Fins Are Forever
Page 19
Am I the only sane person who sees this as a shipwreck in progress?
“Then it’s settled,” Doe says. A loud honk, honk blares from the direction of the driveway between our house and Quince’s. “That’l be Brody. See you later.” She grabs her briefcase and heads out the kitchen door.
Dazed, I fol ow her, leaning out the door to watch her climb into Brody’s Camaro. He has his arm over the passenger seat, and when Doe sinks into the leather he tries to lean in for a kiss. Before I can shout “No!” she pul s back and laughingly pushes him to his side of the car.
Wel , at least there’s that. She’s not entirely without sense.
I can’t imagine what kind of disaster it would be if she let him kiss her and they wound up bonded. D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R.
On a melting-polar-ice-caps scale.
“This isn’t going to end wel ,” I mutter as I turn back into the kitchen.
Quince is there, wrapping his big, strong arms around me.
“Things could be worse,” he says.
“I don’t see how.”
“Wel ,” he says, leaning back to give me a cocky grin, “I could make you drive Princess to school.” As much as I want to stay in a bad mood, I can’t help but giggle. “Yeah,” I concede. “That would definitely be worse.
For everyone.”
Quince winks. “Especial y Princess.”
“I’m off to the shower,” Aunt Rachel announces. “You kids have a good day at school.”
When the sound of her footsteps on the stairs fades away, Quince asks, “Is she gone?”
I peer over his shoulder, through the kitchen, and into the hal beyond. Before I’m done nodding, his lips are on mine.
He gives me one of those long, soft, warm-al -over kisses that make me forget Dosinia and Brody and the SATs and anything that isn’t just enjoying this moment.
Ah, yes, I mental y sigh. Everything wil be fine.
Seven hours of school plus three hours of test prep equals complete brain fry. I’m pretty sure the goal of the SAT class is to teach me how to improve my score, but right now there are so many four-syl able words and mile-long equations floating around in my head that I can barely think straight, let alone actual y make sense of test questions.
If I took the test right now, I’d probably score a negative number.
For once I’m thankful for the walk home. Except for my nightly saltwater baths—which I’ve needed more than ever since Doe arrived, go figure—this walk is the first quiet time I’ve had in weeks. It should feel good to be alone with my own thoughts for a while. But as the whirlpool of test prep seeps slowly out of my brain, other thoughts flow in.
Like worrying about my interview on Saturday. And Doe’s impossible interest in Brody. And the whole renouncing-my-title thing.
Maybe it’s Doe’s presence, or the knowledge that I’m carrying out my final royal duty, but for whatever reason, thinking about the renunciation is getting harder and harder.
I’ve made my choice, and I know I can do a lot to protect Thalassinia here on land. It’s stil sad to think I won’t be Princess Waterlily anymore. I suppose it’s natural to have doubts about any major change. That doesn’t mean I’m making the wrong choice. It just means it’s a change.
Besides, I tried the alternative—giving up land and Quince and Aunt Rachel for a duty-fil ed life under the sea—and I couldn’t stand it. I’ve made the only choice I can.
With each step on the faded concrete I try to pound al those troubling thoughts out of my head. I can’t do anything about my worries right now. And dwel ing on them wil only lead to more stress and possibly an ulcer. Instead, I focus on the beautiful day around me, on the brightly colored flowers that line my street and the freedom of having time to myself. I focus on my breathing, thinking positive thoughts with every inhale.
Each lungful of fresh air feels like a crash of waves pounding the confusion out of my mind. The murk starts to settle and the waters clear. I look up at the sky, a perfect peri-winkle blue—which makes me think of my best friend, Peri, and I wonder what she’s doing right now, so far away.
I’l see her again soon because her mom is making the gown for my birthday bal .
Between the ocean breeze and thoughts of Peri and forced positivity, I’m starting to feel revived. Refreshed, like the crisp calm after a storm.
The only thing that could improve the situation more would be a long soak in a key-lime-salty bath. The tub and I have a date later this evening.
When I final y get home, I feel like a brand-new Lily and am looking forward to a post-school-and-test-prep snack. I think I’ve earned it. After bursting into the kitchen, I fling my backpack under the table and head to the fridge. There’s a sticky note from Aunt Rachel on the door, reminding us that she has a late class today and won’t be home until after eight. The good news is we’re going to order pizza.
That wil be a surprise for Doe.
She ignored me at lunch today and didn’t speak to me in art. Her message was clear: I overreacted this morning about her and Brody. Maybe she’s right. I should have more faith in her, I guess. She may be a boy-crazy toadfish, but she’s not stupid and she’s stil a merperson of royal descent. Duty and responsibility have been dril ed into her since guppyhood, too. Even if she usual y chooses to ignore them. She’s not going to accidental y reveal our secret or anything.
Grabbing a pair of cheese sticks from the fridge, I decide I need to apologize. If I’m going to teach her to not hate humans, I’m pretty sure she has to not hate me first.
“Then it’s settled,” Doe says. A loud honk, honk blares from the direction of the driveway between our house and Quince’s. “That’l be Brody. See you later.” She grabs her briefcase and heads out the kitchen door.
Dazed, I fol ow her, leaning out the door to watch her climb into Brody’s Camaro. He has his arm over the passenger seat, and when Doe sinks into the leather he tries to lean in for a kiss. Before I can shout “No!” she pul s back and laughingly pushes him to his side of the car.
Wel , at least there’s that. She’s not entirely without sense.
I can’t imagine what kind of disaster it would be if she let him kiss her and they wound up bonded. D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R.
On a melting-polar-ice-caps scale.
“This isn’t going to end wel ,” I mutter as I turn back into the kitchen.
Quince is there, wrapping his big, strong arms around me.
“Things could be worse,” he says.
“I don’t see how.”
“Wel ,” he says, leaning back to give me a cocky grin, “I could make you drive Princess to school.” As much as I want to stay in a bad mood, I can’t help but giggle. “Yeah,” I concede. “That would definitely be worse.
For everyone.”
Quince winks. “Especial y Princess.”
“I’m off to the shower,” Aunt Rachel announces. “You kids have a good day at school.”
When the sound of her footsteps on the stairs fades away, Quince asks, “Is she gone?”
I peer over his shoulder, through the kitchen, and into the hal beyond. Before I’m done nodding, his lips are on mine.
He gives me one of those long, soft, warm-al -over kisses that make me forget Dosinia and Brody and the SATs and anything that isn’t just enjoying this moment.
Ah, yes, I mental y sigh. Everything wil be fine.
Seven hours of school plus three hours of test prep equals complete brain fry. I’m pretty sure the goal of the SAT class is to teach me how to improve my score, but right now there are so many four-syl able words and mile-long equations floating around in my head that I can barely think straight, let alone actual y make sense of test questions.
If I took the test right now, I’d probably score a negative number.
For once I’m thankful for the walk home. Except for my nightly saltwater baths—which I’ve needed more than ever since Doe arrived, go figure—this walk is the first quiet time I’ve had in weeks. It should feel good to be alone with my own thoughts for a while. But as the whirlpool of test prep seeps slowly out of my brain, other thoughts flow in.
Like worrying about my interview on Saturday. And Doe’s impossible interest in Brody. And the whole renouncing-my-title thing.
Maybe it’s Doe’s presence, or the knowledge that I’m carrying out my final royal duty, but for whatever reason, thinking about the renunciation is getting harder and harder.
I’ve made my choice, and I know I can do a lot to protect Thalassinia here on land. It’s stil sad to think I won’t be Princess Waterlily anymore. I suppose it’s natural to have doubts about any major change. That doesn’t mean I’m making the wrong choice. It just means it’s a change.
Besides, I tried the alternative—giving up land and Quince and Aunt Rachel for a duty-fil ed life under the sea—and I couldn’t stand it. I’ve made the only choice I can.
With each step on the faded concrete I try to pound al those troubling thoughts out of my head. I can’t do anything about my worries right now. And dwel ing on them wil only lead to more stress and possibly an ulcer. Instead, I focus on the beautiful day around me, on the brightly colored flowers that line my street and the freedom of having time to myself. I focus on my breathing, thinking positive thoughts with every inhale.
Each lungful of fresh air feels like a crash of waves pounding the confusion out of my mind. The murk starts to settle and the waters clear. I look up at the sky, a perfect peri-winkle blue—which makes me think of my best friend, Peri, and I wonder what she’s doing right now, so far away.
I’l see her again soon because her mom is making the gown for my birthday bal .
Between the ocean breeze and thoughts of Peri and forced positivity, I’m starting to feel revived. Refreshed, like the crisp calm after a storm.
The only thing that could improve the situation more would be a long soak in a key-lime-salty bath. The tub and I have a date later this evening.
When I final y get home, I feel like a brand-new Lily and am looking forward to a post-school-and-test-prep snack. I think I’ve earned it. After bursting into the kitchen, I fling my backpack under the table and head to the fridge. There’s a sticky note from Aunt Rachel on the door, reminding us that she has a late class today and won’t be home until after eight. The good news is we’re going to order pizza.
That wil be a surprise for Doe.
She ignored me at lunch today and didn’t speak to me in art. Her message was clear: I overreacted this morning about her and Brody. Maybe she’s right. I should have more faith in her, I guess. She may be a boy-crazy toadfish, but she’s not stupid and she’s stil a merperson of royal descent. Duty and responsibility have been dril ed into her since guppyhood, too. Even if she usual y chooses to ignore them. She’s not going to accidental y reveal our secret or anything.
Grabbing a pair of cheese sticks from the fridge, I decide I need to apologize. If I’m going to teach her to not hate humans, I’m pretty sure she has to not hate me first.
