Evergreen (Mer Tales, Book 2) Page 6

  I stopped and deleted the last line. What if this email fell into the wrong hands?

  The algae blooms should have been a sign the bog wasn’t safe. Nothing could live in these waters. It’s a shame. Don’t the farmers know they are poisoning the fish? We didn’t get as far as we wanted today because mom couldn’t handle the motion of the RV. Anyway, the lake we’re at tonight looks and smells 100x’s better. Like always, I miss you. How was your day?

  I reread my words and cringed. Like knowing any of that garbage would help. Actually, Ash would worry and beg me to come home—especially after hearing about Mom. And at this point, I wouldn’t fight her. I should have never denied Mom the essence the night before. As it was, she needed two full vials to recover. If only Colin and Uncle Alaster were truly harassing Ash in Tahoe, then Dad would have to take us home. If it weren’t for Mom drifting in and out of consciousness all day, I would have unhooked my Jeep from the RV and driven back myself.

  No. I needed to encourage Ash—tell her that things were okay. Lie. Contaminated bogs, overindulged princes, a possible mer war, and revenge of a heartless king—all stacked to separate us—couldn’t get me down. We’d be together soon.

  I took her picture from my shoulder pouch and touched her face through the plastic. Her beautiful lips, red hair, fiery eyes, God, I loved her.

  I moaned and sprawled out on the picnic table. This stupid piece of crap email wouldn’t help if she’d had a fight with her mom.

  I deleted everything and started over.

  Dearest Ash,

  I love you. I’m sorry about today. Please write me back if you can’t call or text.

  I miss you more than you know.

  Love forever, Fin

  I smiled and hit send—short and to the point. Hopefully she’d check her email tonight. Overcome with exhaustion from detoxing all day, I closed my eyes and sucked in the cool breeze that blew over the lake, washing out my lungs. I’d give her five more minutes. At least tonight I’d remembered to wear my board shorts.

  I’d dozed for a moment when something warm and wet touched my leg. A black-and-white border collie stared up at me. One of his irises was blue as the sky. A Frisbee lay at his feet.

  “Where’d you come from?” I shook the grogginess from my head.

  He barked and nuzzled the Frisbee closer with his nose. I closed my eyes for a second to clear my head before I picked it up.

  “You want me to throw this?”

  He barked again and bowed down on his front paws. I looked around for the dog’s owner, seeing no one.

  “Okay.”

  The dog took off, caught the Frisbee midair, and returned for another round. I laughed, amazed at his skill. I looked for his owner again before another throw. Scales popped out on my legs.

  “Sorry, buddy. This is the last time. I can’t play anymore.”

  The dog cocked his head to the side but wagged anyway in excitement. Because of what we were, Dad never agreed to let me have a dog and playing fetch rekindled my desire. As the dog took off, farther than the first time, I remembered I needed to lock up the phone.

  Crap.

  I put the phone with Ash’s letter and photo in my shoulder pouch instead and headed toward the water when the dog returned. He dropped the Frisbee; this time right on my Jack Purcells.

  Double crap.

  I launched the Frisbee one last time before tossing my shoes. Only one landed under the RV door.

  “Bring that back!” I yelled as the dog darted back and forth with my other shoe between his slobbery teeth. I picked up a stick. “Here, buddy. Fetch.” The dog ignored me and moved to a nearby tree while gnawing on the heel.

  “Hey! Give it back!”

  As I approached, the dog’s ears shot up and he froze. Then he dropped the shoe and took off. Confused and relieved, I grabbed the soaked shoe, pushed both of them through the crack of the window of the RV, and swiveled around to run. I turned and smacked into a little girl.

  She fell on the dirt with a thud and started to cry.

  “Oh, geez. I’m so sorry.” I lugged her up to her feet. “You okay?”

  Mute, she dusted off her palms and wiped away tears that streaked the dirt on her face. She gave me a once over before her eyes grew.

  I already knew why. Within seconds, my legs finished the process of zipping up and this time I fell over and bounced on the dirt at her feet. The girl screamed.

  “Forget you saw me,” I sung in Natatorian, “and go find your dog.”

  Her big brown eyes glazed over.

  I grabbed onto the earth and pulled my body hand-over-hand across the hard gravel, wincing in pain. Though my skin had somewhat recovered today, my scales were still raw and tight from the chemicals in the bog.

  “Gemma, what you doing?” a boy’s angered voice said from behind me. “What in tarnation?”

  I rolled over and sung again when another grimy kid appeared. He pointed at me. “What’s that thang?”

  “How many are there of you?” I shook my head and sung a third time.

  Three more scraggly kids appeared making six; a wicked curious gleam glinted in the newcomers’ eyes. No wonder the dog ran away. I sang louder, the crowd growing by the second. Luckily the song worked on each one and I tumbled the rest of the way down the hill. When I was just about to hit the water, pain ripped into my side. The gunshot registered in my ears a moment later.

  “Ahh!” I felt alongside of my dorsal fin. Blood coated my hand.

  “I got ‘em! I got ‘em!” I heard someone scream and a sound of a gun being cocked drew my attention. “Wez gonna be rich!”

  Another shot hit my side and landed me flat on my back. The edges of my vision fuzzed over and darkened as a multitude of dirty faces and mouths with missing teeth gathered above me. They squealed in jubilation. Unable to keep my eyelids open, darkness surrounded me, and my body yanked upward and floated off into nothingness.

  10

  :::

  ASH

  Thursday evening, April 14th

  Anger infused Mom’s eyes as she stood in the foyer. “Where were you today?”

  I hesitated. Did she mean just now? Or earlier? “School.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Ash. You weren’t at school. Where were you?”

  I stood speechless. “I was, too, all day!”

  “You said you weren’t feeling well earlier. Did you cut?”

  “No, I didn’t cut.” Although I’d wanted to. My body shook in fury because she didn’t believe me. I tried to backtrack and remember if I had some sort of proof I’d actually been there. “Who says I cut? A teacher?”

  “The record clerk called and said you didn’t come back after lunch and your hair isn’t wet.”

  “During fourth I took a make-up quiz in the teacher’s lounge, which made me late for fifth, and sixth was my meeting with the school counselor, but Mr. Branson knew. I even have a note you need to sign from Mrs. Harlow.”

  Mom’s glare remained on her face. “What note?”

  I bent down to rummage through my bag. “Practice was canceled today and here are the papers you need to sign.”

  Before I could give them to her, something pinched the side of my calf. I looked down as blood gushed from my leg onto my sock.

  “Ash, you’re bleeding.” As Mom came closer to investigate and moved the bag away, a triangular hint of silver protruded through the canvas.

  “What’s this?” She rummaged through the bag and pulled out a knife.

  My head swam as my heart jumped around in my chest. I couldn’t answer.

  “William! Come here!”

  Terror flooded me as Dad rounded the corner and caught sight of the knife Mom held and then my leg.

  “You’re bleeding!” He used the dishrag he held to stop the blood flow. “How did this happen?”

  Mom pinched the knife by the hilt like it was poison. “This was in her bag and the school reported she ditched class today.”

  “I didn’t ditch
,” I said defensively. “And I can explain the knife.” Maybe.

  Dad applied pressure to the wound. I tried to pull away, wincing in pain. “Let me,” he said, gripping my calf gently. Once the bleeding stopped, he helped me limp to the couch. “Why are you carrying a knife?”

  I looked down, unsure what to say.

  “Does this have anything to do with the boat? With—” Mom stopped and brought her hand to her mouth. Tears glinted in her eyes. She swayed a moment, then sat down, gripping the edge of the cushions.

  The situation went from bad to worse. I knew what she’d guessed—that I’d tried to drown myself on the lake on purpose and since that didn’t end my miserable existence, I was going to do something drastic. I wanted to stop the train I knew was racing through her head before it wrecked, but I couldn’t explain the knife. Lucy’s head peaked out from behind the wall by the stairs; she smirked.

  “I don’t want Lucy here.” I pointed my finger revealing her hiding spot.

  Mom looked up and wiped away a tear. “Why? She loves you. We all do.” Mom’s voice waffled. “If you’re struggling with something, you can tell us, or talk to Dr. Whistle again.”

  You mean Dr. Weasel? I shook my head and pursed my lips as Lucy continued to gawk.

  “Lucy, go to your room please,” Dad called out.

  She groaned and within a few seconds, her door slammed. Dad investigated to make sure she’d left for sure, then returned and gripped Mom’s knee. “Ash, tell us what’s going on. Are you missing Fin? We won’t judge you, whatever it is. We love you.”

  I cringed, appalled I had to defend my sanity to my parents. “I’m not trying to kill myself. I only borrowed the knife for—”

  My brain continued to freeze. I couldn’t think of an excuse beyond wanting to wound Azor so he’d bleed to death and morph into a human permanently.

  “Is someone threatening you?” Dad’s voice sounded harder than usual.

  Sort of. “No.”

  I looked down at the dried blood on my skin and at the Band-Aid ring wrapped around my finger—covering my secret. More than anything, I wanted to come clean. To tell them I loved Fin with all my heart. That I wanted to be with him now and forever. That we were engaged. That he made me happy and without him, and only without him, did I want to die. But that would definitely grant me time on Weasel’s couch. How could they even begin to understand the pressures I faced, the actress I’ve been day in and day out? That at any moment I was on the verge of snapping, so much so I was contemplating stabbing someone.

  Then the perfect excuse came to mind—one to set me free.

  “I used it to carve our initials on a tree,” I said plainly.

  Mom and Dad’s eyebrows creased before a collective sigh filled the room.

  “Why didn’t you just say so?” Dad asked as he laced Mom’s fingers with his.

  “I don’t know.” I gulped again. “It’s silly.”

  Mom’s face softened, then she smiled. “Did I tell you your dad and I have our initials on a tree in Napa.”

  They looked lovingly at one another, almost as if they’d forgotten that their wayward daughter, injured and bleeding, sat awaiting her punishment or release. Thank God I thought of an answer.

  But even though their fears were alleviated, Fin’s was not. He only had a few minutes of sunlight before I could explain why I’d hung up so quickly.

  “Can I go?”

  “Yes… Of course.” Mom rose from the couch and wrapped the knife in the bloodied towel. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

  Dad stood up with her and stayed an extra second. He hugged me.

  “Ash. We really do mean it when we say we love you. You know that?”

  “Yeah, of course, Dad,” I smiled weakly. “I wasn’t trying to scare anyone.”

  “Okay.” He pulled away and smiled, distrust still hanging out behind his eyes.

  I darted around him and took the stairs by twos. But somewhere in the middle of the ascent, pain from nowhere wracked my chest and then disappeared, like an elephant had jumped on me. The overwhelming crushing dread that I’d never see Fin again, that I lived with daily, had evaporated. More normal feelings of our separation remained, like I could wait a few weeks to see him and survive.

  I started to hyperventilate. Something was wrong. Fin was in trouble. I dialed my phone. Every call rolled over to voice mail.

  “No.” I crumpled onto a step and my wound broke open. Blood began to trickle down my leg once more.

  :::

  The rest of the night all my calls to Fin rolled over to voicemail and besides a short sweet email I’d received from him earlier, I didn’t hear anything further. I wanted to remain hopeful and believe nothing physically had happened to him, but my heart felt hollow and numb. Even my promise mark seemed extra dim in the shower the next morning.

  I yawned again as Mr. Branson droned on about the Nazi’s in France. I couldn’t listen. I could barely function.

  “Ms. Lanski,” Mr. Branson said. “And when did the French police arrest the Jews in the Vel’ d’Hiv Roundup?”

  I froze. “Ummm.” This was the first I’d heard of the Vel’ d’Hiv Roundup.

  “I assure you the answers are not laying in your lap.” He gripped the edge of his podium. “Please, Mr. Davis, will you help Ms. Lanski with the answer?”

  “July 1942.”

  “That’s correct.” He took a deep annoyed breath. “People, if you don’t take the time to learn your history, you may end up being carted off to a concentration camp for your race or religion. Do you want that?”

  My cheeks ignited as Jeremy reveled in giving the right answer. Mr. Branson gave me a look before continuing. I cared, especially where the Holocaust was concerned, but dates didn’t make one a scholar on the subject. Details were the most important piece and that was why Mr. Branson was the teacher—to teach me.

  My phone buzzed to life and Fin’s name blazoned on the receiver. I squeaked, unable to control myself. My hand flew in the air.

  “Mr. Branson, I have to use the restroom. Now.”

  He shot me a glare. “We’ve only a few more minutes of class.”

  As the phone silently rang and tugged at my heartstrings, I contemplated using the most embarrassing excuse in the world. “This can’t wait!”

  The entire class seemed to turn in unison and gawk as Mr. Branson’s eyebrows furled. “Fine, but leave your phone on my desk.”

  I gulped and didn’t move. If I stayed, I’d be a liar and later, a laughing stock. But my phone? He’d threatened if he caught texters in class he’d keep the phone ‘til the end of the year. But he couldn’t, could he? I didn’t actually get a text.

  “I thought you needed to go, Ms. Lanski.”

  “I—I do.” I stood and silenced the last ring by pressing OFF. I mustered all of my courage and left the phone on his desk. Hot bolts of lightening zapped through me, ones that wanted me to steal the phone and run through the door, never to return. I could have when Mr. Branson continued with his lecture, but I didn’t.

  I exited the classroom for the bathroom, afraid I might actually get sick in the hall. Alone, I gripped the sink and stared at my reflection. Grey smudges lined my eyes. I plunged my ring finger under the running water while removing the bandage. Sparkles of light made rainbows on the wall of the bathroom. Fin must have been okay. I had to take hope in that.

  Within minutes, the bell rang and I went back to Mr. Branson’s classroom. The phone had disappeared.

  “Ms. Lanski, nice of you to return.”

  “I need my phone.”

  “You know my rules about cellphone use in class.”

  I squinted. “I’m sorry. I was expecting an important call—about a friend who’s in the hospital.”

  “Well, then. You have a serious decision to make.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you want your phone now, you’ll have to serve detention with me next week in which you’ll write a five-page paper on someone in
history who lied and the consequences of such.”

  I clenched my jaw. “But I didn’t lie and I have swim practice.”

  “Then, I surmise you’ll be missing it.”

  “Or?”

  “Or you can come back after class and I’ll have a note I want your parents to sign about what happened today.”