Lights at Midnight : A Mermaid Story (Lights at Midnight Series Book 1)

by Orchid Leigh

  “Peter’s my boyfriend,” I said, knowing it would cause a bit of a stir among them.

  There was a scuffle from Peter, who had perked up and was now staring at me.

  “Oh yeah?” queried Bethany.

  She looked back and forth between Peter and me, her gaze pokey and annoyingly judgy.

  “Yeah.” I stared her down.

  A retort formed on her lips, but she held back.

  “Well, we need to head out,” I said, knowing it would be wise to get away before Bethany or I started up again.

  “Okay,” said Bethany. “See you later.”

  She and the other two girls walked off while Jenny lingered behind.

  “Sorry,” said Jenny. “Alex broke up with her. She’s been on edge.”

  “Oh, really?” I said, now feeling like an awful friend. “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say you were right. He’s no good.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’ll be fine.” She looked at me with a friendly smile. “Hey, I’m having a birthday party at my house in a couple of weeks. You guys should come. Both of you,” she said to Peter.

  “Thanks, Jenny.” I smiled back. “That would be great.”

  “Okay. Well, see you Monday,” she said, turning to meet back up with Bethany.

  ~

  Peter and I were just outside the store, filling my backpack with our unicorn bate. He hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and looked at me with a big smile on his face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “So I’m your boyfriend?” His smile was sly and pathetic. And very cute.

  I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. “Oh, no, Peter, I just said that to get them to lay off you.”

  “Nope. You can’t take it back now,” said Peter, grinning widely.

  “What? No, Peter. It’s okay. I just—”

  “Ah . . . this is gonna be great,” he said, paying me no mind. “You know, I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”

  “In your dreams,” I said, rolling my eyes, but I couldn’t hold back a happy smile.

  14

  “What’s going on here?” asked Dad.

  I had pulled the tent from the basement and was carrying it when I entered the kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee.

  “Stakeout,” I reminded him.

  Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you doing with a tent?”

  I stopped and cautiously looked at him. “Uh . . . Peter and I are going to camp out in the yard and wait for it?” I explained as a question because I was asking now for the first time.

  Dad was shaking his head.

  “Come on, Dad!” I begged. “It’s too cold to sit out there.”

  “Ellie,” he warned.

  “Please, Dad.”

  He sighed and put down his coffee. “The porch,” he said. “Next to this window.” He tapped at the window beside him.

  I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

  I happily headed outside with the tent.

  “Unicorns!” I shouted gleefully to Peter, who was waiting on the porch.

  Dad bellowed behind me, solemn and grumpy, “It was just a deer.”

  ~

  “Okay, so . . . the apples and carrots are in the backpack, and Millie gave me some celery and strawberries.” I had the Tupperware in my hands to show Peter. I placed them next to the backpack.

  We were on the porch, just outside Dad’s window, snug and cozy inside the tent. I stuffed in as many extra pillows and blankets as I could find, and we sat toasty and warm under the fluff as we watched eagerly out the mesh-screened windows.

  “So what’s the plan if we see it?” I asked, my words piping out as steamy vapor when I spoke.

  “I don’t know.” Peter shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far.”

  “Ha, me neither,” I said. We had spent all week planning for tonight but hadn’t even considered what we would do if we actually spotted a unicorn. “I suppose that neither of us think we’re really going to see anything, huh?”

  “Maybe not,” he agreed.

  “That’s okay. We can just hang out.”

  I twisted around and reached for a container I had packed for us. “I have dinner if you’re hungry,” I said, opening it. “It’s a Frito pie. I made it for Dad. He’s from Texas and loves himself a good ol’ Frito pie.” I handed Peter a spoon. “I saw him trying to make it at a gas station with the cheese and chili machines once, and I’ve been making it for him ever since.”

  Peter laughed and went for a bite. “Oh, wait, I forgot.” I pulled out a bag of corn chips and sprinkled a bunch on top. I nudged him the go-ahead. “I didn’t want them to get soggy,” I explained.

  He took a big crunchy bite and smiled. “Mmm,” he moaned happily. He chewed more enthusiastically. “Really good,” he said, swallowing his bite.

  I handed him a bottle of water.

  “So you’re part New Yorker and part Texan?” Peter asked, taking a sip.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Well, Dad was never really much of a New Yorker and he raised me, so sometimes I feel like I am.” I pushed a messy spoonful into my mouth, then grabbed for a napkin, handing one to Peter. “I’m pretty sure we would have been following Millie back to Tennessee soon if this hadn’t come up.” I gestured around the tent but meant the outside and Maine and everything that wasn’t New York.

  “Did you like New York?”

  “I loved it,” I said, thinking back fondly. “It’s really pretty great there. It’s bigger, yet somehow it felt cozier. This here”—I gestured to the tent again—“it’s so desolate. It makes you feel unprotected and forsaken or something . . . you know?”

  Peter nodded. “Some people like that.”

  “Dad does.” I smiled.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Do you wish you could go back?”

  I shook my head. “No, New York was great, but . . .” I paused and smiled again. I went forward with my thought. “But . . . it didn’t have a Peter Evans.”

  Peter smiled slyly. “You know, it probably did have a Peter Evans.”

  I scowled at him and tried to kick him under the blankets, but a pillow was in the way.

  “So what happened to your mom?” he asked.

  “She died during childbirth. Hemorrhaging or something. I don’t really know. I guess it was pretty horrific and sad. Dad doesn’t talk about it.”

  “Geez . . . that’s awful. I’m sorry. I didn’t think girls died during childbirth anymore,” said Peter with a pained expression.

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I feel guilty about it sometimes. Like . . . I feel like I need to be something special in order to make up for it. I mean, she basically gave her life up for me.” I let out an anxious breath. “And the pressure’s real.” And now that I was talking about it, I felt it. Oh boy.

  Peter put his spoon down. “You are special, Ellie.”

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  “No,” he contended. He held my gaze. “That’s what I was going to say before. You and Granny Leira. Both of you. You have the same . . .” He stopped to think. “I don’t know. . . Light that makes you shine. But you’re even brighter than she was.” He shook his head and pressed his lips tight, like he was trying to work something out. “I don’t know what it is, but . . . you radiate like a star or something.”

  My heart skipped. “Did you just say that to me?”

  If I was a star, I was falling.

  “Told you it was cheesy,” he said, looking down, embarrassed.

  “Oh my god, Peter,” I said, kicking him under the blankets again and feeling like I was actually going to cry. I found his stockinged feet this time and tapped my foot on his. “That’s not cheesy—that’s freakin’ adorable.” I wiped at the corners of my eyes because I was crying.

  I looked at Peter, shaking my head and feeling myself floating away. I came back down and focused. I stared at Peter staring back at me. “So what about you?” I asked.

  “What about me?
”

  “Tell me about your life here.”

  He frowned. “Eh . . . I don’t want to talk about my life. It’s boring. You already know everything.”

  I frowned back and realized I needed to be more specific or else I wouldn’t be getting anything out of him. “Okay,” I said. “Tell me something I don’t know. What about Liam? How old is he?”

  Peter answered easily. “Liam’s one and a half.”

  “Do you have the same dad?”

  He nodded.

  “So your parents are recently divorced?”

  He squirmed in his seat a little. “They’re not actually divorced. He was kinda just gone one day. It was right before Liam was born.” Peter squirmed again and fiddled with his hands. “My mom says he had a tough childhood, which is why he drinks, but he can’t handle it. It’s not like with your dad, where he has a couple of beers and he’s done. My dad always takes it to the next level—and it changes him.”

  “What’s he like when he’s not drinking?”

  Peter looked sad when he answered. “He’s cool when he’s not drinking . . . a totally different person.”

  I found his foot again and wiggled my toes against it. “Sorry,” I said.

  Peter tried a weak smile, but it fell. “Yeah, we used to be kinda close, actually. I feel bad for Liam because he basically doesn’t have a dad.”

  “He’s got a great big brother,” I said, pushing on Peter’s foot again. “So how come you think everybody hates you?”

  “Because they do.” He stared at the pillows. “You saw how they were at the store. That’s my life here in Ocean Lake.”

  I wobbled my head because he was right. I had seen it, and not just with Bethany. “Okay, how come, though? It seems a little ridiculous to me.”

  “Ah, well . . .” said Peter reluctantly. “He’s made more than a few scenes over at Mikey’s in town and . . . I guess he kinda had a fling with some married woman here. It got around and everyone blasted him for it. She was a mom of some jock kid here, so I got blasted for it, too.”

  I felt my skin burning. “That’s completely unfair.”

  Peter shrugged.

  “So is that why your mom kicked him out?”

  “Ha . . .” said Peter with a bit of a smile. “Yeah, she probably did kick him out, but I don’t know, honestly.” He sounded tired and his eyes peering back looked tired. “Hey, can we not talk about this anymore?”

  “All right,” I said, wavering a little. I wanted to keep talking, but . . . “Yeah, okay. Sorry.” I chewed on my lip, trying to think of something to squelch all the other questions I had for him. “Hey, why don’t we play a game?”

  “Okay. What kind of game?”

  I thought for a second. “How about Never Have I Ever?”

  “Okay,” said Peter. “I’m not sure how to play.”

  “It’s fun. I’ll show you.” I grabbed one of Millie’s Tupperware. “So we’ll use these strawberries. We each get ten.” I divided the strawberries into two empty solo cups. “I’m gonna say never have I ever and then something that I have never done before. But if you have done it, you have to eat one of your strawberries.”

  “I don’t really like strawberries that much,” grumbled Peter.

  “Well, good. That’ll make it more interesting.”

  He sulked. I ignored him and continued to explain.

  “Whoever is left with the most strawberries at the end wins. Got it?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Okay, I’ll go first.” I thought for a second. “Never have I ever . . . cheated on a test.”

  I waited for Peter’s response. I wasn’t all that surprised when he went for the strawberry. He popped it into his mouth and put up his arms, feigning innocence. “Hey, my mom left the answers on the table right next to me.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I was the one to blame there.”

  “Yeah right, I already know you’re a cheater.” I laughed, remembering his Skittle toss performance at the lake. “Okay, your turn.”

  Peter thought for a second, then said, “Never have I ever . . . peed in a pool.”

  “Ooh, gross. No, never.” I laughed.

  “Am I supposed to eat a strawberry if I’ve done it?” asked Peter.

  “Oh my god, Peter. TMI!” I shouted through giggles as I tossed a pillow at his face. The pillow struck him harder than I had meant, and it rebounded and hit me in the head. We both broke out in a fit of laughter that rolled in waves as we replayed the awkward moment in our minds.

  “Okay, okay. I’ve got one,” I said after we had recovered enough to go on. Peter was still wheezing a little when I spoke. “Never have I ever . . . been kissed.”

  Peter gulped and looked at me now with a sober face. His strawberry remained untouched.

  “Me neither,” I said.

  “But . . . I kissed you down by the dock, remember?”

  “Oh, come on, that didn’t count. Wasn’t even on the lips.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Do you want to?” I asked. “You know, just to see what it’s like.”

  Peter laughed quietly.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That’s not why I would want to kiss you.”

  I smiled. “That’s okay,” I said, completely in agreement with that.

  Peter pressed his lips together tightly. “I don’t know, Ellie. Your dad’s right in there.” He pointed at the mesh screen and to the open kitchen window.

  “He’s in the living room. He won’t see,” I whispered.

  Peter sighed, looking torn.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “It was probably a bad idea, anyway.” I stared at my cup of strawberries, trying to hide my disappointment.

  “No, wait,” said Peter. He shifted in his pile of pillows uncomfortably. “Okay.” He settled.

  “Yeah?” I smiled happily.

  “Yeah.” He nodded, taking a nervous breath. “Let’s make this quick, though. I don’t want your—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” I said hastily, wishing he would leave Dad out of it.

  “Okay,” said Peter again.

  We sat for a minute, staring at each other in silence.

  “Your move,” I whispered.

  He nodded but didn’t budge.

  “I thought you said you were going to be quick.”

  “Don’t rush me. I’m thinking.”

  “What are you thinking about? Just do—”

  “Hush,” said Peter, putting a finger to my lips.

  I was quiet.

  He leaned forward and lingered with our noses slightly touching and tickling a little. He was so close I could smell the men’s-section shampoo in his hair and could hear the breath I saw piping white and steamy through his nose.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” My voice was a whisper.

  He smiled a little, then pressed his lips to mine. They were soft . . . and warm . . . and sweet . . . and so good . . . and I didn’t want him to take them away.

  He pulled them from me and sat back down quietly. “How was that?” he asked.

  “Good,” I said with a small gasp because I might have stopped breathing. “Your lips are soft like strawberries.” I put my fingers to my lips, remembering.

  “Yours too,” he said with a smile and a wiggle of his toes with mine.

  I stared back at Peter and had to bite my lip to stop from smiling too much.

  “Um, so do you want to keep playing?” I asked. My oxygen was returning and the blush on my cheeks was heating up. “It’s your turn,” I said with a coaxing hand to get him to just go already.

  “Yeah, okay,” he said with a small chuckle. “Um, let me think for a second . . . Okay, I got one. Never have I ever . . .” He paused.

  I sat waiting for his response, but he was quiet. “Hurry up,” I pestered.

  Peter didn’t speak but stared past me vacantly.

  “What?”

  “Seen . . . a . . . unicorn.” The words formed on his lips, but his voice was vapo
r. He lifted a finger and pointed outside the tent.

  I turned.

  There, in the wide-open, just stepping out of the woods from the same trail Peter and I had walked on our very first day together, stood a large, white, and very real unicorn.

  15

  “Ellie, what are you doing?”

  This was the part of the night we hadn’t planned for, but now, in the moment, I knew it didn’t matter. I heard Peter, but his voice was a weak whisper in some distant place, far from the new, narrowed focus of my mind.

  I was pulling on my boots, with my hand on the zipper, looking out the screen door to the strange white creature that stood, elegant and poised, in my backyard.

  It was staring at me. It was calling to me. I didn’t hear it. I felt it—a gentle tug on my heart, and I needed to go.

  I unzipped the tent.

  “Ellie,” tried Peter again.

  I turned back to him. “Hey, give me an apple,” I said. “I’m going out there.”

  Peter reached into the bag and pulled one out. I made a grab for it. He yanked his hand back and shot me a concerned look. “I’m coming with you,” he snapped.

  “Okay, come,” I snapped back impatiently.

  ~

  The night air was cold on my skin, but adrenaline pulsed and warmed my veins.

  The unicorn was plainly visible in the moonlight. We crossed under the cover of a large oak tree, and in the bright, full light of the moon, so were we. It fixed its eyes on us and gracefully stepped forward.

  I ambled toward it, the frozen snow crunching under my boots with each step.

  “Ellie, be careful.” Peter’s shaky voice trailed behind.

  “It’s okay,” I called back, fearless and resolute. With the tug on my heart came a sense of calm. I was steady and sure and perfectly at peace with letting this strange creature lure me.

  I came to a stop, leaving just a few feet remaining between me and the giant beast. It stopped and grunted softly with flaring nostrils, its breath hot and steamy in the frosty air.

  The unicorn gazed at me with kind, unthreatening eyes that made me feel safe. I knew instantly, with no worries at all, that this creature had no ill intentions. And instead, a lovely sense of comfort and warmth came over me as I stood beside it in the bitter night.