“Oh,” she says. Then she gets this kind of appalled look on her face. “You’re not from the panhandle, are you?”
A little laugh escapes. “No, I’m not from the panhandle.” I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and say, “I’m from Thalassinia.”
“Where’s that?” she asks. “Georgia?”
“It’s about forty-five miles east of here.”
“East?” she repeats, confused. I can tell from her tone that it doesn’t make sense. “But the only thing forty-five miles east of Seaview is…”
“Ocean.” Ready to deal with her shock, I turn to her and say, “Thalassinia is a mer kingdom. I’m a mermaid.”
She looks out over the parking lot, eyes narrowed like she’s putting puzzle pieces together in her head. Shannen’s a brainiac, so I can bet that she’s getting a pretty complete picture. Pursing her lips in consideration, she says, “You’re a mermaid.”
“Uh-huh.”
Then her brown eyes turn on me, evaluating me head to toe as if she might have missed some scales or gills or something.
“Well, that makes sense,” she finally says. “You do have an obsession with ocean-related terminology. Though I am surprised by your affinity for sushi. I thought mermaids were supposed to be friends with fishes.”
“Only in animated movies,” I say with a laugh. Leave it to Shannen to intellectualize the fact that I’m a mythical creature.
She falls silent, studying the pavement. This is when the worry first hits me. What if she’s flipping out? What if she thinks I’m some kind of freak of nature and she never wants to talk to me again? I might have just lost my best human friend by telling her the truth about me. And if Shannen, who’s been like a sister for three years, can’t see past my mer side, then how on earth will Brody? What if Quince is right, and Brody will never—
“You didn’t trust me,” she finally says, stopping my snowballing mental freak-out.
“Of course I did,” I insist. “I do! That’s why I told you.”
“But you didn’t,” she replies. “Not until tonight.” The look of hurt in her warm eyes makes me want to cry. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me? And why did you tell me now?”
“I wanted to, Shan,” I insist. “Oh, how I wanted to. But we have to be so careful about revealing ourselves to humans. The laws are insanely strict. There were some incidents, back in the eighteenth century, when the sea was swarming with pirates. Our world nearly made front-page headlines.” I take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, but the safety of my entire kingdom comes first.”
“Then why are you telling me now?” she asks.
“Because…I had to tell you before I—” The fear creeps up my throat again, but I swallow around it. Why am I suddenly, after three years of waiting for tonight, so full of doubts and fears? “Before I tell Brody.”
“You’re going to tell him?” she gasps. “Tonight?”
I nod, expecting her to squeal with excitement. To be proud of me for finally—finally!—taking action.
Instead, she looks worried.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “You trust him that much? You trust him with your kingdom’s safety?”
All the air whooshes out of my lungs. She’s just voiced the same nagging doubts I’m trying to ignore. Do I trust him? Part of me, the part that’s mooned after him for three years, is screaming Yes. The rest of me, the part that knows all that mooning happened from afar with very limited personal experience, quietly whispers No.
And it’s not like I can take the confession back—at least, not without an unpleasant mindwashing ritual.
“Maybe,” I say, voicing my confusion. “Maybe you’re right. I can’t let Quince goad me into doing something stupid. This is more important than showing him up. I won’t tell Brody I’m a mermaid, but I will tell him that I love him.”
But…that didn’t even sound right. It doesn’t feel right to call what I feel for Brody love. That’s just too—
“No freakin’ way, Lil. You’re a mermaid?”
Oh, no! I feel my eyes bug out at the sound of Brody’s voice. I didn’t hear the door open behind us—I was too focused on Shannen and her deep questions.
“Omigod,” she whispers, so softly I almost don’t hear. I give her a pleading, panicked look, but all she can offer in return is wide-eyed sympathy. “I think,” she says, pushing to her feet, “I’ll leave you two alone for a minute.”
I pop to my feet at her side, willing her not to go.
She leans close and whispers, “I’ll be right inside if you need me.” Then she jogs up the steps and disappears through the gray metal door.
My stomach takes a dive toward my feet. It’s in this instant, this moment of total fear, that I realize how wrong I was about Brody. How—Quince was right—delusional I’ve been. I’ve been living in a fantasy world, where Brody was safely removed from reality. Only in my imagination was he the perfect mate for me. If that fantasy were real, I wouldn’t be so utterly terrified right now.
“Brody, I—”
“That is the coolest thing ever,” he exclaims, eyeing my body as he descends to ground level. His gaze lingers over my cha-chas. “Do you wear coconut shells?”