Fins 4 Ur Sins

by Naomi Fraser

  Yesterday, I was another person. Today, I am someone else again. How to cope with the change?

  I take a deep breath and blow it out, then turn on the tap. I lean into the stream, cradling the cool water in my hands and splashing it over my face. I scrub away the dirt and tears, then dry my face on the towel. The blanket is still wrapped around my waist, securely tucked in, and I have the top half of my nightie left to cover my breasts.

  I open the bathroom door and slip across the hallway to the bedroom, then close the door behind me. A pile of clothes sit on the corner of his bed. An overhead light shines upon the deep, rich colours of the clothes.

  The garment on top of the pile is a lustrous coat of blue and purple. The thick cloth is wide enough to wrap twice around my waist and smells enticingly of Lakyn—clean, crisp sea air, sandalwood with a hint of lavender and icy sage. I slide my arms into the wide sleeves, trying to figure out what the material is made of—not silk or satin, but close. Some kind of underwater material? The fabric feels smooth and soft beneath my fingers.

  The pants are too long with gold lace borders and blue and purple panels. I roll up the legs and take notice of my surroundings. Posters. Giant posters of ocean life plaster one wall and half of another. Turtles, sharks, dolphins, living corals—sunlight streaming through the water.

  The sadness is so unexpected it sears my chest, and I hold a hand over my heart. He’s been lying.

  I step toward the shoal of fish and briefly trace the outline of a clown fish. No matter what he says, he misses home. Because of me. Because of the sirens. He lost his tail and has to get used to legs. A hollow ache expands in my solar plexus. The emptiness must be damn near overwhelming. I haven’t been the same since Dad died. Lakyn’s lost three members of his family, and I wonder whether anyone heals from that kind of loss.

  Then he lost his fins and his home, because he was unable to prove the sirens were taking teenagers. I turn back to the bed, my feet slipping over the threadbare rug. The bed consists of a few concrete blocks, a wooden board and a foam mattress. No luxury to be found, not like the clothes he gave me to wear, and by all accounts he is a . . . prince.

  Covers tangle on top of the bed and a stack of photographs peek out from beneath a pillow. I recognise them as mine and scoop up the pile, rifling through the snapshots. Scrawls line the backs randomly, but my gaze stops on the picture of the pale shape in the bay the day I went to the foreshore to check for clues.

  I flip the picture over.

  A siren hunts Eloise.

  I shiver and slide the photos back under the pillow, making sure they’re in the same order. I’m having bad luck with photos. I always manage to pick out ones that disturb me the most.

  Lakyn was exiled because he didn’t have any proof and turning humans into mermaids was forbidden, resulting in banishment. But maybe . . . I tap a finger against my lips and swivel, studying the room . . . he has the right idea to film us swimming. I don’t believe he’d want to use me as bait, but he’s trying everything he can to prove to the underwater Council that he’s telling the truth. That’s why he’s keeping my evidence.

  I open the door and traipse down the stairs, reaching the bottom. I shyly wave, “Hi” to both Ralph and Joey.

  Ralph laughs and says, “Those clothes remind me of the sea.” He relaxes in his seat, eyes shining. “Good luck, girl. Don’t be a stranger. Come and visit us again.”

  The easy camaraderie makes me feel as though I should stay. They know a part of me many others will never see. And I have a sneaking suspicion they’ll keep my secret to their grave. “I will,” I promise.

  Lakyn waits at the door, gazing out at the turbulent sea. I touch his shoulder with my fingertip, and he turns to me, a small smile on his face, though his eyes look troubled and darker than usual.

  “My clothes suit you—the colours—I like it.”

  I smile, rather self-consciously. “They’re a bit too big.” I laugh up at him.

  “You look beautiful. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  He slips his hand around mine and my pulse jumps at the contact. He draws me outside to the cool night air and wrenches open the door to the battered car. Before I get in, he grips both my arms. “Let me know if you feel sick at all or notice anything strange. Those cuts are serious and if they get worse, I need you to tell me. I can get you into the hospital to see Dr. Farrow. She’ll get them fixed without too many questions.”

  I don’t know what to say to him, my tongue is so tied up in knots. We climb in and he starts the car, then speeds out the gates. The trip back home is silent until I reach out and turn on the radio.

  Notes spill out into the car and I lean back. “Ahh, this is one of my favourites.” I look out the window at the houses high up on the hills, overlooking the water. I sing along with the tune, the highs and lows, and as he turns to look at me, I belt out the chorus with a huge grin. My heart lifts at the happiness in the music.

  “Eyes on the road,” I remind him.

  He careens around a corner and looks out through the windscreen. “I’ve never told you, but your voice is amazing. Incredible. I haven’t heard you sing since . . .”

  I stop singing. “Yes?”

  “Never mind.” He coughs. “Do you get the ability from your mother or father?”

  “My paternal grandmother.” I hesitate. “I saw the posters in your room. You miss your home and—”

  “Don’t be fooled. Missing home doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be here. Everyone misses home sometime. It’s not a bad thing.”

  True. “It’s more than that this time though, admit it.”

  “Concerned about me?” He slants me a grin. “Don’t be. I’m older than you think and more capable than you imagine.”

  “You’re not my age?”

  He shakes his head. “I look your age—”

  I laugh. “No, you don’t.”

  His brow furrows. “Well, I’m about five or six years older in finfolk years. I started my training the moment I could swim. As a successor to the kingdom, I have to be familiar with all the methods of defence.”

  The day at the beach when he stripped, I remember thinking he was older. I make a mental note to trust my instincts more often.

  “The council says I broke the rules. They say it was wrong. I believe the real wrong would have been to do nothing.” Silence falls, then he says, “Sing for me again, please.”

  My startled glance catches his wistful smile. “Why? My voice isn’t that good. I mean I love to sing, have since I was a child, especially to make myself feel better. But not so much anymore.”

  He pulls into the driveway to my house, stops and switches off the lights. “Are you kidding?” His eyebrows rise up near his hairline. “Your voice is . . . heavenly. I can’t believe you’d think differently.”

  I laugh. “Well, thank you.”

  He grabs my hand across the seat, smoothing his fingertips over my palm. “Take care. I’ll watch you go inside.” He reaches to the back seat and hands me a thick rope. “When you get inside, tie this rope around your waist or ankles, then to your bed. Two or three knots will be harder than walking straight out the door. You’ll wake up.” He hands over a packet of ear plugs and then says, “Lock your door as well. I won’t be far away, and more than one of us will watch your house. Don’t be alarmed if you see this car.”

  I sit there, breathless, aware of his body right next to mine in the dark. He shifts back in his seat and the leather creaks. My blood fills with all sorts of strange energy—zings of electricity and power—as though I’m meant to stay. His presence seems to reach me in wavelengths, vibrating in time with my heart.

  “Goodnight, Ellie,” he whispers. The whites of his eyes are barely visible and his hands strain on the wheel. “Your stunning tail is our secret.”

  “Goodnight.” I smile and crack open the car door, restraining my hair in the cool night breeze. The door catches the latch quietly, and I traipse back to my house like a
n escapee returning to my boring, old bedroom, wearing the most luxuriant clothes I’ve ever been in.

  He’s just . . . I stop, breathe, and wait for my heart to stop pounding, then look back at the car at him. The grasses meet, waving toward each other. I let go of my hair, and the strands flare out behind me as the tree limbs sway with the breeze.

  From this distance, his smile lights up my world. Warms my heart. A huge, answering grin spreads across my face and I run toward my house.

  27

  THE DREAM ABOUT Lakyn veers into a crazy, full-blown nightmare. An endless, paralysing black sucks me deeper into the mattress. Here—I have no control—one tug and I’m drawn into a blanketed pit of foam and horror. No escape.

  A lifesaving jingle echoes in my ear. Again. Again. I scrunch up my face and roll onto my back, groaning. Every muscle screams, and I lie there, holding my breath, then release it slowly. I’m in flannelette pyjamas to hide the cuts. No breeze floats through the locked window. Last night’s events rush through my mind. Oh snap. I jerk my ankles and wrists against the coarse rope binding me to the bed.

  I’m a mermaid.

  And Lakyn saved me again. Breath rattles in my chest. Longing for the water courses over me, to slip off these hot clothes and dip my head beneath the waves where I will grow a magnificent tail.

  Now I get to do a Houdini, especially before Mum comes into my room. I say a silent prayer she’s running late and hasn’t the time to check up on me. Tiredness grips my body, and sweat lines my brow. I wipe the moisture off and set about untying myself.

  The buzzing continues, annoying the crap out of me as I hurriedly untie my left wrist. It takes a good three minutes before I have both hands free. I stretch my fingers and rub at the red strip of skin on my wrist and then grab my phone from the nightstand.

  I switch off the alarm and see a text message.

  It’s from Lakyn: How are you feeling this morning?

  I type back: Like I got hit by a truck

  My phone buzzes and he replies: I wish I could be there, Ellie. There was a pulse. A vibration of entities moving between worlds. Nothing friendly. I’ll meet you by the gate after school, but take what you need to swim. Stay away from the water until then.

  I text back: Ok c u

  Mum’s heels clack loudly on the wooden floorboards. Oh hell. I immediately look to the door. But her footsteps fade away to the kitchen. I sigh with relief and undo the knots around my ankles.

  I arrive at the school on time and walk through the gates, past groups of girls who sit out the front. Bethany’s there and she stops me outside the office doors by grabbing my hand.

  “What do you have first period?” she asks.

  “Maths B. You?”

  “Science. Meet me up at the lockers. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “All right.” I move off at the bell, and the next four periods are a blur of more assignments, book reports and laughing students. The bell rings for first break, and I bite my lip, taking in a deep breath. I’m not sure what I want to tell Bethany. On my way out of the classroom, I dodge students and head to the lockers. I don’t hurry, but walk at a leisurely pace.

  “Ellie.” Bethany stops me outside the English block. “Put me outta my misery. Please. What happened at the beach yesterday?”

  More than I have ever dreamed. I frown, reach my locker and open it up, then restock the books in my backpack. “It was fine.” Except for the night-time escapade where sirens tried to kill me, and, oh yeah, I turned into a fish. “He says he wants to meet me at the gate after school. We’re going training again,” I whisper because people are starting to stare.

  “After school?” Her eyes narrow and she bites her bottom lip. “Today? I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” She swallows and runs her fingers down the straps of her backpack. “I don’t think you should.”

  My mouth falls open. “What? Why not?”

  She avoids direct eye contact and crosses her arms, shooting quick glances around the locker area. “Listen, I talked to Cal and my uncle,” she says flatly, moving to one side so I’ll follow her. “They talked about spotting some things in the bay they’ve never seen before. My uncle refused to tell me what they were, but he said it would be very dangerous to you if you went back in the water. Do you know Gregor Bane is saying he’s innocent? He’s hired a lawyer and everything.”

  I scratch my cheek and nod. “I did hear that.”

  “Lakyn turned up a month or so ago, right after your accident. He wants you to go back in the water. He wants—”

  I start laughing, not because what she’s saying is ridiculous, no, it’s because as usual, she’s right on target.

  “What?” she asks. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.” I shake my head. “You’re a great friend, but when he’s with me, that’s the one time you don’t have to worry.”

  “So there are no red flags in your mind at all that he might be the one who is hurting these people? On his first day here, he talked to Anders Peterson, down at the waterfront.”

  “Ah.” That explains a lot. “How did you find that out?”

  “My uncle saw him while he was in his boat. He recognised the picture on the TV.”

  I nod and we keep walking down the hall, but I stop at a big sign on the wall. The drama students’ advertisement is bright purple and white, listing the dates for singing auditions. “Is there a musical happening this year?”

  Bethany shrugs dismissively. “They do it every year. Most likely this one will be for Christmas.”

  “Cool.” Singing is something that’s always been a part of me. I love doing it so much, even though my dad is no longer with me, so no more jam sessions. I long for more fun in my life again. “Maybe I should try out.”

  “I didn’t know you could sing. You’ve been keeping secrets,” she says with a troubled voice.

  More than you know. “In Sydney my dad used to play the guitar and I’d sing.” I smile at her. “I guess I never told you. When we first moved here, I used to sit on the cliff by our house and sing old tunes, trying to remember those times when we were together. It would make the pain bearable, you know? I guess it hurt too much at the time to let anyone else hear me. And I didn’t want criticism.”

  “Hey, I understand.” Bethany’s hand on my arm is steadying. “I’d like to hear you.” She nudges me with her elbow. “But think about what I said, all right?”

  I look at her, and butterflies expand, then swarm in my stomach. “I will.”

  “Have you seen him yet?” she asks.

  “No, he texted me to say he’d be busy, that’s why he wants to meet me at the gate.”

  The bell rings and she says, “See you at second break, Ellie.”

  I nod and eat a packet of grapes from my bag on the way to English. I match everyone else’s pace down the hallway that leads through the double doors. As I leave the wide hallway, three guys stop ahead and stare at me. I frown as I pass by, a trigger in my memory seeing them in swim trucks at the school pool. Friends of Lakyn’s? My heart skips in a foolish sensation. It’s like the whole world knows I shouldn’t be with him.

  28

  THE SUN HIGHLIGHTS the soft wrinkles on Ralph’s face. He rests an elbow on his bent knee, chin on hand and studies the water. His coffee-coloured irises look more troubled than the surf below.

  A light sea breeze whisks across my skin and I sweep my hair behind my ear. Sand fills the gaps between my toes. The air smells of salt and heat—Christmases with my dad, happiness in the sunshine. The sound of crashing waves can’t help but ease the tension in my back and shoulders. Never mind, I need to get back into the water again.

  Turn into something completely different.

  But I’m not the only one who can’t change external things in my life, though it’s entirely up to me how I choose to experience them.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask.

  Ralph shifts on the rocks, and his gaze flicks to the trail behind us, over to
the beat up Hyundai and Lakyn who bends into the open boot. The muscles bunch in his back, shoulder blades squeezing together. He suddenly straightens, and then rolls his shoulders, the only sign of discomfort from the weight of his dive gear. My sight drops lower, over his perfectly toned legs in black neoprene.

  Heat rises to my cheeks, and I glance away.

  Ralph’s eyes still contain a wary, haunted expression. He squints against the sun’s rays, although it has set a tad. In this light, his skin looks almost bronze, like old leather. The greying strands of his salt-and-pepper hair appear greasy, the peak in his cap lopsided.

  “I’ve lived here longer than you’ve been alive.” A weird half-smile graces his sun-weathered face. “And I’ve never felt anything like this. Something big travelled through to here,” he says. “My bet is they’re after you two, but they’re using you to get to him. They want him, Ellie.”

  Not one for pulling his punches or tactfully breaking the ice. As if I’m unaware the sirens are following Lakyn. My toes wiggle in the sand. A warm hand lands on my shoulder and I jump, blowing out a hard breath, then turn.

  “Or something big was allowed to travel through,” Lakyn counters with a tough edge in his voice. He pulls more gear over his shoulders. “I might not have enough time to train her.”

  Ralph nods again. “I’ll do what I can. We all will.”

  A glow warms my cheeks, spreading heat into my soul. I smile at both of them. Somehow, I feel I belong. “A reporter was at school today. She waited at the gate before Lakyn got there. She asked some kids from my year questions, but wanted an interview with me. I told her no, of course, but I guess they’ll ask my mum for permission or fake something anyway.”