Emerge (11 page)

After a dozen more practice runs, I’m getting the hang of it. I’m imagining how fun it will be to land all my kicks next class and see the shocked look on the coach’s face. The fantasy is interrupted when Clay’s phone rings. Some rock song I don’t recognize.

It’s probably Melusine. Every time Clay and I have worked on the project after school, she’s called around now. It’s like she can’t stand to go without talking to him for more than a few hours. Can you say needy? “You can get that,” I say.

“I can call back.”

“Aren’t we pretty much done?”

“Ready to be rid of me, Nautilus?”

“No! I just mean, those are all the moves we’ve covered in class.” The phone stops ringing. Knowing he chose not to answer it makes me smile.

“I talked to Coach. We’re learning ground fighting next week. You and I should get a head start.”

Clay’s body presses against mine. I’m lying on my back on the mat with Clay on top of me, and I’m desperately trying to remember to keep my breathing steady. I’ve never been this close to him before.

“Now, wrap your legs around me and pull me in.”

I didn’t hear that right, did I? “What?”

“It’s for the Switch Back Sweep—a jiu-jitsu move Coach said we’ll be starting with.” He gives me a half-smile, like he understands my hesitation. “Don’t worry, Nautilus, I won’t read anything into it.”

I wrap both my legs around his waist and press against the small of his back to pull him toward me. He’s even closer now, our bodies touching from hip to chest.

“Good.” He takes a deep breath. Is this affecting him, too? “That will get your attacker off balance.”

He shifts his torso upward and places his hands below my collarbone. His fingertips rest above the neckline of my tank top. Against my bare skin.

“So, next, you want to move my hands.”

“Move your hands?”

“Right, because from here, I could attempt a choke.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” It’s hard to sound cool when I’m so aware of his weight on top of me. It should feel claustrophobic or intimidating, considering he’s posing as an attacker; instead it feels like he’s protecting me, covering my body to keep me safe.

“Hold my right wrist and forearm with both hands, thumbs down, and pull my arm over your shoulder so I fall forward.” I follow his instructions, feeling his muscles move under my palms.

“Now put your left leg down and turn your hips so that your, um, butt faces that corner.” I do, and our bodies shift against one another to accommodate the change. Clay talks me through how to use his own arm to place him in a chokehold while I hook my other hand underneath his knee. That’s supposed to put me in the power position, but I keep messing up and having to go back a few steps.

“I feel like a pretzel,” I mutter. Clay’s so much bigger than me that this feels impossible.

“Stop assuming you can’t do it.” Clay’s tone is serious. “If using this move could help save your life, could protect someone you love from getting hurt, you would do it. And you’d get it right. You can do this, Lia.” Hearing Clay talk about me with such confidence, like he believes in me, is motivating.

He’s right—I can do this. I bring one hand around to create the chokehold at the same time that I angle my hips toward the corner, reach under his knee, and lift with all my strength. My body rolls over Clay’s. I’ve flipped us over.

It’s empowering. Like I can handle myself, protect myself.

I release Clay’s arm and look down at him. That’s when I realize the ending position of this move has me straddling him. His hazel eyes meet mine, and I stop moving. A part of my brain knows I should get up, move away. But it’s as if my body is fused to his. My breath still comes in hard pants from the exertion, and the room is warm now despite the central air conditioning. All I seem to be able to do is stare at Clay. At Clay’s lips.

A lock of my hair has fallen out of its makeshift bun and hangs between us. His thumb skims my forehead and the shell of my ear as he tucks it away. We’re so close together that Clay fills my entire field of vision. Every detail of his face is exquisite. I want to stroke his cheek, see what the light stubble there feels like. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, and I’m seized by the urge to press my mouth to his. His chest rises and falls beneath me; he’s breathing hard, too.

The blaring rocker notes of his ringtone are the worst sound I’ve ever heard. We stay frozen until the jarring noise rings out again and shatters the heat between us. Clay’s large hands grip my waist and lift me up. Coming back to my senses, I take over and move on my own. His girlfriend is calling. His
girlfriend
! What’s wrong with me?

“I should get this,” he says, his voice ragged. “I didn’t answer it before.”

“Yeah, you should.” I take another step back, away from Clay, and busy myself with fixing my hair while he answers the phone.

“Hi, Mel. Yeah, sorry I didn’t pick up before. Lia’s here and we’re … working on school stuff.” A pause. She must be speaking. Then, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

My heart aches and my throat constricts. Of course he wants to talk to her—they’re together. I want to run out of the room, to be anywhere else. I could escape to the bathroom, but that would mean missing the rest of their conversation. I’m torturing myself, but I stay.

It doesn’t do me any good. Melusine must be talking now because Clay’s quiet, but I can’t hear her end of the conversation. Minutes drag by like hours until Clay says, “Got it. Talk to you later, Mel.”

I look up from where I’ve been pretending to futz with my shoe. Clay’s expression, so open and exposed earlier, has shuttered off. Is he angry at me for what almost happened? At himself?

“We’ve gotten enough done. You should probably go home.” He doesn’t sound angry exactly, just … cold.

I don’t want to leave on such a strained note. “Thanks for helping me with self-defense. You’re a real lifesaver. Or grade saver … ” Great, now I’m rambling. Clay stares at me, silent. “I’ll see you and Mel at school,” I continue, walking out of the den and into the hallway. It seems like forever ago that Clay and I moved together down this same hallway with his hands covering my eyes. Clay follows me to the door.

“We’re okay, right?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says, but his tone is the opposite of comforting. “See you at school.” His voice is robotic, like he’s only saying what he has to to get me to leave. I want to say more, to make things better, but as soon as I step over the threshold, he shuts the door without a second glance.

I’m so tied up in knots that it’s all I can do to slap a fake smile on my face when I walk in my front door and find my whole family in the living room.

“Look who walked up the stairs all by herself,” my mother announces, gesturing to where Amy sits on the couch beside her.

“Stairs are complicated,” Amy says, only half-joking.

“Now that we’re all here,” my mother says, “your father and I have a surprise. It’s a congratulations gift for Amy, but I think you’ll all enjoy it.”

“I left it next door,” my father says, rising to his feet.

We spend the next few minutes trying in vain to wrestle clues from my mom. Then it happens. My dad comes in holding a wiggly, furry, happy—puppy!

“
PUPPY
!” Amy and Em cry out together.

We rush forward as my dad places the tan, shaggy bundle on the ground. In her excitement, Amy loses focus and flops to the floor, her purple tail back in place and the cotton skirt she’s wearing now rucked up around her waist.

My parents take in an audible breath. We’ve never had any pets in our home before. They believe restricting fish to bowls is cruel, and land animals make them nervous. How will this four-legged creature react to a Mermaid in her true form?

The puppy tilts its head in curiosity then runs right toward Amy. We all watch as it sniffs her tail. Then—taking advantage of her position on the floor—the puppy jumps right up to her chest and licks everywhere he can reach.

“He likes me!” Amy exclaims through her giggles. “Is it a he, Uncle Edmar?”

“It’s a he,” my father confirms, letting out a sigh of relief. “I finally have another male in this house.”

“Do you like him?” my mother asks.

“What do you think?” Lapis asks sarcastically, kneeling to scratch his head.

“He’s just about the handsomest puppy ever!” Lazuli adds, dropping to the floor to get in on the action.

“I always told you dogs would be Mer-friendly,” Em says, holding out her hand for the puppy to sniff before petting him. “They love water.” Emeraldine has been trying to convince our parents to get a dog for ages.

Except for one family that has a couple turtles, no one in the Community keeps a pet. Dogs, cats, hamsters—they’re just too foreign for parents who grew up in the ocean to get used to. I’m friendly with a family of bottlenose dolphins and three different sea lions that I play with sometimes on my swims, but I certainly don’t own them. Amy hands me the squirming puppy. Shaggy beige fur frames big, brown eyes.

“Hello,” I say. He barks once. I think I’m in love.

“Stop hogging my new boyfriend, Lia,” Lazuli jokes, reaching out for him.

“We’re just getting to know each other.” I put him down on the ground where he scurries between all of us, then tugs on a shoelace from Lapis’s knee-high boot.

“Look! He has good taste,” she squeals.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Amy says to my parents. We all repeat the sentiment, and they smile, looking both pleased and relieved.

“I can’t believe this,” I say. “I thought you’d never let us have a land pet.”

“We’re constantly telling you girls to acclimate, so we figured we’d try to ourselves,” my father says.

“But no one else in the Foundation—”

“There’s a first time for everything,” my father cuts me off with a warm smile.

“We’ll be pioneers,” my mother adds.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll even start a trend,” my dad says.

“Besides, this way Amy will have good motivation to learn to walk.” My mother glances around to make sure we’re listening. “And I expect all of you to help out by taking turns walking this little guy in the meantime.” This has to be the first household chore in history we’re all enthusiastic about.

“Hey, Em,” Amy says as Em rubs the pup’s belly, “you should call Leo. The two of you can take the puppy on his first walk together.”

“Maybe. I think he has plans tonight.” Emeraldine gets up and walks toward the kitchen. Her cheery tone sounds forced when she says, “I’ll get our new little monster some salmon. I think we have some that’s cooked.”

“Nice try, Aims,” I whisper. Em told me she talked to Leomaris at the party. They’re still together, but they couldn’t come to any decision. She believes in following tradition and he says that’s not the type of marriage he wants. I guess they’re at a standstill. A really strained standstill. I haven’t seen this little of Leo since before they started dating. And I definitely haven’t heard any more talk about an engagement.

“I hope they work it out soon,” Amy says, voicing my own concerns.

“They will.” I hope I’m right.

Amy closes her eyes, and a moment later, she’s pulling her skirt down over her new legs, which of course the puppy has to sniff.

“Great job!” I say, complimenting her improved leg control. Then, keeping my voice low so the others won’t hear: “So, I guess you’ve found a guy to think about?”

“Yeah, there’s someone.” Amy ducks her head, and I know better than to push for details, no matter how much I want to.

“I can’t believe you got my parents to get a dog,” I say instead. “You are so their favorite.”

“We should get him a studded collar,” Lapis suggests.

“Gross,” Lazuli says. “I refuse to let you turn him into a punk rock puppy. I say rhinestones all the way.”

I take another look at the furry mutt. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the rhinestones type. Then again, I can’t picture him in studs either.

“Uncle Edmar, what’s his name?” Amy asks.

“That’s up to you.”