The Surface Breaks(11)

“Sworn what?” A different boy, laughing. “Did you see a monster? A mermaid?”

“What’s the difference?” the girl asks. I take a deep breath and, so cautiously, peek around the rock.

I find a large boat there, painted white, with three balconies at the back and a flat open surface to the front. Thick sticks are growing out of the panelled wood, a cream canvas on top, like a kind of flatfish. There are about a dozen humans on the boat, of different shapes and sizes, their bodies a variety of shades from the palest white to the darkest black. Most of them are lying on the beds made of the same cream material as the canvas, dozing with an indolence that seems strange, given how ferocious they are reputed to be.

“Time for another drink, mate,” the second boy says, and there is a smashing noise, glass against wood, the sun setting the shards on fire, dazzle-white.

“Geoffrey Gupta, why are you such a dolt?”

“Shut up, Viola.”

“You shut up, or I’ll tell Mum that you were drinking too much again. And call Mabel to clean up this mess. Someone will cut their feet to absolute shreds.”

Feet. Feet are what the humans call the stumps they walk upon. The humans will cut their feet on the broken glass and it would hurt them, as the coral slices our tails in the kingdom if we are not careful. These creatures are not impervious to injury, it seems.

“Shall we drop anchor here?” Viola says. “Seems as good a spot as any, doesn’t it, Oli? Oliver? Are you listening to me?”

A boy walks to the side of the boat and stares at the rock that I’m hiding behind. And I see him.

Oh.

A sharp intake of breath that seems so loud, almost a gasp really, and I realize that it is coming from my own mouth. I stare at him, this boy. He is tall, his hair and skin dark, and he is more beautiful than I have ever dreamed a boy could be. Who is he? I want to know. I need to know. I would happily spend the rest of my life finding out everything about him.

“A girl,” he says, a hand cupped over his eyes. A strange heat flashes through me, a heat that has nothing to do with the sun. “I thought I saw a girl.”





CHAPTER FOUR

I remain behind that rock for the rest of the day. I no longer want to flee; all I want to do is watch the humans. Watch him.

We have been told often how evil they are, how depraved. These are the people who are responsible for my childhood, for nights spent searching in the darkness for a comforting hand that would never come.

But they seem so innocent now they are before me. I count them, seven girls and eight boys, on the precipice of adulthood with their awkward limbs, the material they swathe around their hips and chests so they are not naked. “I love your swimsuit, Lizzie,” one girl said, sticking a finger down her throat when the human called Lizzie turned away. They seem oddly ashamed of their bodies, particularly the girls. They tug at stomachs and rub thighs, pulling down the edges of their suits to conceal more flesh, refusing offers of food because “I’ve eaten so much today, I’m disgusting”. It appears as if the humans, boys and girls, have come to sea to celebrate a birthday. His birthday.

“To Oliver on his twenty-first,” they shout, demanding that Mabel bring more champagne, whatever that might be. Oliver keeps walking to the side of the boat, staring out to sea. He is searching for me.

“Oli.” Viola’s arms around his waist, resting her head against his back. Her hair is cut to her chin and she has very long, brown legs. “You’re missing all the fun.” Oliver kisses her, and my throat feels as if it is made of teeth while I watch them. Are they betrothed, Oliver and this Viola? Keep looking for me, I urge him silently.

The sun becomes weary as afternoon stretches into evening, wilting in the lilac sky. Voices curve and become indistinct, dripping at the edges as if doused in liquid. The sticks – umbrellas, they called them – have been removed so the humans can dance. One has brought an instrument and he is making music with it, the others yelling out songs that they wish for him to play next. Oliver and Viola in the centre of the boat, bodies close, swaying to the tune. I should leave, I tell myself, counting the ways that the humans are bad, how often my father has warned that they promise destruction and ruin. They killed your mother, Gaia. I should leave, but I know also that I would sooner die than do so. As odd as that sounds, I would rather dissolve with this sight burning in my eyes, Viola’s half-smile as Oliver murmurs in her ear.

“Are you ready for the finale?” the boy called Geoffrey yells, pointing to the heavens. All of them stare at the sky, and I follow suit. For a moment it is as if we are all one. Even here, the humans look up, searching for something more.

A screech of a whistle, a bang, and an explosion of gold dust. The stars plunge, raining light on to the boat, and my heart drives its way into my chest with fright. My skin will surely burn, I think, these bursting stars will tear our faces apart – but nothing happens. The lights re-emerge, flaring into the air, sprinkling red and silver and gold on the world, in spinning circles and shooting rockets. The humans grin, the glitter reflected in their eyes. They are dazzled by the display, hypnotized. Only Oliver is looking around him still, frowning. A murder of crows are spinning through the air, flying in chaotic circles, crashing into one another with a screaming cry. The sky is bruising purple, as if battered by the birds.

“Wait,” Oliver says, and everyone turns to him immediately, as they do in the kingdom when my father speaks. It is a kind of influence that I cannot imagine. “Did you feel that?”