I swear to god, if this woman doesn’t stop sending me into the back for a different size shirt for her hellion-child, I’ll scream. It’s not even an Erie shirt—it’s Clair, which is why it’s not on the floor in more than one or two sizes. No one’s buying Clair stuff right now.
“The show’s starting,” I say as I hand over the shirt. “You definitely don’t want to miss the new Mer.”
“Who cares?” Hellion-child says. “I like Potassium. I don’t care about the new one.”
My hands fold into fists, and I glance at my sister and the other girl—Samantha—who are ringing up the last-minute purchases. Neither of them can take over.
Hellion wads the shirt up. “I don’t like this one,” she says and points to a different K shirt. “I want that one instead.”
“Don’t you think you should at least try it on?” her mother says. “See if that size fits?”
“No.” Hellion stamps her foot. “I want that one.”
The mother rolls her eyes, and I wonder why she doesn’t smack the brat and say she can’t have either if she acts that way. Her eyes are apologetic when she turns to me. “I’m sorry, can we get that one instead?”
Outside, the crowd cheers—Erie and Niku have started racing. “Sure,” I say and walk back to the storage area, trying not to stomp like the brat. If Erie doesn’t see me in the stands to say hello, she’ll be pissed. I promised I’d watch every show, and so far, I’ve been able to leave the shop and hightail it to the bleachers before it starts.
I grab a shirt in every size, walk back to Hellion as the music is beginning, and dump them all at her feet. “Good luck, kid.” Then I leave the shop with a salute at Sam and Munchkin—they’ll have to deal with the repercussions of that.
By the time I reach the arena, the show is in full swing, and I can tell it isn’t going well. I stop at the bottom of the stands, out of the way, where I have a good view of both the tank and the air above. Erie’s pissed. She nearly runs into the wall and jumps higher than I’ve ever seen. Instead of concentrating on the audience or the arena below her, she stares straight out with a scowl. Can she see the ocean? She’ll be doubly pissed, if so. Every time she jumps, she stares in that direction, and I’m sure she can.
And then, I see it—she jumps too wide, almost as if she’s trying to jump into the ocean. When she looks down, she throws her arms up, but clips the edge of the platform with her forehead. A red cloud blooms in the water as she falls in on her side.
“Erie!” I scream and jump on top of the barrier without thinking. I kick off my boat shoes and dive in, to the collective gasp of the audience.
The cold water slaps some sense into me—I can’t dive after her. She sinks to the bottom, a trail of pink following, and I can’t do anything. “Niku!” I yell into the water as he reaches her. “Bring her up!” I point to the surface. He seems to understand, because he brings her to me.
When I surface, Jen yells my name, but I ignore her. I grab Erie’s head, careful to keep her gills underwater. Niku helps hold her limp form up as I check her forehead. Blood streams from a gash that starts just above her eye and stretches into her hairline, but worse than that: foam is eating at the tissue. I wipe it away and press my palm against the wound to stop the bleeding.
“Please, sweetness.” Even though I speak barely above a whisper, the mics pick it up. “Please don’t foam.” I hope Hellion and her mother are watching and feel like shit for keeping me away.
Erie’s eyes flutter open and she squints against the air. I ease her head back into the water, my palm still pressed to her forehead. “Finn? I thought you weren’t coming. I was looking at the ocean . . .”
I hug her closer. “Of course I was coming. I was held up. I’m so sorry.”
Her claws dig into my skin as she hugs me. “I missed you.”
I would give anything in this moment to pick her up, walk her to the dock, and let her back into the ocean she calls home. I’m about to ask how long she can hold her breath when Jen kneels and whispers harshly. “Delmara’s coming.”
Fuck. I’ll be fired for this. I gaze into Erie’s magenta eyes. They mirror mine, unblinking, just below the surface. “I’m sorry, sweet. I won’t be able to see your show for a while.”
“Are you fired?”
“I’m about to be.”
Corporate walks up the steps.
“You be good—don’t give them any reason to hurt you. Smile, even if you don’t want to.” I have about two seconds left and an audience to enrapture, so I do the one thing I never thought I would.
I take a deep breath, stick my face in the water, and kiss Erie on her cold, hard lips. She wraps her tail around me and squeezes—in surprise or pleasure, I can’t tell—but my air rushes into her mouth, and she sighs as bubbles float from her gills.
“Finnegan,” Delmara barks as I lift my head from the water. She must have cut the mics, because her voice doesn’t boom around the stands. God, I hope everyone heard Erie say she saw the ocean.
“Sorry, sweetness,” I whisper. “Time for me to go.”
Erie squeezes me once more before unwrapping her tail, and I remove my hand from her forehead. The blood and foam have stopped. “I love you,” she says.
“Love you, too, beautiful.” I run my finger down her cheek one last time before I turn my back on her and swim to the platform. If she dragged me under and stole all my air right now, I wouldn’t blame her.
Delmara stares at me with all the warmth of a shark as I climb the stairs to the platform, where a splash of Erie’s blood still stains one section red. In a desperate attempt to save my own skin, I say, “You’re welcome for saving your star performer.”
Doesn’t work—her eyes harden more. “My office. Now.”
“Can I change into dry clothes first?”
“No.”
“Okay.” I follow her down the stairs. “I’ll drip all over your carpet, then.”
She doesn’t say anything, which is how I know I’m in fucking trouble.
As soon as the door shuts behind us and my soaked clothes are creating a wet spot on the blue carpet in her office, Delmara turns on me. “You fucking shit.”
That wasn’t even in Spanish. I swallow. “I saved—”
“Fuck you, Finnegan.” She slams a file down on her desk. “You signed paperwork when you were hired saying that you would never have any contact with the Mer. I could have you arrested for what you did.”
Arrested? Whoa—I didn’t read that paperwork. I was barely sixteen when I signed it. The only thing I can do is repeat myself. “I saved your star performer from foaming.”
“I don’t fucking care!” Delmara yells. “I can buy another Mer. I cannot buy OSHA!”
I’m sick of hearing about OSHA and APHIS, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m in enough trouble as it is. Delmara paces, probably waiting for me to argue, and when I don’t say anything, she grabs a sharpie and writes “TERMINATED” on the file she slammed onto the desk. My file. The first employee file in Oceanica’s existence. I was prepared to lose my job for Erie, but it hurts to see those big, black, final letters marring the file that says “Jarvis, Finnegan.”
“Get your shit and get out,” Delmara says. “You’re banned from the property. If I see you so much as step into the parking lot, I’ll have you arrested.”
The breath chokes out of me, as if she’d punched me in the gut. I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, Aunt D. I never meant to break the rules or get Oceanica in trouble, but Erie—”
“Is a fucking fish!”
I bow my head, searching my wet feet for a reply, but Delmara will never understand. “Thank you for the opportunity to work with you,” I mumble and leave the office. I drip a trail of saltwater to the locker room and change into clean clothes before grabbing a trash bag to dump all my shit into. I close my locker for the last time and lean my forehead against it. How did it come to this?
When I step barefoot out of the locker room, I glance at the locked door that leads to the holding tanks. I could bang on it until someone opens it, but by now, they’ll all know I’ve been fired. The only thing I can do is start working toward Erie’s freedom, even if it means closing this place down for good.
Of course, I run into Maddy on the way out, and I doubt if it’s an accident. She’s probably been lurking in the hallway, waiting for me. She grins from ear to ear. “Aunt D would never fire you, huh?”
I push past her without a response.
“I’ll take real good care of your Mer.”
My hands fold into fists, but I keep walking. Maddy can’t touch Erie as long as Jen’s in charge. And although Jen and I haven’t spoken since our fight five days ago, she would never let anyone hurt Erie, especially not Maddy.
“Fucking bitch,” I mumble as I slam the door open and squint into the midday sun. At least I’ve been driving myself to work and don’t have to walk home barefoot with my trash bag of shame.