving, and yet other things like surfing I can’t seem to get my mind around. I know I’ve done it before. I mean, I can feel that my body knows how to do it, but then something in my brain doesn’t click and it becomes impossible...if that makes any sense.”

  “It does,” I say. “Don’t worry, it’ll come back. You just have to give yourself time to get there.” I toss him a long-handled net. “Now let’s go save some fish from death by plastic, and get that memory muscle working.”

  Steering the speedboat out toward the middle of the bay, I close my eyes for a beat. The air is slightly cooler mixed in with the mist of the sea, and every cell in my body is responding to the call of the water. The ocean is a bit choppy, so we’re tossing up a lot more wake than usual, but I don’t mind one bit. I’d be out in a hurricane, if I could. Out here in the middle of the ocean with the sun on my face and the smell of salt in the air, it’s the closest thing to paradise this side of Waterfell.

  “This is incredible!” Lo shouts. “Kevin never goes this fast.”

  “Kevin’s a wuss,” I tell him, grinning. “Want to have a go? Come on, grab the wheel.” I’m not prepared for him to step behind me, encircling me with his entire body and then placing his hands on the wheel on either side of mine.

  “Like this?” His voice is husky in my ear.

  I clear my suddenly dry throat, my voice breathless. “That’s fine.” It’s hard to concentrate with him standing so close that I can feel every twitch of his body, each intake of breath. And after his soft touch in the car, all I want to do is to melt backward into him...fit each curve of his body into every curve of mine and be whole again. “So, when’s the last time you were out on the boat?” I ask in a shaky voice.

  Lo shakes his head. “Not since the last time with you.”

  “What did you just say?”

  Lo steps backward, making every inch of my skin feel bereft. He screws his face into a deep frown as if struggling with his words and the force of the memory hidden behind them. “I don’t know. I mean, I know I said with you, but now I don’t remember doing it. I’m sorry.” He shrugs, helpless. His face is tortured. “At least I think it was with you. It was. It wasn’t anyone else. Maybe being with you now is helping me remember things.”

  “Maybe,” I say carefully, even though my heart is fairly leaping with joy. Lo just remembered me...or the thought of us, but that’s better than nothing. I bring the boat to a smooth stop just outside the kelp beds, and pull off my T-shirt. Grabbing a pair of fins and a facemask, I sit on the side of the boat. “You coming?”

  But Lo has gone perfectly still, staring at my skin beneath the straps of my bathing suit. Self-conscious, I hunch my shoulders until I realize that he’s staring at the navy tattoos curling around from my neck. He pulls off his shirt and dips his shoulder to show me his back. It’s only been a few months, but the sight of Lo’s bare body takes my breath away—the sleek curve of his chest, the defined stomach and the smooth golden skin. He jabs at his back while I try to keep my pulse from leaping clear out of my chest. “See? Mine are the same, only green and gold.”

  My eyes rove over the tattoos that are mirror images of the ones curling along my neck and back. I fight a visceral urge to throw myself into his arms and force him to remember us. “We got them at the same time,” I say.

  “We must have been serious. Tattoos are a big commitment.”

  “Bigger than you can imagine.” I, of course, have no way of telling him that these are way more permanent than permanent ink. Bonding markings can never be removed, nor are they truly tattoos. “And we were serious,” I tell him honestly. “But you guessed that already.”

  His face is pained. “I’m sorry. I wish I could rem—”

  “A boy I used to know told me that there’s a silver lining,” I interrupt him, wanting nothing more than to erase the sudden sadness from his eyes. “After all, how many couples you know get to go on repeat first dates?”

  “Are you asking me out?” Lo says, a slow smile stretching across his face.

  “What if I am?”

  “Then I�
�d say yes.”

  7

  Stop, Drop and Roll

  The “date” with Lo could not have gone any worse. First of all, we went to the Crab Shack—notorious local high-school weekend hangout spot—which meant that every high schooler with a pulse was there. Put it this way: trying to have a romantic first date? Not easy. Trying to have a romantic first date with hundreds of curious eyes peering at you and judging your every eyelash movement? Impossible.

  On top of that, one of Cara’s minions was a waitress there, so I couldn’t eat anything. Who wants spit in their calamari? Not me. So Lo and I’d ended up staring at each other in stifled silence and sipping lukewarm iced teas, while trying to ignore everyone around us who made no effort whatsoever to mind their own business. Awkward? Just a tad.

  “So, I take it that it didn’t go well,” Jenna stage-whispers into my locker.

  I shoot her a glare. “Stop pretending it isn’t all over the local Dover wire,” I say. “And everyone didn’t have front-row tickets to the Nerissa-Lo failed-date extravaganza. Why weren’t you there, anyway?”

  “Sorry, I was grounded all weekend.”

  “What for?”

  “For using foul language on school property,” she says. “Catty Cara ratted me out. Luckily, my stellar academic record kept me from being suspended, but Mom still wanted to teach me a lesson. Go figure.” She winks at me and yells down the hallway where Cara is standing near the girls’ bathroom. “What a bitch, right?”

  “Jenna! You really are going to get suspended,” I warn.

  “You must have heard me wrong,” she says with a dramatic hand to the chest. “I said beyotch. Big difference. Whatever, if Cara wants to go to the rodeo and antagonize the bull, she’s gonna get the horns.” Jenna makes a pair of horns with the index and little fingers of one hand and smacks it on her forehead.

  “You’re so tough,” I say with a grin. “Like are you back on the ’roids or what?”