Breathless (9 page)

He smiled. “My name is Bastin. What’s yours?”

“Edith.”

Bastin sounded out my name in two long syl ables as if drinking it from a straw. “Eeeeh-Dith.” He smiled again, this time flashing deep dimples in both cheeks, which brought about a strange tickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Very unusual name.”

“Old-fashioned, you mean.”

Bastin frowned. “I don’t understand.”

I shrugged. “Only little old ladies are named Edith.”

He blinked.

“You can blink real y fast.”

His laugh wrapped around me, clinging to my skin like taffy. “I guess I can.”

I waited but he didn’t elaborate. We sat in silence for another minute before I prodded, “So you wanted to talk to me?”

He picked a piece of grass from the sand and wrapped it around his finger. “I wanted to make sure you received my gift.”

It took me a minute before I remembered the oyster shel outside my room. “Oh, you mean the green stone!”

His pul ed the piece of grass from his finger and snapped it in two. “Yes. I feel bad that Luna took your necklace and wanted to give you something in turn.”

The blue-haired girl again. “Why
did
she attack me?”

He snorted. “She wasn’t supposed to, but as captain of the guard she takes certain . . . liberties.” His jaw flexed as if he had trouble getting the last word off of his tongue.

“The guard? Like the Coast Guard?”

“No.” Bastin continued to pul apart the blade of grass until it was nothing but green slivers in his lap. “My father’s guard.”

I huffed. “You’re stil not making any sense.”

Bastin stared at the shredded grass, as if he were avoiding my gaze. “My father. The king.”

I laughed. Obviously his sense of humor was as weird as his sense of style. But I didn’t mind. It had been a long time since I laughed. It felt good.

“If your father is a king that would make you—”

“A prince,” he answered.

“Of course.” I giggled again. Was this his crazy idea of a pickup line? “Very funny.”

He looked up at me. There was no trace of humor on his face. “Not real y. In fact, my father would have my tail if he knew I’d told you.”

“Tail?” I sobered. Apparently there was more wrong with him than I’d imagined. “Are you talking, like, extra vertebrae or webbed toes?”

He doubled over with laughter, which only confused me more. When he finished, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and stared at the moisture he’d found there. “Huh, that’s strange.”

“Understatement of the year,” I said.

If he’d heard me, he pretended he didn’t. “Sorry, I went off topic.” He brushed his hands on his jeans. “What I’d meant by tail,” he gestured toward his legs, “was, you know, an actual tail.”

I took a deep breath and let it out in a slow hiss. Either he had a warped sense of humor, or he had a mental il ness. The more we talked, the more convinced I became it was the latter. Didn’t people develop schizophrenia in their late teens? “You don’t have a tail. You have legs.”

“
Now
I do. Because of the moon.”

There was another explanation that made sense. “Are you on drugs? Or have you been drinking?”

He turned a thoughtful expression to the moon. “The surface is ruled by the sun. Everything here requires it for life. From your plants to your animals to”— he blinked onyx eyes at me—“you. But the ocean is different. We are ruled by the moon. The moon controls the tides and al ows us to walk the land.”

“Hold up.” I held up a hand to stop him. “You mean to tel me that you live in the ocean?”

“Yes.” He pul ed another piece of grass from the sand.

I opened my mouth to tel him where he could shove the load of crap he’d just fed me, only the words didn’t come. Instead, I found myself with my eyes closed, inhaling the scent of him carried by the ocean’s breeze. He smel ed of salt and surf, his scent stronger than the sand at my feet, stronger than the water yards away. And if the moon had a smel , surely the dark fragrance that rol ed off of him was the closest thing to it.

His voice grew cautious. “You’re quiet.” It was more a question than a statement.

I opened my eyes, surprised al over again by the hair cascading down his shoulder like a silver cloak. My head reeled. Last week, if someone told me that mermaids existed, I would have laughed in their face. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

“Can I?” I reached a hand out to his hair.

He nodded and closed his eyes.

Tentatively, I brushed my fingers along the ends of his hair. I’d never seen anything like it. Despite having the reflective quality of tinfoil, the strands felt like silk against my skin.

Bastin sat motionless as I continued to study his hair. Feeling bolder, I grasped hold of the tendril in front of his ear and tugged. Bastin winced, but the hair remained rooted in place.

Definitely not a wig.

“Oh my God!” I dropped the lock of hair and scooted away from him. “I don’t believe it.”

Bastin opened his eyes and rubbed his head with his palm. “Then what was that for?”

“No . . . it’s just . . . I don’t . . .” My thoughts jumbled together so fast I couldn’t hold on to a single one. I looked at him. “This is crazy, right?”

He smiled at me. “Very.”

I stared at him for another moment, not ready to believe what my eyes and hands had proved to be real. But what other explanation was there?

Every nerve under my skin screamed with the truth of it. “What happens if I do believe in you?” I asked.

He leaned closer. “What do you want to happen?”

A hundred butterflies with wings of ice fluttered inside my chest. Even if I knew how to answer that question, I couldn’t have because I’d forgotten how to talk.

Bastin opened his mouth to say more, but a nearby splash kil ed the words on his tongue. He was on his feet in an instant, scanning the water.

He was too tal to see over so I peered under his elbow. “What is it?”

He frowned. “Our time has run out. I have to go.”

I was surprised by the disappointment flooding through me. “I should go, too. If Sir finds me missing I’l be in a ton of trouble.”

Bastin’s eyes didn’t leave the water. “I’m sorry I am not able to walk you back.”

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t like it was a date or anything. In fact, I didn’t think the rules of etiquette applied to nighttime visits from ocean-dwel ing strangers. I quickly dusted the sand from my nightgown before turning toward the path.

“Edith?”

I froze. “Yes?”

“Could I see you again? Tomorrow?”

A warmth crept from the pit of my stomach, up my neck, where it burned hot in my cheeks. I’d risked so much by sneaking from my room tonight.

To continue to do so would be stupid, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Good.” I didn’t need look over my shoulder to see the smile on Bastin’s face—I could hear it in his voice. “Tomorrow, then.”

I resumed walking down the path toward my house and my room, hoping my footsteps didn’t sear the ground as I burned my way through the night.

Morgan flopped down next to me at the cafeteria table. The chains hanging from her pink skirt clanged sharply against the metal chair. “How’s it going, Smal s?”

“It’s . . . definitely going.” Surprised to have a lunch companion, I folded the copy of the obituaries I’d smuggled from the library and tucked it into my backpack. It was nothing I hadn’t seen before, anyway. Just the usual heart attacks, drunk drivers, and cancer.

Morgan ripped opened a cheese-and-cracker lunch kit. “Did the old man lay into you?”

“No.” And I was so sure that I’d get busted. The fact that I didn’t must have thrown the planets out of alignment. Sir’s favorite pastime was breathing down my neck. He lived to watch my every move, just waiting for me to step out of line. And, aside from my school bathroom makeovers, I never did—until yesterday.

When I’d returned to my bedroom after my night with Bastin, I’d been woozy with fear and adrenaline. I’d lain in bed until the sun came up, alive with an electricity that jolted every nerve in my body. Which was why I couldn’t wait to do it again. Tonight. The anticipation of the high was almost as exciting as getting to see Bastin again.

Almost.

Morgan snapped her fingers in front of my face, dissolving the image of Bastin’s onyx eyes and moon-drenched skin. “Earth to Smal s! Snap out of your emo trance and tel me what happened.”

“Sorry.” I took a bite of my apple and spoke between crunches. “Sir’s been too distracted by the plumbing to get after me. The kitchen sink started leaking yesterday, and this morning I couldn’t shut the water off after my shower.”

She laughed. “What is it with you and busted pipes already?”

I shrugged. “It’s weird, right? Anyway, thanks for saving me yesterday. If Sir found out I’d skipped class, I’d be on a bus to military school right now.”

“Another Sergeant Shithead.” She rol ed her eyes. “I know the type.” She waved her hand dismissively. “But whatever. Friday’s going to be great.

My old man is always giving me a hard time about not having friends. This wil get him off my back.”

My heart sank. Was that al I was to her? A way to get her dad off her back? I knew deep down I didn’t deserve to have friends. But that didn’t mean I didn’t want them.

Morgan, as if reading my thoughts, punched my arm lightly. “And it’s an added bonus that you’re the one person in this school I don’t find unbearable.”

“Thanks?”

She laughed and I laughed with her.

“You two are unbelievable,” a voice from behind me said.

A lump of apple wedged in my throat as the fruit fel from my fingertips and spun a lazy circle on the lunch table. Morgan’s expression went dark.

I almost didn’t recognize the girl standing behind me with her arms crossed and a brace fastened around her neck. Her normal y bronze-colored skin had paled to a grayish hue and dark circles pul ed at her eyes. Two girls wearing jodhpurs and riding boots stood behind her mirroring her outraged expression.

Morgan clicked her tongue ring against her teeth. “What the hel do you want, Hagriel e?”

Gabriel e’s face flushed. “My boyfriend is dead.” Her voice broke into a sob and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I know you don’t know how to act like a normal human being, Morgan, so it’s not surprising that you’re acting like the Bitch Queen that you are. But you,
Edith
.” Her eyes bore into mine. “
You
were there. For reasons I wil never understand, Marty liked you. He’s in the hospital and here you are laughing, acting like nothing happened. I heard you haven’t even visited him.”

My jaw throbbed from how hard I pressed my teeth together. But what could I say? Gabriel e was right. I’d been so caught up in my own world I’d forgotten how the accident had affected more people than just me. No longer able to meet her gaze, I grabbed the apple off the table and picked at a bruise on its skin with my fingernail. Just because Gabriel e wasn’t the nicest person around didn’t mean that she didn’t have feelings.

The cafeteria had gone silent, the entire room clinging to her every word as she continued. “I mean, the whole thing was your fault and you know it. It’s your fault Marty’s hurt and Russel ’s dead. You owe their parents an apology.” She took a moment to choke back a sob. “With the way you’re acting, I’m starting to think you did it on purpose. Maybe Morgan told you to do it. Is that why you pushed me?”

I stood up before I realized what I was doing. “That’s a lie! I didn’t push you from the boat. I tried to save you!”

The tears wel ing in Gabriel e’s eyes broke free in thick streams. “Edith Smal , you’re either a liar or you’re crazy.”

My hands rol ed into fists as waves of heat boiled the blood running through my veins.

“I loved Russel and you took him from me,” she spat. “You ruined my life and I’m going to make sure you don’t get away with it. People wil learn the truth.” With that she turned on her heels and stormed away. Her friends swarmed behind her, embracing her as she fled.

The room erupted in a buzz of hushed whispers. It didn’t matter that everything Gabriel e said was a lie. What mattered was, from the stone-eyed glares I was already receiving, people believed her.

Morgan grabbed my wrist and pul ed me down into my chair. “What a psycho bitch,” she muttered. “Don’t let her get to you, Edith. She’s crazy.”

I swal owed past the lump that formed in my throat. “If this gets back to my stepdad, I’m a goner for sure.” Everything I’d done to make Sir happy —always making sure to say the right words and do the right things for a chance to break free from Sir’s hold when high school ended—would al be nothing. Al because of a stupid date, with a stupid guy, on a stupid boat.

Morgan shook her head. “Not going to happen.”

My appetite gone, I twisted the stem off the apple and set it in the middle of the table. Unfortunately, I couldn’t agree. Given the sound of the hushed whispers fil ing the cafeteria, the rumor that I’d tried to kil Gabriel e was already in motion. This was high school, not a monastery. There was no question the rumor would spread. The real question was, would it spread far enough to reach Sir?

Morgan fol owed me from the lunch room and leaned against the lockers as I pul ed my books for next period. “I’m tel ing you, Smal s, don’t worry about Hagriel e. She’s al talk.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure.

“What class do you have next?”

“Chemistry,” I answered, zipping up my bag then walking beside Morgan down the hal .

“I have shop.” She made an evil face. “Power tools!”

I stopped short. “Power tools? Do you have access to a dril ?”

“Uh, yeah.” Morgan rol ed her eyes. “Please don’t tel me you’re one of
those
girls, Smal s. You do know the difference between a flat head and a Phil ips head, don’t you?”

I didn’t, so I ignored the question. “Could you do something for me?”

She pushed the head of her barbel between her lips. “Sure.”