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20
Kai
My finger slid across the parchment coating the wall. Although I’d already gone over every word posted in the pool room, I kept wandering back to this particular spot. The tight mash of pictures and letters reminded me of the glyphs back home, the ones carved in the secret tunnels below the palace. Well, they weren’ttotallysecret, but considering the entrance sat underneath the stables my father used to maintain his prized fever of stingrays, the threat of a slow, tortured death by venom injection kept the place pretty empty.
My mother just referred to them as “the ruins,” describing them as a site left behind by the scribes of ages past as a record of the Pacific’s rich history—a project they seemed to have abandoned somewhere down the line, even before the stingrays came along.
Still, my father always tasked his lesser-valued offspring with scraping the algae blooms from its walls each spring, though I had a suspicion he just used it to get us out from under his tail for a season. As the youngest, arguably least important of all the princes, I was usually the first he sent down.
Spring always felt a bit lonely, but at least I got in a lot of reading!
“Serena’s Pest Control Services,”I carefully read aloud, following the curls of each letter with a finger. I loved the glyphs on this parchment the most. An illustration of brilliant flames crawled up the sides of the lettering, a motif that was never depicted on the walls of the ruins back home. For whatever reason, fire wasn’t as popular underwater as it was on land. A shame, really, considering how toasty warm the fire pits on the beaches back in California had been. And the fried shrimp it made. My mouth watered just remembering those little golden-brown morsels!
“What’s that?” A slow, sweet voice answered my mumbling, drawing my attention away from the parchment. Claira swayed back into the pool room, a curious slope to her lips.
I fought back a grin. The towel sitting just over her brows was wrapped up like a spiral seashell, giving off the illusion that a hilariously oversized hermit crab was nesting on top of her head. Just when I thought I’d tamed my amusement, I noticed the shark on her shirt and could barely stop myself from leaping up on my toes.
I was hoping she’d choose the shark!
Claira plucked at the dark pants I’d picked out for her, smoothing the fabric down her thighs. The fit wasperfection, almost like the fabric had molded to her shape. I felt a rush of relief—I wouldn’t need to offer her mine after all.
“Just looking at some of the parchment hanging up over here. You know you didn’t have to hurry for my sake, right?” I watched the backpack slide off her shoulder and touch down beside a lounge chair. It looked somewhat deflated, as if she hadn’t bothered stuffing her old clothes in it after she’d changed. Not that I blamed her. It was appalling that the Atlantic expected her to keep walking around covered in dirt and dried blood. “I’ll tell you one of my secrets: it doesn’t take much to keep me entertained. Give me a pebble or a shell or maybe something to chew on, and I’m good for a few hours!”
The lounger barely bowed as Claira took a seat at its end. “After what I saw back at the gas station, I don’t doubt that,” she said with a chuckle. It was a soft, somehow charming sound, unlike anything I’d ever heard from the mermaids back home. A part of me wondered what else I could say to hear more of it, which was an odd thing to wonder, right? Suddenly uncomfortable, I shifted my weight.
Pulling the spiral down from her head, she started rubbing down sections of hair. “There wasn’t any hot water, so yeah. Kind of had to keep things brief.” A few more quick pats, and she flung the towel down with a satisfied sigh. “I thought I’d find you splashing around in the pool or something, not standing in front of a bulletin board. Find anything interesting?”
Her arms lifted in a long stretch as she reclined, her body sprawling over the length of the lounge chair in a manner that reminded me of the lazy way sea lions spread over rocks in the sun. “But don’t get too excited about any of that. I’m pretty sure the people who posted those ads are long gone by now,” she added, rolling a dismissive wrist.
I glanced back at the wall, and my eyes instantly locked on to the red and orange fire. “Just this one page I keep reading. ‘Pesky pests invading your home? We’ll bring the firepower needed to get the job done!’” I read each word, then drew a thumb over one of the flames. “Sounds really cool, right? Humans have so many uses for fire.”
“Oh, they don’t meanrealfire.” Claira’s laughter nearly bubbled over as she sat back up, shaking her head wildly.“No, no. They just mean they have the right tools and know how to use them.” She absently combed her fingers through tangles of damp hair, looking amused by the thought. “Fire for pest control, ha! I guess that’s one way to take care of termites.”
It was incredible to see how much a simple bath had changed her entire mood.
“They don’t? Well, that’s disappointing.” Abandoning the wall, I made my way over to her backpack. As I crouched to unzip its front pocket, a sweet scent hit me, too mouth-wateringly delicious to ignore. “Wow Claira, you smellfantastic.”
“What?” A rush of red livened her complexion. Wetting her lips, she swallowed hard. “You literally just gave me a bag full of soap and shampoo.”
“Yeah, I know, but…” I leaned in just close enough to pick up the scent again. “I’m sure it didn’t smell this good in the bottle. You think I could borrow some for my bath tonight?”
“Pfft, you’re the one who gave it to me!” Shying away, she collected a section of hair to sneak a covert whiff. “If you want to smell like lemon juice and tea leaves, go for it.”
“Lemon!” I gasped, diving into the backpack to find the shampoo bottle. “So that’s why you’re making me feel so hungry. I had lemon-scented candy things earlier, but Barren snatched them away before I could try them.” My voice trailed and the vacant pit of my stomach took over with an audible grumble.
“He snatched them? What, he didn’t want to share with you or something?”
The image of what I figured was a lemon tempted me, right there on the label. So shiny. So yellow. Ugh, I was hungry.Too bad bath time wasn’t until tonight. Pushing the bottle aside, I dove for the bottom of the bag. “Nope. He tossed them right in the trash! Did you move the hair binds and comb somewhere? I can’t—oh, here we go.”
I found the binds first and ripped a few of the stretchy circles straight from the package. Sliding four of them on my wrist, I went back for the comb.
When I sprung up to full height, Claira’s voice turned uneasy. “What are you doing?”
Properly armed, I rounded the lounge chair and settled down on the edge behind her. “Helping you get rid of some of these knots. Don’t worry.” I eased the comb through some of the damp ends. “I used to do all sorts of hairstyles for my little sis all the time.”
She tossed me a backward glance, and I backed off just in case she wasn’t comfortable with my offer.
“You do hair? Wow. I’m terrible with hair.” She twirled a finger around an errant strand for a second, then straightened her neck. “Well, good luck. My hair had a fight with a burlap sack earlier, and the sack definitely won, so… I think even my tangles have tangles.”
