Emerge (9 page)

My house is too quiet. I don’t hear music blasting from Lapis and Lazuli’s room, or the telltale clanking of pots in the kitchen that means my dad is cooking dinner, or even Emeraldine’s complaints that she’s trying to study and everyone better keep it down. A strange stillness fills the house, putting my nerves on edge.

“I’m home!” I call out tentatively, dropping my backpack by the door. “Dad?” No response. “Em?”

No one’s in the living room. I check the kitchen and the den. No one. The dining room. Empty. I run upstairs and search but don’t find anyone. Could they all have gone somewhere without letting me know?

If they did, they must have told Amy. I head down to the grottos, shedding my jeans and shoes along the way. No matter how cute and lacey it can be, underwear is an unnecessary hindrance I gave up on a long time ago.

The moment I open the door to the antechamber, the chatter of voices makes me breathe a huge sigh of relief. I can even make out my mother’s voice, which means she’s home early from the Foundation. Curious, I step into the canal, lower my now-naked bottom half into the cool water, and relax. The rushing sensation of invisible tides flows up and down my legs as they meld together into one strong, golden tail that propels me into the main ballroom, then into the hallway as I follow the voices to Amy’s room.

“What are we doing?” Everyone turns to look at me from around Amy’s bed, huge smiles on their faces.

“Lia! Look!” Amy squeals. I look, but all I see is Amy, lying on her sponge bed with a soaking wet blanket covering the top half of her tail.

“What am I looking at?”

“Just give it a second, will you?” she answers back.

In a flash, Amy’s shining purple tail disappears. In its place is a pair of pale, gangly legs! It only takes half a second for her tail to return, but those were definitely legs.

“Ah!” Now I’m the one squealing. I throw my arms around Amy and let go just in time to see her legs flicker into existence again. My whole family cheers.

“My baby cousin has legs!” Before I can stop myself, I’m squeezing her into another hug.

“Not a baby anymore,” my mom says, giving Amy a smile.

“Sure isn’t. Those are some damn sexy legs you got there, Aims.”

“Lapis!” Emeraldine admonishes, beating my mom to the punch.

“All Lapis means is we better watch out. Amy’ll be beating the boys off with a coral rod soon enough.” Amy blushes at Lazuli’s words.

“Of course she will. She’s a Nautilus woman,” my dad says with a wink.

“She certainly is,” my mother adds.

“Can I go upstairs, Aunt Nerissa? I want to take a walk.”

My mother smiles warmly at her but shakes her head. “Let’s wait until you can maintain all your limbs for a few minutes, shall we?”

Amy’s legs are still morphing into a tail and back again every few seconds.

“How do I keep my legs?” Amy asks.

The twins share a knowing look. My father scratches the back of his head where his hair is still thick and glances at my mother, who gives a tiny nod.

“I’ll go get dinner ready and leave you ladies to … talk,” he says before swimming to the door. “Congratulations, Amy.”

Once he’s out of earshot, my mother sits on the bed and strokes a hand through Amy’s long, strawberry blond hair. “Amethyst, maintaining your legs can be a challenge. Walking doesn’t come naturally to us. Until the wars drove us to learn how to survive on land, trips above water were rare. Even the most accomplished Mer had never kept their legs for more than a few hours for such a visit. Most only ever used their legs at all for … the obvious purpose.”

“Sex,” Lapis clarifies. Even Below, Mer need legs to have sex. Our reproductive systems are built like humans’, but our tails cover up … the necessary body parts. That’s why getting legs is part of puberty.

“For mating, yes,” my mother says. “Of course, we considered this when we first decided to live on land. That’s how we discovered the key to maintaining legs, at least at first, is to contemplate their original purpose. This won’t be necessary after some practice, but for right now, a certain level of maturity and self-awareness will go a long way.”

Amy tries to follow this, but she looks confused.

“What you want to do,” Em interjects, “is embrace your natural impulses. You don’t need to act on those urges—thinking about them will be enough. You’ll see.”

“Does that make sense, sweetheart?” my mother asks.

“Um … yeah. Thanks.” When my mother leans in to hug her, Amy shoots me a puzzled look, and I smile reassuringly. When Mom gave me this same talk about self-awareness and natural urges, I had no clue what she meant. Until Lapis and Lazuli gave me a talk of their own afterwards. I remember lying on my bed, the way Amy is now, watching my new legs melt into familiar golden scales every few seconds. I willed with all my might for the legs to just … stay. I closed my eyes and visualized it, thinking maybe that’s what my mom had meant, but nothing happened. Then, the twins came into my grotto bedroom.

“Any luck, little sis?” Lazuli had asked.

“No,” I pouted.

“Let me guess. Mom’s little heart-to-heart left a lot to be desired.”

“It … helped. Kind of.”

“Lucky for you,” Lapis chimed in, “we’re going to help a lot more. It’s actually simple. What are your legs for?”

“Walking,” I said like it was a no-brainer.

“Urrr!” Lapis made the sound of a game show buzzer. “Wrong. But thanks for playing.”

Lazuli sat on my bed. “As usual, you’re thinking like a human. You’re a Mermaid, Lia.”

“Gee, thanks for the update,” I said sarcastically.

“As a Mermaid who’s supposed to live in the ocean and would never need to step foot on land, what are your legs for?”

Oh! That. “Um … s-sex.”

“Give the Mergirl a prize!” Lapis announced in her game show voice.

“So what does that matter?” I was nervous about where the conversation was heading. I was only fourteen then, and talking about sex with my boy crazy older sisters wasn’t something I was comfortable with. It still isn’t.

“If we were all living Below,” Lazuli explained, “the only time we’d even have legs is right before we—”

“Got it on with some buff young Merstud,” Lapis concluded. “So, all you have to do is think slutty thoughts and your legs will stay firmly in place.”

“Thoughts can’t be slutty!” I argued, trying to poke holes in their theory. They’d played pranks on me before, and I wasn’t going to let them pull the algae over my eyes this time.

“That’s true,” Lazuli conceded. “So, you should feel free to think whatever you want without getting all guilty about it.”

“Personally, I like to think about what it would feel like to—”

“Okay, enough. I get it.”

“Do you?” Lazuli asked, looking pointedly at my ever-disappearing legs. They hadn’t held for more than ten seconds at a time.

“Lia, listen,” Lapis said, her voice losing all trace of theatrics, “you don’t need to be embarrassed. You’re older now, and these kinds of thoughts are natural. At your age, they’re practically required. Now, close your eyes.”

I looked at her skeptically.

“Trust me,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

“I want you to imagine … um … ”

“Caspian,” Lazuli suggested.

My eyes flew open. “He’s my friend!”

“Your friend has gotten totally ripped. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Of course I’d noticed. That was the year Caspian went from being a wiry kid to looking like he’d stepped off the cover of one of Em’s hidden romance novels. “I’m not picturing him that way.”

“Relax,” Lazuli insisted. “I’ll keep it PG.” I glared at her in warning before closing my eyes again. “Well, PG-13.” She told me to picture his biceps, his abs, his new legs (which I’d only seen a handful of times, but already knew were muscular and strong). “Now open your eyes.”

I looked down to see my legs holding steadily.

The twins smiled at me, looking almost proud. “Well, what do you know? Our little sister’s all grown up.”

In the months that followed, I kept what the twins said in mind while I practiced. It didn’t feel right to keep thinking about Caspian that way, so I focused on guys I’d seen in magazines or on TV and even imagined a few of the characters from my favorite books. I got the hang of it soon enough.

Now I look at Amy with her new legs still flickering in and out; she’s growing up, too. It’s my job to help her get the hang of it.

“Don’t forget to shell call your mother after dinner,” my mom tells Amy. “She’ll be so excited. Your uncle and I might just have to plan a surprise, now that everyone in the family has legs.” She gives Amy another hug before heading upstairs.

As soon as my mother leaves, Emeraldine pulls Amy into a hug of her own. “I’m so proud of you. Make sure you let me know if you need anything. When you’re ready, I’ll take you for a pedicure.” Amy’s face lights up. “Lapis, Lazuli,” Emeraldine continues, “let’s go help Dad with dinner.” Clearly, Em doesn’t want the twins corrupting our little cousin.

Em swims out of the room, expecting the twins to follow. “You got this?” Lapis asks me.

“I got it.”

“You’re a knockout, Aims,” Lapis says as she leaves.

“You’ll have to borrow some of my miniskirts to show those off,” Lazuli says with a nod at Amy’s legs as she follows Lapis out, leaving the two of us alone.

“Careful,” I say. “Some of Lazuli’s miniskirts are downright dangerous.” Amy laughs, still beaming. “Didn’t I tell you your legs would be beautiful?”

“They’re nice aren’t they?” Amy’s grin reaches her ears. “Okay, so tell me how I really do this.” She’s looking at me expectantly. Here goes.

I launch into my own version of the talk. It’s more watered down than the one I got from the twins, but I cover all the basics. Amy doesn’t look as uncomfortable as I did afterward.

“That makes sense,” she says, sounding a little overwhelmed.

“If you’re having any trouble,” I tell her, “just think about a boy you like.”

“I’ve been thinking … ” Clay trails off.

“About?”

“Your legs.”

I swivel my chair around to face Clay, but his eyes stay focused on the computer screen. Only the lift at the corner of his mouth tells me he’s aware of my surprise.

“You’ve been thinking about my legs?”

“Yep. They’re the problem.”

“You have a problem with my legs?”

He turns to face me. “I have no problem with your legs.” I look down, in case I’m blushing. “But they’re what’s causing all your trouble in self-defense. Last week, when we covered punches, you were fine. But now that we’re covering blocking with the legs and kicking, you’re spending all of class—”

“Tripping over myself. Yeah, I know.” I want to joke about him looking at my legs, but we’re already in dangerous territory.
He’s a human
, I remind myself.
He’s a human with a girlfriend.
I steer us onto safer seas. “Shouldn’t we be researching our ancestors?”

We’re in the computer lab that’s attached to the library, and we’re supposed to be looking up our relatives in a census database. Mr. Reitzel has left us to our own devices while he grades papers right outside.

“I’ve already found out my first ancestors to come over from Europe in the late 1800s opened a restaurant in New York. That’s enough work for today. Now, since we’re officially friends again, I want to help you conquer this P.E. problem.”

“Well, since we’re officially friends again,” I say with a smile, “I’ll be honest and tell you I don’t think there’s much hope in that department.”

“There’s always hope, even for something you think you’ve crossed off your list. It just takes a little creativity.”

“So, Mr. Creativity, where did you learn your mad fighting skills?”

He hesitates. “Can you keep a secret?”

“I’m just about a master at it,” I answer honestly.

“I didn’t have a choice. I was getting picked on bad in middle school.”

“Really?” I find this kind of hard to believe. Clay’s rough-and-tumble look makes him come off pretty tough. Plus, one glance at his arms makes it obvious he’s a strong guy—not exactly the type you’d want to mess with.

“Really. I was scrawny back then, and I was always hanging out in the back of the science lab at lunch, writing songs.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to call him out on his behavior. Does he think it’s embarrassing? When I stay quiet and keep listening, he continues.

“Anyway, this was when my dad still lived with us and, y’know, big navy man saw his son come home with too many bruises. He called up one of his squadron buddies and had me learn how to defend myself. No bowing or colored belts or anything. Just how to avoid a punch and how to dish one out when it’s necessary.”

“Were you able to stop them from bullying you?”

“In time I got ’em off my back, yeah. The growth spurt also helped a lot.”

“If all else fails, maybe you can beat up Coach Crane for me,” I joke.

He looks relieved, like he thought I might make fun of him. “I don’t know if even I’m up to taking her on.” We both laugh, our computers forgotten. “Hey, I wanted to tell y—”