“For sure,” he agrees. “I can’t today. I’m gonna check out this cello rock band up in Santa Cruz, so I gotta cut out before bio, but why don’t you come over tomorrow after school?”
“You’re,” I lower my voice, “ditching?”
“I read ahead. No harm, no foul. So, tomorrow?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
I know this is just some random partnership for a school project. I know spending time with Clay can’t possibly help me get over the way I feel about him. But I can’t help looking forward to tomorrow.
“Lia, get your butt downstairs. We’re going to be late again,” Lapis calls out before her platform shoes clack back down the stairs.
This is the third outfit I’ve tried on. I’m usually not picky, but today I keep changing my mind. I want to look fashionable, but not too trend-obsessed. Pretty, but also sexy—but not like I’m trying to look sexy, you know? Above all, I have to look like I don’t care how I look. I don’t want Clay thinking I dressed up to go over to his house because that would be super lame.
I settle on a pale blue, formfitting sweater and skinny jeans. I don’t normally wear jeans (it feels strange to have layers of denim separating my legs), but I figure it’s a good idea in case we sit on the floor while we work. As I slip into white ballet flats, I wish again that I could wear heels.
“Liii-aaa!”
I stick my clear but uber shiny lip gloss in the front pocket of my backpack and hurry down the stairs.
Once I’m at school, the day slogs by. Each class drags on and on until finally I’m dismissed. As soon as I see Clay waiting in the parking lot, it’s like the time continuum decides to play catch up all at once and suddenly my heart is racing.
“Hey, Nautilus. You ready to get our study on?”
“Sure am.”
He holds open the passenger door of his blue Mustang convertible and I slide in, thankful I stuck with the jeans. As he settles into the driver’s seat, Clay pushes a button, and the top of the car folds back. Within minutes, we’ve turned onto the Pacific Coast Highway, and the ocean air whips through my hair. The waves sparkle through the window, and it’s like we’re in a movie scene or something. The Beach Boys should be crooning about California in the background. Then the wind lashes a strand of my hair into my freshly glossed, highly sticky lips. I smash back to reality and bat the hair out of my face. I must look so spazzy.
“And guys think we have problems,” Clay says with a grin as he brakes at a stoplight. His hand moves toward the button that will put the top back up, but I place my hand on his, stopping him. This small touch of my skin against his shouldn’t feel so electrifying. I inhale sharply, taking in a full breath of the salty sea air.
“Leave it open,” I say. “I can handle it.” Clay has a stack of napkins from a local coffee house sitting in his cup holder under a tin of mints. I grab one, swipe off the offending lip gloss, and throw my head back, welcoming the rush of wind that makes my hair fly out in all directions.
The light turns green, but we don’t move. I look over at Clay in time to see him staring at me.
A honk from the car behind us jolts him into awareness, and he steps on the gas. The wind gets stronger as we pick up speed, and Clay’s smile tells me he’s enjoying the feel of it as much as I am.
Clay’s house isn’t as close to the water as mine or as ridiculously huge, but it’s gorgeous all the same. His mom bought it after the book deal for her latest fantasy series about fairies earned her a cool six figures. My dad read about it in the Malibu Surfside News.
“Is your mom home? I should introduce myself.”
“No. She usually writes at this café around the corner till it gets dark. You hungry? Want anything from the kitchen?”
A couple minutes later, armed with two bottles of water and a bag of sweet potato chips for Clay, we head up to his room.
I’ve never been to his house before, let alone in his room. I’m expecting it to be the way I’ve always pictured a guy’s bedroom—messy with a smell like gym socks or sweaty sheets. When he opens the door, I’m pleasantly surprised.
The room is pretty neat, with the exception of a somewhat disorganized looking desk, and all that meets my nose are the faint scents of laundry soap and … something I can’t quite place.
“Is that … cinnamon?”
“Hmm? Oh, I polished my guitar earlier. My grandfather’s old polish kind of smells like cinnamon.”
I don’t see a guitar anywhere. He must have put it away. “I didn’t know you played.”
“Yeah, since I was a kid.” He unpacks his backpack and spreads the books and materials we’ll need across his cluttered desk.
“Is that your band?” I ask, indicating the t-shirt he’s wearing, which features some sort of indie group.
One corner of his mouth twitches up. “I’m not in a band. This,” he points to the shirt, “is a fellow musical prodigy.” I shake my head at his arrogance but lean in and examine the shirt. The different band members are actually the same person over and over.
“Mozart?”
“The late and great. You seem to love staring at my chest, Nautilus.” He’s only poking fun at me, but I pull back.
“You wish,” I say. “Let’s get to work.”
He brings in another chair, and we sit at his desk, creating a study schedule. Then, we start writing out family trees with names we’ll research in computer lab.
A while later, I’ve made a list that’s a good combination of fake names and names of real ancestors who never set foot on land and won’t come up in any databases. I feel Clay’s eyes on me, and I look up just as he looks down. It’s probably nothing. Maybe he was staring off into space, or maybe I have lint on my sweater. I turn my attention back to my work.
We continue in silence, but I still feel like Clay’s watching me.
“Lia?” he finally asks. “Can I ask you something?” His voice is quiet and uncharacteristically serious.
“Sure.”
“Why … why did you stop hanging out with me last year?” He’s looking down now, his eyes fixed on his paper.
Because you’re human. Because I can’t like you. “Because I got super busy. Y’know, first year at a new school.” That sounds lame even to me. “Everything was a little overwhelming.”
“I wasn’t trying to overwhelm you.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just had a lot going on.”
“So, you just stopped returning my calls?” He’s trying to keep his tone casual, but hurt slips into his voice. I wish I could explain to Clay that I put distance between us for his own good.
“I’m sorry.” It’s the truth. He finally looks up, and his eyes bore into mine. For a second, they’re filled with something raw and sad. Then, just as quickly, he breaks eye contact, and his trademark smirk slides back in place.
“Well, I just had to find out how anyone could blow off a guy as awesome as me. I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while, but we’re somehow never alone.”
“I didn’t blow you off.” Except I did.
“Hey, I just thought we were friends, Nautilus, that’s all.”
“We are friends.” We shouldn’t be—not when I feel this way. But I say it anyway.
“Promise?” His small smile is genuine now.
“Promise,” I say. And I mean it.
Chapter Five
My house is too quiet. I don’t hear music blasting from Lapis and Lazuli’s room, or the telltale clanking of pots in the kitchen that means my dad is cooking dinner, or even Emeraldine’s complaints that she’s trying to study and everyone better keep it down. A strange stillness fills the house, putting my nerves on edge.
“I’m home!” I call out tentatively, dropping my backpack by the door. “Dad?” No response. “Em?”
No one’s in the living room. I check the kitchen and the den. No one. The dining room. Empty. I run upstairs and search but don’t find anyone.
Could they all have gone somewhere without letting me know?
If they did, they must have told Amy. I head down to the grottos, shedding my jeans and shoes along the way. No matter how cute and lacey it can be, underwear is an unnecessary hindrance I gave up on a long time ago.
The moment I open the door to the antechamber, the chatter of voices makes me breathe a huge sigh of relief. I can even make out my mother’s voice, which means she’s home early from the Foundation. Curious, I step into the canal, lower my now-naked bottom half into the cool water, and relax. The rushing sensation of invisible tides flows up and down my legs as they meld together into one strong, golden tail that propels me into the main ballroom, then into the hallway as I follow the voices to Amy’s room.
“What are we doing?” Everyone turns to look at me from around Amy’s bed, huge smiles on their faces.
“Lia! Look!” Amy squeals. I look, but all I see is Amy, lying on her sponge bed with a soaking wet blanket covering the top half of her tail.
“What am I looking at?”
“Just give it a second, will you?” she answers back.
In a flash, Amy’s shining purple tail disappears. In its place is a pair of pale, gangly legs! It only takes half a second for her tail to return, but those were definitely legs.
“Ah!” Now I’m the one squealing. I throw my arms around Amy and let go just in time to see her legs flicker into existence again. My whole family cheers.
“My baby cousin has legs!” Before I can stop myself, I’m squeezing her into another hug.
“Not a baby anymore,” my mom says, giving Amy a smile.
“Sure isn’t. Those are some damn sexy legs you got there, Aims.”
“Lapis!” Emeraldine admonishes, beating my mom to the punch.
“All Lapis means is we better watch out. Amy’ll be beating the boys off with a coral rod soon enough.” Amy blushes at Lazuli’s words.
“Of course she will. She’s a Nautilus woman,” my dad says with a wink.
“She certainly is,” my mother adds.
“Can I go upstairs, Aunt Nerissa? I want to take a walk.”
My mother smiles warmly at her but shakes her head. “Let’s wait until you can maintain all your limbs for a few minutes, shall we?”
Amy’s legs are still morphing into a tail and back again every few seconds.
“How do I keep my legs?” Amy asks.
The twins share a knowing look. My father scratches the back of his head where his hair is still thick and glances at my mother, who gives a tiny nod.
“I’ll go get dinner ready and leave you ladies to … talk,” he says before swimming to the door. “Congratulations, Amy.”
Once he’s out of earshot, my mother sits on the bed and strokes a hand through Amy’s long, strawberry blond hair. “Amethyst, maintaining your legs can be a challenge. Walking doesn’t come naturally to us. Until the wars drove us to learn how to survive on land, trips above water were rare. Even the most accomplished Mer had never kept their legs for more than a few hours for such a visit. Most only ever used their legs at all for … the obvious purpose.”
“Sex,” Lapis clarifies. Even Below, Mer need legs to have sex. Our reproductive systems are built like humans’, but our tails cover up … the necessary body parts. That’s why getting legs is part of puberty.
“For mating, yes,” my mother says. “Of course, we considered this when we first decided to live on land. That’s how we discovered the key to maintaining legs, at least at first, is to contemplate their original purpose. This won’t be necessary after some practice, but for right now, a certain level of maturity and self-awareness will go a long way.”
Amy tries to follow this, but she looks confused.
“What you want to do,” Em interjects, “is embrace your natural impulses. You don’t need to act on those urges—thinking about them will be enough. You’ll see.”
“Does that make sense, sweetheart?” my mother asks.
“Um … yeah. Thanks.” When my mother leans in to hug her, Amy shoots me a puzzled look, and I smile reassuringly. When Mom gave me this same talk about self-awareness and natural urges, I had no clue what she meant. Until Lapis and Lazuli gave me a talk of their own afterwards. I remember lying on my bed, the way Amy is now, watching my new legs melt into familiar golden scales every few seconds. I willed with all my might for the legs to just … stay. I closed my eyes and visualized it, thinking maybe that’s what my mom had meant, but nothing happened. Then, the twins came into my grotto bedroom.
“Any luck, little sis?” Lazuli had asked.
“No,” I pouted.
“Let me guess. Mom’s little heart-to-heart left a lot to be desired.”
“It … helped. Kind of.”
“Lucky for you,” Lapis chimed in, “we’re going to help a lot more. It’s actually simple. What are your legs for?”
“Walking,” I said like it was a no-brainer.
“Urrr!” Lapis made the sound of a game show buzzer. “Wrong. But thanks for playing.”
Lazuli sat on my bed. “As usual, you’re thinking like a human. You’re a Mermaid, Lia.”
“Gee, thanks for the update,” I said sarcastically.
“As a Mermaid who’s supposed to live in the ocean and would never need to step foot on land, what are your legs for?”
Oh! That. “Um … s-sex.”
“Give the Mergirl a prize!” Lapis announced in her game show voice.
“So what does that matter?” I was nervous about where the conversation was heading. I was only fourteen then, and talking about sex with my boy crazy older sisters wasn’t something I was comfortable with. It still isn’t.
“If we were all living Below,” Lazuli explained, “the only time we’d even have legs is right before we—”
“Got it on with some buff young Merstud,” Lapis concluded. “So, all you have to do is think slutty thoughts and your legs will stay firmly in place.”
“Thoughts can’t be slutty!” I argued, trying to poke holes in their theory. They’d played pranks on me before, and I wasn’t going to let them pull the algae over my eyes this time.
“That’s true,” Lazuli conceded. “So, you should feel free to think whatever you want without getting all guilty about it.”
“Personally, I like to think about what it would feel like to—”
“Okay, enough. I get it.”
“Do you?” Lazuli asked, looking pointedly at my ever-disappearing legs. They hadn’t held for more than ten seconds at a time.
“Lia, listen,” Lapis said, her voice losing all trace of theatrics, “you don’t need to be embarrassed. You’re older now, and these kinds of thoughts are natural. At your age, they’re practically required. Now, close your eyes.”
I looked at her skeptically.
“Trust me,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
“I want you to imagine … um … ”
“Caspian,” Lazuli suggested.
My eyes flew open. “He’s my friend!”
“Your friend has gotten totally ripped. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”
Of course I’d noticed. That was the year Caspian went from being a wiry kid to looking like he’d stepped off the cover of one of Em’s hidden romance novels. “I’m not picturing him that way.”
“Relax,” Lazuli insisted. “I’ll keep it PG.” I glared at her in warning before closing my eyes again. “Well, PG-13.” She told me to picture his biceps, his abs, his new legs (which I’d only seen a handful of times, but already knew were muscular and strong). “Now open your eyes.”
I looked down to see my legs holding steadily.
The twins smiled at me, looking almost proud. “Well, what do you know? Our little sister’s all grown up.”
In the months that followed, I kept what the twins said in mind while I practiced. It didn’t feel right to keep thinking about Caspian that way, so I focused
on guys I’d seen in magazines or on TV and even imagined a few of the characters from my favorite books. I got the hang of it soon enough.
Now I look at Amy with her new legs still flickering in and out; she’s growing up, too. It’s my job to help her get the hang of it.
“Don’t forget to shell call your mother after dinner,” my mom tells Amy. “She’ll be so excited. Your uncle and I might just have to plan a surprise, now that everyone in the family has legs.” She gives Amy another hug before heading upstairs.
As soon as my mother leaves, Emeraldine pulls Amy into a hug of her own. “I’m so proud of you. Make sure you let me know if you need anything. When you’re ready, I’ll take you for a pedicure.” Amy’s face lights up. “Lapis, Lazuli,” Emeraldine continues, “let’s go help Dad with dinner.” Clearly, Em doesn’t want the twins corrupting our little cousin.
Em swims out of the room, expecting the twins to follow. “You got this?” Lapis asks me.
“I got it.”
“You’re a knockout, Aims,” Lapis says as she leaves.
“You’ll have to borrow some of my miniskirts to show those off,” Lazuli says with a nod at Amy’s legs as she follows Lapis out, leaving the two of us alone.
“Careful,” I say. “Some of Lazuli’s miniskirts are downright dangerous.” Amy laughs, still beaming. “Didn’t I tell you your legs would be beautiful?”
“They’re nice aren’t they?” Amy’s grin reaches her ears. “Okay, so tell me how I really do this.” She’s looking at me expectantly. Here goes.
I launch into my own version of the talk. It’s more watered down than the one I got from the twins, but I cover all the basics. Amy doesn’t look as uncomfortable as I did afterward.
“That makes sense,” she says, sounding a little overwhelmed.
“If you’re having any trouble,” I tell her, “just think about a boy you like.”
“I’ve been thinking … ” Clay trails off.
“About?”
“Your legs.”
I swivel my chair around to face Clay, but his eyes stay focused on the computer screen. Only the lift at the corner of his mouth tells me he’s aware of my surprise.
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