The Mermaid and the Murders Page 4

  “That’s less than mature,” Sam decided.

  I shrugged. “Whosley isn’t always the nicest guy. I’ve heard he gets angry when you make a mistake on the test. I bet he can get pretty rough.”

  “Yeah.” He paused for a second, giving me a wicked smile. “Want a ride home?”

  “Oh, yes.” The words slipped out before I could hold them back and play hard to get. “Hang on while I text Ashley.”

  “Don’t tell me you need her permission.”

  “Not permission; more like blessing.” It sounded terrible, and I felt a little guilty about it. “Besides, what if you’re some scary bad guy and you bite me?”

  I’d meant it as a joke, but Sam’s face was deadly serious. “You never have to worry about that.”

  I nodded, then concentrated on my phone. There was something about the way he said it and the look on his face. I felt like I should ask him about it, but I didn’t want to talk about anything important. I wanted to go back to flirting and being cool.

  “Ashley says to have fun. Sounds like she’s got other stuff on her mind.” Probably plotting Jen’s demise. I pushed the thought out of my head, determined not to think about it. “I think she’s over you.”

  “I should be crushed, but it sounds like I dodged a bullet.”

  “She’s pretty popular, and pretty pretty, too.” I sounded like an idiot, but he didn’t call me on it.

  “Did you hear about Jen? That she was seeing a therapist for depression?”

  “That’s not true.” I shook my head, disgusted with the rumor mill.

  “But Ashley said it, and you know, she’s popular.”

  “Point taken. We should talk about something else.”

  He led me out into the parking lot. His car was a red, sporty looking, Honda. Beyond that, all I noticed was how alone we were.

  “Any special reason why?” he asked.

  I had lots of them, but I wasn’t sure what I should share. Sure, he’d passed the salt test, but did that really mean I could trust him? He was an outsider, but he seemed like a pretty safe person. Then again, trusting the wrong person could ruin my life. Did it even matter that I was tired of hiding? “I’m not sure what to do about Ashley.”

  “You mean, like confronting her and telling her to stop bullying people?”

  “I meant like not riding in with her to school. Maybe finding someone else to hang out with.”

  “Oh.” He opened the car door for me, and turned away. When he spoke again, we were both inside the sticky heat of the car. “Well, you could do that, too.”

  I’d hoped he would offer to drive me to school each day, but he didn’t. That sucked more than I wanted to admit, but I kept talking. “It’s a risk, though. You never know what’ll happen with her.”

  “You know, I think you’re right.”

  “That it’s a risk?”

  “That we should talk about something else.” He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street. “Why don’t you start with giving me directions to your house?”

  So I gave him directions. Whenever we passed anything that sounded interesting, I gave him the backstory on it. The laundry mat that made the best Cuban sandwiches, the elementary school we’d all gone to, all the little things that made Playa Linda my town.

  “Does your mom work somewhere around here?” He gestured as we got to the business district.

  “Sometimes.” I didn’t want to give him the usual Mom lies, but I was fresh out of safe-to-share truths. Another thing that sucked. “She’s a photographer, underwater prints mostly, art photography of dolphins and coral. She sells in some of the galleries down here and in other places up and down the coast. That’s why she’s away so much.”

  He glanced at me at the light, a look filled with pity. I shifted in my seat, a little uncomfortable. Sure, my family was different, but Mom wasn’t a bad mother. She was normal for a mermaid. “I can’t imagine leaving my daughter alone.”

  “But you don’t have one, right?” I tried to joke, but his face stayed somber.

  “No, but I have little cousins. They miss their mom whenever she walks out of the room. Kids need their mom’s.”

  “Well, mine’s always home when I really need her. Heck, she might be there now.” She might, and that meant I’d have some pretty fast-talking to do. If Mom caught me with a boy, any boy, she’d send me down to the beach in hopes of nature taking its course. I had the only mother in the world that was anxious for me to have meaningless sex. I tried not to think about sex, but with Sam so close to me, it wasn’t easy. In school, with everyone watching, it was easier to control my need to touch him, to be close to him. Alone in his car, that need was hard to ignore.

  I watched his hand as he shifted gears and the cut of his jaw as he drove. I was probably staring, but I couldn’t stop. The conversation had reached one of those slow points, and all I had left to do was look at him, his dark brown hair, his tan skin. I wondered how it would look underwater, if he’d wash out pale or stay the same golden color.

  “So what about your dad?” Sam ended my very lustful thoughts with his choice of words.

  “I don’t have a dad.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, I have one. Everyone has one. He died in a boating accident.” It was a bald-faced lie, but it sounded so much better than the truth: that my mother drowned him in the middle of sex the way every mermaid drowned every man she was with.

  “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”

  “I don’t really remember him.” I shrugged. “His parents didn’t like my mom, and they’re not really interested in me, so…it’s hard to miss what you never had.”

  “So your parents were star-crossed lovers?”

  “Something like that. My mom was trying on another life for a while. When Dad died, she decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.” And that was the truth, the total truth, so help me Mother Ocean. Time to change the subject. “What about you?”

  “My parents live in Jamaica. I’m older than I look, remember?”

  “How much older?”

  “About twenty years, give or take. But the math doesn’t work really, because we age slower.”

  “How much slower?”

  “You were a baby for what? Two years, maybe three?”

  “Sure. I’d consider a three-year-old a baby.”

  “Well then, I was a baby for seven years, maybe eight. So I’m older, but I’m not.”

  I stared at him, trying to see if I could find wrinkles or lines on his face that made him look old. I couldn’t. “How did that work with school?”

  “I’d go through school until it got obvious that I wasn’t growing the way the other kids were. Then we’d move to a new school and I’d start over. About the third time through, they got amazed at how much I knew and put me in advanced classes, but I was always smaller.”

  “Until now.” There was nothing small about him. It might have taken him twenty years, but he’d made it to eighteen just fine. I wanted to keep looking at him, but my neighbor’s house appeared. “I’m the one on the left.”

  He nodded and pulled up. I willed him to turn to me, to kiss me before he left. Just a quick kiss. I’d keep it chaste, safe. He didn’t seem to hear my silent wish, so I started to think about what I could do. I could reach over and touch his hand, then pull his shirt toward me, press my lips on his and—

  “Why don’t I walk you to the door?”

  “That’d be great.”

  I checked the water but didn’t see Mom. I thanked Mother Ocean in several grateful silent prayers. When I was sure the coast was clear, I led him around to our front door.

  “Great house.” He whistled at it, like he was impressed and I tried to see it through his eyes. Our house was built on stilts, in case a big storm caused flooding. The first floor was a story up, with the laundry room, mudroom, and guest suite. The second was my room, the kitchen, the formal dining room, and the den. The third story was Mom’s suite.

  �
��Want a tour?” I put one foot on the stairs. They were wrought iron, designed to survive that big storm that could happen any day. In my head, I was already showing him the house; we’d get as far as my bedroom, and then I’d show him the bed. Far enough away from water that I couldn’t actually have sex with him or drown him. It was the perfect solution, fun, but not too much fun.

  “With no one else home? I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.”

  Score one for him being a moral, decent guy. Too bad. “We’ve got wrap-around porches on all three levels. How about a tour of the outside?”

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  Up the stairs, I started narrating, telling him the rooms that we were walking past. It was hot—too hot for fall in most places—but this was south Florida. “Aren’t you broiling?” I asked him. “Wish we could swim.”

  “Yeah, not always the best idea for me.” He looked a little guilty, but I felt relieved. I hadn’t been thinking about his issue; just my own. The words had slipped out before I realized how they might lead to him finding out I was a mermaid.

  “Oh, right, salt golem. Duh.” I tried not to sound stupid. “I keep forgetting about that when I’m with you. Any telltale signs for me to look for?”

  He laughed, showing those wonderfully not-perfect teeth. “A couple, but if you notice them I’m doing a really bad job of blending in.”

  “And you can never, never stop blending in.” It was something Mom had drilled into me when I was a little kid. Never tell anyone your secret and never do anything to stand out.

  I leaned over on the railing to look out at the ocean in front of us. He stood behind me for a second and then moved an inch forward so we were touching. The heat I’d felt came back, a fire of desire on my skin. Then I’d been in public, but outside my kitchen door was a different story. I relaxed into it, letting my body mold to his. Could a mermaid hurt someone like him? Could I trust him? Was this all just a game? Well, if we were playing games, I was pretty safe right now—as long as we were far from water.

  “What are you thinking about?” His voice sounded like a deep whisper near my ear. I stopped myself from flinching backwards. The air wasn’t wet enough to make my gills pop out, and even if he did notice them well… Let him see. Let him wonder.

  “Whether you’re a salt golem or not. If this is a game. If I can trust you.”

  He pulled me close, and this time when he spoke I could feel his lips against my ear. “I am. It’s not. You can.”

  Before I could tell him the truth, that I couldn’t trust anyone, I saw a dark stain out on the water. It might’ve been a thousand things but I knew it was another body, another dead girl with long dark hair, floating over my spot.

  Chapter Four

  I told Sam I was very sorry, but he should go. He looked disappointed about it, but said he understood. I was in the water before his car was out of the driveway. I didn’t bother changing into swimwear; I left my clothes on the beach. I swam out fast, not paying attention to the change. It felt like forever before I was close enough to see that it wasn’t another girl, not like before.

  I ducked down deep, coming under the body, my hands slipping as I tried to pull her under. The fish scattered away from half a dozen holes, teeth marks at her throat, in her sides, even along her tail. A long mermaid’s tail. She was like me—only dead. By her waist, her scales were tipped with sharp edges, and I cut myself without thinking. My blood trickled away in a bright red stream. Hers followed in a darker color. I stopped bleeding almost immediately, something told me she’d keep it up for a while.

  She wore nothing but her scales and wide blue eyes open in death. Sharp teeth showed in her open mouth. She could’ve been biting someone when she died, fighting them. Or maybe she never came out of the water and always let her teeth look that way.

  We sank down to the bottom and hit the sand. I held her close, looking into eyes that would never see again. She might’ve been my cousin, or aunt, or niece, related in some way. But she looked closer than that, with a light green tail and the same blonde hair that I had. She could be me.

  I pushed the thought away and straightened my arms. I didn’t want to be close to her, didn’t want to think about what had bitten her so savagely. The bites weren’t shark, and they certainly weren’t anything I’d seen on dry land. I wanted to push her away forever, but I had to bring her home.

  The swim to our trench took a long time. My arms ached as I pulled her body against the tide. A pair of dolphins came around me, then a few more, maybe a small pod. I felt grateful and told them so, even though they couldn’t understand me. I wanted someone to talk to, someone to be next to me. Mother Ocean wrapped Herself around me, but I still felt alone.

  The girl’s blood brought the sharks, scavengers, and bottom feeders. When they got close, I went after them with my tail, swishing wildly, hoping the sharp scales would cut. Once or twice, I succeeded. A few times, the dolphins led them away. But mostly it was a relentless forward movement. I had to keep swimming, had to get to Grandma’s, had to give the girl to someone who would take over. Every part of me was tired and I desperately wanted to be done with this, but I had to keep going. I wished I was back in Ashley’s car worrying about all the stupid crap that seemed important a few hours ago. Holding on to the dead body of my cousin felt like nothing in my life really mattered.

  I swam for hours. The dolphins followed me to the continental shelf, but when the sea floor dropped away, so did they. I swam the last hour alone, going down, deeper and deeper, the girl feeling like she weighed a thousand pounds. My arms were lead weights, too numb to do anything to help me swim. And no matter how I shook my head, there wasn’t enough water in the ocean for my gills.

  In the end, I misjudged, too worried about the girl and not paying attention. I hit the sand almost head-first. My strength gave out and I let her go. She didn’t float far, but hung beside me, head down, funny and sick-looking at the same time. I wanted someone to come and save me, but they didn’t. I wanted to curl up and sleep on the sand, safe under hundreds of feet of water, but I didn’t.

  I struggled with my sadness and desperation as I got up and swam. By the time I saw Grandma, my eyes burned from tears.

  “Danika?” My grandmother’s voice was filled with questions I couldn’t answer.

  “Help me.” It was half-plea and half-prayer, because once I saw her face and gray hair, I was done. I let go of the girl and stopped being strong.

  “Oh no, Mara.” Grandma’s face crumpled at the sight of her. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I found her floating by our house.” The words came out in a scared rush.

  She came over and hugged me, her body strong against mine. It wasn’t an answer, but it was what I needed.

  We gave Mara to Mother Ocean’s care the next day. I slept on the sand near where Grandma slept. The funeral songs called my mother to us. When I woke up the next morning, she and grandma were next to me. I felt embraced by my kin, safe in a place where there were no secrets to keep. That made it easier, just a little, to swim beside the dead girl’s mother until we came to the darkest part of the trench. It helped that we sang a special funeral song about Mara’s life, the things she’d done, and how Mother Ocean had blessed her. But in the end, seeing her body disappear into that darkness, no songs helped the way I felt, small and alone. When I was swimming, carrying her, all I thought about was finishing what had to be done. Now there was nothing to do but be filled with sadness for Mara.

  I spent the day and another night on the sand. No one asked any more about what happened, and no one wanted to know about school or boys. We talked about Mara: where she’d traveled, or her favorite foods. I got to know her, even though she was gone.

  As always, after two days I started to miss my life, my real life, the one with books to read and things to do. Swimming for fish only took so long. While I could play with the babies or sing, I wanted to see Sam. I wondered if he’d missed me, if I could still
go to that concert with him. I got tired of the sandy ocean floor where a hundred mermaids slept and swam. I wanted to go home. Mom must’ve seen the look in my eyes because she told Grandma she’d go home with me. For once, Grandma didn’t argue that I should stay. She nodded, her face sad.

  Mom woke up early the next morning while Grandma slept beside us. Sleeping mermaids dotted the floor of the trench like flowers, their hair shifting with the tides. We wear our hair long to catch men; it’s not until we’re done having babies that we cut it short. I looked down at Grandma’s cropped gray hair before I swam away. Mom still wore her hair long. Some part of her still hoped for another daughter, maybe because I was such a disappointment. I wondered if Mara would’ve been a better daughter for her.

  My heavy thoughts weighed me down, and we slid onto the sand of our beach as the sky turned pink.

  “Damn. If my legs don’t come in fast, I’m going to be late for school.”

  Mom gave me a dirty look. “You’re so caught up with playing human that you haven’t even bothered to learn about being a mermaid. If you really wanted them to change, they could do it in a second.”

  She demonstrated the truth of her words by shifting from tail to flesh in the blink of an eye. I gawked, trying to think of a way to ask how she did it without starting a fight. She was right, I’d never wanted to know about these things before, never thought they mattered. I cared more about the things I could learn in school than the things she could teach me. Maybe it was time to change that, to ask her. Before I could, she walked away from me, her naked skin brown in the sunrise.

  I stared at my own tail, concentrating hard. I spent a good five minutes at it and nothing happened. Finally, I gave up and thought about my legs. Lean and long, like my toes, which Heather called alien whenever she painted them. It wasn’t often; I didn’t like people to touch my feet but I liked the way my toes looked after a pedicure, colorful and shiny. I liked my legs.

  And just like that, I had legs again. Was it sooner than usual? Maybe. I couldn’t be sure. I’d been out of the water at least ten minutes, but it usually took closer to twenty. At least, it felt like twenty. I didn’t wear a watch, so I couldn’t be sure. I took a deep breath and sighed over all the things I couldn’t be sure about, like how Mom would act when I got inside.