5

Wondering

After the painful explanation of the timahk, though, the afternoon turned wonderful. The mermaids swam out into the open sea and taught Luce tricks: ways of swimming upside down, of turning underwater loops so fast that the flying bubbles made their long bodies look like giant silver rings, and how to use a quick corkscrewing movement of her tail to shoot straight up out of the waves. They took turns twirling up into the air and then splashing down again, and Luce laughed so hard she felt breathless. It was a pale gray day, the clouds above glowing like soft lamps, and around her the water pleated aluminum white and dull dark green together. The crisp salt smell excited her, the rhythm of lift and fall became a kind of music ringing inside her chest, and the gulls wheeled and screamed above. Once in the distance she spotted the sweeping shape of a bald eagle.

It was so easy to tread water now. She didn’t even need to use her arms. Just a tiny circling movement with the broad, sensitive fins at the end of her tail, and she could stay in one place with her head above the water for as long as she wanted, riding the swells. It still felt a little strange, but Luce was becoming aware of just how much she loved having that forceful tail. It was infinitely stronger than her legs had been; it was stronger than any human legs, even a marathon runner’s. And then the color of it was so beautiful, a brilliant silver glimmer over soft jade green. It was perfect for her, exactly the color she would have chosen.

They were all so friendly to her, so much fun. Luce had barely ever had real friends in her life. She and her father never stayed anywhere for more than a few months, so even the rare friends she had made were always left behind as soon as her father told her it was time to pack up again and the red van rumbled off down the next highway. But Luce had been enrolled in different schools a few times, and the other kids had never treated her like this, with so much warmth and acceptance. Luce was starting to realize that a lot of the other mermaids actually admired her, even though she was the one who was new and strange. It was an incredible stroke of luck, she thought, that she’d found them all. Luce still didn’t like what her new friends did—sinking ships, drowning people—but it was hard to think of them as evil when they were being so nice to her.

Luce did an especially high twist up into the air, then at the top she somersaulted and curved down again into the sea. Silver water flashed in her eyes, and when she came up into the circle Catarina beamed at her delightedly. “That was incredible, Luce! And when you’re still getting used to your tail. You’re really a natural at this.” Again Luce thrilled at Catarina’s warm golden smile, and the sweet moonlight glow of her gray eyes set in their thick fringe of auburn lashes. She was sure now that Catarina did like her, very much. Luce was just grinning back when she caught sight of another dark, disquieting flicker in Catarina’s eyes.

“She’s such a natural,” Miriam agreed. While most of the mermaids had a slightly green or golden cast to their skin, Miriam’s was just faintly blue, her tail inky, and her eyes were smoky black above high, fragile cheekbones. She seemed very small for her age: fourteen, like Luce. “I’ve been in the water for longer than any of you, and my singing’s nowhere near—” Miriam broke off. Luce understood by now that singing was a touchy issue, and also that it might be the reason for the awed glances some of the younger mermaids gave her.

Something else kept bothering Luce, though. Just the ghost of an unbearable idea, always hovering at her back. Maybe if she ignored it for long enough, it would eventually go away.

“Catarina! You know what you should teach Luce?” Samantha exclaimed. “Some of those singing tricks you can do. Like that one where you make your voice into a ball, kind of? I bet she’ll be great at them.” Luce thought that sounded fantastic. She loved how it felt to use her voice now, and also she wanted something to distract her from that needling, half-formed idea. She turned to gaze excitedly at Catarina, expecting to be met by her shining smile.

Instead Catarina looked tense, sullen. The happy sounds of the chattering mermaids faded as they all noticed Catarina’s darkening mood. She looked around at them all with her brows drawn together, her lips pursed. The silence lasted much too long.

“Singing can’t be taught,” Catarina finally announced in her coldest voice. Hearing it, Luce felt like the back of a steel knife was being drawn along her skin. Was her singing the reason why Catarina watched her with shadows stirring just behind her eyes? “You know that, Samantha. Maybe it’s possible that someone could get better by practicing on her own, though I can’t say I’ve ever really seen that happen . . .”

Samantha and Kayley exchanged a look that was much too obvious. It was like they were daring each other to say something. Luce wasn’t completely sure what was going on.

Kayley was the one who took the chance. “Do you even hear yourself, Cat? Everyone can tell you’re just afraid. You think if Luce was that good while she’s still just metaskaza . . .” Luce was dismayed. Catarina’s lovely face was crumpling with pain and anger, and Luce had the awful feeling that she was about to be stuck in the middle of a fight. Whatever this was really about, she didn’t want anything to do with it.

“I don’t want Catarina to teach me anything about singing,” Luce lied firmly. “I’m not sure singing even interests me that much. I’d rather learn more about swimming.” Kayley shot her a look of open disbelief, but Catarina’s tension finally dissolved.

“I’d love to teach you more about singing, Luce,” Catarina said, and the falseness in her tone was apparent to everyone. “Just like I wish I could help everyone here . . . It’s just that it can’t be done. It’s a gift; we each have to accept exactly how much we’ve been given. But you shouldn’t let that stop you from enjoying it. Believe me, we’re all very glad to have another singer as talented as you are. I’ve been doing much more than my share of the work.”

Luce looked around. Suddenly the sea looked much too silvery, too empty, and too huge, and she wondered if she could suggest going back to the cave. They’d been playing in the water for so long that the afternoon light was shading into a soft gray gloaming. As she gazed farther out she saw something black arch up out of the water, a tall bladelike fin defining its movement as it sleeked back into the waves. It was up again too quickly, and it seemed to be heading their way. Luce realized there were a few of them.

“Orcas,” Kayley said. Luce couldn’t understand why the other mermaids didn’t seem more worried. “They’re pretty far off still. And we can outswim them, easy.” Luce looked around and saw that a few of the larvae had caught up with them, along with a few curious seals. It was hard to tell the drifting heads of the larvae apart from the heads of the seals unless you watched for a while.

“We can’t just leave the larvae out here,” Luce said anxiously. “Won’t the orcas eat them?”

“They eat them all the time,” Kayley agreed. “Like potato chips. That’s why we should get out of here.” Mermaids were already flashing away under the water. “Come on, Luce!” Kayley’s black glossy head blinked under a wave, then Catarina’s red-gold hair formed a sudden streaking torrent, just for a second, as she dove away.

Only Luce hesitated. One of the larvae noticed her looking and tentatively wriggled in her direction. They really couldn’t swim very well, Luce realized. They were hopelessly clumsy, uncertain in their movements, and their tails were soft and stubby. She suddenly remembered that she hadn’t seen any of them inside the cave. Probably they couldn’t dive well enough to get through that deep underwater tunnel.

Didn’t the timahk require her to at least try to help them?

The soft larval mermaid nosed up to her and gently butted its head against Luce’s shoulder. It was about two years old, Luce thought, maybe three. Just about the same age as that poor little girl she’d found on the beach.

“Who’z zat?” the larval mermaid warbled at her through its pink baby lips. It had such lonely blue eyes that looking in its face made Luce almost nauseous, but at the same time it reminded her of Gum. Nobody had ever wanted to take care of him either, just because he couldn’t talk right. “Who’z zat?” The shining black curves of the orcas rose and fell much closer now. Looking around, Luce counted at least five of the larvae, and realized she couldn’t possibly save all of them.

She hooked her right arm around the gibbering larva next to her and dove. A second later something dark and huge streaked near her, and the water in her eyes filled with dark red. Blood unraveled through the water in smoke-shaped curls. Luce spun her tail in a corkscrew, hurling as fast as she could, but she hadn’t had enough practice swimming to keep her course straight with the larva dragging on her arm. The awkward weight threw her movement off, and Luce curved around to the right before she could stop herself. A wall of glossy black filled her eyes, and she dashed headfirst against the side of an orca that was practically erupting up out of the water, then rolled over its back as the momentum of the leap sent it hurtling past. The blow and the tumbling rush left her disoriented in a cloud of spinning bubbles. For a moment she couldn’t tell which way was up.

The larval mermaid wasn’t in her arm anymore. Somehow the impact had knocked it away, and now as she swirled in place she couldn’t see it anywhere.

A wave of displaced water sent Luce pitching sideways, and again the sea turned crimson. It was like looking through red rippling glass. Luce spun in time to see a single small hand floating by, its palm upturned. To her horror, she realized that some of the bloody water had seeped into her mouth; she could taste the poor little mermaid’s sour, metallic death . . . Panic finally seized her. She lashed out her tail, and now that she wasn’t trying to pull the larval mermaid along with her, she found her body streaking away from the carnage at terrific speed. After just a few seconds the water in her eyes was dusky gray and clean, truly clean. Silver fish whipped out of her path. Luce spun through the waves in a frenzy, sure that her skin was still streaked with blood. She swam on and on until her lungs began to hurt, then flung herself toward the surface.

She came up suddenly in an expanse of empty twilit sea, under cliffs she didn’t recognize, and gasped for air. Her head was spinning. Seals moaned, forming disorienting streaks of black as they parted around her. At least, Luce realized, she was still near the coast, so as long she followed it she’d find the cave eventually. It was pure luck that she hadn’t sped farther out to sea in her panic.

But even so she didn’t know if she should follow the cliffs to her left or to her right. Right, she decided. Her movements were strangely wobbly and, now that the adrenaline was ebbing from her system, she began to feel exhausted.

Why had she let go of that poor larval mermaid? Somewhere far behind her the waves were bright with blood, and the foam was pink. Luce swayed in the water, and darkness blurred her vision. She thought she might faint. She pushed her way to a crest of projecting rock and wrapped her arms around it, her tail trailing out behind her and dark fog growing in her eyes. If she rested for a while it might be easier to find her way back home.

Home, Luce thought. It was strange to realize that that dark, jagged cave was the first real home she’d ever had apart from her father’s red van. She’d definitely never thought of her uncle’s house that way, not even when her father was still alive.

The terrible idea that had kept bothering her all afternoon came back. Luce was relieved that oblivion was flooding into her mind now and drowning her suspicions in darkness.

***

“Oh, Luce!” It was Catarina’s voice, but Luce couldn’t open her eyes at first. Everything ached. “Luce! Wake up!” At least three pairs of hands were holding her, lifting her off the rock, and Luce finally pulled herself out of the dark half-dream and looked around. It was night, and a group of the oldest mermaids was holding her. A search party, Luce decided.

They actually cared enough to come looking for her, then. She almost couldn’t believe it. They really cared if she disappeared. Luce was flooded with gratitude, with a sense of finally having found someplace she belonged. After her father’s disappearance she’d come to believe that she would stay lost forever; yet here was Catarina staring at her with furious tenderness. Catarina’s face flickered between different expressions: anger and relief and happiness. “Luce, are you determined to get yourself killed? Why didn’t you come with us?” They started swimming slowly now, Catarina holding her on her left and Samantha on her right, so that all their heads stayed above the water.

“Look at that,” Miriam said behind them. “She’s covered in bruises. What was she doing?”

Luce was finally conscious enough to talk. “I’m okay. I just tried . . .” Luce shook the red, bubbling memory away. “Thank you for coming to look for me.”

“Of course we came.” Catarina sounded indignant. “Am I going to have to rescue you every day? Luce, you need to be more careful. It’s like you don’t understand how dangerous it is here, even though I keep on trying to get that through your head. When are you going to start listening?” Catarina was nagging her like a worried mother, Luce realized, and she couldn’t help smiling to herself. Samantha glanced over just in time to see the smile.

“I think she likes making you save her,” Samantha sniped in her cold, ringing voice. “We could get home a lot faster if she’s ready to dive.”

Luce plunged under the water, but she couldn’t swim as fast as usual. Her body was too sore. The others zipped ahead, but Catarina stayed beside her, rippling along at a deliberately languorous pace, and Luce knew Catarina was looking after her. Making sure she made it home safely.

If the cave was her home, Luce decided, then that must mean Catarina was her family. She wouldn’t judge Catarina any more than she’d judged her father. How could you consider someone you love bad, no matter what anybody else might think? Catarina kept glancing over at her as they swam. It was different this time, though: as if Catarina were calculating something, adding up numbers only she could see.

When they came near the cave’s entrance Catarina caught Luce’s hand and guided her to the surface. They floated upright facing each other in a spot where the shore bent close around them. A few enormous stars flared through a gash in the clouds, and their light leaped in white sparks on the jet black water. Catarina’s gray eyes were so close to Luce’s that she felt like she was falling into a twisting, gleaming pool.

“We need to talk, Luce,” Catarina said. “Before we go back in. I need you to be honest with me.” There was a shiver of music in her voice; it made Luce want to tell her everything, and Luce fought it. There were some things she could never say. She waited. “Luce, were you trying to die? Tell me.” The question shocked Luce into a new, cold wakefulness. Why would Catarina think that Luce was suicidal?

“No! Catarina, I wasn’t . . . I’m really happy to be with you, really, but there were all those larvae out there, and you told me that the timahk . . . So I was trying to save one of them.” Luce was ashamed to admit what had happened. She hadn’t swum well, and because of that the larva had died. “Somehow I couldn’t swim straight while I was holding her, and then the orcas were right there. I slammed into one of them . . .” Luce couldn’t bear to tell the rest of the story, but it was clear from the strain on Catarina’s face that she could guess what must have happened next.

“The timahk does not require you to endanger yourself, Luce.” Catarina sounded much gentler than Luce would have expected, and also relieved. “And there’s really no point trying to save larvae. I know it’s a painful thing to accept, but they’re not made to survive for long in the sea. It’s not just the orcas. If there’s a storm they can get thrown onto the beach, for instance, and then they never make it back to the water in time . . .”

Luce was silent, thinking of the dead little girl she’d found. Her closed eyelids had been faintly iridescent, like mother-of-pearl . . . Suddenly she thought of something: none of the mermaids ever seemed to let their tails leave the water for more than a few seconds. And there was a cold, painful burning in her own tail whenever the air touched it. Even leaping into the air, the way they’d done earlier, had sent a stinging prickle through her scales.

“What happens then?” Luce asked. “I mean, to a mermaid who can’t make it back to the water?”

Catarina winced and rubbed one hand across her forehead. Apparently this was a difficult subject.

“It’s awful, Luce. What happens when one of us gets stuck out in the air like that. I hope you never have to see it.” Her eyes were still turned toward Luce, but there was a seething blankness in them that told Luce she was thinking of something else now. Then Catarina focused again with an obvious effort and flashed Luce a slow, aching smile. “So, do you promise to start taking better care of yourself? We don’t want to lose you, you know.” Catarina kept her voice light, but Luce could hear how seriously she meant it.

“I promise,” Luce agreed, and Catarina smiled. “I’ll be way more careful, and I’ll listen to everything you tell me. From now on.” It had been so long since anyone had asked her to promise anything; it felt wonderful to say those words. “But, Catarina? I really need to know what happens. Before we go back in. You need to tell me what happens to a mermaid who gets washed up.” Catarina stared at her. She was wavering between rage and concern, and odd unfinished expressions darted across her face.

“Luce, do you have a good reason for asking me this?” Luce stared back at her, and Catarina must have recognized her urgency, because after another moment of hesitation she continued. “Well, they almost always die. Not absolutely always. At least that’s what I’ve heard. But the pain is unbelievable. Just try holding your tail out of the water sometime, and you’ll see what I mean right away. You won’t be able to stand it for long. It’s so terrible that the mermaids who go through it die of shock. The pain stops their hearts . . .”

Luce couldn’t help recognizing that Catarina was holding something back, so she decided to ask her outright. “Do we turn human again? Catarina, is that what happens? As our tails dry out . . .’ From the flash in Catarina’s eyes Luce knew she’d guessed the truth. “I found a dead little girl on the beach right before I changed. And her skin looked like ours, with that green shine. And they said she hadn’t drowned, that there was no water in her lungs at all, and they couldn’t understand where she’d come from.” The words rushed out now. “I keep thinking that she must have been one of us, or a larva anyway . . .” Then Luce remembered what Gum had said. Fish girl. He’d seen that little mermaid before her tail changed back!

“It killed her, Luce,” Catarina murmured. “She died in unspeakable agony. And she didn’t even get to die as a mermaid, but just as one of those . . .” She grimaced and looked off, and Luce wondered if it was really the larval mermaid Catarina was thinking of. “Let’s head back to the cave. It’s better if we don’t keep talking about this.”

Luce knew enough to let the subject drop. She remembered what Samantha had said: that it wasn’t just her human past that Catarina couldn’t stand to be reminded of but also some things that had happened to her after she’d changed. Luce thought of Catarina’s slight, delicate accent, and wondered where she’d come from originally. And was this her first tribe, or had she lived in other places before, like Miriam?

They dove together, down through the underwater tunnel, and Catarina seemed remote and somber, though she still glanced over now and then with that brooding look on her face. An inexplicable idea occurred to Luce: Catarina needed her, in a way that she didn’t need any of the others. Then Luce told herself that she was just being conceited, thinking something like that. Catarina must care equally about all the girls in her tribe. After all, she was their queen.

***

But Luce almost forgot all her tangled thoughts when their faces broke through the water of the cave. Samantha and Miriam had already brought the news that Luce had been found alive, and they were all waiting to welcome her. She was surrounded by girls who laughed, and swirled over to hug her, and to tell her how crazy she’d been. They fussed over her bruises and agreed she should rest for a day or two.

And then they rolled apart, to make room for her to sleep next to Catarina. It seemed to be understood now that she and Catarina belonged together. Gratefully Luce curled up next to her friend, and after a moment she leaned her head over to nestle against that smooth gold-white shoulder. Luce gazed up into the darkness of the cave, watching the soft green phosphorescence; an isolated star gleamed through one of the holes in the roof.

She couldn’t sleep. The mermaids around her didn’t breathe steadily in the way sleeping humans would, but every now and then Luce would hear a single deep inhalation from somewhere in the darkness.

She couldn’t sleep, and the intolerable idea that had nagged at her all day suddenly took over her mind. It insisted on blotting out all her other thoughts and refused to let her look away.

The High and Mighty had disappeared somewhere out here. Not a trace of it had ever been found. Maybe the violent storm that day had shattered her father’s ship, drowned all the men.

Or maybe the storm had had some help. Maybe one of her new friends had sung into her father’s desperate face until he forgot all about the daughter waiting for him back at home. Sung to him in her sweet, wild voice until death was the only thing he desired . . .

Maybe Catarina had. And Catarina’s shoulder was pressed like cold silk against Luce’s cheek.

Luce sat up and looked around her. The mermaids’ faces shimmered softly in the darkness. They looked so innocent, all sleeping together that way. Any human, Luce knew, would look at them with wonder, with helpless adoration. They were simply too lovely to be real.

Luce closed her eyes, and then slowly, stealthily, she raised her tail from the sea. It was still heavy, but she had much better control of it now. An icy draft blew down from the roof, licking the drops from her scales.

At first the burning sensation was almost pleasurable. It was a shivering mixture of heat and chills, and Luce began to wonder if Catarina had told her the truth. Catarina hated humans so much that it wouldn’t have surprised Luce if she’d lied just to make sure that Luce would never try to change back.

Then the pain bit into her. A million burning teeth gnawed at her tail, slashing razors made of pure sun cut her, and light began to flash in Luce’s eyes. It took all her strength to stop herself from screaming, and with a gasp she let her tail fall again. The pain was so stunning that for a while all Luce could do was lie trembling in the lapping water while hot tears welled in her eyes.

There was truly no going back. Not even if she’d had anyplace she could go. Not even if this wasn’t the only place on earth where anyone cared about her at all.

To survive, Luce thought, she needed to make some rules for herself. She needed her own personal timahk.

She could still think about her father, Luce decided, though it might be better if she didn’t let herself think about him too much. It wouldn’t be fair to expect she could forget everything about being human.

But she could never again allow herself to wonder about one thing, and that was the way her father might have died.