Forgive My Fins
Page 65
I feel the tears tingle at the corners of my eyes. I need to get out of here before I start to sparkle. Daddy thinks I’m thrilled to be here, home and at his side. I don’t want to disillusion him. I don’t want him to know I’m just trying to forget.
Only I remember more each day. It’s like the bond is still holding me to Quince.
“May I be excused?” I ask, more formally than usual because of the setting. Blinking my eyes quickly to stem the sparkling, I don’t wait for Daddy to give his permission. As soon as I see him start to nod, I jet for the door.
Without going anywhere in particular, I swim through the hall and out the palace doors. As I cross the gardens, I remember Quince trying to ride the wakemaker—with little success. The excitement on his face made him look like a little boy on Christmas morning. In my memory, he looks up at me, his sea blue eyes twinkling, and smiles.
My eyes are probably shining like the sun by now.
Avoiding the palace gate—and the inquiring minds of the guards—I swim for the side wall, making it across and over into the relative privacy of life beyond the palace bounds.
Why is the right choice turning out to be so hard? Once the bond severed, setting Quince free for his land-based life, I should have been able to go back to normal—or at least something close to normal. Maybe the separation didn’t work? Maybe we’re still magically connected and that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop feeling him, and feeling his absence.
Before I realize where I’m going, I’m knocking on Peri’s front door.
Her mom answers, takes one look, and pulls me into a hug. “You poor dear.”
“Sorry”—sniff—“Mrs. Wentletrap”—sniff—“I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Don’t you worry,” she says, soothing her hands up and down my back. Twisting her head toward the upper levels, she shouts, “Peri! Lily is here!”
I’m still crying on Mrs. Wentletrap’s shoulders when Peri floats down. “Hey, Lily, I—”
I can just imagine what a mess I look like. Eyes sparkling with tears, hugging desperately to her mom, sniffling like a sick guppy. It’s a testament to my sorry state that I can’t even feel embarrassed for my complete and total breakdown.
“Oh, Lily,” she says, floating closer and adding her soothing hand to my back. “What happened?”
I look up at her, feeling bleak and desperate and so very, very sad. “It’s the bond,” I wail. “Daddy didn’t sever it right.”
That has to be why, right? That has to be why I can’t get Quince out of my mind, even though we’ve been separated for days. Why I still feel a part of him in my heart.
“Sweetie,” Peri says, all sympathy, “it’s not the bond.”
Sniff. “That’s what Quince said.”
“Mom, can you fix Lily a bowl of plumaria pudding?” Then, to me, “Let’s go talk in the family room.”
She leads me away while her mom swims off to the kitchen. Plumaria pudding is the undersea equivalent of chocolate. I don’t think a mountain of it could make this pain go away.
When her mom is out of earshot, Peri says, “Tell me you don’t love him.”
“What?” I look up, startled. What kind of question is that? Well, not a question, but a weird request.
“Lily”—she lays her hand on mine—“I’ve known you longer than just about anybody.”
I nod and sniff. We’ve been friends since almost forever.
“So that means I know you better than anybody.”
Probably also true.
“Keep that in mind when I tell you,” she says, “that I have never seen you as worked up about anything as you have been over Quince.”
“Just because he likes to push my buttons,” I say defensively. I know it’s a weak argument.
Peri rolls her eyes. “You’re not the most proactive girl in the sea,” she says. “You defer to people when maybe you shouldn’t, you take no action rather than create a potential incident. You take the safest course. I mean, you lusted after that guy Brody for how long without ever doing anything about it?”
“I was—” I start to defend myself, to say I was waiting for the right moment, but then I remember that it doesn’t matter anymore. Brody was a fantasy.
“Quince may push your buttons,” she says. “But when he’s around you…I don’t know, you have a fire inside. You meet him head-on, when you cow to others. You don’t back down from him.”
I think about that. It’s definitely true, I don’t take any carp from Quince. Ever. He pushes and I push back.
I’m not like that in the rest of my life. I’m not a push-over, really; it’s just that I don’t see the benefit in turning something into a massive confrontation. With Quince, I’m always itching for a fight.
I always thought it was just a personality quirk that came out when I’m away from the calming effects of water, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s Quince who brings my emotions to a boil.
But is that a good thing?
“What does that mean, Peri?” I shake my head. “That he brings out the worst in me?”
She shakes her head slowly, smiling. “I think he brings out the best you.”
The best me? That can’t be right. What’s so great about being an aggressive, confrontational person? I’d rather float off to the side than swim front and center. I avoid conflict in every possible way.
Only I remember more each day. It’s like the bond is still holding me to Quince.
“May I be excused?” I ask, more formally than usual because of the setting. Blinking my eyes quickly to stem the sparkling, I don’t wait for Daddy to give his permission. As soon as I see him start to nod, I jet for the door.
Without going anywhere in particular, I swim through the hall and out the palace doors. As I cross the gardens, I remember Quince trying to ride the wakemaker—with little success. The excitement on his face made him look like a little boy on Christmas morning. In my memory, he looks up at me, his sea blue eyes twinkling, and smiles.
My eyes are probably shining like the sun by now.
Avoiding the palace gate—and the inquiring minds of the guards—I swim for the side wall, making it across and over into the relative privacy of life beyond the palace bounds.
Why is the right choice turning out to be so hard? Once the bond severed, setting Quince free for his land-based life, I should have been able to go back to normal—or at least something close to normal. Maybe the separation didn’t work? Maybe we’re still magically connected and that’s why I can’t stop thinking about him. Can’t stop feeling him, and feeling his absence.
Before I realize where I’m going, I’m knocking on Peri’s front door.
Her mom answers, takes one look, and pulls me into a hug. “You poor dear.”
“Sorry”—sniff—“Mrs. Wentletrap”—sniff—“I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Don’t you worry,” she says, soothing her hands up and down my back. Twisting her head toward the upper levels, she shouts, “Peri! Lily is here!”
I’m still crying on Mrs. Wentletrap’s shoulders when Peri floats down. “Hey, Lily, I—”
I can just imagine what a mess I look like. Eyes sparkling with tears, hugging desperately to her mom, sniffling like a sick guppy. It’s a testament to my sorry state that I can’t even feel embarrassed for my complete and total breakdown.
“Oh, Lily,” she says, floating closer and adding her soothing hand to my back. “What happened?”
I look up at her, feeling bleak and desperate and so very, very sad. “It’s the bond,” I wail. “Daddy didn’t sever it right.”
That has to be why, right? That has to be why I can’t get Quince out of my mind, even though we’ve been separated for days. Why I still feel a part of him in my heart.
“Sweetie,” Peri says, all sympathy, “it’s not the bond.”
Sniff. “That’s what Quince said.”
“Mom, can you fix Lily a bowl of plumaria pudding?” Then, to me, “Let’s go talk in the family room.”
She leads me away while her mom swims off to the kitchen. Plumaria pudding is the undersea equivalent of chocolate. I don’t think a mountain of it could make this pain go away.
When her mom is out of earshot, Peri says, “Tell me you don’t love him.”
“What?” I look up, startled. What kind of question is that? Well, not a question, but a weird request.
“Lily”—she lays her hand on mine—“I’ve known you longer than just about anybody.”
I nod and sniff. We’ve been friends since almost forever.
“So that means I know you better than anybody.”
Probably also true.
“Keep that in mind when I tell you,” she says, “that I have never seen you as worked up about anything as you have been over Quince.”
“Just because he likes to push my buttons,” I say defensively. I know it’s a weak argument.
Peri rolls her eyes. “You’re not the most proactive girl in the sea,” she says. “You defer to people when maybe you shouldn’t, you take no action rather than create a potential incident. You take the safest course. I mean, you lusted after that guy Brody for how long without ever doing anything about it?”
“I was—” I start to defend myself, to say I was waiting for the right moment, but then I remember that it doesn’t matter anymore. Brody was a fantasy.
“Quince may push your buttons,” she says. “But when he’s around you…I don’t know, you have a fire inside. You meet him head-on, when you cow to others. You don’t back down from him.”
I think about that. It’s definitely true, I don’t take any carp from Quince. Ever. He pushes and I push back.
I’m not like that in the rest of my life. I’m not a push-over, really; it’s just that I don’t see the benefit in turning something into a massive confrontation. With Quince, I’m always itching for a fight.
I always thought it was just a personality quirk that came out when I’m away from the calming effects of water, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s Quince who brings my emotions to a boil.
But is that a good thing?
“What does that mean, Peri?” I shake my head. “That he brings out the worst in me?”
She shakes her head slowly, smiling. “I think he brings out the best you.”
The best me? That can’t be right. What’s so great about being an aggressive, confrontational person? I’d rather float off to the side than swim front and center. I avoid conflict in every possible way.
