After the last film, Mom stood up, stretching and yawning. “Well, this was a wonderful Christmas! And I love my earrings! I’m going to have sexy lobes, now. Think maybe it’s time for a nap?”
“Absolutely. Napping is the answer to a disinterested sandman,” I said, entering my room.
“Have a good rest, peanut.”
“What? Oh, yeah, you too, Mom.” When my mom closed her bedroom door, I hesitantly shut mine and sat on the edge of my bed.
On my pillow was The Bay Shop Christmas bear, along with a small box wrapped identical to the one I gave my mom. When I removed the wrappings, a card fell into my lap. The card simply read, I’m proving it-Troy. My pounding heart made my whole body wave. I carefully removed a blue velvet box. Inside was the pāua shell necklace I loved so much. Mystified, I placed the necklace on my nightstand, hugged the bear tightly, and tucked in for a nap.
Two hours later—after the best nap ever—I woke up to a tap on my window.
“Merry Christmas,” I said to a very happy Troy Tombolo.
“Merry Christmas to you. Have a good one?”
“Yes…but I can’t accept what you did. It’s too much.”
“You mean you’re giving the bear and necklace back?”
“Oh, well, no, I’m keepin’ them, but I shouldn’t.”
Troy laughed and shook his head. “Said I’d prove it, so I am.”
“I really have no words.”
“You mean I actually made you speechless? Score one for me.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” I said, playfully pushing him from my window.
“I should probably get back for dinner,” he said.
“Troy? I really can’t tell you how much your presents mean to me.”
“It’s nothing, really. Just enjoy them. And, um, you don’t really need to tell anybody I got them for you. You could even wear the necklace under your shirt or something, so nobody sees it. It could just be our secret. See ya, Rubylocks.”
Our secret? Oh, that’s rich. You know, I thought it was odd when he didn’t own up to protecting me at the party. Nope, instead he just had to make sure everyone knew he wasn’t stepping in to help me, a Normal; it was all about Christmas and how you don’t behave badly during the holiest time of the year. He doesn’t want anyone to know we’re friends. And he definitely doesn’t want anyone to know he gave me these Christmas presents. Ugh, he’s a real saint, isn’t he?
“And as if I would go around bragging like some obnoxious show-off. ‘I’m proving it,’ my foot! Oh, he’s proving it all right. He’s proving just how much of a wimp he really is.”
Chapter Eight
Bite Me
New Year’s Eve blows for the following reasons: (1) Ringing in the New Year alone; (2) Mom having a date and not me; (3) Valenyuck day looming; and (4) The infinitesimally small detail of my impending death. Add a dash of awfulness when Mr. Smarmy visited earlier today, and I’ve entered some New Year’s Eve hell dimension.
Supposedly, Mr. Smarmy had to drop off some paperwork. Oddly enough, he left the papers at school. After what happened at Mr. Campbell’s house, I can only assume Smarmy-butt vowed to watch my every move. He and the Ravenflames can only wonder about the extent of my knowledge, and I believe the unknown scares them. Like I could really do anything even if I did discover the secrets Trey uncovered. I’m not sure why they worry so much about me. What could I possibly do? Nag them to death?
The ball was about to drop in Times Square. Soon, kiss-less, bitter broads would observe intoxicated couples tongue thrust on national television. Mom was going to stay in with me—which meant having to watch a boatload of said televised foreplay—but I encouraged her to go out with Mr. Gibbs. Apart from wanting to avoid all the New Year’s hoopla, I just couldn’t handle her seeing me die. So, I hugged her about a gazillion times, told her I loved her, and said goodbye. She thought I was drunk. It wasn’t a pretty thirty-minute interrogation.
I will miss my mom more than anything else in the world. Dang tears. Maybe staring at the ocean would help clear my mind of Trey, Troy, Katrina, Mr. Smarmy, the porthole people, and death. When I opened the windows to let the cool breeze wash away my thoughts, I saw something very strange: for the first time since moving here, people were actually walking along that eyesore of a pier. Suddenly, I began shaking uncontrollably. Get a grip, Marina! It’s just a few people taking a walk…along a decrepit pier…after dark…on New Year’s Eve.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them, yet the harder I stared, the less I could see. Frightening blankets of fog rolled in off the ocean like giant steamrollers looking to crush anything in their path. Though the thickening fog distorted my view of the strange pier-walkers, the way they walked—so determinedly—gave me chills. The middle person seemed to be under the control of the other two.
The moon briefly peeked through the seemingly impenetrable fog banks and, for a millisecond, my view became alarmingly clear: the middle person had bright pink hair.
“Polly,” I gasped. My head became very light, my vision blurry, and my knees weak.
Grabbing my coat, I jumped out of the window and sprinted for Polly. Once I reached the pier, I saw the outer two figures pointing to the water.
“POLLY!” I shouted.
She turned with a blank stare and screamed my name. I ran so fast, I could no longer distinguish my knees from my feet. Sheer horror stopped me cold as I watched the two figures pull Polly into the sea.
“NOOOOO!” I frantically urged my body to run to the end of the pier. Collapsing to my knees, I stared hopelessly at the black water. There was no sign of Polly or the other two people. “POLLY!” All quiet. Polly was gone. Sitting on the edge of the old pier, I watched the water and cried. Horrible thoughts drifted wildly through my mind. A soft breeze stole my new scarf from my neck and gave it to the sea, but I didn’t care.
Airy wisps dangerously, deliberately groped my hair. Almost in harmony with the wicked breeze, the ocean churned, swelled, even growled. I could swear a devilish face appeared to me in the whirling sea. Concealed within the depths of the water, I saw something just beneath the surface, swirling around. In less than a blink, my scarf exploded from deep within the sea, slapped me hard in the face, curled around my neck, and tried to pull me in.
Ripping my once harmless scarf from my neck, I sprinted for the beach. Halfway to shore—halfway to safety—the pier started shaking while roaring waves crashed all around me. My feet failed to keep running—the trembling was too strong, the boards too slick. I slipped, slamming my head against the cold wood. Dizzy and desperate to reach the beach, I clawed at the planks, fruitlessly trying to pull my unresponsive body to safety. Splinters bore into my hands, sliced under my nails, and ripped my shirt. I imagine the pain was terrible, but my fear numbed everything.
The pier, as though sensing my desperation, quietly, elegantly twisted, effortlessly sending me over the edge. The cards were right—death has come for me. Barely clinging to the side of the pier, I silently prayed and thought of my mom. How would she know what really happened to me? Everyone would say I, a foolish teenager, went out on New Year’s Eve, fell into the ocean, and drowned. No one would know about Polly and the mysterious pier-strollers; no one would know about the living wind, air, and sea, or the possessed pier; no one would know about…the shark.
Cutting gracefully through the water beneath my dangling body was a shark at least half a football field in length. I closed my eyes and allowed the realization of what was about to happen hit me: I would die a painful, terrifying death in the teeth of a great white shark. I must have been a really nasty bitch in my past life to deserve this ending. I could only hope it would be quick—that my body enters a state of shock before I can feel the shark tearing the flesh from my bones.
Everything became very still, almost peaceful. Was it over? Am I dead? Hesitantly, I opened my eyes. I could see my blood-covered, white-knuckled fingers clinging to the wet pier. Alive. Daring to glance at
the water below, I immediately noticed how calm the sea had become—the shark was gone. A small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of my mouth…until I heard something coursing through the water behind me. When I dared to peek over my shoulder, I saw a massive mouth, chomping its rows of dagger-like teeth at its target. I could feel myself screaming, my eyes frozen on the terrifying jaws flying for me. Just as the shark made its final lunge, something flew underneath me and slammed into the shark. The beast soared backwards from the impact, but its tail smashed against my back and dislodged me from the pier, dropping me in the cold water.
Water filled my lungs, throat, and nose. Though gagging, coughing, and gasping for air, I fought hard against the wild waves to reach the beach, ignoring how the salty sea stung my injured hands. My shaking arms and exhausted legs no longer had the strength to keep me afloat. My head fell under. Once underneath the watery comforter, the loud, confusing, frightening world above can’t invade your mind; all fear disappears, leaving you with nothing more than a tranquil descent into death. Before my eyes closed, I could see a face coming for me. Could it be God? As the face grew closer, my eyes grew heavier. The last thing I saw was an arm reaching for my waist before everything went black.
*****
Thousands of grainy particles felt like needles against my cheeks. My hands burned from something scraping along the many nasty cuts. So, I still hurt in heaven? Really? I’m not in awe. Slowly, I opened my eyes to find myself half in the water, half on the sand, and an angel cupping my face in his hands.
“We have to get you out of the water, Marina. Wake up,” he said with a soft urgency.
“Are you my guardian angel? Because I would like to lodge a complaint with God,” I croaked.
“Marina! We must get your skin out of the ocean,” he said.
Blinking my eyes a few times to clear them of sand and water, the face before me became disturbingly clear: Troy Tombolo.
“You’re so not an angel,” I quipped, coughing up water.
“No, that I’m not. Now, wrap your arms around my neck, and I’ll pull you out.”
“Did you save me from drowning?” I asked.
“Yes. Your arms, please,” he said, lowering his neck.
“You’re completely dry. How could you have saved me if you’re not even wet?”
“Please, Marina, let me get you out of the water! Your skin against any water even remotely connected to the sea is like an invitation for a lot of really bad things, okay? Now, I could drag you out, Neanderthal-style, but I’m trying to be a gentleman, here,” he shouted angrily.
“Don’t yell at me!” I said, working to pull myself onto my elbows. “Something isn’t right here. I watched two people pull Polly into the ocean, then my scarf tried to kill me, and the pier morphed into some demon thing. And I was about to be shark floss before something fought it off. You saved me from drowning, yet you’re not even a little bit wet. I want to know what’s going on! Now!” I demanded.
“Fine. After you’re out of the water,” he said, grabbing my arm.
“Liar. You won’t tell me. You’re just placating me so I do what you want! You arrogant, egotistical jeeerrrrrrrk—”
Something thick and slimy had coiled around my waist and yanked me back into the ocean. Once under, it wheeled me over, almost triumphantly, to see its splendor: I was face to face with a giant squid. Faster and faster, it pulled me under; deeper and deeper it swam, moving its tentacles in graceful waves that made me want to vomit. Hopelessly yearning for air, I turned to look beyond the sea’s watery ceiling. What I saw instead was something beyond life, death, and fear…something that took my last breath, yet gave me air to breathe—Troy Tombolo, his face lined with determination, darting like a rocket right for me.
I reached for him, longed for him. He took my arms and draped them over his neck. I felt his right arm protectively enfold my waist while his left hand tore the tentacle from my stomach, shredding it in the process. My body lurched as the suction cups ripped all the skin from my stomach. Troy pressed my wounded belly against his bare skin, and the pain subsided. When I looked down at the pain-ridden, retreating squid, I saw my legs weakly treading water. Next to them, a shimmering blue tail gently fluttered…a fin…Troy’s fin. Startled, I foolishly opened my mouth, and the water choked my lungs. Troy, unfazed, simply placed his lips upon mine. With our eyes locked on one another, I felt him drink the sea out of my lungs and replace it with cool air. As we soared to the surface, his lips regrettably left mine, and, astonishingly, I could breathe under water.
Once we reached shallow waters, Troy gathered me in his arms. His fin melted away, morphing into clothed legs. Troy emerged from the sea with not a drop of water remaining on his brilliant skin. I, on the other hand, greatly resembled a drowned rat.
When Troy set me down on the sand, I staggered a bit, my mind whirling with questions I didn’t fully understand. Before I could settle on a semi-coherent question, he spoke. His voice was as rich as soft, supple leather.
“I need to treat your wounds.”
“I’m fine,” I replied coolly, scratching my neck, chest, arms, and hair.
“No, you’re not, actually…and what the hell is happening to your skin?”
Dang it. “Hives. Are you going to say anything at all about what just happened?” I asked, frustrated he has taken this long. GAG.
After a brief moment, he said, “Are you gagging?”
GAG. “Yes. It’s a me thing. And don’t change the subject.”
“I’ll explain things, but not now. We haven’t the time.”
“We have the time,” I said, grabbing my stomach after a searing pain shot straight through my abdomen and clear across to my lower back. “I saw you…every inch of you. You saved me from drowning, from the squid, and…you stopped the shark, didn’t you?”
“Yes to all, but I need to get you off this beach before anyone sees us.”
“Oh, heaven forbid someone should see you talking to me.” GAG. “So much for proving it, huh, Troy?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me you were going to prove how much you care about me—that you would go beyond just words.”
“Didn’t you understand the meaning of my Christmas presents?” he asked, obviously perplexed.
“Yes, and they are very sweet, but…do you really think presents and money can buy my trust in you? Make me believe that what you say is true? As much as I love them, and as much as they mean to me, they are just things. It isn’t even about the presents, Troy. At the Christmas party, you made sure no one thought you were defending me against Katrina. You used Christmas as a justification for helping someone like me. And Christmas Day, you told me I shouldn’t tell anyone about you giving me these presents…that we should keep it between us. How do you think that made me feel? It was okay to be friends, but only in private. That’s not proving it. In fact, it’s just the opposite.” GAG. My stomach sent another jolt across my waist. The pain was incomprehensible.
“I didn’t realize. I never meant to hurt you. Please, I need you to come with me,” he said, reaching for my hand.
“NO! Not until you confirm what I saw!” I’m a stubborn ass sometimes.
“I will if you come with me. I need to treat your wounds!” he said forcefully.
“Look, I’m fine, pal. I can handle my own injuries,” I said, stomping my foot.
“No, you can’t…and don’t call me pal or buddy or any other insignificant name. I’ll give you one more chance to voluntarily come with me or—”
“Or what?” I asked, screaming in pain again.
“Or I’ll forcibly take you home with me.”
Had I not just witnessed Troy with a fish tail, I would have found his words provocatively intoxicating. At this point, I didn’t know whether to feel scared, appalled, fascinated, turned on, or all of the above.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
“Give me one good reason why I sho
uld come with you.”
“Because if you don’t, the squid sting will slowly rip your flesh and internal organs apart until you are completely severed in half.”
“Well, that would just really suck,” I said, my screams reaching an all-new decibel.
“That’s it,” he said, effortlessly flinging me over his shoulder.
“Put. Me. Down. Now!” As if I was in a position to demand anything—I was in the grasp of a guy who single-handedly fought off a giant squid and massive shark…not to mention the fact that my wound was slowly splitting me in two.
“Bull-headed even in agony, aren’t you? I’ll put you down in a minute,” he said, climbing through his bedroom window.
He carefully set me down on his bed, affixed some pillows behind my back, and rushed to an old wicker desk, where he retrieved a sizable bit of coral from a glass box. He began crushing the coral with his bare hands.
Aspects of his room looked almost alarmingly normal, given what I now know. Amongst the ordinary—a scattering of books and clothes, wicker furniture, stereo, and flat screen TV—was the extraordinary. Unlike anything of this world, his bed was like resting on a warm malleable cloud, where you could gaze, not upon a boring, cottage-cheesy ceiling, but upon thousands of shooting stars and constellations; it reminded me of a private planetarium built for two lovers. The single hot spring in the middle of a hardwood floor didn’t do much to curb the peculiar.
After an earsplitting scream, I weakly said, “Sh-should you tell your parents what’s going on. Hearing a screaming girl coming from their son’s bedroom might be a little upsetting.”
Troy, still crushing the coral, smiled slyly. “I live alone.”
“You live alone?”
“In keeping with what you think you saw tonight, my father doesn’t exactly live on land,” he said, smirking.
FINNED (The Merworld Water Wars) Page 8
