The website is up and the donation page is ready to go live at eight a.m. tomorrow morning. Sergio comes home late, looking just about as beat down as I’ve ever seen him. He drops a plastic bag on the couch next to me and goes to the fridge for a beer.
“What’s this?” I glance at the bag.
“Bunch of shit from Erie’s tank. Thought you might want it.”
I open it to find the necklaces and Ariel figurine. “Why the hell did you take these from her?” It was the only comfort she had.
“Aunt’s rules—she told us to clear the tank. Maddy was about to toss it all, but I grabbed it for you.”
“Thanks,” I say, voice hoarse, though I have no idea what to do with all these necklaces. I guess I’ll save them for Erie to take home when I free her.
Sergio grabs a slice of cold pizza and plops down on the couch next to me. “Your Mer is making my life a living hell.”
“She’ll be out soon. I’ll raise the money, and find a way to make Aunt D sell her to me.”
“What about the others?”
I grimace, thinking of Clair and Huron. I’d love to save them, too, if only so Erie won’t have to go home alone, knowing their fate. Knowing they’re broken. “I don’t know, man. Let me worry about Erie first—I’ll decide what to do about the others once she’s safe.”
He sulks, and an awkward silence falls between us. This is the worst part of this whole thing—I’ve lost my best friend. We may not hate each other, but our friendship will never be the same, because I chose Erie and he chose Oceanica.
Another video of today’s show pops up on YouTube, and it very clearly shows Erie crying. Despair clutches at my heart as foam streams from her eyes and she sobs into Niku’s side, the mics picking up the sound until the tech guy cuts them out. I add it to the website.
“Jesus Christ,” Serge says as he watches his phone. “Would you stop posting that shit? You’re making my job impossible.”
I glance at his screen to find Oceanica’s Facebook page, comments pouring in about today’s show. “At least no one’s calling you a fish fucker.”
Sergio smirks. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that one.”
The first real laugh in days punches out of my stomach. Of course it was my best friend who posted that. Maybe we’ll be okay, after all.
Donations start pouring in as soon as the page goes live, and by noon, we’ve hit a hundred grand. That’s a far cry from the two-point-five million plus transportation expenses and lawyer fees we need to raise, but it’s a start. Jen’s lawyer, Ed Hilley, also came through with an exclusive interview with NBC’s Nightly News.
Which means, I need to play nice with Jen.
Our last fight replays over and over in my mind. Why would she continue stringing me along, even after I was fired? Was she worried I’d use her betrayal to get my job back? By the time I was fired, getting my job back was the least of my concerns. Didn’t she know that?
Speak of the devil—my phone buzzes with a text. “I hear we have an interview tomorrow.”
“Yep.”
“Can I come over?”
“No.”
It’s a few minutes before she replies. “We can’t act like this during the interview. We’re supposed to be friends.”
Friends. Not lovers. Friends. I have to force my hands to relax before I can type a message back. “I have faith in your acting skills.”
That shuts her up for a while, but eventually, she texts again. “We have to talk before the interview.”
The headache that’s been forming for days finally sprouts, and I rub my temples before answering. “Are you scared they’ve discovered more of your secrets and lies?”
“Stop being a dick.”
I don’t bother replying and neither does Jen, so I’m only mildly surprised when a knock rattles my door. I crack it open, putting my foot behind it so she can’t force it open. “I thought I said you couldn’t come over?”
Her arms hug her chest as she studies her feet. When she speaks, her voice sounds empty.
“I’m moving back to South Carolina. I was going to leave tomorrow, but with the interview . . .” She lets it hang in the air for a moment, and when I don’t say anything, she continues. “It’s an exclusive, so it’s not like I have to be around for another one.”
She doesn’t lift her head, and I don’t know what she expects me to say. Does she want me to beg her not to go? “Good luck with the move.”
I try to close the door, but she unwraps her arms and pushes it open. “Finn, please.”
“Jesus Christ, what do you want from me?”
Jen finally lifts her gaze. “Forgiveness.”
“Too bad.” This time, when I shut the door, she doesn’t resist and it slams in her face. From the other side, she speaks.
“Erie forgave you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome.”
“And Erie’s a fish.”
Called out once again by the fish being more sympathetic than I am, but really, if Erie knew Jen lied about something important, she’d be pissed, too. Like when she was pissed at us for not telling her about the ocean . . .
Oh.
I lean my forehead against the door.
Jen says, “Hannah told me about you, you know. How you knew everything about the Mer, even though you were just a kid. How Delmara treated you like a son and gave you free rein over Oceanica. How you tried to flirt with all the girls—even the married ones. Even her.”
Is she accusing me of hitting on her sister now?
“She said I’d like you—that we’d get along.”
My hand folds into a fist. “So that’s why you picked me as your mark? The perfect, unsuspecting target at Oceanica?”
“I didn’t have a target—you’re the one who chose me as your assistant.”
“Because I thought you had experience with dolphins,” I grind out.
Jen’s silent for a minute and I feel stupid arguing through the door, but I know if I open it, I’ll either feel pity for her tear-stained face or so much anger I’ll punch something.
“Hannah was right.” Jen’s so quiet I almost can’t hear her through the door. “I do like you—more than I should. I tried so hard not to, and you certainly made me want to hate you often enough, but I like you, Finn. I didn’t want to hurt you then, and I don’t want to lose you now.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead into the wood.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Hannah sooner, but I was scared. First, I was scared that I’d be fired, and then, I was scared that I’d lose you. And I should have told you, because now I’ve been fired and I’ve lost you.”
I knock my skull softly against the door as I think of the way Jen freaked out when I was attacked by Niku. Of her pale face and shaking hands when I made her get in the tank with Erie—the tank her sister died in. All the crass things I said about Hannah getting her face ripped off. My comment about the trainers who died.
I open the door and she stumbles forward, grabbing the handle so she won’t fall. When she steadies herself, I search her face for the truth. I want what she said to be true.
She reaches for me. “Finn—”
“No more lies, Jen. No more secrets.”
“I promise.”
I press my lips together. I want to kiss her, but I don’t want to fall down that rabbit hole again. Her apology doesn’t change the fact that I’m going back to school next month and she’s moving home. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
She sucks in a surprised breath, then swallows. “I thought—”
“I forgive you for lying, but I have to focus on Erie, and you have to pack.”
Her shoulders sink. “I understand. I just . . . do you want me to go? Home?”
My answer is immediate—I don’t even think about it first. “No.”
She swallows hard. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
When she pulls the door shut behind her, I rest my forehead against the wood. All I can see is Jen’s red hair spilling over her bare shoulder as she hovers over me in bed, a lazy smile on her lips, her eyes lidded. My hand tightens to turn the knob, and it takes all of my self-control not to run out the door after her.