Forgive My Fins

“Of course,” she says, and from the take-charge tone, I can tell she knows this is serious.

I sigh. “And make it salty.”

“Right,” she says. Then I hear her walking down the stairs.

“Salty?” Quince asks. “Why the hell would I drink salt water?”

“It’s a long story.”

Prithi meows sympathetically.

A heavy pause hangs between us. “Why do I think,” he says, “when you say that, it’s a gross understatement?”

“Listen,” I say, leaning my forehead against the door. “Drink the water. Go home and take a bath. A salt bath. You’ll feel better—”

“No,” he argues. “I’m not leaving until you let me expl—”

He breaks into a huge coughing fit before he can finish.

“I’m not up for this right now,” I say, and I can hear the weariness in my voice. This has been an emotional day, and he’s lucky I’m not prepared to fillet him alive at the moment.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “As long as you promise we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Oh, we’ll talk tomorrow. When he pressed his lips to mine, he got way more than he bargained for. It may not be anything he wants to hear, but we’ll talk. Because in order to undo what he started, I have to present him before the royal court of Thalassinia. Aka my dad.

“I promise.” When he starts coughing again, I add, “Just go home and take a bath.”

How did I ever get myself into this mess?

And how am I ever going to get myself out?

Looks like I’m going home for the weekend after all.

8

Meet me at Seaview Beach Park at three.

I slipped the note under Quince’s front door first thing in the morning and then disappeared. A night’s lack of sleep hadn’t cleared things up for me, and I needed a full day to figure out how to explain…well, everything…to him.

As the sun heads west behind me, I sit staring out at the ocean horizon. Still not sure how I’m going to proceed.

How do you tell a guy you’re a mermaid? And that’s he’s turning mer, too? I’ve spent three years fantasizing about telling Brody, but this is different. Quince is different.

He doesn’t say anything when he walks up behind me, but I feel him. In the sand, in the air. Everywhere. For a minute, I let the tension—or maybe it’s the bond, I still can’t believe I’m bonded to Quince Fletcher—crackle between us. I’d always heard the bond was an addictive high. I never expected the kind of physical connection I’m feeling.

I wonder if he feels it, too.

“Do you believe in other worlds?” I finally ask.

“What?” He laughs softly. “You mean like alien planets?”

“No, worlds right here on Earth,” I explain. “Worlds you can’t see. Worlds you never knew existed but that were there all the time.”

He drops down onto the sand next to me, arms hanging over his bent knees. “What’s this all about, princess?”

A wave crashes in front of us. Princess. That almost makes me smile. And cry.

“Look at the sand.” I point to the area at our feet. “See all those shells?”

“Yeah….”

“Those are coquinas.”

“Right, they come in on the waves—”

“That’s what everyone thinks.” I shake my head. “Look closer.”

A wave crashes, leaving behind a rainbow array of coquinas. As we watch, they quickly wiggle back under the sand.

“Whoa!” Quince leans forward and scoops up a handful of sand. He inspects his scoop like a little boy digging for sea slugs beneath the ocean floor.

“They don’t come in on the waves,” I explain. “They live under the sand.”

A softer wave rolls in, this one too gentle to displace the sand above the buried coquinas.

“Look at the water.” The sea flows back out. “See all the ripples?”

Quince looks up from his handful of sand and stares at the ebbing tide.

“The coquinas cause the ripples.” Another wave crashes, uncovering the rainbow of shells. “Even though they are hidden, they still affect the visible world.”

“Wow,” Quince says, his voice full of awe. “That’s amazing.”

“An entire world, hidden, but causing ripples in the world you know. The world you see.”

Without turning to look, I can tell Quince is staring at the sand as if it’s just come to life. Which it pretty much has. This is a good sign, I think. At least he wasn’t, like, “whatever” or “so what.” That has to bode well for my revelation. Right? I hope.

“That,” I say, swallowing over my hesitation, “is kind of what Thalassinia is like.”

He twists around to look at me. “Thala-what?”

“Thalassinia.” I turn away from the sea to meet his gaze. “My kingdom.”

To his credit, he blinks only three times before recovering his ability to speak.

“Your kingdom?” he echoes. “What exactly do you—”

“I’m not your average high school girl.” I meet his confused look without flinching. “I’m a…” Now that the moment has finally come for me to tell someone the truth about who and what I am, it’s a lot tougher than I thought.

Secrecy is paramount in the mer world. Besides the whole flee-at-the-first-sign-of-humans instinct, we also keep our world carefully camouflaged. With a few exceptions—like the Bimini Road and those underwater temples off the coast of Japan—our buildings look like naturally forming phenomena. We even have the ability, in extreme cases, to alter the memory of an untrustworthy human who has seen our world. It’s not a fun experience, but it’s a price worth paying to keep Thalassinia and the other mer kingdoms safely secret. If humans knew we really existed, if they believed we were something more than mystical creatures of ancient myth, we’d be in for a world of trouble. Scientists. Journalists. Government agencies with the ability to make entire kingdoms disappear. They’d all be knocking at our door—or, rather, swimming in our pool—in a flash. Our quiet world would become a maelstrom, and the peace we’ve spent centuries cultivating would vanish. Not exactly every mermaid’s dream.