I glare at him, my gaze sliding over his artlessly styled sandy hair, and shove my chair—and his arm—back from the table, my usually calm exterior surprisingly ruffled. “The one that screams Justin Bieber wannabe? Sure.” My sarcasm isn’t lost on Jenna, who is watching me carefully with an amused look on her face.
“I meant the clothes, but thanks for noticing the rest.”
“Look, let’s just get this over with before lunch ends. You coming?” I say to him, rolling my eyes skyward. Jenna is wide-eyed, staring at me now with something bordering on delight in her expression. My glare spins to her, but instead of quailing, she collapses into a fit of giggles. “What is your problem?” I snap. “Cano told me to show him around.”
“Nothing,” Jenna says, grinning. “Nothing at all.”
I ignore the fact that “nothing” in Jenna-speak means the exact opposite. I hate the fact that I’m so frazzled. Must be a combination of what happened with Speio and all the thoughts that have resurfaced about my family. I’m just not myself. Later, I’ll have to explain that to Jenna instead of letting her go on thinking that some new guy has me in a tizzy. Which, of course, he doesn’t.
“So, are you coming or what?” I say to Lo, who still hasn’t moved from the table. “Or maybe we can get Cara Andrews to take over as the official tour guide of Dover Prep. She’s only been staring this way for the past ten minutes like a lovesick puppy.”
Lo turns those dark eyes on me, amusement still flickering in their depths, but there’s something else there, too—a glint of disappointment, as if my earlier words had bothered him somehow. That makes no sense, I know. Lo doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him, far less me. It’s more likely his pride’s been injured or something.
“Sure, lead on. I am at your bidding,” he says, standing and ignoring my dig about Cara. My gaze flicks to his, but there’s nothing that reflects the slight mocking tone I heard in his voice. “Nice to meet you guys,” he says to Jenna and Sawyer.
“Yeah, definitely see you around!” Jenna singsongs with a grin at me that makes me want to throttle her.
“So obviously, you know that this is the cafeteria,” I say over my shoulder on the way out, throwing a murderous glare at my best friend. As we walk by Cara’s table, I can’t help noticing that her lovesick glances have now evolved into full-on venom directed at me. I sigh. Just great—all I need is to get in a war with an ex-nemesis over some guy prize that I don’t give two hoots about. She can have him for all I care. I’m just about to offer her the tour task—and simultaneous peace offering—when I notice that Lo’s already at the cafeteria doors, staring at me with an arrogant, challenging expression as if he’s expecting me to do just that.
Am I that predictable? I sigh and head toward him.
In the hallway, I walk briskly but Lo has no trouble keeping up with those long legs of his, not that I’m noticing that he has long legs. He’s just tall, I tell myself, and then realize that I’m having an internal argument about Lo—the thorn in my side—and his legs, which I now inexplicably feel like breaking.
“Cara’s got the hots for you,” I remark, angry with myself for letting him get under my skin. Again. “She’d do a much better job at this than I would.”
But Lo doesn’t answer, just continues to wear the same amused smile as if it’s his customary expression—or maybe it’s his expression around me. I must be so amusing to him. My leg-breaking thoughts return in full force.
“Lockers,” I snarl, throwing my hand to the side and gesturing needlessly to the metal-lined hallways. “Gym’s down that way, also pool, tennis courts and sports fields.”
“Where you play field hockey?”
“What?”
A smile. “I heard you were cocaptain. Plus, everyone’s talking about that game you guys won last week. Kind of hard to ignore.” Lo pauses to look at me, tilting his head and chewing on the corner of his lower lip as we’re walking. I look away quickly, enflamed again. “So, field hockey, huh? I just don’t see it.”
“See what?” I snap back, irritated for feeling so flustered around a stupid boy. I quicken my step, wanting to get this tour over with so I can get as far away from him as possible. “Down there’s the music hall and the auditorium.”
“You look more like a swimmer to me.”
“I hate the water,” I say without thinking. “Student center is down there.”
Lo’s chuckle is long and deep. I sprint up the stairs at the end of the hallway. “Didn’t look like you hated the water the other day.”
Crap, crap, double crap. “I meant I’m allergic to chlorine so I hate pool water.”
It’s not that I’m entirely allergic. Chlorine in intense concentrations can be irritating to our internal tissue, but it isn’t toxic or anything. I can swim in a pool fine, but the chlorine excuse works well as a response to anyone suggesting that I try out for the swim team, which Speio would likely have an aneurysm over.
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting about that?” I can’t help myself but Lo’s quiet response bugs me.
“It’s too bad. You’re a strong swimmer.”
Confused by what sounds like a sincere compliment, I duck my head and then smile. “Hmm, thought that was you watching me before, like a—what were your words again?—oh, yes, a cherry smoothie,” I jibe, mimicking his words from that morning.
Lo winks. “Strawberry’s my favorite, but who’s checking?”
My breath hitches in my throat at his obvious admission, my words tumbling out past it. “Principal Cano’s office is down that hall, as you know. Plus, all the other admin offices and the faculty lounge. Media room over there down the same hallway. Art studio’s on that side. Classrooms. They’re pretty much the same, you know, the usual.” I turn toward him, still flushed at his casual admission of staring at me on the beach. “Look, this is pretty much it. Like every other high school.”
“I wouldn’t know. My last high school was twelve rooms.”
“In Hawaii?” I blurt out, and then kick myself. “I mean, Mrs. Leland mentioned that you were a transfer. From there.”
Lo throws me a long measured look. “She did?” I nod. “What else did Mrs. Leland say about me?”
“Not much, just that you had transferred because...” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence or find a quick enough substitute for because your family burned in a horrific accident. My immediate rush of pity is no surprise, nor is the sudden reaction to it on Lo’s face. His hard expression hits me like a bucket of ice water. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Every muscle in that angular face snaps to attention, his eyes becoming cold and unreadable.
“Thanks for showing me around.” Without another word, Lo stalks off in the opposite direction just as the bell rings. Flustered by his sudden departure, I retrace my steps to my locker to get my history books.
In class, I find myself unable to concentrate. Caught in the crossfire of Speio’s pointed looks, Jenna’s raised eyebrows, Cara’s demon scowls and the fascinating topic of the Bill of Rights, all I can think about is Lo and my hideous faux pas of alluding to his private secrets. From the look on my face, he’d guessed that I’d somehow found out about his family, and now I feel terrible for spying in Principal Cano’s office. I kick myself mentally for the nineteenth time.
“Class, please open your textbooks to page one hundred and eleven, and read the rest of the chapter,” Mr. Moss says. “Then pair up and work on the quiz questions at the end. There will be a real quiz next class.”
Amid the groans in the classroom, mechanically I do as requested, but I can’t even focus to get the right answers. Jenna glowers at me.
“What’s with you?” she whispers.
“Nothing. Just not feeling that great.”
A wicked grin. “Anything to do with loverboy? Did you make out on yo
ur tour?”
“Gross. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’m not into him, so forget whatever it is you’re plotting about in your head, okay?” I say. “I don’t want to talk about Lo.”
We both jump at Mr. Moss’s voice. “Ms. Marin and Ms. Pearce, I expect that you two are discussing the quiz and not something unrelated to history.”
“Um, yes, sir,” we both say. Jenna leans in again once Mr. Moss’s piercing stare has moved elsewhere. “So is he single?”
“For the love of...” I grumble, irritated. “I don’t know, Jenna.”
“I wonder where he is,” she stage-whispers. “Bet he’s with Cano for new-kid stuff. Look, if this guy’s our year he has to be in Bio next period. You can make your next move then!”
“Will you stop with the plotting?” I stare at the practice quiz, ignoring her attempts to get my attention and silently hoping that she’s right—that he’ll be in class next period.
But Jenna is wrong. Lo isn’t in Bio. I know I shouldn’t care but I feel responsible, as if I’m the cause of him not being there. It seems as if I have an unerring, magic ability to ruin the lives of everyone around me. Even people I don’t know.
Some queen I’d be.
Beating myself up for the rest of the day and feeling more and more guilty with each passing second, I’m literally out the door before the last bell has stopped ringing. Ignoring Jenna’s reminder that we have hockey practice, I mumble something about having an appointment and race to the south parking lot.
There’s someone leaning against my Jeep. My stomach sours.
“What do you want, Speio?”
“So who was that guy you were talking to at lunch?”
I stare at him. “A new kid. A transfer.”
“From where?”
Speio’s twenty questions undermine my rapidly failing composure. “What, are you my keeper now?” I snap, moving to unlock my door. Speio blocks my way.
“No, Nerissa, I’m your Handler, right?”
I freeze at the sarcastic accusation in his voice, recalling my command for him to speak with Echlios. “No, Speio, you’re not,” I say gently. “Your parents are. What did Echlios say?”
“That we were stuck here forever. When did you decide?”
“A year ago,” I say tiredly, not wanting to bring up my father, how everything had changed since then. “Speio, can we talk about this later? I can’t do this right now.”
“It’s never a good time, is it?” he shoots back. “No, Nerissa, let’s talk about this now. I knew something was wrong when you started devoting all your time to hockey practice. We were supposed to go back, and my father just kept telling me to be patient, that we would return in due time, when you were ready. That was all a lie, wasn’t it?”
I swallow and lean against the car door. “I’m sorry, Speio. What do you want me to say? That it’s true? That I can’t face Ehmora? I can’t be who everyone wants me to be. My father was king, not me.”
“So what?” Speio spits, eyes flashing. “You’re the heir. It’s your duty to protect your people. The whole kingdom is falling to pieces without you.”
“You don’t get it. She makes a better queen than I ever could.”
His expression at my clipped words goes from frustrated to furious. “So you give up, just like that? Let the person who killed your father take your place? What about our families, Nerissa? They’re still there.”
I think about saying that he has family there, that mine—at least my immediate family—is gone. But I can’t get the words out of my mouth.
“You know what Ehmora is capable of, and yet you turn your head the other way. She cares about power, not the people. Anyone loyal to your father has gone into hiding, hoping that you will come back to help them,” Speio seethes, digging his fingers into the metal bars of the Jeep so deeply that it buckles beneath them. “But we’ve stayed here and done nothing while so many died, and all you want to do is forget about who you are, to become like these insipid humans. You’re stupid and blind. And selfish.”
“Don’t you speak to me like that!” I hiss. “I am your—”
“My nothing,” Speio says dully, his eyes wet with tears, gesturing to the landscape around us. “You are a princess of nothing. A princess of rocks and mud and death.”
My hand cracks across his face, and not even the angry red mark tempers my rage. I shove at his chest, my speech becoming more formal and clipped in my native language. “Shut up! You don’t know anything, you stupid boy.”
Speio’s fingers slide along the imprint of my fingers on his face. “Better a stupid boy than a coward.”
“You are out of line,” I whisper, sliding down against the side of my car. But Speio’s right. I can hear my own voice breaking, as his words strike more deeply than my hand did against his face. I am a coward, because I’ve done nothing to avenge my father, to protect my people or, for that matter, the ocean I love. I’ve hidden here with my head stuck in the ground like one of those ridiculous giant birds, refusing to accept the legacy I was born into. “You don’t know anything!”
He stares at me. “You’re right, I don’t. I’m bound to you here on land by your command and your cowardice. No one bothered to tell me that we would never be going home. Or that we didn’t have a home. I can’t do this anymore.” Speio turns and walks away. He stops at his car at the edge of the parking lot, his fists clenched, before turning around. “You think you’re safe here? That she isn’t coming after you? She will. She wants you dead, just like she wanted your father dead. And she’ll kill us all when she’s done with you. I’m not sticking around here for that.”
“Who told you that? Your parents—”
“—are trusting fools,” Speio finishes. “Isn’t that why you didn’t tell me in the first place? Because you knew I’d call you out on it?”
“No. I did it to protect you.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Speio seethes. “You and I both know why you wanted to keep this from me, because you knew I’d never let you. You’re a coward, plain and simple, and that’s the truth. Well, I’m not going to die here. Unlike you, I’d rather take my chances where I belong. Down there. And if I get that chance, I’m taking it. With or without you.”
I don’t even notice when it starts raining or how long I’ve sat against the side of my car. But when I open my eyes, mine is the only car in the lot. I can feel pain tearing its way through me like lightning bolts. I’ve known Speio pretty much my whole life. He’s been my confidant, my best friend, the one who’d never desert me in a million years, and now he’s going to do exactly that.
The rain mixes in with the salt of my tears, running like a salve on my molten emotions. The cool water soaks into my skin and I turn my face upward, watching the darkened clouds move across the sky, fading in and out and being ripped into jagged edges by streaks of lightning. The storm is an echo of the one inside of me...because of what I am.
A monster.
I glance upward as a jagged streak of lightning rips the sky to pieces. The storm will only get worse if I don’t do something to banish the tornado brewing inside of me. Brushing my wet hair from my face, I stand. My mind races from the keys in my hand to the thick brush of woods beyond. I need to move, to run, to scream. It’s the only way the storm will subside.
Without a second thought, I throw my bag into the car and race into a nearby thicket, following a running path strewn with leaves. I don’t stop until I come to an open spot, my chest pounding and my breath catching in my throat. The storm is still raging above, but I stand in the middle of the glade with my arms lifted toward it, embracing the bulletlike drops of rain pelting down on me. I spin, my arms out wide, sending the rain in the reverse direction back up toward the skies until the air around me shimmers with suspended droplets. Slowly, I pull the drops into me, li
ke the arc of a fountain, feeling them pass over and inside my flesh, and out to the ground below.
Water is cleansing.
But not as forgiving or forgetful.
The storm inside of me spills over, black thunderclouds forming almost instantly in the sky. I’ve betrayed them all—and everything that I am, I have betrayed by pretending to be something I’m not. I’m not human.
I’m Aquarathi...even if I don’t want to be.
I shove my arms upward, the strength of my will creating an invisible ceiling until all the water pools on top of it in midair, and then I release it. The force of it knocks me to my knees but it’s still not enough. Speio is right. I am a coward who does nothing but care about herself.
I must be punished. Harder.
Lightning staggers down around me through the rain into the ground beside me, blistering the skin of my body through the earth. Speio once called electricity our Kryptonite—the one substance that can stop us in our tracks. Even though the bolts are barely touching me, they are near enough that my human skin is scorched, and I’m almost senseless from the pain of it dispersing into my cells.
I barely feel the body crashing into me, slamming us both to the ground and breaking my terrible connection with the sky and the earth.
“What are you doing, my lady?” Echlios’s face is horrified. But I can’t even speak. All I can do is cry against his chest and choke on the bitterness that’s killing me. Echlios embraces me tightly, funneling the water that’s around us through his body and into mine and healing the singed areas. After a while, when everything inside of me calms, the storm ebbs until the rain is but a light shower. “What were you thinking?” he says, rocking me back and forth.
“I’m a fake—” I begin.
“No, you are not. Come, let’s get you home.”
I let Echlios take me back to my Jeep and he drives us home, leaving his own car in the parking lot. On the way, I stare out the window, watching the ocean glint in the distance as if it, too, is reproaching me. A critical part of our human acclimatization means taking steps to ensure that the humans are focused on taking care of the oceans and marine life. I have done none of that. I’d turned my back on it—all of it, not just my family and my people, but my home. I’d pretended to be human because it’d been so much simpler to be nobody than to fight to be somebody. I’d even refused to continue my combat training with Echlios and Speio, to do anything Aquarathi-related. Instead, all I’d done was run away from who I was. And my people had paid the price—Speio, Echlios and Soren most of all—when Ehmora had stolen the throne. Because the worst possible thing that could happen had happened, and I’d chosen to let it.
Waterfell Page 4
