Chapter Forty-Nine

Too Dangerous to Handle

As soon as he’d driven off, I mumbled an excuse to Maggie and ran out the door. I didn’t know what to do. There were too many parts, all crashing together. How could I swim away, now that I’d seen Jack’s anger? Maggie usually shrank small around him; that meant he got angry a lot. She wasn’t safe alone with him. But I made him even angrier. And then there was the boat. If I could convince Maggie to give him the money, would she be all right? Or would Jack still drink and get angry all over again?

It was too much for me. I needed Nellie’s help.

She was pacing in front of her house with a book in her hands and a strange, intent expression on her face. As soon as she saw me she ran over.

“Nellie, I need to—”

“Aran, I found—” She stopped, staring at the ring of bruises around my wrist.

Before she could start again I said, “Tree cave. Come on.”

We ran all the way, and I needed to run—up hill and through forest, over stone and stream—my feet striking the ground, the air surging through my lungs. We burst out of the trees and onto the shore. I drew in a deep breath of salty air.

We crawled into the tree cave and sat cross-legged on the smooth rock.

“What happened to your wrist?” said Nellie.

“Jack—” For a moment that was all I could say. Then, “He’s back, and he took my stone selkie—”

Nellie gasped.

“And—” I struggled to drag out the words. “He gets really mad. He put his fist through the wall. I—I’m afraid he’s going to hurt Maggie.”

“What about you?” Nellie reached out and, very gently, traced a finger along my wrist. “Those are bruises. He hurt you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about. I can handle it.”

“Maybe . . .” She swallowed. “Aran, maybe some things are too dangerous to handle. Like Jack. And like . . .” She paused, clenching the book, and then her words came spilling out.

“Listen, there’s a story in here about this old woman. She always wears gloves, but one day she pulls them off and shows her grandson this extra skin between her fingers. That’s the webbing, right? So she’s a selkie, and—”

“Nellie,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. We have to help Maggie. If I leave—”

“No, you have to hear this part! Her son told her to hide the webbing, but she says she earned it—that means her pelt, right?—because the Moon set her a test. And then she tells her grandson”—Nellie leafed through the pages—“Here it is. She says, ‘Should you ever find yourself facing that test, think long and hard. Don’t risk it unless you can’t live without it. It might cost you everything. A love, a life—’”

Nellie slammed the book shut. “See? It’s too dangerous, trying to get you to turn.”

I shook my head. “Pups turn all the time. Listen, Maggie wants to give—”

“But don’t they do it younger? Maybe the older you get, the more dangerous it is. Didn’t you hear what the old woman said? It could cost a life. Your life, Aran.” She looked back down at the book in her lap and said softly, “You know, being human’s not so bad.”

I could see her heart beating at the base of her throat.

She sat up tall. “Come live with us!” she urged, her eyes intense and bright. “I know Grandpa will say yes. And Maggie can tell your mother where you are, and we’ll be together all the time. Please say yes, Aran. Please!”

I thought of story fires and cookies and big windows looking out at the sea.

And then I thought of Jack’s fist crashing through the wall.

“I can’t,” I said. “Not until I know Maggie’s safe.”

“Come now! Grandpa and I are going to the big island to get online and talk to my parents. I don’t like leaving you here. Come with us.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine. Didn’t I come meet you today, same as always?”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. Then she pulled back a branch and looked out. “The sun’s setting. I need to go. Think about what I said, okay?”

We clambered out onto the rocks. She reached for my hand and held it for a moment before she ran off. I kept staring at the spot where she’d disappeared. My head was full of cross currents, all rough chop, and no way through.