“What just happened?” Niku whispers as the woman Finn called “Corporate” leaves.
“I don’t know,” I whisper back. “I think Finn got in trouble for jumping in the tank with us.” They were speaking too fast for me to follow, and I don’t know many of the words they used. When I’m sure she’s not coming back, I swim to the front of the tank. “Finn?”
He turns. His eyes are red, blinking more than normal, and he looks . . . lost.
“What’s ‘fired’?”
His shoulders, which had been so tight they were nearly up to his ears, sag. “It means—” He clears his throat as his voice breaks. “It means, I’m no longer your trainer.”
I scrutinize him and whisper, “And what does that mean?”
“Goddammit,” he says and punches the tank. I jump back, but he leaves his hand pressed against the glass. “It means you won’t see me for a long time.”
A long time? My stomach plummets into my tail at the thought. I want to ask how long, but I’m afraid he’ll slam his hand into the glass again. Instead, I put my hand over his. “Because I asked you to swim with me?”
“Oh, Erie.” He leans his forehead against the glass and closes his eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I knew I was breaking the rules. I just didn’t think Delmara would fire me for it.”
Jen puts her hand on his shoulder. “Maybe she’ll let you return once her temper cools.”
A sharp pang of jealousy tightens my stomach, and my nails scrape the glass as if they can break through. I should be the one comforting Finn, not Jen. I should be the one touching him, consoling him. I’ve never hated my tail and gills more than in this moment.
“Yeah,” Finn says, his voice hollow. “Next year. With a different Mer.”
A different Mer?
“What about me?” I blurt out. I need Finn. I need him to get me out of here.
His hand pulls into a fist, and I have just enough time to yank my hand back before he punches the glass above it. His eyes are still squeezed shut, his forehead still pressed into the tank. “You’re Jen and Sergio’s now.” He opens his eyes. “If he hurts you, I swear to god—”
Jen squeezes his shoulder to cut him off. “I won’t let him.”
Finn ignores her and studies me like he’s memorizing every feature—like he’ll never see me again. The nervous pit of feather duster worms in my stomach writhes as I spread my fingers over his fist and it opens.
“Don’t give him any reason to hurt you, Erie. Be good for Jen, don’t talk too much to Serge, and do the show without me. I’ll watch every performance. I promise. You may not be able to see me, but I’ll be there, watching.”
I nod. My throat is too tight to speak.
“Don’t forget to smile for the audience—we still need them to fall in love with you.”
I swallow to recover my voice. “Will I see you again?”
His thumb rubs across the glass like he’s caressing my face. “Of course you will. I’ll see you the day I take you back to the ocean, if not before. I promise, Erie.”
My heart clenches—he promised to save me. I have to hold on to his promise until I see him again.
Finn lets his hand fall and takes a step back, his eyes unfocused. “I’ll be watching tomorrow. Don’t forget.”
I press both hands into the glass, wishing I could shove them through and grab him. “I won’t.”
His mouth twitches up briefly. Before he reaches the door, I yell, “Finn!” When he turns, I say the only thing I can think of to make him remember his promise: “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Erie.” He turns and walks through the door.
As soon as he’s gone, I realize I didn’t say it to make him free me. I said it because it’s true.
I’m glad the water in the tank is so much colder than at home; it helps my body go numb as I stare at the doorway Finn disappeared through. I sink to the bottom of the tank and wrap my tail around myself.
Jen turns to me. “Are you okay?”
No. I am absolutely not okay. I have no idea when I’ll see Finn again, I’m stuck in a tank with my guard, and I’m cold. Always cold.
Except when I swim with Finn.
Niku’s nose bumps my arm, and I realize I’ve not been paying attention. I put my hand on him and look at Jen, about to say that I’ll be fine, when I catch a glimpse of black hair in the doorway. My heart leaps.
I unwrap myself, because I don’t want Finn to see me sulking, but the face that materializes is tan and shorter than I’m used to. Sergio.
“I saw Finn in the hallway,” he says to Jen. “He told me what happened. Guess I’m helping you with Io.”
Why does he insist on calling me by my stage name when he knows my real name? I slam my fists on the glass. “My name is Erie!”
All of my resolve to stay strong in front of the landfolk dissolves, and I start banging on the glass, screaming Finn’s name. I know if he hears me, he’ll come running.
“Erie,” Jen yells. “Calm down!”
I can’t. I refuse. Maybe if I scream for Finn long enough, they’ll give him back. My eyes burn with a sensation I’ve never felt before as I scream. Sergio starts up the stairs, going for the loop. Finn told me not to piss him off, but I can’t help it. I keep screaming.
Until Niku rams his nose into my side so hard, I’m left gasping from the pain. “Neek,” I manage between gasps.
“I’m sorry, Princess. I can’t let them shock you.”
Sergio pauses on the platform, hand on the loop, but I couldn’t scream now if I wanted to. All I can do is suck in water, trying to breathe. That’s when I feel it—the pocket of air inside me expands, and I suck in water faster as I float against my will.
“Neek!”
“Calm down, Princess. You’re hyperventilating.” He swims above me, pressing me into the water.
Automatically, my fingers find his scars, and I remember the first time this happened. The first time I hyperventilated and Niku had to hold me down. The first time I traced his scars. It was the day they told me my mother was gone.
My entire body shakes as I cling to Niku. I can hear Jen’s voice, but she sounds so far away.
“What do we do?”
“Sedate her,” Sergio says. “Once she calms down, her swim bladder will shrink back to normal.”
“Yes,” I croak, and then switch to air words. “Yes, please.” I don’t want to feel anything right now. I want to float in a haze of apathy until Finn frees me.
“Last time, it took two days for her to normalize after sedation—she needs to perform tomorrow,” Jen says.
Sergio rummages through a box on the platform. “That was heavy sedation. She’ll be fine for tomorrow. Trust me. She can’t perform like this, anyway.”
Perform tomorrow? As Finn would say: fuck that. It doesn’t take long for the bitter taste of the sedative to coat my tongue, and I sigh as the pain in my side fades away with the rest of the world.