Emerge

by Easton, Tobie

  Clay’s voice is thick with hurt. “You don’t have to talk about this,” I tell him.

  “No, I want to tell you.” He looks right at me before glancing down again. “When he moved onto the naval base in Point Loma, he got a girlfriend in town and stopped driving up to see me altogether.”

  “Clay, I’m sorry.” It’s not enough, but it’s all I can think to say.

  “I still write songs—I can’t really stop myself—but I haven’t been able to play for anyone since. So, please don’t take it personally.”

  “I understand.”

  He pastes his familiar smirk back on. “Well, Nautilus, I’ve told you my deepest, darkest. What’s yours?”

  Despite his well-practiced expression, his eyes are still vulnerable. He needs me to answer, if only to divert the conversation away from him. My secret? Telling him I have a tail would make him think I’m either a.) crazy or b.) a disgusting, fishy freak.

  “I’m kind of lost,” I blurt out instead.

  “Your house is in walking distance.”

  I whack him on the shoulder. “That’s my secret, genius. I sometimes feel like I’m … lost.” Articulating it for the second time makes me realize it’s true.

  “What do you mean?” Clay asks. He’s listening now, his gaze completely focused on me.

  “My parents have this image of me. All these expectations. They’ve worked so hard to build … the family business.”

  “The Foundation for the something or other of sea animals?”

  “The Foundation for the Preservation and Protection of Marine Life,” I supply.

  “Right! I see your dad on the news all the time.”

  “They expect me to devote my life to it, too.”

  “And you’re not sure if it’s for you?”

  “It’s a really important cause, and I totally admire everything they’ve done, but I don’t know if I can live up to their example.” I’m so human in the way I look at things sometimes that I’m afraid if I ever did try to take on a Mer leadership role, I’d be ousted as a fraud. “My older sister Em works at the Foundation part-time and she’s perfect at it.”

  “I didn’t realize you had a sister other than the twins.”

  “Yeah. Em’s in college and she does everything right. She’s smart, well-spoken, sophisticated—just like my mom. Then there’s my little cousin Amy—she lives with us and she’s definitely the sweet, adorable one. The twins are the witty, sexy ones. I’m just … me.” I sigh. I’ve never put it into words like that before; it’s like Clay’s honesty opened up some kind of dam, and everything just came rushing out.

  He turns his chair slightly so that we’re facing each other, the front of his knees touching the front of mine. Then he takes my hand where it rests on my thigh.

  “You know, no one expects you to have it all figured out.” He says as he rubs a soothing circle over the back of my hand with his thumb. “You’re not lost. You just don’t know where you belong yet.

  “Oh, and for the record,” he continues, “Amy’s not the only sweet one and, even without meeting her, I doubt Em is smarter than you.” He’s been looking at my hand resting in his, but now he looks up at me with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “And if Mel asks, you didn’t hear this from me, but the twins definitely don’t have the market cornered on sexy.”

  Did Clay just say he thinks I’m sexy? Am I still breathing? “Yeah, right. They hook up with new guys at practically every party, and I’ve never had a real kiss.” Why did I say that? What’s wrong with me?

  “You’ve never been kissed?” Clay’s voice is all surprise. My face flames.

  “I’ve had the opportunity.” I backpedal. “Lots of opportunities!” That’s kind of true. There have been at least three Merboys who have leaned in for kisses after less than spectacular first dates. “It just never felt right, so I didn’t go through with it.” Clay is listening carefully, but he looks curious, not judgmental. What the heck, I can’t possibly embarrass myself more than I already have, can I?

  “I guess I’m just waiting for that heart-pounding, music-swelling, shooting star moment … and I don’t think I’ll find it until it’s the right person leaning in.”

  “That’s—”

  “Probably stupid, I know. I sound like I’m in middle school.”

  “I was gonna say, kinda cool,” Clay finishes.

  “This coming from the guy who makes out in the hallway every day.”

  Clay withdraws his hand from where it still rests on top of mine and runs it through his dark hair, looking away from me. “Yeah, sometimes I don’t know what comes over me when I’m with Mel.”

  “You guys are just really, I don’t know, passionate. I wish I had that with … someone.”

  “That’s just it. We’re not. Well, I guess we are.”

  “That makes sense,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “When I’m kissing Mel, all I can think about is kissing her more.”

  Yuck. How did I get in this conversation?

  “But, we don’t have that much in common. I mean, she’s never heard of most of the stuff I like, and she’s not interested when I tell her about it. She’s never asked to hear my music.” He looks up at me. “Somehow, we always manage to do whatever she suggests doing.”

  Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “You don’t really strike me as the pushover type.”

  “Well, whenever she suggests something, it sounds like the right idea. It’s only later, when I’m home alone thinking about it, that I realize shoe shopping isn’t my idea of fun. It’s weird. When I’m with Mel or I’m talking to her, I’m so sure that everything’s right. That we’re right. But … ”

  I straighten up in my chair. “But what?”

  “I don’t know. When I’m by myself playing guitar or studying or just lying in bed at night and I think about her, I have so many doubts. She’s not the type of girl I picture myself with.”

  I want to jump. I want to dance. I want to scream with joy.

  “Then as soon as I see her the next day at school and we start talking, I feel like there could never be anyone else for me.”

  I want to hit my head against the desk.

  “Do you love her?” I shouldn’t be asking, but the question is out before I even think it.

  “It sure feels like I do sometimes.” He looks genuinely torn. Then, he shrugs and slouches in his chair. “Whatever. It’s not like figuring it out will make a difference. My parents loved each other, and look how that ended.”

  “Clay, I don’t think that’s—”

  “It feels good being with Mel. That’s enough.”

  I should be happy that Clay’s not sure he loves someone else, but the fact that he’s okay to settle, like he thinks love isn’t worth searching for, makes me sad.

  It’s not that I have to see Clay every day, it’s just that we need to get started on our poster. At least that’s what I tell myself on the way to Clay’s house on Saturday morning. Technically, I didn’t ask Clay if I could come over, but he mentioned his mom had plans and he’d just be hanging out at home.

  I usually spend Saturdays swimming with my sisters in our pool during the day and in the ocean at night. We all look forward to spending an entire day not worrying about maintaining our legs. But ever since Clay’s self-defense lesson, maintaining my legs has been easy. All I have to do is remember what it was like to have Clay pressed against me and my legs stay firmly in place.

  Still, the water calls to me. It whispers deep in my head, but I don’t care. For once, there’s something I’d rather do than swim. Even if all we do is talk like we did last night, I’d rather be with Clay.

  Soon, I’m reaching around the unwieldy poster board to ring his doorbell. He doesn’t answer. After three more tries, I’m about to head back home when I remember Clay sometimes does homework outside. It’s a gorgeous, sunny day; maybe he’s in his backyard and didn’t hear the bell. I try the side gate. I
t’s unlocked, so I head through it and walk along the side of the house. Leaning the poster board against the wall, I peer around the corner into the backyard. Clay is by the gazebo. But he isn’t alone.

  Melusine stands with her arms draped around his neck and her face mere inches from his. She leans in even closer. Oh no, I’m going to have to watch them kiss. But, no. Right as I’m thinking I should turn away, her full, pink lips head toward his ear instead of his mouth. Music—so beautiful it’s almost painful—escapes her lips and pierces the air.

  She’s singing.

  The dark, alluring melody is captivating, and it takes my addled brain a moment to realize she’s singing in Mermese. But I don’t recognize half the ancient words. I nearly forget to breathe as I shift my focus from the song to the effect it’s having on Clay. His eyes are glazed over, like he’s lost in some dream world. The spark of intelligence, of awareness, is gone.

  Although I’ve only ever heard it spoken of in scandalized whispers and harsh warnings, I know exactly what’s happening: Melusine is sirening Clay.

  Chapter Eight

  I want to scream Clay’s name. I want to run forward and push Melusine off him. I want to save him from the mental slavery she’s trapped him in. But before I can do any of that, I do something far more dangerous.

  In my shock, I lose my control. My brain registers the familiar tingle slip-sliding across my legs right before I fall. My tail hits the paved walkway with a resounding Thwack!

  Melusine snaps her head around. I hold my breath. I’m hidden around the corner of the house, but if she investigates, she’ll find me for sure. I scoot back as far as I can, dragging my tail against the rough concrete. If Melusine finds me, who knows what she’ll do to keep me quiet? I’m a Mermaid, so she can’t siren me, but she’s definitely dangerous. Does she have access to other magic?

  Melusine glances around the yard again, then turns her attention back to Clay. She slides a hand down his chest as he stares off into space. Bile rises in my throat.

  I sit with with my fins exposed, and Clay in trouble, it’s harder than it’s ever been to focus. I take deep breaths and force myself to picture Clay the way he usually looks, his knowing eyes full of laughter. I think of the comforting words he offered me in his bedroom, of his thumb stroking the back of my hand. With the feeling of invisible tides crashing against my lower body, my legs slide into place. I get up as fast as I can without making a sound, then slip back into my flip-flops and pull down my now-ripped skirt. Then I hesitate.

  I hate leaving Clay with Melusine. If what I’ve heard about sireny is true, Clay has no free will; Melusine could make him do anything. I tell myself there’s nothing I can do now. I force myself to grab the poster board and leave before I lose my legs again.

  I have to tell my parents. They’ll know what to do. They always know. Once I’m inside, I drop the poster board and run into the living room. Amy sits in her new favorite spot on the couch.

  “Where’s my mom?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

  “Lia! Guess what? I thought of the perfect name for him,” she says, gesturing to the sleepy ball of puppy on her chest. “Barnacle! Get it? Because he lies on me all the time. Barney for short. Isn’t it perfect?”

  “Where’s my mom?” I try never to be short with Amy, but Clay’s in trouble, and no one else knows.

  “Upstairs getting ready for that benefit,” Amy answers. “You okay?”

  “Fine!” I shout as I race upstairs.

  My mom sits in front of her vanity. A sad look haunts her face, but it disappears when she catches sight of me in the mirror. She plasters on her usual smile.

  “Hi, seashell.”

  “Mom, what’s the matter?”

  Her smile falters. “It’s nothing. Just a few new wrinkles, that’s all.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m being silly. Human women deal with them. I just always hoped … well, never mind.” She trails off, but I know what she’s thinking. No matter how practical my mom is or how much she acknowledges that the curse is permanent, she was raised to believe it would be broken someday. She thought she’d get to live out the rest of eternity with everlasting youth and beauty. For her and my dad, the aging process must be a reminder of everything they’ve lost.

  “Did you need something, Aurelia?”

  I meet my mom’s steady gaze. What will she do when I tell her Melusine’s sirening Clay? “I … Mom, have there been any major crimes since we surfaced?”

  Her brows furrow. “Just some petty theft and teenagers tagging a few buildings. Other than that, the only real crimes we’ve ever had were some incidents of violence against humans, but that was years ago when we first moved up here. Why?”

  “What type of violence?”

  “I’m ashamed to say there were a few bar fights—Mer who foolishly thought they were superior to humans and weren’t used to the effects of liquor. Some Mer reacted badly when they saw seals being mistreated at a carnival, and things got violent. That’s about the worst of it.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “The Foundation ruled in favor of fines and Community service. We also made enrollment in our Mer-Human Relations classes mandatory for Community members who were having trouble adapting.”

  “That’s it?”

  “There were a handful who still insisted humans weren’t equal to Mer. That Mer were somehow better. You know views like those aren’t tolerated up here, so anyone who adhered to that outdated way of thinking was persuaded that life Above wasn’t a good fit for them, and they returned to the ocean.” She studies my face. “Why are you so interested in this all of a sudden?”

  Because I saw Melusine commit a crime. I saw her sirening a human. The human I …

  “What would you and Dad do if there was a big crime? Like something really bad?”

  “Well … ” She’s looking at me questioningly now. “At that point it wouldn’t be up to your father and me and the other board members. We’d open up the proceedings to the Community and vote on the best course of action. We’d do whatever it took to keep humans from getting suspicious.”

  Whatever it took? What does that mean? Sireny is one of the highest crimes there is. If I tell my parents what I saw, they won’t be able to keep it quiet. Then what? Melusine would probably be sent Below, where she could easily be killed. If she dies, will Clay die too? I don’t know how sireny works. With Melusine Below, would the spell wear off, or would he still be sirened? Would he spend the rest of his life wandering around up here like some mindless zombie with no one controlling him? Is there a way to break Melusine’s hold over him?

  I want to think the Community board or the elders could force her to let him go, but the truth is, even they might not know how to control magic this ancient, this secret. If they do know, and they get her to release him, will he remember anything afterward? Has he seen anything he shouldn’t, like her tail? If he has, what will the Community do to him to keep him quiet?

  “Aurelia, I’m glad to see you take an interest in Mer affairs, but what sparked all these questions on crime?” My mother looks concerned.

  I can’t tell her—not until I know more about what might happen to Clay. “Um … Amy asked me about it, and I didn’t know what to tell her,” I lie.

  The tension in her face vanishes. She rises from the vanity and crosses to her walk-in closet. “Don’t tell Amethyst anything that might worry her. Everyone who seeks refuge here has given up their natural home for a chance at a peaceful, safe life on land. You can tell her that we’ve all worked very hard to build a life here and we won’t let anything jeopardize that.”

  I nod. My parents have spent years creating a sanctuary for everyone. I can’t tell them something that will destroy that sense of security and call their leadership into question. Not until I have answers.

  “Do you have plans while your father and I are out?” my mother asks as she rifles through her c
loset. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time working on your project. I hope you’re being careful around that human boy. No problems focusing?”

  “Nope.” Except for sitting on the side of his house in my tail where absolutely anyone could have seen me.

  “Will the two of you be studying again tonight?” She frowns.

  “No.” Going over there tonight wouldn’t do any good. I need to find a way to help Clay, but if I can’t turn to my parents, who can I ask? I need to talk to someone who knows about sireny. “Enjoy your benefit, Mom. I’m going to Caspian’s.”

  Caspian’s house is just a short swim through the tunnels. I ring the bell at the underwater entrance, and he ushers me into the grottos. Unlike my family, Caspian’s uses the upstairs mostly for show. Not only are they more traditionalist than my parents, but Caspian’s grandmother can’t go into the house above at all. She’s one of the oldest Mer who’s come on land, and by the time she did, it was too late for her to master her legs. The entire time I’m saying hello to her and his parents, all I can think about is getting Caspian alone so we can talk.

  It’s still too light out to go in the ocean, so I suggest we go to the swimming pool and get some sun. Really, I’m just looking for privacy, and Caspian’s bedroom in the grottos—while cool with its stalactites and crystal-imbedded walls—is a cave without the luxury of a door.

  “I’m glad you suggested this,” Caspian says several minutes later in his saltwater pool. “I’ve hardly seen you this week.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been really busy with my history project.”

  “The one on your ancestors? You’re still working on that?”

  “It’s worth twenty-five percent of my grade.”

  “So, you’re spending a lot of time with that Clay guy, right?”

  “I kind of have to,” I answer, trying not to sound defensive. “The project’s made me think about my ancestors and how much I don’t know about them.” I swim in a slow circle around him. “Do you ever think about yours?” I hope that sounded more subtle to him than it did to me.