His lips spread into a very-pleased-with-himself smile.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Now imagine that happening between Doe and Brody.” He shrugs. “Stil not seeing the problem,” he says. “Your cousin is nice enough, and Benson’s not completely void of redeeming characteristics.”

“Bennett,” I snap. “And that’s not what you said two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks ago I was trying to keep your eyes off him, princess.”

“Wel , you were right before.” I try another jump and land on Quince’s foot. “He’s a shal ow, self-absorbed jel yfish.”

“I’m confused,” Quince says. “Are you looking out for Brody? Or for Dosinia?”

“Both of them,” I half shout. Why is he being so dense about this? He knows al the possible complications that might ensue if anything happens between them. “The two of them hooking up is bad news no matter which way you look at it.”

Shannen nods in girlfriend solidarity and says, “Prime-time trouble.”

With a shrug, Quince strains up to see over the ocean of students around him. With a few inches on me, he easily scans the room.

“They’re at a table together,” he says, coming back down to my level. “Want me to go out there and join them?”

“Uh-huh.” I nod my head vigorously. As he heads off into the crowd, I shout after him, “And save us seats.” As Shannen makes it to the cashier, she says, “I know you don’t like your cousin, but is she real y that bad?”

“You have no idea.”

“Would she real y kiss Brody?” she asks as she hands over her money.

“I hope not, but with Doe it’s impossible to say.” I move my tray forward when Shan picks hers up. “I mean, she hates hum—” I jerk back, realizing what I was about to say in a room ful of humans. “Wel , you know. So that’s a point in the favor of sanity.”

“But… ?” Shannen prods when I’ve col ected my change and my tray.

“But,” I say, leading the way between the lunch tables toward Quince’s dark blond head, “Doe is boy crazy and unpredictable. And she’s always been a little reckless.

Consequences don’t mean much to her.”

“A very bad combination.”

“Oh, yeah.” We reach the table and I slide onto the seat next to Quince. Across from Doe and Brody, who are sitting way too close together for my nerves. “Hi! How’s your first day going?” I ask, maybe too brightly.

“Fine,” she replies, not sparing me a glance.

Brody, however, does. “Doe’s been tel ing me some great stories,” he says with a big, teasing smile.

“I’l bet she has,” I answer with a growl.

Doe flashes her who-me-I’m-innocent eyes at me. As always, there’s hint of mischief in them.

Quince places his warm, reassuring hand on my knee.

Silently saying, Don’t freak out. Too late for that. I reach down and lace my fingers through his, squeezing out my frustration on his hand.

“Doe says you’re an amazing swimmer, Lil,” Brody says, leaning forward. “How come you never tried out for the girls’

team?”

I squeeze Quince harder. I can’t exactly tel Brody it’s because I’m only a good swimmer in my mer form. The tail fin is a big boost in the underwater-speed department. With legs, I swim about as wel as a rock.

“It’s the competition,” Shannen says, coming to my rescue. “It stresses her out and she practical y drowns.” Doe snorts.

Quince laughs.

I squeeze until I think Quince might lose al blood flow to his fingers.

“Yeah,” I say, going along with the explanation, since it’s just about as believable as anything else I could come up with. “I don’t do wel under pressure. I faint. I have to settle for being swim team manager.”

“Besides,” Doe says, final y chiming in on the conversation, “Lily only swims in the ocean. She’s al ergic to chlorine.”

I force a laugh. Throwing her a dark look, I say, “That too.” She’s cutting it a little too close to the truth.

Mermaids aren’t just al ergic to chlorine. It’s toxic to us. If you want to cal human susceptibility to arsenic an al ergy, then yeah, I guess I’m al ergic. A quick dip in a public pool wouldn’t kil me, but it would make me real y sick. If I tried to stick it out for an entire swim practice, though… wel , let’s just say that I wouldn’t have to worry about my SAT prep anymore.

Quince, apparently realizing he’s in danger of losing his fingers—which would make working on his motorcycle real y hard—reaches over with his other hand and pul s off my death grip. But instead of withdrawing completely, he sandwiches my hand between both of his.

“I’l bet Lily has some great stories about Doe, too,” Quince says. “Don’t you, princess?”

For half a second I’m confused. Every single Doe story I have is an underwater one. He knows I can’t dish that dirt.

“Don’t you, princess?” he repeats.

He looks me in the eye and winks and I final y get his meaning. After growing up together, I know plenty of things Doe probably wouldn’t want me to share. I don’t have to actually tell the stories, just hint at them enough so Doe knows I won’t be bul ied by her. She’s not the only one who can tel embarrassing tales.




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