Just for Fins (13 page)

Chapter 15

“I
t's good to be a senior,” Brody says, leaning back against the picnic table.

“And a sophomore.” Doe pokes him in the ribs.

Brody grins at her. “But sophomores aren't supposed to eat lunch outside. That's a senior's right.”

“It's true,” Shannen says, carefully unwrapping her sandwich.

Doe sticks out her tongue. The old Doe would have huffed and stormed away, but the new Doe just smiles and peels her orange.

I take a bite of my apple and lean into Quince's side.

We all agreed to bring our lunches today so we could ditch the cafeteria for a little time in the sun. I'm trying not to get tense every time a seagull flies by. Waiting for Daddy's message is making me nuts. I'm sure it won't come until at least after school, what with the time required for him to travel to Desfleurelle, speak with the king, and then send word to me.

Plus I'm still exhausted from all my swimming this weekend. Maybe I could catch a quick nap. I drop my head onto Quince's shoulder, glad that he decided to ditch the leather jacket in the heat, because that means there's only a thin layer of tee between him and me.

My eyes are closed and I'm just about to drift into dreamland when a loud voice says, “Hi, Brody.”

My shoulders tense.

“Hey, Court,” Brody says.

I sit up straight. Brody's ex-girlfriend is not my favorite human on the planet. When I had a crush on Brody, she was pretty horrid to me. I brace myself for whatever she's about to say.

To my utter shock, she turns and saunters over to the next picnic table and sits down with her friends. Is that going to be the end of it? She didn't even say a word to Doe.

Then it happens.

“I mean, seriously.” Courtney's voice floats over to our table. “Who carries a briefcase to high school?”

Every eye at our table locks onto Doe, whose briefcase is at her feet.

She meticulously peels the rest of her orange, pulls the segments apart, and sets them on her napkin. Gathering up the peel, she stands.

“I'll be right back.”

We all watch as she walks over to the nearest trash can. I think I'm holding my breath as she drops the orange rind into the garbage and turns back around. She's walking so casually, I think she's going to let it go.

Then, right as she passes the other table, she stops and leans down to whisper in Courtney's ear.

Courtney's spine stiffens. She turns and gives Doe a confused look. Doe nods.

I wait for the return fire, for Courtney to throw out some terrible comment in response to whatever Doe just said.

Instead, she nods in return and then turns back to her lunch.

Quince, Shannen, and I exchange stunned looks. We've all seen the wraths of Doe and Courtney individually. I think we all expected there to be fireworks when they finally confronted each other. This was . . . kind of anticlimactic.

Doe walks back to our table and takes her seat. I don't miss the fact that she reaches under the table to take Brody's hand. I'm amazed by her transformation. Clearly, being with Brody has been good for her.

“What did you say to her?” Shannen asks.

Doe blinks innocently as she says, “I told her if she ever spoke to my boyfriend again, I would send the entire school a picture of her American Girl–themed bedroom.”

Brody shrugs. “I thought it was cute.”

“I don't know what that is,” Doe finishes. “But I understand it is quite embarrassing.”

We all burst out laughing at Doe's brilliant blackmail. Leave it to my cousin to figure out how to take on Courtney once and for all.

We finish our lunch in peace and sun worship until the bell rings.

As we are walking back inside, I hear the familiar squawk of a messenger gull. I glance in the direction of the sound and spot it sitting on a hibiscus bush outside a row of classroom windows.

“I'll meet you inside,” I tell my friends as I drop and pretend to tie my shoelace. “Cover for me.”

Shannen nods and hurries inside. As soon as the doors close behind them and the picnic area is empty, I stand and walk over to the bush. After a quick peek into the window to make sure there isn't a class inside, I approach the gull.

I do one more quick glance around and then reach forward. The gull holds up its foot to give me better access. I quickly untie the string securing the kelpaper to its leg and remove the scroll.

“Thank you.”

The bird screeches and then flaps its wings, soaring into the sky and toward the ocean.

“Lily?”

I jump at the sound of my name. Spinning, I see Miss Molina standing on the sidewalk near the door I was supposed to have walked through to return from lunch.

“Oh, hi,” I say, quickly shoving the kelpaper into the pocket of my shorts. “I was just, uh, looking at this hibiscus flower.” I reach for the nearest flower, a bright white bloom. “Isn't it awesome?”

Miss Molina crosses the grass between us, and I think she's going to inspect the flower. Instead, she asks, “Did you just take something off a seagull's leg?”

My heart pounds like crazy. “Um, what? No, that's—”

“I saw you.” She nods at the windows behind the bush. “That's my classroom. I was at my desk and watched as you walked up to the bird, untied something from its leg, and took off a piece of paper.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Think, Lily, think. I have to come up with a believable explanation. One that doesn't involve mindwashing Miss Molina, because this definitely isn't a disastrous enough reason to give myself a migraine. Surely I can come up with—

“Is it a pet?” she asks. “I've heard that seagulls can be trained, but I always doubted their reliability.”

“Yes!” I practically shout, grateful for her giving me an answer. “My aunt Rachel trained him to bring me messages at school.” I pull the crumpled kelpaper out of my pocket and hold it up as evidence. “Isn't that cool?”

“Very.” She turns her head in the direction the bird went, like she's hoping to spot it in the sky. When she doesn't, she turns back to me. “Very impressive.” Then, as if remembering that I'm a student and not in class, she says, “Shouldn't you be somewhere?”

“Yes,” I say. “Art. Don't want to be late.”

Miss Molina smiles as she says, “Then you'd better be on your way. The second bell is going to ring soon.”

I nod and start around her, heading for the door. I'm two steps onto the sidewalk when I turn back.

“Can I ask you something?”

She smiles and joins me on the sidewalk. “Of course.”

“So, you remember how I asked you about getting people involved in an organization?” I ask, twisting the kelpaper of Daddy's scroll in my hands.

Miss Molina nods.

“Well, what if some of the people involved want to do things a different way?” I ask, trying to word this in the most generic, there's-nothing-weird-about-me, I'm-not-a-mermaid way possible. “What if they want to do something I think is wrong? Or illegal?”

“That sounds very dangerous, Lily,” she says, her tone and her face equally serious. “Maybe those people should not be involved in your organization.”

Like that's an option.

“What if they have to be?” I ask. “How do you convince people that what they're doing is wrong?”

“You could go to the police,” she suggests.

I bite my lips so I don't laugh. There is no such thing as police in the mer world, only royal guards and the judgment of kings and queens. And telling human police is so not an option.

“What if I can't?” I ask, and from the confused and concerned look on her face, I can tell she's starting to worry about me. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I'm worrying about nothing and Daddy's note says there's no truth to Aurita's claim. “I'll figure it out,” I say, turning to leave, eager to get inside and read the message. “Thanks anyway.”

“Why are they doing it?” she asks. When I turn back around, she adds, “Do they believe they are doing these things for the right reasons?”

I think about it for a few seconds and then sigh. “Yes, they do.”

“You know, when I was in school, I was involved in a group dedicated to saving the Everglades from tourism and development.” She gives me a small smile. “Some of the other members thought we needed to achieve our ends by any means necessary. Some of them went so far as burning a small cruise boat that took tourists through the swamp.”

“Oh no,” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Fortunately not,” she says. “But those involved were arrested, and our organization fell apart in the face of the scandal.”

“That's terrible.”

“The saddest thing was,” she says, “they thought they were doing the right thing. Or at least for the right reasons. Their lives, as well as the life of the tour operator and the relations between the people who make a living from the swamp and the environmentalists who want to preserve it, were irreparably damaged.”

This is exactly what I'm afraid of happening in my world. If there are merfolk determined to sabotage human operations in the seas, then that will affect both worlds in a bad way.

“To this day,” Miss Molina continues, “I regret not doing something to stop them. If you are facing a similar situation, my advice is to find another way for your friends to achieve their end goals. You can't stop them head-on—I tried that. You need to find an alternative solution.”

That's what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to get the mer kingdoms to work together instead of taking on these environmental challenges on their own, mer against human.

I guess it's good to know that I'm doing the right thing. I'm not even sure that anything needs to be done. I might just be overreacting, wanting to believe Aurita because I don't want to be wrong. I hope that's the case, because the idea of merfolk fighting humans leaves my stomach in knots.

The bell rings and I'm going to be tardy. Again. At least my art teacher, Mrs. Ferraro, isn't really strict about that.

“Thanks, Miss Molina,” I say, backing away to the door. “That helps a lot.”

“You're welcome,” she calls out as I run inside.

My heart pounds as I unroll the scroll, eager to see what Daddy found out.

 

FROM THE DESK OF
KING WHELK OF THALASSINIA

 

After discussing the matter with King Zostero, I believe I was correct. Princess Aurita fabricated the tale and there are no such sabotage plans in place.

Sorry.

Daddy

 

I reread the words three times. This can't be right. I was
so
certain that Aurita was telling the truth.
So
certain.

But Daddy wouldn't lie—he has no reason to—and I trust his judgment. If he says she was making it up, then she must have been making it up.

I crumple the kelpaper in my fist.

Just because I accept his answer doesn't mean I like it. I don't like being wrong, and I don't like the idea that Aurita totally played me.

As I hurry to my locker, I tell myself I was wrong about Aurita. Everything is going to be fine, and next weekend I'll do my next round of royal visits to get support for my plan.

Everything is going to work out.

 

* * *

 

“I thought your father said there was nothing to the sabotage rumors,” Quince says as he stomps into my kitchen a few mornings later. His biker boots clomp across the floor, rattling my breakfast dishes.

He slams the morning paper down on the table and says, “Explain this.”

Prithi meows at the noise intrusion and dashes from the room.