Forgive My Fins
Page 36
“Yes, Shannen,” I say, exasperated. “Quince. Me. Motorcycle.”
“What were you—”
“Lily!”
Speak of the devilfish.
A groan seeps from me. I know that ignoring him won’t make him go away—in fact, I’m starting to think it only encourages him—but I just can’t formulate a response. I was so not prepared to deal with the inevitable questions from Shannen. Especially not after the morning I’ve had.
“Wait up,” he calls to us.
Shannen, still walking backward, looks over my shoulder—presumably at Quince hurrying to catch up.
“What’s going on?” she mouths.
As if I could explain. I just kind of roll my eyes and shake my head.
“Hey,” he says as he reaches my side. “You left before I could offer you a ride to school.”
“I prefer walking,” I reply, avoiding Shannen’s wide-eyed, questioning gaze. “A unicycle would be safer than that death trap.”
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have insulted his baby. He loves that bike more than just about anything. Still, I think I underestimated his retaliation skills.
“You didn’t seem to mind the death trap last night,” he says smoothly, with a hint of innuendo that I know does not escape Shannen’s notice.
I stop in the middle of the hallway outside my American government classroom. A stunned Shannen stumbles a few steps back before catching herself, then watches, jaw dropped, as I turn on Quince.
“Did you want something?” I demand. “Or were you just trying to make my morning even worse?”
A spark of something—pain? or maybe sympathy?—flashes in his eyes. When he opens his mouth, somehow I know he’s going to apologize. Damselfish, this bond is making me way too in tune with his feelings.
“Forget it,” I interrupt before he can speak. “I’m having a rotten morning. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
Shannen makes a kind of choking sound.
Quince steps closer and, in a low voice that doesn’t carry beyond the two of us, says, “I’m sorry.” (See, I was right.) “I know this whole mess doesn’t change things between us.” He looks down, his eyelids lowering until his dark blond lashes fan out over his beautiful eyes. “But I keep having this urge to stick close. To protect you, or something.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s the bond. Magic.” Then, as I remember Shannen watching from a few feet away, I hurry to add, “We can talk after school.”
I rarely look into his eyes when I’m not furious with him. I feel the pull of his emotions mingling with mine and magnified by the bond. It’s hypnotizing. Especially since he looks just as drawn in.
Thankfully, his gaze shifts over my shoulder to Shannen, and when he looks back at me, he’s got some of that trademark attitude in place. He shakes his head. “Lunch.”
Unprepared to argue, I nod. He sidesteps and disappears into the crowded hallway. I can still feel him, though.
Great white shark, I need this separation before I get totally bondwashed.
“Excuse me?” Shannen blurts, stepping up to my side. “Did I miss something? What happened Friday night? Did something go wrong with Brody in the library?”
“No,” I insist. Not eager for the entire school to hear this tale, I drag Shannen into our classroom. “No, he never showed up. Quince did.”
“And…”
I twist into my desk, dropping my bag on the floor with a defeated thump. “And he kissed me.”
“What?” she squeals, dropping into her desk across the aisle. “Oh my God, how was it? Was he good? I bet he was good. He looks good, like he knows—”
“Shh!” I lean in close so she gets the clue to turn down the volume. “It was what it was. I’d rather forget about it.”
“Then what was that in the hall just now?” she asks, observant as always. “And why were you on his bike last night?”
“It’s complicated,” I say. How on earth can I ever explain the situation without telling Shannen my secret? I should have been thinking about this on the swim home last night, but I was too twisted up and turned around to think about much of anything.
“What?” She leans sideways so far, I’m afraid she’ll tip over. “Are you two dating now?”
I almost shout, “NO!!! Omifreakingod, are you crazy?!?”
But then I think, How else can I explain the situation? And things are only going to get worse over the next few days. The bond will continue to pull stronger every day. Since I can’t just say, “When he kissed me, we were instantly joined by a magical mermaid bond that Capheira created to encourage mermate fidelity and stave off loneliness in the cold, vast ocean,” this might be the only logical explanation we can offer.
Quince will just have to go along.
So, as much as it goes against my every Quince-hating principle, I hang my head and mutter, “Yeah, kind of.”
I’m saved from further explanation by the bell, a pop quiz, and a notes-intensive lecture on the Bill of Rights. But the instant the dismissal bell rings, Shannen has her bag on her shoulder and her questions ready.
“How did it happen?” she asks as we pour into the hall. “Was it sweet? Did you have a date last night? Does this mean you’re over Brody?”
“No!” I blurt. “No, no. Of course not.”
“What were you—”
“Lily!”
Speak of the devilfish.
A groan seeps from me. I know that ignoring him won’t make him go away—in fact, I’m starting to think it only encourages him—but I just can’t formulate a response. I was so not prepared to deal with the inevitable questions from Shannen. Especially not after the morning I’ve had.
“Wait up,” he calls to us.
Shannen, still walking backward, looks over my shoulder—presumably at Quince hurrying to catch up.
“What’s going on?” she mouths.
As if I could explain. I just kind of roll my eyes and shake my head.
“Hey,” he says as he reaches my side. “You left before I could offer you a ride to school.”
“I prefer walking,” I reply, avoiding Shannen’s wide-eyed, questioning gaze. “A unicycle would be safer than that death trap.”
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have insulted his baby. He loves that bike more than just about anything. Still, I think I underestimated his retaliation skills.
“You didn’t seem to mind the death trap last night,” he says smoothly, with a hint of innuendo that I know does not escape Shannen’s notice.
I stop in the middle of the hallway outside my American government classroom. A stunned Shannen stumbles a few steps back before catching herself, then watches, jaw dropped, as I turn on Quince.
“Did you want something?” I demand. “Or were you just trying to make my morning even worse?”
A spark of something—pain? or maybe sympathy?—flashes in his eyes. When he opens his mouth, somehow I know he’s going to apologize. Damselfish, this bond is making me way too in tune with his feelings.
“Forget it,” I interrupt before he can speak. “I’m having a rotten morning. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
Shannen makes a kind of choking sound.
Quince steps closer and, in a low voice that doesn’t carry beyond the two of us, says, “I’m sorry.” (See, I was right.) “I know this whole mess doesn’t change things between us.” He looks down, his eyelids lowering until his dark blond lashes fan out over his beautiful eyes. “But I keep having this urge to stick close. To protect you, or something.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It’s the bond. Magic.” Then, as I remember Shannen watching from a few feet away, I hurry to add, “We can talk after school.”
I rarely look into his eyes when I’m not furious with him. I feel the pull of his emotions mingling with mine and magnified by the bond. It’s hypnotizing. Especially since he looks just as drawn in.
Thankfully, his gaze shifts over my shoulder to Shannen, and when he looks back at me, he’s got some of that trademark attitude in place. He shakes his head. “Lunch.”
Unprepared to argue, I nod. He sidesteps and disappears into the crowded hallway. I can still feel him, though.
Great white shark, I need this separation before I get totally bondwashed.
“Excuse me?” Shannen blurts, stepping up to my side. “Did I miss something? What happened Friday night? Did something go wrong with Brody in the library?”
“No,” I insist. Not eager for the entire school to hear this tale, I drag Shannen into our classroom. “No, he never showed up. Quince did.”
“And…”
I twist into my desk, dropping my bag on the floor with a defeated thump. “And he kissed me.”
“What?” she squeals, dropping into her desk across the aisle. “Oh my God, how was it? Was he good? I bet he was good. He looks good, like he knows—”
“Shh!” I lean in close so she gets the clue to turn down the volume. “It was what it was. I’d rather forget about it.”
“Then what was that in the hall just now?” she asks, observant as always. “And why were you on his bike last night?”
“It’s complicated,” I say. How on earth can I ever explain the situation without telling Shannen my secret? I should have been thinking about this on the swim home last night, but I was too twisted up and turned around to think about much of anything.
“What?” She leans sideways so far, I’m afraid she’ll tip over. “Are you two dating now?”
I almost shout, “NO!!! Omifreakingod, are you crazy?!?”
But then I think, How else can I explain the situation? And things are only going to get worse over the next few days. The bond will continue to pull stronger every day. Since I can’t just say, “When he kissed me, we were instantly joined by a magical mermaid bond that Capheira created to encourage mermate fidelity and stave off loneliness in the cold, vast ocean,” this might be the only logical explanation we can offer.
Quince will just have to go along.
So, as much as it goes against my every Quince-hating principle, I hang my head and mutter, “Yeah, kind of.”
I’m saved from further explanation by the bell, a pop quiz, and a notes-intensive lecture on the Bill of Rights. But the instant the dismissal bell rings, Shannen has her bag on her shoulder and her questions ready.
“How did it happen?” she asks as we pour into the hall. “Was it sweet? Did you have a date last night? Does this mean you’re over Brody?”
“No!” I blurt. “No, no. Of course not.”
