by Sherry Soule
“I’m going to tell my parents that they can’t ship me off so close to the end of my senior year, then I’ll dive into my plans about cosmetology college next fall. Plus being gone so long, I’m sure they’re racked with guilt by now.”
“No doubt. I’m going to miss you when I head off to Hollywood.”
“Just stop,” Viola says, tucking my arm under her’s. “We are not having a mushy chick-flick moment and ruining our makeup with a teary hug—”
Loud giggles have Viola and me turning to find Neela in a puffy pink gown and Tanisha wearing a skin-tight, dark blue dress, waiting in line several feet behind us. My jaw clenches at the sight of Nasty Neela—all smiley. I’m not going to let that attention seeker, wreck my night.
“Sloane!” Hayden calls from the upper-deck, waving at us.
He leans over the side of the railing, looking all James Bond in a tuxedo with his light-brown hair slicked back and my heart stammers. For an instant, I imagine him wearing a similar tux to our wedding and myself dressed in a gown this pretty. Lifting the hem, my steps quicken up the gangplank and onto the yacht.
“I’ll meet up with you later,” I say to Viola over my shoulder.
Zach rushes past me and grabs my best friend, dipping her backward in a romantic flourish, making her squeal and giggle.
I push through the crowd to the stairs leading to the upper-level just as Hayden comes down. He checks me out from purple head to pointy-heel, his gaze causing a warm imprint of tingling admiration to ghost over my skin.
“Damn, Sloane,” he says slowly. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Hayden grasps my hand, leading me through the main deck of the yacht, and soon the rest of the gang assembles around us. Zach’s wearing a dark blue suit and tie. Tanisha sips from a fruity drink in her hand. Neela stands beside her, with Delta behind them, looking shy and uncertain in a plain black dress and flats. Her long, green hair has a side-part with a flower-clip securing the strands from her face. Her black gaze finds mine, then skirts away.
“Welcome, my Meleah brothers and sisters,” a Zeta male says from the platform where the band is performing. “Please enjoy the festivities in your honor.”
“Are you ready to cut loose?” Zach takes Viola by the arm, clicking the heels of his shiny wingtip shoes. “These feet were made for dancing.”
She laughs and twirls onto the makeshift dance floor as the band plays another upbeat song.
“Come on, Peaches.” Hayden squeezes my hand. “Let’s go boogie.”
We join Zach and Viola, dancing through three more songs before we take a break to get refreshments.
Hayden kisses my cheek. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
He vanishes into the throng of partygoers while I stay with Zach and Viola, sipping ice cold drinks. I spot Neela and Delta with their heads close together animatedly talking. Neela turns and catches my stare, her mouth turning into an ugly sneer. Neela must be saying spiteful things about me to Delta.
A slow melody begins and a deep male voice says, “This one’s for Sloane.”
My pulse races and my heart swells a size larger, pushing against my ribcage. Hayden stands in front of the band on the stage with a microphone in his hand, looking like a dashing Frank Sinatra as he starts crooning a popular love song that builds to a heart-tugging crescendo. I swear my body melts into a gushy pile of love goo.
Viola clutches my hand and shrieks. “Oh, my goth. Is he singing to you?”
Squealing girls rush toward him, swaying to the song. This romantic gesture has about as much cheesiness as a fondue party, but the girly-girl inside me loves it. Hayden ignores his gushing fandom and his gaze fastens on mine. He moves closer, belting out the tune, and takes one of my hands. Still singing to only me now, he places my palm over his heart, with his hand covering mine.
This has got to be one of the most romantic moments in my entire life, with Hayden making a fool out of himself by singing to me. He shakes his hips Elvis-style, singing the chorus, and my hand slips from his.
When the song ends, Hayden hands the mic back to one of the band members, gives the crowd a quick bow to round of thundering applause, and then walks over to me. Before he crosses the deck, I’m rushing into his arms. He lifts me off my feet and twirls me to more clapping and cheers.
“Marry me?” he whispers.
“Yes,” I say in a breathlessly.
Hayden turns to crowd and lifts a fist in the air. “She said yes!”
My pulse races, pounding out a heavy bass rhythm and a ridiculous grin takes up residence on my face. The onlookers go wild with hoots, whistles, and shouts of congratulations.
Viola hugs me and Zach pats me heartily on the back. Already my cheeks ache, and I’m so happy I fear my heart will burst. I catch Neela’s eye and she begrudgingly nods, tears in her eyes, but what shocks me more is the cold, unwavering stare from Delta. She must think I’m stealing her brother, instead of gaining a sister. I’ll talk to her the instant the crowd quiets and smooth things over.
Tanisha rushes across the deck, blocking my view of the two girls, and toasts us with her flute of juice.
My gaze sweeps over the partygoers, searching for Hayden’s parents. I find them on the far side of the deck with glum faces. Mrs. Lancaster turns on her heel, urging her husband away from the cheering throng surrounding my future husband and me.
Hayden talks with another Meleah boy and Zach about a bachelor party, while Tanisha and Viola chat about bridesmaid’s dresses.
Delta walks over to me with two glasses of punch. “Here.” She hands me one of the drinks. “A toast.”
Neela is watching us, and looking like a demented fairy that’s had a tough week. I grasp the glass, clink it against Delta’s, and take a big sip. The taste is slightly sour and foreign.
“Thanks.” I place the glass on a table and grin at Delta. “I hope we can get to know each other better and maybe even become real friends.”
Delta nods, then scampers away with her head down like an introverted puppy.
Needing a moment alone, I slip outside onto the outer deck. Walking along the planks toward the stern, I take a deep breath of sea air and the cool breeze kisses my hot cheeks. I pause to gaze out at the black ocean, the rippling waves crashing against the boat. From this distance, the glimmering lights on the buildings sparkle like fireflies.
Closing my eyes, I picture the ridiculously sexy glint in Hayden’s eyes as he sang to me. And now it’s official—I’m going to marry Hayden.
Familiar voices drift on the wind, and my eyelids snap open. Hayden and his mother are arguing on the other side of the stern. I step into the shadows behind a dinghy.
“Are you going to elope if we object? Or does this girl want one of those expensive weddings? Could her people even afford one?”
“Her people? Do you even hear yourself?” Hayden says.
“We hardly know this girl. I’ll need a thorough background check.”
“Don’t forget the interrogation spotlight and the lie detector.”
“That’s a thought,” she says, nodding.
“Of course, if you don’t get the answers you want, there’s always waterboarding.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Mrs. Lancaster says.
Hayden folds both arms over his chest. “Thought an irrational conversation deserved an absurd response.”
“I am quite justified in my line of questioning,” Mrs. Lancaster says, “if this girl is to be a member of the family someday.”
“Mother, I’m really trying to understand you here, but I’m getting nowhere. Can’t you give Sloane a chance, for me? Please?”
“Understanding is one thing, patronizing me is entirely another.”
“You wanna tell me why you’re acting this way?” A muscle twitches in his cheek. “I thought all parents just wanted their kids to be happy.”
“Of course I do. But we haven’t given our
consent and already she’s got her claws into you!”
“You’re being ridiculous. Why are you so flipped out?”
Mrs. Lancaster bristles. “Don’t play dumb with me, Hayden Edward Lancaster. You know damn well why I’m heartbroken.”
“Neela is a nice girl, but she’s not the girl for me. We have nothing in common. Sloane’s intelligent and funny and she challenges me every day. She helps me to be less introverted when I’m with her, I feel like I can be myself. And she puts up with my moodiness, and all my other imperfections. And most of all, I love how she’s always able to find humor even in the toughest situations. The bottom line is…I need her and she needs me.”
Hayden stalks away and Mrs. Lancaster marches back inside, probably to the bar for a stiff drink.
Tears burn my eyes and my shoulders sag. All my hopes and dreams for a future with Hayden explode like a fragile stick of dynamite. Our relationship is never far from higher levels of suckage. My fingers clutch the railing so tight my knuckles turn white. The Lancasters Sloane-hate feels like venom seeping through my veins and turning my heart black.
Footsteps thump behind me, but before I fully turn, hands slam into my back and shove me over the railing. I scream as I tumble overboard, my heart taking a nosedive into my stomach.
TWENTY-EIGHT
I plunge headfirst into the dark, choppy waves. My arms flail and my feet kick in short spurts, propelling me to the surface. Sputtering, I suck air into my lungs.
What the holy hand-grenade just happened?
Okay, so I do know that someone is obviously trying to kill me. They pushed me off the boat. The Vacation Sabotager wants me to drown.
I am sick to death of Nasty Neela and her psycho jealously!
“Help!” I yell, my feeble shouts obscured by the boat’s rumbling engine.
A scream rips from my throat, but the sound is consumed by the hammering propellers and churning waters.
My heart thumps unsteadily in my chest, my blood pumping way too fast. The icy water stabs at me, like being jolted awake from a nap by a kitten pouncing on your face.
Mentally, I beat myself up for not wearing a life-jacket on the boat. Although, tacky orange does not go well with my skin tone.
Besides, who needs a life-vest when I’ve got double-Ds to help me float?
I tread water, watching the boat sail past me. My lovely Gothic gown clings to my skin and tangles around my legs, making it impossible to swim after the yacht. I struggle to undo the tiny buttons on the bodice and free myself from this strangling garment that threatens to pull me under. My bare feet curl beneath me in the freezing current.
Damn. I’ve lost a perfectly cute pair of heels over this. Someone’s gonna pay! And that someone is Neela Flippin’ Voorhees.
My stomach flips over, hard and sour. My panicked mind instantly goes to the terrifying horror film, Open Water, where a couple is stranded miles from shore in shark-infested waters.
“Help!” I shout. “Wait! Help me! I’ve fallen overboard.”
From where I’m bobbing in the water, the band launches into a thumping beat that drifts across the Reticuli Sea and obscures my shouts. Wrestling with the gown, I stare at the glimmering lights strung along the railing as the vessel sails further away.
Squinting, I spot a dark figure waving from the stern.
“Help! Wait! Stop the boat,” I yell.
Without responding, the figure keeps gesturing goodbye with one hand raised while the yacht cruises further out to sea. It has to be Neela Voorhees. That vacation sabotaging vixen heard Hayden singing to me and my acceptance of marriage, and it must’ve caused her to finally snap.
Inhuman wails rip from my throat like sound effects from a science fiction film. Briny water fills my open mouth on a scream, and my stomach revolts by throwing up. Choking and sputtering on the seawater, I wave my arms in the air.
The figure slinks away, and now I’m utterly alone.
Cold shivers rack my body. I close my eyes and try to teleport, but nothing happens. I clench my fists and grind my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. Nothing.
Opening my eyes, I blow out a breath and try again, concentrating on the beach where my clothes were stolen. Zippo. Then I envision my dad’s Zeta house, but I don’t even get a teleportation tingle or sparkle of bright aura colors.
Farking zombies!
In the movies, aliens are always these smart, all-powerful beings who wreak havoc on humans, but I’m too weak and cold to even teleport to my metal home on this planet.
A sour taste fills my mouth. I mentally slap my forehead. The horrible drink Delta toasted me with must’ve been spiked. And I know just who did the spiking—Neela! She must have asked Delta to do that toast with me while they were whispering together, then put the toxin in my glass. Also, the time Neela stole my clothes and I couldn’t teleport, she must’ve poisoned my soda on the beach then, too.
That crazy biatchhh has weakened my superpowers. I bet she must’ve used that venomous-power-stealing toklians plant, like the one in Mrs. Jackson’s garden to deaden my abilities.
I groan and punch at the water, causing the waves to splash into my face. Grrr. This is not how I wanted to spend my spring break. A whole two weeks of no school, no teachers, and no homework. Instead of enjoying my freedom, I’ve dodged psychotic scientists and soldiers, got thrown into the mud by a spooked animal, nearly crashed on a Water-Glider, and, worst of all, endured the unwanted company of all the Sloane-haters on this vacation from hell.
The water ripples and gives me a skin crawly-feeling. Is that a fin?
My mind instantly jumps to all the marine life that can kill me. I need to get out of this murderous ocean before any deadly predators decide to take a tasty bite of Sloane meat. My heart stutters and a rush of blood skitters through me.
What the hell is lurking below me? Are their man-eating sharks on this planet? Or other slimy creatures with sharp teeth, like giant water millipedes?
My fears open the floodgates to visions of giant sea monsters rising up to chomp on me in one great bite, like that Jaws poster. Or a thousand strands of heavy, zigzagging seaweed tangling around my legs and dragging me under.
Before I get eaten, I work at getting off the dress again. My fingers tremble as I undo the buttons. Finally, I’m able to rip the front of the dress and wiggle out of it. The cold water hits my bare skin, instantly soaking my bustier and panties. My teeth start chattering and clicking like I’m practicing Morse code. The dress floats away on the waves like a lazy swirl of onyx fabric.
Moving my arms, I whirl in a circle to figure out what I should do. I’m not the best swimmer and I’m not sure how long I can tread water before exhaustion sets in. I glance from the retreating boat to the shore miles away, then start swimming toward the beach.
How the hell has this happened to me again? Why is someone always opposed to my relationship with Hayden?
That boy comes with a whole lotta emotional baggage, extra snotty parents, and a horde of homicidal ex-girlfriends. If it were any other guy, he would not be worth this much drama. Except Hayden loves me whole-heartedly and I doubt I’ll ever find anyone who cares about me as much as he does. I’ll be doomed to be the eternal pessimist without his sunny optimism. Besides, I’m insanely, head-over-heels in love with the guy.
Those tiny lights on the boat glint in and out sight until they vanish. Now I’m all alone and adrift in the middle of the ocean in danger of getting hypothermia.
Has Hayden noticed I’m missing yet? Are my friends panicking and searching for me on the ship? Have they alerted my parents?
Moving in a slow circle, my fear kicks up a notch. I’m going to drown out here or be devoured by a hungry sea monster. My insides tremble at the thought of being ripped apart, with the morning tide pushing my dead body onto the beach.
I’ll never see my family or friends again. My cat! Who’s going to take care of Jinx? Hopefully, Viola will keep him fed and happy. Guess my bestie will finally get her wish
to visit a morgue and identify a body. Well, it’ll be more like a gross-smelling waterlogged corpse.
Guess, there won’t be any open casket for me.
At least Hayden will be able to make his parents happy. They can even have a double event, Hayden’s wedding to Neela, along with my funeral on the same day.
I start to cry, those weird, hiccupping sobs that are fast becoming my specialty. I imagine my little brother pulling out his phone and playing Angry Birds during the funeral service, then my mom throwing some serious shade at him. Next, I picture Hayden and Viola hugging and crying, with Zach standing behind them shaking his head. Tanisha will probably roll her eyes, uttering how I should’ve taken her warning messages more seriously. And Neela, alongside Hayden’s parents, in a bright red dress, smirking over my coffin. As they lower my casket into the ground, I imagine Neela cackling like an evil villain in a campy horror movie.
Resting a moment, I speculate what they’ll say at my eulogy…
Cyclone Sloane died the heroine of her own sad movie. May her Fright Night Babble live on!
Eventually someone will discover all the Meghan Trainor songs loaded into my iPod, and I’ll be banished from Goth society forever. Although, I guess it won’t matter because I’ll be six-feet under by then…
Then sanity returns. I’ve survived so much. I just need to rest my fatigued limbs for a minute. I lie back and float on the swell of waves, my long hair fanning out around my head. Closing my eyes, I drift for a moment until I regain my strength before I start swimming again. Minutes pass. Hours. I have no idea how long I’ve been treading water. My arms and legs ache with each movement.
The whitecaps ripple several yards away and I stop moving. A fin slices through the water. The ocean waves tremble as the creature passes beneath me…or is it circling me?
A cold body slithers past my leg. I scream and kick, splashing water. Fresh tears build in my eyes and a sense of hopelessness drills into my soul. The waves swell and my imagination goes wild. I’m not sure I can survive a shark attack by punching it in the nose Leo DiCaprio-style.
