Pretty in Pearls: A Forgive My Fins Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) (8 page)

“We’re not, it’s just—” I have to get out of here. “It’s complicated.”

Prax’s smile gentles and he swims to my side. “This isn’t,” he insists. “It’s dinner. Nothing more. You’re allowed to go to dinner, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m—” I stop short, smiling as I realize he was trying to talk me into a corner. “Oh, I see what you did there.”

The hostess returns to the podium. “Your table is ready.”

Prax holds out his arm. “Come on. I’ve been dying to try their calamari-and-kombu deep dish.”

He’s right. This is just dinner. And Riatus doesn’t have a say in who I have dinner with. If he has a problem with this, then it’s
his
problem. Not mine.

I take Prax’s offered arm and we follow the hostess to our table. In my wildest fantasy, there would be a huge scene. I picture Riatus turning over tables and sending pizzas spinning through the water. A fight or an argument or at least an exchange of words.

Nothing like that happens.

So underwhelming.

He sees us. I know he sees us because the water temperature changes and, well, every time I look over at their table he’s glaring at us. But he doesn’t do or say anything. He finishes his meal with Coral and when they’re done they leave, swimming right past our table on the way to the door.

Coral waves at me as she swims by, casting a worried glance at my dinner companion. Riatus nudges her forward. He doesn’t even look at us.

When the door closes behind them I slump back into my seat.

“A little anticlimactic,” Prax says. “Don’t you think?”

I nod.

And more than a little disappointing. I’ve never been so sad to be proven right. Riatus wasn’t jealous, but I’m not even looking forward to gloating about that to Lily.

Tomorrow, I’m putting all of this behind me. I’ll never think of him again.

Prax offers to swim me home, but I want the night to be over. I want to get back to my house and curl up in my bed.

Only when I get there, I’m too wired to sleep. My body is full of restless energy. I can’t even think of going to sleep yet.

Instead, I head for Mom’s studio. Maybe I can get a little work done for her, or at least clean up.

Cleaning is always a great outlet for excess energy.

I start by putting away the trims-and-notions containers Mom has strung all over the room. Little bins of buttons and sequins, rolls of lace and piping, and several jars of pearls. As I’m placing the jar of tiny copper pearls back on the shelf—between the bronze ones and the chocolate-colored ones—I feel the telltale tingle in my eyes.

Of all the stupid things to cry about. Riatus never made any promises to me, never even asked me on an actual date or told me he likes me. Why would I even bother wasting tears on him?

And, more importantly, why can’t I stop?

“Do you store everything in color order?”

I shriek.

For the space of time it takes my brain to recognize Riatus’s voice, my scream echoes through the water. I smack my hand over my mouth as I spin around to face the window.

I hope that didn’t wake Mom.

Riatus is floating just outside, looking like he wants to come in but is afraid to. His pale eyes practically glow against the darkness of his hair and the night sea beyond.

I race to the window, careful to keep my voice low.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. “How do you even know where I live?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been delivering pearls to your mom for years.”

I open my mouth to argue—just for the sake of arguing—but then I realize how dumb that makes me look. Of course he’s delivered pearls to our house. I used to watch him from my bedroom window.

But that doesn’t answer my first question.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” I say. “Lurking outside my window in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not the middle of the night,” he argues. “And it’s not your window. It’s the studio.”

“But you
are
lurking.”

He shrugs again, as if he’s not going to argue.

I demand, “Why?”

He swims through the window and drifts to a stop mere inches from me. “To warn you. Prax is nothing but trouble.”

My inner mergirl does a little dance of victory, even as I acknowledge that this means Lily was right. He
is
jealous!

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” I throw back. “You can’t even like me, remember?”

“Don’t tempt me to make it my business,” he warns.

I laugh in his face. Is it just me, or is this getting ridiculous?

“He’s a great white,” Riatus says. “You’re just a guppy.”

“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” I turn away from him. “You weren’t invited in.”

His hand wraps around my upper arm and he spins me back to face him.

“I’m serious, Peri.” His face is so close our noses are practically touching. “Stay away from him.”

I lean back, trying to get enough distance to clear my thoughts.

“Or you’ll what, Riatus?” I draw in a deep breath. “I don’t belong to you.”

His voice is almost sad as he replies, “I know.”

My breath whooshes out of me in a swirl of current. We’re breathing the same water. He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body, warming me even as chills race down my spine.

In that moment, for just the barest hint of a second, I think about what it would be like to give my tail fin a tiny flick and press my lips against his.

As soon as the thought floats into my mind, I swirl it right back out. It’s wrong—so wrong on so many levels. In the human world, a kiss might be just a kiss, but down here . . . it’s so much more. The magic of a mer bond isn’t something to be entered into without the deepest of love. It’s an almost sacred connection between a couple.

Even the
thought
of rushing that kind of bond makes me feel guilty.

Almost as if he senses my thoughts, his gaze drops to my mouth for an instant before looking away. We both know that’s not the answer to the problems between us. It would only make things worse.

He turns and swims for the window, pausing before continuing through.

“Hate me if you want to,” he says over his shoulder. “But don’t use Prax to get my attention. You’ll pay too high a price.”

Then he’s gone.

That’s exactly my problem. I
can’t
hate him, even if I want to. I’m just going to have to find a way to live with that.

    
8

Y
ou look breathtaking.”

Mom’s eyes are sparkling with tears as I twirl in the dress she made me for the Sea Harvest Dance. The skirt swirls out around my tail fin, a circle of dreamy, ombré chiffon. A rich mahogany brown at the hem, the dress gradually lightens as it goes up. The bodice is a shimmery copper, covered in dozens of tiny copper pearls.

I feel like a mermaid princess.

“You will capture everyone’s attention,” Mom says.

She floats down to fuss with the hem. Never fully happy with a dress, she’s always fixing this or tweaking that until the moment it swims out the door.

“I’m not looking for attention,” I reply. “I just want to have a good time.”

Mom looks up, a skeptical smile in place. “If you say so.”

I smile back at her. It’s been the two of us for so long that sometimes we feel more like sisters than mother and daughter. I talk to her about almost everything, but some things—like a certain confusing merboy—I keep to myself.

“Why are boys so complicated?” I ask. “Why can’t they just, I don’t know, be normal?”

Mom laughs as she floats back up from my hem. “If love weren’t complicated,” she says, “then what would be the fun?”

“I can think of a thousand things,” I grumble.

“Are we talking about a specific merboy?” she asks. “I thought you were going to the dance with Lily.”

“Maybe,” I say, answering her first question as I grab my clutch from the table by the front door. “And I am going with Lily.”

Mom swims forward and plays with the carefully pinned curls in my hair. She gets this dreamy look on her face that I always assume means she’s thinking of Dad. He’s been gone for years and she still misses him.

It’s a testament to their love that she has never sought to sever their bond. In her mind they are still married.

“It will work out,” she finally says, swimming back to admire my whole image. “These things always do.”

The front door opens and Lily swims in, her royal escorts waiting outside. She’s wearing the dress Mom made her, a bubbly froth of iridescent lime-green-and-gold tulle over silk. She looks like a beautiful Caulerpa bouquet.

Quince wanted to be back in time to be her date to the festival, but she got a note this afternoon that he wouldn’t make it. I’m bummed for her, but that’s good news for me. At least I won’t have to go alone.

“Are we going to knock ’em dead or what, Mrs. Wentletrap?” Lily says as she floats to my side.

Mom smiles and shakes her head, her eyes sparkling even more than before.

“Without a doubt.” She presses her hands to her chest. “Someone needs to invent a sea camera so I can take a picture of this moment.”

Lily throws me a sideways smile. “Well, it just so happens . . .”

She reaches into her tiny purse and pulls out a bright yellow plastic camera, one of those ones designed for underwater photography. We don’t have the technology to develop film in the mer world, or the electricity to process digital pictures. Some things just don’t translate into underwater life.

Lily hands her camera to Mom and then floats back to my side.

“I’ll have the pictures printed next time I visit Aunt Rachel.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder and hugs me tight. “I’ll get a set printed on waterproof paper.”

Mom beams. I hug Lily back and we pose for the camera.

“I’m sorry Quince couldn’t make it,” I whisper between shots.

“Me too,” she replies with a wistful smile as she takes my hand. “But you’re a pretty decent consolation date.”

I grin and squeeze her hand.

By the time we swim off for the dance, Mom must have taken fifty pictures.

I just hope my good luck decides to hang out for a while so tonight is memorable in a good way.

The Sea Harvest Dance is the biggest underwater social event of the year, despite the terrible trio’s attempts to make their birthday bashes even more spectacular. King Whelk turns the entire palace grounds over to the royal party planners for the event. Bioluminescent fairy lights dot every surface and every corner with a rainbow of glow, making it look like nightfall in a magical kingdom—which it kind of is. Reggae dance music floats all around. Dozens of tables are spread out with the finest delicacies our kingdom—and the entire mer world—has to offer.

It all centers around the huge dance floor laid out in the south garden: a one-hundred-foot square surrounded by the glittering swirl of an artificial whirlpool. Legend says that any couple who kisses on the dance floor will be forever happy.

It’s just a romantic fairy tale, but it’s fun to think about.

“Where should we start?” Lily asks. “Food, drink, or dancing?”

“What about the carnival?”

I can see the top of the torpedo tube poking up behind the palace. It’s an amazing ride. A giant circular tube made of clear plastic, open at the bottom so merfolk can get in. Once inside, the three operators merge their powers to send the water inside the tube rushing, taking the riders with it. It’s like being a launched torpedo.

Lily grins. “Let’s do it.”

She grabs my hand and we swim around back. One day we’ll probably feel too old to ride the rides, but for now we’re going to have our fun while we can.

Two hours later, we’ve ridden every ride. Twice. It helps when your date is the princess and everyone offers to let her cut in line. She usually declined, but she gave in on the Octowhirl when we wanted to go a third time.

By the time we float back toward the dance floor, I’ve declared this the best Sea Harvest Festival ever. I haven’t had to see or deal with or even worry about any merboys. It’s been nothing but fun, just the two of us.

I can tell, though, that Lily is missing Quince.

“When does he come home now?” I ask.

She gives me a lovelorn smile. “Monday, after he takes his mom to work at her new job.”

“Two days.” I smile back. “That’s not long at all.”

She shakes her head as she looks out over the dance floor. “Nope, I can handle two more days.” Her gaze stops on something—someone—and her mouth drops open. “Oh no.”

I know what I’m going to see before I follow the direction of her stare. There, at the far edge of the dance floor, is Riatus.

“How dare he show up here?” she demands. “After he flirted with you and promised to—”

“He didn’t flirt with me,” I say. “He didn’t promise me anything.”

I spin to face her and swim backward toward the dance floor. “You know what, I’m going to dance by myself.”

Lily swims after me. “Oh no you’re not.”

There is something freeing about dancing with your best friend in front of the entire kingdom. I can’t say I’m not thinking about boys at all—Riatus is only half a dance floor away—but I’m trying not to. Lily and I let loose, dancing however we want. Wild, crazy, spinning, kicking, and generally sending the water around us into a tailspin. We draw the amused attention of some of the other dancers, but for the most part we’re in our own world.

Until someone taps me on the shoulder.

I stiffen, seriously expecting it to be Riatus because—well, because . . .
my luck
. As I spin around, I’m only slightly relieved to see that it’s Prax.

Despite my intention to completely ignore Riatus’s unexplained warning about him, something has seemed a little off with him from the beginning. Still, he’s been nothing but nice to me, so I smile.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” he says, flicking a glance at Lily, who is still dancing like a crazy mergirl.

“We are,” I reply.

“I don’t want to break up this awesome twosome,” he says, “but I was hoping for a dance.”

I hesitate. Something in my gut tells me to listen to Riatus on this one. But then again, something even bigger from somewhere in the vicinity of my bruised ego tells me that nothing would bother Riatus more than seeing me dance with Prax.

I kick my hesitation to the side, take his offered hand, and say, “I’d love to.”

He leads me a little ways deeper into the crowd, and a little closer to where Riatus is dancing with his sister. Maybe Prax wants to stick it to Riatus as much as I do. Works for me.

“I hope that big lug didn’t scare you off the other night,” he says as we start dancing.

“Who, Riatus?” Do we really have to talk about him? I shrug. “He has no effect on my life whatsoever.”

The band transitions to a new song, a slower song, and before I can think Prax has his arms around my waist and is pulling me closer. I force myself to relax. It’s just a dance.

“You’re better than him,” he says.

I smile, even though I’m cringing inside. “Than who?”

He gives me a wry look. “Pirate boy. He’s bad news.”

I don’t say, “He said the same thing about you.”

My gaze drifts to the merboy in question. As much as I want to believe that—not liking him would be so much easier if I really thought he was trouble—my gut says he’s not. I mean, how bad can he be if he’s escorting his younger sister to the Sea Harvest Dance?

I glance their way. She looks like she’s having the time of her life. This could even be her first dance. She
should
be having a great time.

Riatus, on the other hand, is fuming.

I turn away before he catches me looking.

“Let’s talk about something else,” I say. Anything else.

“I’d love to,” Prax says, his gaze trained back over my shoulder. “But I don’t think that’s possible.”

Before I can ask what he means, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Prax releases me and I float to his side. This is supposed to be where I make a joke, pretend to think Riatus means he wants to dance with Prax and not me. But I’m not feeling very funny right now. I’m tired. Tired of this back and forth, of not knowing where I stand or what he wants from me.

I’m tired of being the toy in the middle.

“Actually, I do mind,” I say. “I’m having a lovely dance and you are not welcome.”

As I turn away from him, I see his brows drop and his jaw muscles twitch. I’m sure the smirk on Prax’s face isn’t helping. His arms are back around my waist in an instant, and he pulls me even tighter against him.

I wiggle a little, trying to put some space between us, but he holds firm.

“I can’t breathe.” It’s an exaggeration, but I’m starting to feel a little claustrophobic.

“This is perfect,” Prax replies. “He’s going apoplectic.”

“Seriously,” I whisper furiously. “Ease off.”

He does the opposite, squeezing tighter as his hands drift down from my waist.

I stop playing nice and brace my palms against his shoulder. I push with all my strength, but he doesn’t budge.

I’m about to resort to something underhanded—biting, maybe, or a tail fin to the tenders—when suddenly he’s whirling me away from him.

He grins. “This is going to be good.”

“I warned you,” Riatus says, and at first I think he’s talking to me. “I warned you to stay away from her. From both of them.”

Riatus faces off with him, floating just inches apart. His hands are clenched into fists and he looks ready to tackle Prax.

The crowd around us inches away, leaving the three of us in an open circle. I see Lily swim up to the edge and give me a questioning look. As if I have any idea what’s going on here.

Prax spreads his arms wide. “It’s a free kingdom. A mergirl can dance with whoever she wants.”

Riatus shrugs. “That’s true. And I guess I’m free to tell her just what kind of guy you really are.”

“Who’s the one with a record?” Prax taunts.

“I’m sure you’ll have one soon enough.”

Prax is swinging before Riatus finishes his sentence. Riatus dodges right and the punch misses, swooshing through open water. Before Prax can recover, Riatus lands a solid hit to his jaw. Prax goes sailing, flipping end over end into the crowd.

When he rights himself, he says, “You’ll regret that.”