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She was about to say this was her first time in the room when she realized the coach meant Misty had been in here looking at the photos.
“I just can’t help it,” she said, softening her voice. “They’re all so beautiful.”
“We, darlin’. We are all so beautiful.” She walked to the photo just two frames to Christy’s left and straightened it, though it was already straight. The photo in the frame, Christy realized as she studied it anew, was a younger Hannah, rocking a blue and white tail and matching seashell bra.
She averted her face to hide her sudden suspicions. She had questions. Her gaze fell on her twin sister’s photo on the opposite wall, among the newest. Her pose was sheer grace, and Christy knew how hard that was to pull off. But there was Misty, like a crescent moon. The gentle arc of her back continued down through her tail, and all the way up through her long blonde hair, flowing in a perfect continuance of the arc. Her eyes were open and facing the glass. But she wasn’t smiling. She wore a sad, yearning expression, her brows bent with some unknowable ache.
God, she was beautiful.
“I love your hair, by the way,” Hannah said. “But not for performances.”
Christy pulled her backpack around to show the blonde wig sticking out the top. “Of course not.”
“How’s that muscle strain? You gonna be all right today?”
“The back’s better.” Unless she screwed up again. “Mostly. And I was thrown off by my family showing up unexpectedly.” It was a really good lie, she thought.
“Well, don’t let it happen again,” Coach said, then she gazed at Misty’s photo. “Give me that mermaid, today,” she said.
“You’ve got it.” As they walked out of the room together, she said, “Did you know her well? The mermaid in the photo I was admiring?”
“Eva? We swam together three seasons before she disappeared.” Then she frowned. “But I told you all this already.”
“Right, you did. I know. I just… can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Well, today’s not the day for that.” But she walked back to Eva’s photo, pressed a fingertip to her lips, and then to Eva’s smile. “Today is important. You need to be at your very best.”
Christy nodded and turned to hurry up the stairs to the pool area, pulling on the wig as she went. The gang were all there, including a handful she hadn’t met before, who might not know who she was yet. She hoped. They were all talking and laughing. Nobody looked at her in any odd way.
“Okay, okay.” Coach Hannah clapped her hands. “We’re running the routine, tails-off the first time through. Change up and hit the pool.”
Misty’s tail was in the locker room where Christy had left it earlier. The thing was heavy, so she was happy to leave it there a little longer. She stripped down to the black tank suit, standing in front of her open locker, and taking her time so she could be the last to leave. Maybe they’d all be in the water, already warming up, and too distracted for conversations. Because she had to pretend she knew these people. And that was not an easy thing to fake.
* * *
MISTY
“I promised my sister I’d be back by tomorrow,” Misty said again. “If I don’t make it, or at least check in, she’ll call out the National Guard. Just so you know.”
It was late-afternoon. They’d watched Paul Quaid’s cabin all day, and the son of a gun still hadn’t left.
“He’s going. Any time now, he’s going,” Zig said. “Look how many of those metal-animals he’s carried out of the workshop.”
She was looking. It was hard not to. The pieces were lined up like soldiers in front of the small outbuilding, every single one unique. There was a duck holding an umbrella, a fairy sitting on a mushroom, a peacock in full display, and an eagle with wings that moved when the wind blew. Paul Quaid was really good at what he did.
The sound of a vehicle came, and its rumble was so much like Jeremy’s precious Firebird, it made her heart hurt. And then that very car rolled into the gravel driveway and shut off. Misty gripped Zig’s forearm so hard her nails dug in.
“It’s Jeremy,” she whispered. “Dammit, what is he doing here?”
Zig sent her a wide-eyed look, then they both backed up into the shadows cast by the pine trees all around them.
Jeremy got out of his car and Paul Quaid came out of the workshop welding helmet tipped up, pulling off his oversized gloves.
They spoke. Misty couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Jeremy showed his badge to the guy and then asked him some questions. Paul Quaid answered no to all of them, if the direction of his head shakes were to be trusted.
Jeremy nodded and headed back to his car, but before he got in, he stood in the space of its open door and looked around with keen, intent eyes. Misty sidestepped behind a tree trunk, and prayed the camo of their tent fly would fool him.
“He’s looking for me,” Misty whispered.
