Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Sean
- Crest
- Sean
- Crest—ugh—Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Ross
- Sean
- Crest
- Sean
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Jason June:
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
Lifeguard’s palm is moist, and panic makes my heart jump in my throat. This is the first rule of the Journey: do not get wet in front of humans. It’ll make my fin appear, and on this packed beach full of people, I’m sure I’ll be fishnapped and turned into some exhibit. The thought is enough to make me want to hop right back into the Blue, but there’s the second—and more important—Journey rule to deal with: do not go into the ocean before I’ve helped a human and my moon cycle is up. If I rush home before that, my mer magic will leave me and I’ll be stuck in this stupid body forever. Punishment for not seeing the Journey through.
But apparently slick palms aren’t enough to start the change because my fin never comes.
I shrug their arm off and step away. “I’ve got it.”
Lifeguard locks eyes with me. Theirs are puffy and slightly red. The longer I look, the more detail I see in their rich brown eyes. Definite polar bear. Those eyes go with their big arms and legs covered in coarse hair, their belly pushing against the red fabric of their tank top. The turning in my stomach increases, only it’s not quite so unpleasant anymore, although still overwhelming. Too many sensations for my first ten minutes out of the Blue.
“Sorry,” Lifeguard says. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Just wanted to be sure you’re okay.”
They look genuinely hurt, and I think they might be tearing up a bit. I’ve never seen someone cry before, but as I lean in, they throw on their sunglasses before I can get a good look. I know I’m no human expert, but the Elders say crying means sadness, so Lifeguard must be upset about something.
Hold on. They might need help. Maybe this was a blessing from the Blue all along, drifting me up on the beach where the most pathetic human is so I can give them a helping hand, then get the flick out of here. That’s why the Elders always say to go with the flow. The Blue knows what it’s doing if you’ll just trust the directions it drifts you in.
“Thanks for looking out for me,” I say. “I’m new here, is all, and don’t take to strangers very well.” Maybe if I open up to them a little, they’ll do the same. Then I can solve their problems and wait for the mark that’ll appear to indicate I’ve helped my human and can go back home as soon as my moon cycle’s over.