Into the Deep (3 page)

Chapter Four

Charlotte drops me off after school and, though a few hours have passed, the incident with the sharks replays vividly on a loop through my mind. My fingers shake when I reach out to open the front door. As much as I want to deny it, I’m certain what happened was because of me, no matter how insane it sounds. Explaining it to my mom is going to be tough, considering she warned me against the trip in the first place, which is troubling. I steel my resolve and vow to not fall apart as I did in front of my classmates.

Mom is in the kitchen working on dinner and I pause to study her, momentarily distracted. Barefoot and wearing low slung capris, stiffness holds her spine straight. She should let go of her worries and get out in the world, live a little. As far back as I can remember there’s never been a special guy for her. She doesn’t date and it’s a shame. My mom is quite a catch and it would have been nice to have a father figure around.

When she turns to greet me, blonde hair swishing around her shoulders, I’m frightened by the hollowness of her cheeks. “Hey, how was your day?” She says it lightly, but I hear the slight inflection in her tone and what she’s really asking. Now, I’m doubly suspicious. It’s ridiculous. There’s no way Mom knew the fish would freak out.

“Well, the fish followed me, like I was some marine Pied Piper, and a couple of really big sharks tried to bust through the glass to get at me. Other than that, it was fun.”

I had hoped my joking tone would alleviate the shock, hers, and mine, but it does the complete opposite, considering my bottom lip is trembling and my voice cracks. Her deep green eyes grow huge and she latches onto my wrists.

“Tell me exactly what happened, Zoey.”

“Why, Mom? Did you know something like this would come up?”

“What happened?” she repeats through a tight jaw, her green eyes flashing.

“No, not until you tell me what’s going on. You warned me against the field trip and then all this weird stuff went down. Plus, there’s the fact it was sharks,
again
. What’s wrong with me? You’re lying and I’m sick of it!” A dreadful thought occurs to me. “You’re not dying are you? Am I?” The idea of her being ill turns my stomach.

“Sweetie, no one is sick.” Yet, I watch her age ten years in front of me. She releases me and massages her temples. “There’s a lot for me to explain and you deserve to hear it all, but not tonight, not yet. I need more time. We’ll deal with it soon, I promise. Now, talk.”

I wish she’d get mad, give me a reaction other than defeat. When she doesn’t, I give in and tell her the story. Her color is bleached away with each word, deepening the lines I hadn’t noticed in her face before. Again, I am gripped with the desire to demand that she talk to me, but she won’t. It’s pointless to push it. She holds the power.

Instead of returning to the kitchen, she retreats to her room, and I’m left with rocks of anxiety in the pit of my stomach as I finish the lasagna. Like a spoiled child, I freeze her out exactly the same as she’s doing to me. I’m sick of feeling as if an anvil is dangling overhead, ready to drop at any second. I’m scared and have no idea why. It doesn’t help that I’m so self-conscious anyway, but she makes it worse sometimes with her secrets and obsessive worry.

The local news is on in the background and catches my attention.

“Evacuations continue in certain areas of La Jolla, the oceanside suburb of San Diego. In the past six weeks, the ocean has risen five feet, a number that has the best scientists completely stunned and residents scrambling to save their possessions. Yesterday, the San Diego Convention Center was closed indefinitely as the Pacific Ocean crept into its main floor.”

I watch in rapture as the screen displays pictures of beachfront homes sitting in water and the sodden levels of the huge, graceful building normally full of conventioneers. They flash to a gray-haired man from the Oceanic Institute.

“At the rate we’re witnessing the sea rise many of our major cities are in imminent danger. A rise in sea level in a metropolis such as San Diego or worse, New York, will be catastrophic. With no break in sight to these storm systems and the rapidly melting ice caps, the rain coastal regions are receiving won’t end soon.”

The image flicks to the news desk. “While many are adopting a doom and gloom attitude, some meteorologists are saying it’s not as bad as we’re being led to believe.”

Another man comes on screen, younger, with wire-rimmed glasses. “Weather phenomena similar to what we’re experiencing are not as rare as many claim. There has been a significant rise in sea temperature, there’s no denying it. That rise in temperature is melting the ice and creating these highly turbulent, moisture filled storms. It’s a natural cycle and there’s no reason not to trust it won’t stabilize soon.”

The news anchor frowns. “Not very reassuring, especially considering it seems the world’s oceans are acting in revolt against us. Panic is beginning to erupt in coastal cities as looting and riots become more common. As of now, most area beaches are closed and city officials are deciding whether or not they will evacuate Coronado Island. New reports say Hotel Coronado has six inches in its basements. Stay tuned and we’ll keep you informed of developments.” She folds her hands and tilts toward a different camera. “Next, we’ll take you live to Spain, the site of yesterday’s devastating tsunami and later, a report from San Francisco where emergency evacuations are also currently underway. But first, we’ll switch over to Courtney Phelps who is on site of the bizarre incident today at the San Diego Aquarium.”

Snapping off the TV set, I lean forward and blow out a resigned breath. The situation outside is worse than I ever imagined. Lately, the weather resembled Seattle rather than sunny Southern California, but I had no clue other parts of the west coast are flooding. My problems are suddenly much smaller in comparison.

At least until Mom walks through, silent as a ghost, with a vacant expression. Her normally healthy complexion is pale and gray.

Later, on the phone with Charlotte, I voice my frustrations. “Her attitude irritates me, but it scares me, too.”

“Scares you how?”

“I always figured it was me she was protecting. I see the toll it takes on her, keeping whatever it is to herself, and I’m afraid for her health. What if something is wrong with her?”

“We don’t realize how tough parents have it. Not only do they raise us, they have to protect us and figure out when we’re old enough to handle life’s surprises. Give your mom a break. She’s never let you down and she won’t this time either.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I grumble.

“I am, and so is your mom. You’ll understand soon enough. Trust me.” She pauses then says, “I can’t wait until Saturday.”

“Yeah, me too,” I sigh, grateful for the distraction. “Whenever you manage to drag me to the beach, I get a little closer and a little braver. If it weren’t for you I’d never have experienced how cool it felt to stand there with those waves pounding the surf.”

“It’s magical. I guess it is frightening also, if you’re unfamiliar with it, but you can’t live in fear.”

“You plan to be a motivational speaker instead of a vet, right?” I tease.

She laughs. “I’ve got some very big shoes to fill.”

“You never told me your parents were vets,” I say in surprise. She keeps a lot about them to herself so I don’t press it. I can’t imagine losing my mom when I was down a parent already.

“Yeah, they were,” she answers distractedly. “Try and sleep, you had a lot of excitement today.”

I say goodbye and push aside the sheet covering my stump. For months I couldn’t bear the sight of it. In the beginning, it’d been scabby and pulpy and gross. After a few surgeries, the end was smoother, stopping four inches above where my knee should be. I’m thankful for my health and that I’m able to maneuver as easily as I can, but it doesn’t stop the wishes. Alone, with no one to judge, I pray for a miracle, to feel normal again and not fixate on what’s missing.

I reach for my cream, a special concoction to smooth over the scars, and rub it in, letting the monotony of the familiar task lull me. It wasn’t until I was eight that my doctor mentioned fitting me for a prosthetic. The previous two years had been full of painful surgeries and a ton of missed school. To this day I loathe crutches, which I use only when the stump is bothering me. I avoid using them at school. I’d rather deal with the pain than wobbling through that maze. Learning to walk again was excruciating, as was learning my limitations. I’m still learning actually. I know a full day at Disneyland is too strenuous. When I sweat, the leg makes farting noises, and I realize driving is going to be a challenge. It will be difficult to control the pedals, so I chalk that up to yet another difference setting me apart.

Pushing aside the dark thoughts, I lay in bed while listening to the fierce, pounding rain. Dreams of sharks are coming, it goes without question. The entire night I’ve been on edge, jumping at shadows. Soon, it will fade and things will return to normal. At least a normal I am used to.

My mind drifts to what Charlotte said about parents having a tough job and how it’s true, especially for a single mom. I vow to be patient with her. She’ll share what is bothering her when she’s ready.

But as I make the promise, I realize it’s going to be difficult.

Chapter Five

Saturday evening is a welcome gift. Not only has the epic rain decided to stop for an evening, I’m desperate to be away from Mom, who broke her promise to give me any explanations at my birthday dinner. She delayed, saying she needed another couple of days. I don’t understand what can be so big that she’s this reluctant and scared.

Charlotte picks me up and I order myself to have fun. I refuse to let the weirdness with my mom hamper it. She doesn’t even bother with the usual list of safety instructions, which is another flashing neon sign something major is up. It’s never been this awkward between us and it sucks. I miss her and am concerned she’s becoming a stranger, one whose bombshell will shatter my world.

There’s already at least a dozen kids at the beach, one of the few that remain above water. Due to the rising sea levels, the sand, which is usually wide and flat, has shrunk to less than half its original size. The fire casts a white glow on the heavy, low lying clouds. It’s not raining, but the threat of precipitation lingers in the air.

Day passes to night without me really noticing and soon, stars pepper the sky where it breaks through the clouds. I stand by the ocean, listening to the waves, and my cheeks ache from smiling. Yet, it’s hard to peer out at the immense sea and not be fearful of what lurks beneath the surface.

I rejoin the group as they roast marshmallows and hot dogs, shyly taking a seat next to Scott. He offers me a grin and, for the first time all week, the knots of tension in my neck loosen, replaced by a different kind of nervousness. Suddenly, the sinking suspicion of not fitting into my life fades. Now, I’m only a teenager with an unattainable crush, not shark bait.

Later in the evening, Charlotte skips over and hugs me tight. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”

We wander down the beach to a secluded spot. Sand is awkward to walk in with a prosthetic so our progress is slow. Often, I have to reach out and hold onto my friend for balance, but I don’t give up. I keep a safe distance from the waves out of habit. As much as I love the feel of the sand and smell of the water, I’m wary of its grandness, its power, how quickly it can devour.

The storms have really churned up the surf. Large waves crash into the beach, replacing their soft rhythmic whoosh with a frantic, booming staccato and depositing a treasure trove of debris. Chunks of driftwood litter the sand and it’s tricky to step around the broken kelp. Remains of shattered shells lay abandoned, casualties of the sea’s invasion. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the salty and slightly fishy air. It doesn’t smell frightening. It’s wonderful.

Charlotte kicks off her flip-flops and bounds into the shallow, frothy surf. I watch her and jealously bubbles up from nowhere, mixing with the galloping of my heart.

“Come on, Zo,” she calls out her childhood nickname for me and I grin. “You’re a woman now. Face your fears. No more scared kid stuff. Don’t let the sharks win.”

I shake my head, reluctantly chuckling at her joke. There’s no way I can do that. If I took off my leg, hopping out on one foot would mess with my balance and I’d fall in. The scenario causes my breath to escape in quick pants as I try to stamp down the mounting fear. I’m too close and the desire to run burns hot.

A gust of wind whips my hair in front of my eyes and, when I push it back, movement draws my attention past Charlotte, to the mouth of the small bay. Waves are coming in at a steady pace, but the next one is bigger than the rest.

“Char! Watch out!”

I’m not fast enough. The force of the wave knocks her off her feet and steamrolls in my direction. Turning to scramble up the beach, my foot tangles in a long rope of algae and I fall into the sand. The water is on me before I have a chance to prepare, frothing and tugging me back to its depths. Gasping for breath, I reach out for anything solid, but the sand is too soft. The taste of salt is intense on my tongue and I spit it out.

When the wave dissipates, I notice it’s only dragged me a few feet into the water. The ocean caresses my waist and my legs are completely submerged, the artificial one knocked lose. Sobs claw at my throat. I should not have come here. A few feet away, Charlotte struggles to stand upright. She’s drenched from head to toe, her features set in a startled expression. I probably look worse.

I attempt to stand, but a hot tingling sensation spreads down my leg.

“Something’s wrong!” I screech.

Warmth enfolds my lower limb. What if I stepped on a jellyfish? My stomach clenches at the possibility and, while there is no pain, I double over. A thousand tiny electric needles stab into me but strangely, it still doesn’t hurt.

My friend scrambles over to me. “Zoey! Calm down, you’re fine. It’s just water. You’ll be okay,” Charlotte says soothingly, then glances down at my legs.

Only, there aren’t any legs. In their place is a bright shiny tail equipped with flippers and scales. The moon peeks through the heavy clouds, shimmering off the deep blue and green colors. I shift my long skirt to get a better view, blinking furiously. Reaching out, I graze the soft, slick scales. My fake leg floats in the water next to me and I gawk at it in disbelief.

Charlotte gasps and scoots back. We remain there in complete silence, staring at the tail. Without realizing it, I use the unfamiliar muscles to lift the strange appendage out of the surf. My emotions are a kaleidoscope, spinning and fracturing into a hundred directions. I’m in awe because it’s so lovely and exotic. And yet, panic pushes in past the edges, flirting with sending me into a total freak out. Dread grips my stomach. My world will never be the same. But in the presence of all this, there is also acceptance.

The movement is natural, like I’ve done it my entire life. I’m not concentrating on what’s missing, but on what I’ve gained. Impossibly strong, the urge to dive under the waves floods through me. It’s such an odd desire, but then my emotions seesaw back into terror.

“What the hell is going on?” I cry out again, my voice high and squeaky.

Charlotte inches forward to stroke the fin gently, letting out a quiet whimper. Her touch isn’t what I expect, almost electric. Curious at how far up my altered appearance goes I lift my shirt and notice the pebbling texture of the scales fade into my normal skin and travel up my torso to the edge of my bra.

“It’s a tail!” Charlotte doesn’t run off, but I sense she wants to by how her body is tensed, until she surprises me completely and flashes a warm, excited smile. “It’s kind of cool.”

“What do you mean
cool
?” I whisper fiercely, though I partly agree. “My skin started tingling after I came to a rest.” Burying my face in my gritty hands, I groan, “I fell and got knocked out, didn’t I?”

“We can’t be having the same dream. This is as real as it gets.” I raise my head and discover her face is glowing with awe. I’m curious about what’s running through her mind because it might put this into perspective, or snap me out of a messed up hallucination. “How do you feel?” she asks.

“Physically, pretty awesome,” I blurt, realizing it’s the truth. “I’ve never felt this complete. I’m in one piece again, which sounds completely lame. My actual thoughts are all over the place. I mean, how in the heck did this happen? What am I?”

I’m about to continue, after choking down a couple hysterical tears, when I notice a weird flutter behind my ear. I lift my hand and discover a soft ribbed area.

No way.

My brows shoot together in confusion. Charlotte is still staring at me curiously, so I interrupt her. “Is there something, um, behind my ear?”

I hold my hair to the side and Charlotte leans in close.

“You’ve got gills,” she shrieks, then covers her mouth.

I start to quiver, trembling from head to, well, tail. My skin is suddenly too tight and I chalk it up to fright other than the strangeness of it. Taking a deep breath through my nose, which also causes the gills to contract, I say, “I guess it explains the fish.”

Charlotte looks at me and laughs breathlessly. “Either you’re a mermaid or I’ve slipped into another universe.”

“A mermaid?” The word is foreign on my tongue, but it settles on me, a comforting cloak of truth. I’m a mermaid. My pulse kicks into overdrive. Oh my God, I am a freak.

“What else could it be?” Charlotte inquires energetically. “You changed the minute you touched the water. I mean, you have gills and fins. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

“Why didn’t I change in the bathtub or the shower?”

She shrugs. “It’s probably only the ocean, salt water.”

“But, I’m missing a leg,” I say dumbly.

Her wide, blue eyes blink. “Huh, maybe you don’t need them both in this form.”

“Why aren’t you freaking out more?” I ask in a high pitched tone.

“I knew you were special. Plus, it answers a lot of questions.”

The positive part is her calmness keeps me centered. If this had happened while I was alone, I would have been a hysterical mess.

The bubble around us bursts when a wave of laughter from the bonfire snaps me back to a very stark reality. The party, with all our friends, is only yards away and I’m sitting here in the darkness incapable of moving, not to mention sporting the body of a mythical creature and my other leg bobbing like a cork.

“What are we going to do?” Alarm enters my voice with full force. The tail twitches and flops in agitation as a frantic sob pops out of my throat. “Charlotte, help.”

Without waiting for her to answer, I turn over and struggle to reach dry land, my tears dripping into the surf. I can’t be seen with this, this…fin. I’ll be experimented on, put in a tank, and studied. I’ll probably even be poached and served up on a platter. Running fingers through my tangled hair, I breathe. I need to regain control of my imagination, concentrate on the obvious problem—changing back. Since the change happened when I entered the ocean, I figure if I’m dry it will be reversed.

Charlotte realizes what I’m trying to do. She grabs me under the arms and starts yanking with all her might. After a few minutes of struggling, we emerge from the surf. As soon as I’m out, I ache to be in the water with a passion I never imagined possible. Every single cell of my being cries out, aching to be in it again. The hurt is so intense I almost crawl over to the waves lapping at the shore.

Instead, the tingling returns and warmth rushes up the tail. We watch as an iridescent light surrounds the fin. It grows brighter, completely obscuring it. As the tingling climaxes, the light fades and my single leg is there once again, along with my stump. I reach up to check if the gills are gone. They are.

I sit in stunned silence, dripping and shivering either from being wet or amazement. Strange as it sounds, I miss being a mermaid. I glance over my shoulder at the rolling waves, filled with the desire to be whole again. “I’m afraid I’m going to explode, Char, but I’m also yearning to go back.” A tear rolls down my cheek.

“I can’t believe that just happened. Finally, certain things are clear.” Her hands shake slightly as she grasps them together and I recall her saying it answered a lot of questions.

“I’ve always been terrified of the water,” I argue, gaining a tiny bit of control over myself, but the cold rock of fear sits firmly in the middle of my chest. I never felt comfortable with myself to begin with. From here on out, it’ll be a million times worse. I pull my prosthetic to me, letting the hard material anchor me to reality.

Her eyes narrow. “You’ve been afraid because your mom drills it into your head all the time. Think about it. There was the shark attack, which your mom constantly reminds you of. You grew up believing her when she ordered you to stay away from the ocean. Turns out it’s because you’re a mermaid.” She shrugs. “She knows.”

I consider what she said. It makes a perverted kind of sense. Mom has to be aware of this, which means I need to talk to her right now. “I have to go.”

Scrambling, I quickly try to attach my leg, but it’s not working. Everything is too wet. The prosthetic requires suction, a perfect seal, and the water isn’t helping.

“It’s not working,” I hiss.

She assists me into a standing position and I hop with one arm slung across her shoulders toward the fire. I’m too frantic to care about being embarrassed, until Scott veers in our direction. “You can’t tell anyone, Char.”

“Are you okay, Zoey? What happened?” Scott asks with concern.

I shift my prosthetic behind me a bit, thankful I have on a maxi skirt. “Rogue wave. It came out of nowhere and capsized us. I’m fine.”

“I could give you a ride.” His gaze flicks over me and I fidget. Normally, I’d jump at the chance, but not after what happened.