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Shelly woke up clawing at her throat on her bedroom floor.
Her lungs pulled at the air, but something felt different. She couldn’t explain it. It took longer to get enough oxygen. As she caught her breath and her vision cleared, she took in her room. Morning light flooded through her curtains. Half asleep and very groggy, she stood up on autopilot and staggered to her closet to pick something to wear. After she got dressed, she inspected the state of her hair in the mirror, wondering how long she’d have to spend taming it with the hair iron. As she gathered it up, she gasped and backed away.
“What is that?” she hissed at her reflection. She stepped closer to the mirror to inspect what she had seen. On each side of her neck were parallel slits. When she breathed, the slits flared open, freaking her out even more. What happened to my neck?
She wondered if she’d injured it at the swim meet. But nothing jumped to mind.
The day before, her neck had been normal. She was sure. That wasn’t something one failed to notice, like a zit on a chin that was just beginning to blossom. No, that was unmissable. They were completely noticeable, especially with the whole flaring-open-when-she-breathed thing.
“What happened to me?” she whispered to her reflection, studying her neck slits.
A door slammed down the hall, making her jump back from the mirror with a start. She was late. Any second, her mother would rap on her door and let her know that the bus was waiting. She had to hide her neck—and fast. She couldn’t let her mother catch wind of what was going on.
What was going on?
Shelly rustled through her closet, her fingers coming upon a winter scarf from some long-forgotten family ski trip. It was far too warm for the mild California winter, but it was made from thick wool that promised maximum coverage. She started wrapping the scarf around her neck.
The door to her room swung open.
“Mom, she took it again!” Dawson. Her dad must have just dropped him off and he’d gone right for the shell, of course. His little face was blotchy and twisted up with anger.
“Get out!” Shelly yelled, shutting the door on him. Her eyes darted to the shell on her bedside table. She swiped it and stashed it inside her closet. She couldn’t let him have it back; it had strange powers. Plus, she owed the sea witch a favor and she needed the shell to fulfill the deal.
But Dawson had blocked the door with his foot.
“You’re not allowed in my room!” Shelly said. With one hand, she tried to cram the door shut while desperately attempting to finish wrapping the scarf around her neck with her other hand.
Luckily, Dawson was so focused on getting through the door that he didn’t seem to notice Shelly’s neck. At least, she hoped he didn’t. Suddenly, the click-clack of her mother’s high heels sounded. They hit the hall carpet and quieted, which meant her mother was coming closer.
“What now?” her mother said when she reached Shelly’s room. “Open the door, please.”
Reluctantly, Shelly stepped away from the door.
Dawson was pushing on it so hard that as soon as she released it, the door flew open. He staggered into her room and fell flat on his face. Her mother followed him in, surveying the room. When she saw Dawson pouting on the floor, she helped him up and looked hard at Shelly.
“What in the world is going on with you two?” her mother asked.
Before Shelly could answer, Dawson wailed, “Mom, she took my special shell again! I found it in her room yesterday, so I hid it in my aquarium tank. But it’s gone again!”
Shelly felt a flood of guilt. He was right, of course. She did steal it back. But there was nothing she could do about it now. Carefully, she shut the door to the closet, where she’d stashed it.
Then she knelt down on the floor by Dawson. “Bud, I’m sorry, but I think it’s gone for good,” she said, hoping he would leave it at that.
He sniffled and stopped
wailing. “It’s not fair.”
“I’ll get you a new fish for your aquarium. A real one! Like Mr. Bubbles.”
“Will he have a black stripe, too?” he asked.
Mr. Bubbles had had a distinctive black stripe that marked his side. “Black stripe and all.”
Her mother’s frown transformed into a relieved smile as she leaned close to Shelly. “Thank you, Shell. I’m proud of you for working this out with your brother.” Her mother glanced down at her watch. “Now, hurry up, you two, or you’ll miss the bus and be late for school. And, Shelly, honey, please make sure your brother gets his homework from the kitchen table.”
After her mother kissed the top of each of their heads, she looked at Shelly. “Why are you wearing a scarf?”
“It’s the latest trend,” Shelly lied, holding the scarf to her neck to make sure it didn’t slip.
