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I did my best not to snatch it from her this time, but it was difficult.
She didn’t wait for me to drink.
Running back to the sink, she looked around for something bigger and settled on the measuring jug one of the doctors had used to measure the plaster ingredients before wrapping my arm with bandages and smearing hot goo all over me.
My lips smacked together as she filled it.
So long.
It took so long for it to fill.
And when it was full, she struggled to carry it, clutching it tightly to her chest, dousing herself as she walked with utmost concentration across the ward.
I took it from her as if it was liquid gold.
I drank from it as if it contained holy water.
And only once the last droplet landed on my grateful tongue did I slowly lower the jug, wipe my mouth with the back of my non-cast hand, and look up. “How old are you?” I asked quietly.
She startled as if she hadn’t expected me to ask. With a tilt of her chin, she held out her arms for the empty jug. “Twelve. How old are you?”
Twelve?
“Sixteen,” I muttered. “I turn seventeen in December.”
“Wow, you’re old.” She placed the jug on the side table where a board of medical buttons and important-looking wires reminded us exactly where we were. “I mean, you’re like ancient. I should probably have let the sharks eat you. You’re so over the hill it’s not even funny.” Planting her hands on her hips again, she grinned. “You know what? My dad has a speargun. I’ll get him to put you out of your misery, okay? Ah shoot.” She smashed her hands over her lips again. “I did it again.”
This time, I did chuckle.
My belly was uncomfortably full from so much water and my heart kept bleeding for what I’d lost, but for the first time, the heaviness in my head had faded, and with it, some of the heaviness in my soul. “I’ll tell you what. You can use that word in any other context, as long as you’re not using it to ask how I am. Okay?” I smiled as I forced myself to use it. Forced myself to face a fear that I refused to bow to.
“Deal.” She stuck out her tiny hand.
I reared back as if she’d aimed the promised speargun at me.
She didn’t lower her arm, although an embarrassed flinch crossed her face. She tried to cover it with a grin, but I couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t unsee the way she watched me with the same sort of longing I’d looked at the jug full of water.
My heart quickened.
There was...something.
Something that shouldn’t exist.
I couldn’t stop myself as I reached out and wrapped my much bigger hand around hers.
She sucked in a short breath, making my nape prickle. Her blue, blue eyes landed on our linked hands, and with the softest exhale, she whispered, “It feels different, doesn’t it?” She looked up, freezing me in her far too bright stare. “I mean...different to when I touch my mum or dad. Different to when I touch my friends. Different to even when I’m stroking Sapphire and her babies.”
Her fingers flexed in mine, sending the faintest current through me.
I tugged my hand from hers, burying it beneath my casted one. “It’s because you saved my life.”
“It is?” Her eyebrows met her hairline. “Why?”
I flexed my fist, willing the tingle to cease.
A flash of my mother making up stories for Melike when she struggled to sleep haunted me. Those stories had been the only thing that could calm Mel enough to dream, especially as we ran for our lives.
Swallowing against another onslaught of despair, I murmured, “In my language...my name means lion. Lions don’t belong in the sea, and if you hadn’t found me, I would’ve sunk and—”
“Become a sea lion.” Neri giggled. “There are sea lions, you know. They don’t have paws, but they do have big teeth and strong flippers.”
“Are you going to let me tell the story or not?”
“Is it a happy story?”
“Aren’t all stories happy?” I winced.
I’d learned the hard way that wasn’t true. Not at all.
“Not sometimes,” Neri whispered. “Not always.” Coming closer to me, she rested her hand on my cast.
I was grateful I couldn’t feel her skin against mine, but her nearness did worrying things to my heart.
“I’m so sorry. About your family. I meant what I said about them being with the whales now. I know you’re sad, but they’re oka—I mean...they’re safe now. Just like you are. Here. With me.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t move.
She looked down then back up again, keeping her chin low and watching me beneath thick eyelashes. “What’s your name? It must be cool if it means lion.” She hopped onto the bed, making me shift away. “My mother called me Nerida because it means sea nymph. That’s cool too. Or at least, I think it is. She said a fortune teller at a local fair told her that one day I would live beneath the waves.” Her eyes turned dreamy. “I can’t breathe underwater yet, but I keep trying. Keep scaring my dad when I manage to hold for ages, and he’s probably going to have a heart attack when I figure out how to be a real fish, but...oh well.”
