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“Yeah, me neither,” Shelly whispered. “I didn’t mean for this to happen . . . not like this.”
Glancing around to make sure she was alone, she slowly peeled off her glove and studied her hand. Webbing stretched from each finger. When she touched it, it felt like her own skin. She pinched it and winced at the sting. She couldn’t even bear to take off her sneakers to look at her toes. Tears pricked her eyes. Hiding in the dark by the fish, she sank down to her knees and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t notice the figure watching her from the corridor.
He had heard everything she’d said. “Hey, Shelly, is everything okay?”
She looked up, startled. Her eyes fell on Enrique, who was leaning against the wall in the shadows, and she yanked the glove back on. She stood up and looked at him. Shame and fear mixed in her gut. Why did he keep surprising her like that? Didn’t he have better things to do?
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Not long,” he said. “But long enough to notice you seem a bit down.”
Had he seen the webbing?
“Well, I’m okay. Just tired,” she said. That wasn’t a complete lie.
His eyebrows met in a look of concern. He wasn’t convinced. She knew that she looked even more ridiculous with the gloves to hide her webbed fingers. She wanted to confide in him—to talk to somebody about her problems—but she couldn’t risk it. No one could see her like this. Not that he hadn’t seen her in a worse state. He had saved her from drowning in the ocean, after all. But still.
“I’ve gotta go,” she said. And with that, she bolted down the hall, leaving Enrique alone.
Shelly draped a towel around her neck and tucked her hands under her arms.
Then she dashed from the locker room to the big swim meet. She couldn’t let anyone see her fish anatomy. That was how she’d come to think of it. Kendall shot her a strange look but didn’t say anything. Kendall had her game face on. This was their rematch against Little River. That meant one thing: Shelly was facing Judy Weisberg again in the fifty-meter freestyle. But for now, Shelly could relax. The first event was Kendall’s—the breaststroke. Judy was swimming in the race as well, and Shelly was ready to root her heart out for Kendall. She was about to sit on the bench when Coach Greeley tapped her clipboard and said, “You’re up, Shelly!” She pointed to the middle lane starting block.
Shelly’s heart lurched. “But I don’t swim the breaststroke.”
“After that record-breaking performance at practice you do!” Coach crowed.
Shelly’s eyes darted to Kendall, who scowled like Shelly had never seen her scowl before.
“Um, okay,” Shelly s
aid, stepping up to the block. Now she had to swim fast enough to beat Judy but not so fast that she would upset Kendall.
Okay. She could do this. She just needed to pay close attention to where both Kendall and Judy were in the water at all times. Luckily, her lane was situated right between theirs.
Buoyed by her strategy, Shelly took a deep breath and glanced at Judy Weisberg.
Judy shot her a nasty look. “Good luck, fish lover. You’re going to need it.”
“Trust me,” Shelly said, keeping her towel over her shoulders, “you won’t beat me this time.”
The buzzer sounded.
Shelly dropped the towel and dove headlong into the pool. She cut through the water faster than ever before, her gills opening and closing and filling her with all the breath she could ever need and more, her webbed hands and feet propelling her through the water at high speed.
In fact, she was going too fast.
She tried desperately to slow down, but she couldn’t. No matter what she did, she kept swimming faster and faster. Her arms and legs seemed to have minds of their own. She started to panic, but there was nothing she could do except keep swimming.
Why couldn’t she slow down? With horror, it dawned on her. She had made a wish to become the fastest swimmer. The sea witch had granted that exact wish. What Shelly hadn’t realized was she couldn’t reverse it. She couldn’t swim slowly anymore. No matter what she did, she would always be the fastest swimmer. For all eternity. After her first flip turn, she was already several strokes ahead of Judy and the other swimmers. Then after the second turn, it was half the pool’s length. She swam faster than any human ever, possibly. After she had lapped all the other racers in the pool, she slapped her hand onto the edge and stayed put.
So I can stop swimming, she thought with relief. She glanced up at the scoreboard, and her eyes widened in joy—and fear. It was a new record, but while she’d wanted to beat Judy and win the race, she hadn’t wanted to win like this. She remembered Attina’s warning. Kendall would be upset that Shelly beat her top score in a real race. While everyone in the stands was focused on the scoreboard, Shelly slipped out of her lane and back under her towel, feeling defeated. From the bench, she watched the other swimmers struggling to finish the last lap.
Coach Greeley ran over to her with clipboard and stopwatch in hand. “Great job, Shelly!” she exclaimed. “A new school record! And this time, it’s official! Better yet, it’s even faster than your practice time. Wow! Just wow!”
“Thanks,” Shelly said sheepishly. While Coach Greeley scribbled more notes on her clipboard, Shelly glanced at her team. They were out of the pool and racing toward her, cheering for her along with the crowd in the stands, which was missing her parents.
But Kendall was not cheering.
