Coral Page 9

  Merrick’s sister had fallen off the ladder and broken her arm when she woke up to go to the bathroom that night.

  Their mom never gave in to Amaya’s tantrums after that.

  “I should have asked you why you always wore sweaters and stuff.” He ran a hand over his face and leaned back. “I should have paid attention.”

  “You did ask. I told you I was cold. Can’t blame you for believing me.”

  He shot forward and grabbed her hand. His sister was only ten, but she was the most honest person he knew. A trait he hoped she would carry as she grew older.

  “Hey, watch it!” Amaya pulled her icy fingers away. “I don’t want you to accidentally pull out my IV.” His sister smoothed the tape on her hand. “Then they’d have to stick me again and it’d be a whole thing. No thanks.”

  “You don’t seem to have a problem with sharp objects.” He shifted his gaze to her scraped arms. Pink marks on freckled skin.

  They shared a laugh at the dark retort. Amaya rubbed her IV tube between her thumb and forefinger. “It was stupid, okay? I won’t do it again.”

  Merrick arched one eyebrow. “You won’t cut again or you won’t cut that deep again?”

  She squirmed. Her next words would be only half true. “Both, all right? It was an accident.”

  “Why, Maya? What could possibly be worth losing your life over? Is it something at school? Are you being bullied?” It had happened before and he’d shut it down quickly.

  All she has to do is say the word and I’ll take care of it.

  “No.” Her answer was quick. Too quick.

  Merrick opened his mouth to refute her, but she rushed on, her words one long, jumbled explanation.

  “I just . . . I wanted to see what it would feel like and some of the other kids do it, you know, the eighth graders and stuff, and they said I’d be cool if I did it too.” She fiddled with the edge of the bandage on her arm.

  He let a low whistle sail through his lips. There had to be more. Her admission was incomplete, but he’d go with it. For now. “Of course popularity and a few eighth graders are worth, um, I don’t know, dying.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but this was how they were. Bantering back and forth. Never saying anything real.

  “I was tired. I couldn’t think straight. It was dark in my room. Usually I only slice deep enough to—” She stopped herself, obviously realizing she’d said too much.

  A small knock on the door interrupted them. Merrick bolted from his chair. Finally. He didn’t even have to check his phone to know it was Mom. She’d make everything okay again. She’d—

  The door opened.

  His jaw went slack, then clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.

  “Son. Amaya.” His father stepped awkwardly into the room. He filled the space in a way that made it feel claustrophobic. Especially with the aftershave he wore. The scent burned.

  But nothing like Mom’s absence.

  Merrick’s hands automatically turned into fists at his sides.

  “Your mom’s gone.” No sugarcoating. No prelude. Hiroshi got right to the point. “Harold called and let me know. When she got out of the car, he took Nikki home. Then he returned. He wanted to wait in case we had need of him. Your mom still hadn’t gone inside. She sat there, on a bench, in the rain. He thought she might be trying to process things. But when she eventually got into a cab, he followed her to the bus station.”

  “What’d you say to her now?” Merrick started toward him, but Amaya reached out and caught the corner of his jacket between her fingers.

  “Your mother has been looking for a way out for a long time, Son.” Hiroshi turned his gaze to Amaya. “She’s finally found her chance.”

  Amaya’s lower lip quivered, but she didn’t cry. She released Merrick’s jacket, scrunched up her bedsheets with her fists, and stared at the wall.

  Merrick sank back into the chair and gazed at her too-white sheets.

  Nothing in life was ever that white. Things appeared white. Smelled white. But if he held them up in the light and gave them a hard look?

  He’d see brown. Yellow. Beige.

  Because despite the exterior his father wanted to paint for his perfect family, if Merrick truly looked? He’d see the truth.

  Exposed to the light too long, and he’d see. Anyone would.

  The dirt.

  The muck.

  The ugly.

  Stains. Yeah, that was the right word.

  Stains were all he would see.

  Ten

  Coral

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  The king’s voice boomed through the hallway. He looked down at his youngest daughter.

  With all the courage she could muster, Coral met his gaze. “I’m looking for the crown princess.”

  “She’ll be along shortly.” Her father took her arm in a firm but painless grip. Though his touch was different from the way Duke had handled her, that didn’t make it welcome.

  Coral didn’t dare try to escape her father’s grasp. She did, however, glance over her shoulder and speak up a second time. “Where is she? Where is my sister?”

  King Jonah did not answer. Soon they entered the ballroom together. At the precise moment the light of the grand hall lit her father’s face, his stoic expression lifted into one of quiet amusement.

  This was the merman the people knew.

  Coral wished he was the same one who held her arm now.

  The clock at the other end of the ballroom with its gears fashioned from ships’ wheels tick, tick, ticked in time with the band’s blue-hued tempo. The second hand, made of human bone, twitched with the little mermaid’s uncollected concerns. How much longer? A fathom? A bubbled breath?

  When at last the band ceased and the maestro tapped his wand, Coral straightened. The crowd’s chatter faded to a low hum the color of mud. The maestro cleared his throat. “Presenting King Jonah . . . and, here she is, the princess Coral Atlantica!”

  Urchins. She was trapped now. Coral glanced up at the lower tier to find Jordan and Duke already sitting in their chairs. Jordan caught her stare, then quickly looked away. When Coral sat, Jordan said nothing about the empty chair between them. Was that satisfaction lifting her sister’s cheeks?

  Their father rose above them to the highest tier, charred crown of deadened coral atop his head, black trident held firmly in his grasp.

  Coral’s stomach churned.

  The crown princess was nowhere to be seen.

  When the king tapped his trident, drawing the guests’ attention, Coral kept her eyes fixed on the entry arch. Any moment now her oldest sister would make an entrance.

  “Mergents and maids,” the king began. “I welcome you, one and all, to the inception of my youngest daughter into what has become not only our great tradition but our purpose as the sentinels of the sea. We extend our deepest gratitude to all who have traveled from far and wide to join us for this momentous occasion.”

  Coral’s anxiety was a thrashing hammerhead shark. But not because she was about to make her own debut performance. Those nerves had been replaced by a new sort of unease.

  Where. Was. Her. Sister?

  “Your crown princess would have loved to join us for the festivities, but I am afraid she has taken ill.” A pause. A cough. “I ask that you hold her in your hearts and thoughts as we continue without her.”

  Wait. What? Coral twisted in her seat, squinted up at the king who’d said her oldest sister was on her way seconds before. When his gaze didn’t yield, Coral attempted to exchange glances with Jordan. Only Duke met her eyes. He winked, then grinned, his crooked teeth glinting.

  Eww. Coral tore away her gaze. The merman was the scum of the sea. Why couldn’t Jordan see it?

  “Now then,” their father continued. “Let me put you all at ease. Tonight calls for celebration, not sorrow.”

  Coral’s pulse throbbed in her temples. The merfolk murmured. She glimpsed a few of them whisper behind cupped palms. At la
st she found her grandmother’s knowing gaze.

  The corners of her mouth turned toward the sand, though the merwoman didn’t flinch.

  If anyone knew something, her grandmother certainly did.

  The sour feeling returned to Coral’s stomach. Something wasn’t right. It hadn’t been right for some time.

  Coral narrowed her eyes at the king once more. Clenched the coarse arms of her chair. How could she celebrate when the crown princess needed her now more than ever?

  Heartache, pure and green as sea grass, fell in a swell over Coral’s entire body. Her insides writhed. Muscles tensed.

  The king raised his burly hands. “Join me in wishing my youngest daughter a happy birthday.” One hand swept toward Coral. Eye contact, rare and awkward, made its path between her and the merman who seldom looked her way.

  She forced herself to hold his scrutiny.

  “Coral.” His low voice soothed and terrified. “It is now time for you to rise with your sister to the surface. On this, your first eve as a true merwoman, you shall prove your worth as a member of this family.”

  Bitterness coated her tongue. Since when did her worth depend on her voice?

  “Coral.” Her father’s tone was firm and final. “Take your place.”

  She sat tight. The next words Coral uttered released before she could hold them back. “I’ll wait for our sister.”

  Jordan touched her arm. The gesture was so kind, so sisterly, so unlike her that Coral almost freed another tear. “Don’t test him. Father’s wrath is not something you want to provoke at any cost.”

  The back of Coral’s neck tingled. She swallowed and her eyelids twitched once more. Coral eyed Jordan. Cost? What about the cost of abandoning their oldest sister in her time of need?

  “I’ll wait for the crown princess,” she said again. If Coral didn’t stand for her, who would?

  Jordan glanced at Father.

  “Coral.” The king tapped his trident.

  Jordan bowed her head.

  “Rise. Now.”

  Coral did as he commanded, but defiance flowed through her veins in full burning crimson now. He wanted a song, he’d get one. But not any tune he’d approved. She drew a breath and recalled the melody from her time at the surface three nights before.

  The composition was human. If her father discovered, there was no telling how he’d react. But if no one would speak up for her sister, she would sing until everyone heard.

  “As unforgiving as the stormy waves,

  Your heart of stone digs watery graves.

  She lives in fear while you are near.

  Can’t you see what you’ve done here?

  Your love could be what truly saves.”

  Coral didn’t stop, not even when Jordan began, singing with all her might to drown her youngest sister’s song with her own. Jordan grabbed one arm and tugged. Coral fought to free herself, but Father gave her a warning glare and she relented.

  Together, she and Jordan rose into the night.

  At the surface, the waves were calmer than Coral had ever seen from her hiding place in the rocks. The sea was glass now, the ocean a reflection of the clear and starry-eyed sky above. Stars that appeared as if they might fall, they shone so close. She ripped her arm free, gasping. She wanted to scream at Jordan. To curse her for how she’d disregarded what was happening.

  “Did you have to make a scene?” Jordan said, control leaving her voice with every word. “Father went to great lengths to throw you that party. How can you be so ungrateful?”

  All Coral could say was, “Me? How could you be on his side? Our older sister needs us. Something’s wrong.”

  Jordan rolled her eyes. “When is something not wrong with her?”

  “This is different.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “Enough.” Coral couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m tired of you speaking to me like a child.”

  “That’s what you are, isn’t it? Our sister favored you, Coral. And Grandmother too.”

  Coral caught a glimpse of her reflection in the water. Her expression was a mixture of shock. Understanding. Realization. Was this why Jordan acted so hostile toward her? Had she always felt so . . . unloved? Left out? Alone?

  Jordan turned away, shoulders shaking.

  The Disease, not overpowering but still present, rose to Jordan’s surface.

  Coral’s heart twisted. The Disease affected all three of them? Why didn’t they talk about it? Why did everyone act as if discussing it was treason?

  “Jordan.” Coral touched her shoulder, feeling like the older one, like their roles were reversed. “It’s okay to feel this way. You’re not alone. I’m sorry I never—”

  Jordan shrugged her off. “Don’t presume to know how I—” She stopped. Caught a breath. “Don’t presume to know anything. Don’t you dare. You are nothing to me. Nothing.” The middle mersister dove beneath the water, swimming away, escaping before things turned too serious. Coral used to believe it was because of her sister’s cold heart. But it was precisely the opposite.

  Did Jordan possess a hidden tear too?

  The little mermaid collected her scattered emotions as her life played in scenes of color and sound through her memory.

  Jordan, putting Coral down, trying to make her feel unworthy of her own station.

  The crown princess, holding Coral close as Jordan looked on.

  Their grandmother with one arm around Coral and the other around—

  “Oh, Jordan.” Coral was about to follow her when fire illuminated the night sky. The vision reflected off the ocean’s surface, thousands of sparkling gemstones ready to become sunken treasure.

  Boom, boom, boom.

  The sight was glorious and mesmerizing and captivating. A grand orchestra of her own brilliant hues played in flourishes across her vision. Coral forgot the squall that waited below. She took in the beauty of the evening. And then, as quickly as they had begun, the sky bursts died, glittering in descending sparks that disappeared as each one kissed the water.

  A new sound played out into the serene night. A sound so beautiful it lit the dark night, splashing the air with gold.

  She’d heard that sound—that song—before.

  Coral turned every direction, seeking the source. She swam closer to shore, and then closer still. And . . . there . . . on the sandy beach, a small boat rested. A single sailor sat within, a hand-size instrument pressed to his lips.

  “Drown him,” Jordan would say.

  “End him,” her father would urge.

  “He’s a human,” the merfolk would titter. “A worthless, good-for-nothing human.”

  But then her oldest sister’s voice—her very real and present voice—said, “Be careful.”

  Coral whirled in the water.

  The crown princess, pale complexion aglow beneath the moonlight, stared back at her.

  Coral flung her arms around her sister. Skin like ice, the crown princess was a sculpture, frozen in time. And yet, it seemed her frail frame could break at any moment. “I was trying to get to you. I wanted to tell you—”

  “Hush.” The crown princess caressed the little mermaid’s cheek with her thumb. “It’s nearly time.”

  Fear wrapped itself around Coral’s heart, threatening to crush it. She needn’t ask to know what her sister referred to.

  Red Tide. Was. Coming.

  “No,” Coral said, panic striking her center. “Wait.” She wanted to tell her sister everything. About the tear. About Jordan. And the young mermaid at the ball with the secret behind her eyes. “You’re not alone,” was all she could manage.

  But her sister’s downcast gaze and quiet resolve spoke volumes, though she said nothing at all. She’d accepted her fate, sure as the tides would change.

  The human’s soft, melodious tune played in the background. Soothing the ache inside.

  “Humans are not to be trusted,” the crown princess said. “Give your heart to one and you can never go back.” She remov
ed the pearl bracelet she wore and slipped it over Coral’s wrist.

  Coral heaved, her calm waning. She had no interest in humans and she didn’t want her sister’s favorite treasure. Not after hearing of her heartbreak. That, at least, was where their father had been right. Coral only wanted things to be as they had been. Exactly as they had been. Before.

  Her sister stiffened her upper lip and stared toward shore.

  Coral followed her gaze. The human’s music had ceased. He stood now, one foot outside the beached boat, watching them. His pointed gaze expressed concern, while his rigid stance showed a protectiveness Coral hadn’t expected.

  “He’ll hurt you,” the crown princess said. “He’ll break you.”

  Strange. The human didn’t look menacing. He seemed . . .

  Apprehensive. Worried. Afraid?

  A part of Coral wanted to find out the truth for herself. But she couldn’t let go of the future queen. Not yet. If she could find the right words and the perfect way to say them, her sister would understand. Red Tide didn’t have to be the end. Coral was sure of it. Her sister might have been ready to give up. But that was why she needed a sister who wouldn’t.

  “I’m here,” Coral said, ignoring her own longing to discover a new world. With fresh words and reassurances on the tip of her tongue, she faced her sister once more.

  The crown princess floated across the glassy surface, unmoving and facedown. When Coral turned her sister over, her expression appeared serene, happy even.

  Someone shouted. The human pushed the small boat into the water, then climbed aboard.

  Coral took her sister’s cold, lifeless hand. “Sister,” she said, her voice lost. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Crown Princess?”

  The last was a question that would never be answered. Her sister’s skin was colder now. Lacking the warmth of life.

  A hundred soundless things happened at once.

  The human rowed to her side. He spoke but Coral couldn’t hear.

  Her instinct was to protect herself. To swim away before this boy could do harm.

  But then a hand grabbed Coral’s wrist. Duke. He glared, murder in his eyes. His mouth moved but made no sound, at least none Coral could distinguish. She slapped him hard with her tail, tried to cry out, but her voice would not emerge.