by Anna Kyss
“My gills,” I whisper. “They are not working.”
Jesse looks at my neck, then runs his finger along the sensitive skin surrounding each gill. “They don’t look damaged. Maybe they’re like one of Sammy’s motors. Sometimes after they sit for too long, he needs to prep them to get them going.”
I know I cannot return to my sector, but to be denied the ocean entirely? I would be devastated. I worked so hard to keep my gills intact—battling the despair and fighting away thoughts of the Unmentionable.
“Let’s try something.” He holds me sideways in the water; one side of my neck is completely submerged.
After a few minutes, he lowers me more, so just the oval of my face peeks above the Surface. “Now try to dip below and take a breath—your gill way, that is.”
With Jesse’s arms beneath me, I sink entirely beneath the Surface. I tentatively allow the water to flow over my gills, and the moments extend to minutes. They work! I relax into the familiar old breathing pattern.
Keeping my head below the waters, I reach up and drag Jesse’s face down. I press my lips firmly to his, watch his eyes open wide in surprise, then dash off into the waters.
I swim away from Jesse, away from the beach, into the deeper waters of the lagoon. A trio of sea turtles circles around me. Their shells are bigger than my torso, and their flippers the length of my arms. “Honu,” I click, as I bow my head in honor. They spin three more times before swimming toward the open seas.
I wish I had my whistle. I wore that whistle every day since I was paired with Haku. My neck feels empty. In the waters, the absence of the chain is even more noticeable. Closing my eyes, I purse my lips and sound out every call I can think of. None comes close to the noise that will call Haku. I circle around and around. Reef fish swim everywhere, but no dolphin appears.
I have forgotten how good the cushion of the water feels. My body yearns to swim—not paddle around this small lagoon, but swim—while my heart aches for Haku.
“I forgive you! Please come to me!” I whistle more, until my lips ache.
The ocean, teeming with life, remains devoid of the one I want to see: my Pairing, my dolphin. My Haku.
When the indigo has spread its inky fingers through the seas, Jesse comes for me. He reaches out his hand and pulls me up to the Surface. The sky is streaked with lavender, the color of dusk. Jesse slowly swims with me back to the sands. He waited for me the entire time.
“I’m sorry.” He wraps both arms around me, holds me close.
As we head away from the beach, I cannot resist peeking one last time. Waves crash against the sands, again and again, nature’s percussion, but the sea remains empty.
~Spruce~
17
We stand in front of that odd building, Whaleside. Hundreds of windows line the front. Who knew buildings could be so large or contain so many windows? Jesse has grabbed our backpacks and now heads to an odd cylinder set in the front of the building. He guides me inside the cylinder.
I touch the glass wall in front of me. It seems to be some sort of strange entrance. “What is this?”
“One of those old-fashioned revolving doors.” Jesse pushes against the glass, and we spin until the outside has disappeared.
As I step into the building, I gasp. This place resembles nothing from Maluhia, nothing from the beachside village on the island. The ceilings reach high above my head; they dangle with glittering glass prisms. The biggest staircase I have ever seen faces me: wide steps carved from a fancy stone that swirls with pink. “What is this place?”
“I want to show you.” Jesse grabs my hand and pulls me up the staircase. The rose-swirled steps wrap around in a spiral, much like the auger shell. Numbered landings appear at every level, but Jesse ignores them and ascends even higher. “The top floors are the very best.”
When the staircase finally ends, Jesse guides me to the right. Doors with small numbered plaques line the hallway. Some plaques are missing altogether; others dangle from the doorways.
Jesse stops in front of an intact door, cracked open. The plate reads, “Executive Suite.”
“What is an… ‘executive’?”
He shrugs. “No idea. We all have favorites when we camp here. This is mine.”
We enter.
The room is enormous. Giant windows reach from the ceiling to the floor.
Jesse slides the windows open, and the scent of the ocean wafts in. As I approach him, the ocean itself appears, dark waters churning under the red and purple sky.
A cheery yellow couch sits in front of a glass table. Woven chairs, with yellow-and-white-checkered cushions, rest on each side. Across from the couch, a large blank screen hangs, wires and cords dangling from it. The materials are so unusual: glass for a table, fabric for a couch. I sit upon the couch and sink into pillowed softness.
I cannot help but explore more. Another door reveals a toilet. An entire room for a toilet? I open a different door and find the largest bed I have ever laid eyes on. The bed is the size of three sleeping capsules.
“What is this place?” I ask again.
“A hotel. People used to visit the island and stay in these buildings. They line the beaches.”
“How many families would live in this room?” It is odd that there is so much space, but only one bed. Did they have to take turns sleeping?
“One. Sometimes one family, but at times, one person would stay by themselves.”
The room is as large as my entire floor at the children’s residence. For one family to have such a massive sleeping space, to have the luxury of a personal couch and table and a toilet room, all of their own… I cannot decide whether it is wasteful or tempting.
“Can I see more?”
Jesse guides me back to the hallway. As the last of the light fades, we run from room to room. Some lay empty, furniture and décor gone. Others have been used; dirty linens and age-worn furniture sit, abandoned.
The last room on the floor also faces the ocean. I step out onto a balcony that overlooks the sea. I can hear the ocean, but it has grown too dark to see it.
“Your dolphin didn’t come?”
All I can do is shake my head. Where are you, Haku?
Jesse searches through his backpack until he finds a small, wrapped bundle. “I have something for you.”
I look at the tiny item. “What is it?”
“A gift.”
We did not give presents under the water. Necessities were allocated, and luxuries were restricted. My first gift.
“Thank you.” I wrap both hands around it.
Jesse laughs. “You need to open it!”
I slowly pull away the wrappings and find my whistle. The strong nylon chain is folded around the transparent waterproof box.
Jesse has gifted me my whistle.
He watches me silently.
“How?”
“I saw you throw it into the ocean and figured when your anger went away, you would want it back.”
I have thought about that moment all day long, of saying farewell to betrayal… and of the final splash of my whistle hitting the waters.
“How did you find it?”
“Well, it took a bit of searching, but luckily, the waterproof box kept it afloat.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling the return of that foreign emotion hope.
Jesse pulls two candles and a small container of matches out of his bag. “I know one more thing that’ll cheer you up. We have to head downstairs to see it, though.” He scratches a single match against the stone surface of the balcony. The sparks flare to a golden flame. Jesse lights both of the candles, then hands one to me.
I stare into the flickering yellow glow. Fire has been one of the most intriguing discoveries about Land. We had been taught about fire in the learning pod, of course, but it is impossible to truly describe the smell that infuses you, the heat invoked by even the tiniest of flames, the way the colors change—dancing gold, orange, red, and sometimes blue. They taught us how humans
controlled fire in the A.W., but how can anyone control something that is so alive?
“Ready?” Jesse stands at the doorway, waiting.
As we retrace our steps, head down the staircase, I gaze into the candlelight. The coolness of the water contrasts the warmth of the land. The sun’s heat, fire’s flame, a hug’s blanket are all missing from the depths. I cannot help but wonder: does the ocean itself snuff out our flames?
*
“Did you find your dolphin?” Captain asks.
Jesse shakes his head. “Chey needs some cheering up.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Captain grins.
“Yep. Let’s tap into the solar reserve tonight.”
Sydney claps her hands, while Danny and Jesse disappear from the room. Cloth-covered tables fill the center of the room, while booths line the walls. After choosing the closest one, I sit and force myself to eat the food that Captain hands me, but I have no real appetite.
“I’m mighty sorry your dolphin didn’t show.” Captain sits down beside me in the tiny booth. “It pains me to see you so sad.”
“Do you think they h—hurt her?” My disappointment over Haku’s absence has transitioned into worry for her. Would the Authority harm her because of my disappearance?
“Nothing your authorities do would surprise me at this point.” He scowls.
“Could—could I try one more time?” I finger my whistle. Maybe…
Captain’s face softens. “Hey, we don’t need to leave first thing tomorrow. Why don’t you head back to the Rock in the morning?”
“Really?” Hope surges through my body.
“There’s one condition,” Captain adds. “Let yourself enjoy the surprise tonight.”
*
“Keep your eyes closed.” Jesse leads me through the hotel while my hands are clasped over my eyes. He turns me to the side. “Now open them!”
A tree reaches toward the ceiling—not one of the palms that grow around the island—but a dark conical tree, wide at the bottom and pointy near the top. Instead of the wide leaves of the palm, this tree is covered in hundreds of tiny needles. Best of all, it twinkles and glows with a rainbow of little lights. The tree spins around, showing off its treasures: colorful glass fish, shiny sea stars, and green metallic turtles.
“Do you like it?” Jesse grins.
“What is it?”
“Before the Disaster, people celebrated their biggest holiday with these trees,” he says.
“How does it still live after all this time?”
Sydney laughs so hard she snorts. “The needles are plastic. Feel them.”
“Sammy got the Whaleside’s solar running a few years back. We turn it on every now and then for special occasions.” Danny wraps his arm around Sydney. We all stand, watching the tree.
“Flip the music on,” Captain orders.
Suddenly the room fills with Human-song. The music comes from all directions, beautiful voices singing with a whole background of instruments. How amazing that Human-song can be saved and played on request. Even more astounding, though, are the lyrics…
“Joy to the world…”
“… Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh…”
“Oh, come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant…”
“… While you dwell within it, you are ever happy then. Childhood’s joy-land. Mystic merry Toyland…”
“…’Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la…”
They had a season to be happy? The joy radiates from each song, and I imagine our ancestors standing around this tree as they sang in elation. So many words for happiness pour out—merry, joy, fun, jolly, happy—as song after song tells the true tale of all that we have lost.
Cold reality cuts the poignancy of these songs: our ancestors, struck down during their happiest of seasons; the children of the waters, robbed of their parents; my world, bereft of all happiness.
Worst of all, the Authority and his Committee perpetuate this joylessness with their lies and deceit.
Silent tears fall—first just a few, then a steady stream—until finally, after all these years, I allow myself to sob. There is danger in mourning, truly grieving, while under the seas. Grief can easily overcome you in the blues of the water, so I have always kept my own carefully locked—only allowing small, controlled slivers of memory to escape.
Sydney wraps her arms around me from the back. Jesse embraces me. Without words or invitation, Captain and Danny join, enclosing me in a giant group hug. Their collective heat warms me, outside and in, and slowly, the tears stop.
I look at the tree again, but view it differently this time. Rather than a sad reminder of what used to be, the majestic pine stands as an example of what could be. My resolve grows. I will not abandon my people. I will find a way to bring back joy.
~Ultramarine~
18
The first rays of sun peek through the open windows, coating the bed in golden light. The light shines upon Jesse’s face and highlights the light brown hairs sprouting from his chin. After the warmth of the group hug, I couldn’t bear to disappear into one of the giant rooms by myself. Jesse offered to share his room, and he held me in his arms all night long. Interconnectedness starves off the sadness, I am finding.
The glow dances across his eyelids, makes his long eyelashes glisten. Jesse has been the best of friends since he pulled me from the ocean, supportive and caring, but I wonder if something more could be forming.
The frequent touches, his lips upon mine, his words—I like you, Chey—all lead me to think a bigger bond grows between us. My smile forms at the thought, but the sound of the waves calls to me. My two worlds tug just a bit more.
While he sleeps, my curiosity takes charge. I run one finger along the hairs sprouting from his chin. Bristly, like a whale’s baleen. I stroke his golden brown curls. Soft and like nothing from the waters.
I wonder if he still smells of the sea. As I lean close to find out, his eyes open.
I whistle in surprise. How odd that some instincts remain above the Surface.
He wraps me in an enormous hug. “What a nice way to wake up. Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I ever have. These beds are so comfortable. Why hasn’t everybody moved in here, with the beds and solar power and all?”
“It’s too far from the House of Sun. We wouldn’t be able to make the weekly pilgrimage.” Jesse rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“Sundays are that important?”
He rests on one elbow. “The Disaster was a fight over stuff. We try to focus on kin, and Sundays help us remember our focus.”
Was there a focus under the waters? Everybody went about their duties—the young learning, those of age working—but there was a mindlessness to it. Maybe beginning each day with a deeper purpose helps. Today, I will have a focus: I will find Haku.
“I want to go to the ocean myself this morning. Maybe Haku will come if I am alone.”
Jesse bites his bottom lip. He takes a long time to respond. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“Haku would never hurt me.” Of this I am certain.
“What about your authorities? Could they be looking for you?” Jesse runs his fingers over the little scar that remains on my forehead.
“I have never heard of such a thing.” But there is so much the Authority does that I am not aware of. I think of my goal: finding Haku. “I am willing to take the risk.”
Jesse remains silent, but a slight shadow passes over his face.
“I will be cautious,” I promise.
“Be careful,” he urges, hugging me once more.
*
The beach is different in the morning’s light. The brilliant heat of yesterday’s afternoon is absent; instead, the pinky glow of the morning greets me. I sink into the soft, dry sand as I memorize the light of new day.
The water is nearly still. There is only the gentlest of breezes, the tiniest lap of waves, but the glassy surface of the ocean
does not reveal Haku’s familiar fin.
I carefully fold my sundress and set it high in the sand, then walk toward Black Rock. I climb the enormous boulder. The motions are unfamiliar, but my muscles, strong from swimming, pull me higher and higher. Finally I stand atop the highest peak.
I look out onto the ocean and blow my whistle—long and sharp—then dive down… down… down until I cut through the water’s surface. The familiar aqua of the morn surrounds me. I blow again and again and again.
I hear her familiar whistle back. Haku. I tremble with excitement. Haku.
A silver streak darts through the seas toward me, closer and closer.
She’s here! Our embrace, fin to arm, tail to foot, seems awkward after days of hugging humans. But her hug is also familiar—the only touch I knew for so many years.
“You came.” I rest my forehead against her beak.
“I was worried you would not come,” she clicks back. “I’m sorry.” Her keen whistle of distress shows how real her regret is.
“I am sorry too… for not understanding.”
Time passes quickly. Stories from the seas mix with my adventures from the land. Soon, the aqua has deepened to my favorite of the ocean’s hues, cerulean.
Haku swims back and forth: a dolphin’s sign of agitation. “Chey, I have not returned to our sector. I have been investigating… rumors from the waters.”
It pains me to imagine Haku all alone while I have been surrounded by budding friendships. “Rumors?”
“Some have survived… the Unmentionable.”
“Survived?” While the waters never truly slow in the ocean, things seem to freeze for a moment. I struggle to find my own words. “W—what do you mean?”
“On the far end of the island lies the Land of Black Sand. I have seen survivors there.”
Black sand? The sand on this island is the gold of the sunshine’s rays. I want so badly to believe, but the pain of false hope has cut me down so much already. “Who? How many?”
She shakes her head. “I cannot get close enough to be sure.”
