“I’ve got it, thanks,” I say, and push myself up from the ground. The only problem is, this is the first time I’ve stood on two feet and it is a trip. Elder Crab warned us of this. Getting land legs could take up to twenty-four hours. A full flicking day of this nausea and disorientation is not how I want to spend my first moments on land.

My body sways backward, and my vertigo is too much. I’m falling, falling, falling until—

“Whoa, I’ve got you.” Lifeguard grabs my arm, yanking me up to standing and keeping hold of me so I don’t crash back down. “I should call a doctor.”

“No, no.” I wave my free hand. “I’m fine. I just got up too fast. Feeling light-headed.” My stomach rumbles and I’ve never been so thankful to be hungry in my life. Normally I’m the kind of mer that gets great white–level angry without enough seaweed in my gut, but now I’m relieved since it gives me an excuse to get away from nosy human doctors. “I probably just need something to eat.”

Lifeguard looks up the beach—past a hideous fake-leaf-covered fenced area, a pool, and a flashy tile-roofed structure with people walking in and out—and toward the street beyond. It’s packed with cars. They’re whizzing by faster than I’ve seen anything move in the ocean. It’s mesmerizing.

Lifeguard’s hand enters my view as they point past all the metallic blurs. “There’s a burrito place across PCH that I really love. I’ll walk you. It’s the end of my shift anyway. Just let me make sure my friend’s back from her break.” They pull a phone out of their pocket and tap on it a few times. I’ve heard all about these, but devices made to communicate without ever actually seeing another person seem so cold and detached. Human technology seems that way in general.

“We’re good,” Lifeguard says, then swings my arm over their shoulders, making my stomach turn. They’re taking so many liberties with my body. “Feel free to lean against me until you feel like you’ve got your feet under you.”