“Shortcut,” I explain, pointing to the cliff in the distance. “The water’s on the other side.”
We hike across the field, Jules gently patting a unicorn as she passes by. A swarm of butterflies forms a cloud around us, a festival of color. She glances around with delight. “You know what it means when you see this many butterflies at once, right?”
I hesitate, expecting her to say what girls always say: that it’s a guardian angel, or good luck, or just plain romantic.
“It means there’s something dead nearby,” Jules continues. “Butterflies feed on carrion.”
I stare at her, impressed. “Zombie butterflies,” I say. “Verycool.”
We reach the base of the cliff and start to climb. Jules is faster than I am and reaches the top a few moments before I do. I haul myself over the lip and onto all fours, then stop dead, nearly swallowing my tongue. Jules is stripping off her gown. “What?” she asks. “Haven’t you ever seen a girl in her underwear before?”
Well. Actually, no.
“You’re not wearing clothes,” I point out.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. And technically, I’m wearing the equivalent of a bikini. Aren’t we going swimming?”
“Yeah but . . .”
“Doyouswim fully dressed?”
“N-no,” I stutter.
“Last one in’s a rotten egg,” Jules says, and she does a perfect swan dive off the cliff into the ocean.
You can do this,I think. I hop on one foot, trying to pull off my spacesuit, and stare down with shock at a pair of dark gray tights that I did not put on this morning.
Great. So now this book is trying to turn me into a prince.
I try to wrestle the panty hose off my legs, wondering how on earth women do this.
“What’s taking you so long?” Jules calls, and I glance over my shoulder to see her treading water, her hair slicked back.
I decide I’m going to impress her with my best backflip. I manage to peel one leg free of the tights. But when I’m trying to strip off the other side, I lose my balance, and instead of executing an Olympics-worthy flip, I wind up flailing in the air and smacking into the surf with a thundering belly flop.
Sputtering, I make my way to the surface. Jules is laughing. “That was so sexy,” she says.
We are quickly surrounded by a whirlpool fashioned from the strong tails of Marina, Ondine, and Kyrie. “You have to kiss one of them,” I tell Jules.
“What? This isnotspin the bottle.”
“No, it’s so you can breathe underwater.” Ondine pops through the surface. “She’s all yours,” I say.
“I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Ondine,” the mermaid says, and she kisses Jules, dragging her underwater.
A moment later, Kyrie puts her webbed hands on my shoulders. “Ready, handsome?” she asks.
“Shouldn’t you at least buy me dinner first?” I joke, and she seals her lips over mine and pulls me below the surface.
It’s the strangest sensation I’ve had while in this book: breathing water. At first you fight it, certain you’re drowning, as your lungs fill. But then, just when you’re sure you’re a goner, your chest seems to burst, and the water rushes in and out of your nose like oxygen. I keep an eye on Jules, who is struggling in Ondine’s grasp as she gives herself over to the feeling.
Her eyes open, and her hair snakes out around her face, tendrils of indigo with silver stripes. “This,” she says, “is wicked awesome!”
“I know, right? Just wait.” I turn to the mermaids. “Hey, guys, can we get a fin?”
They link their arms in ours and swim us to the very bottom of the ocean floor in a matter of seconds. Jules can’t stop smiling like a kid on her first roller coaster. I watch her reach out toward a sea horse, which tickles its way up her arm. Finally the mermaids release us at the entrance to their underwater cave. Jules looks appreciatively at Ondine. “You would so totally kick butt on our school swim team.”
“I’m pretty sure that having a tail counts as cheating,” I point out. I glance around the cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites form the ceiling and the floor, like the jaws of a giant beast. Bright orange brain coral colors the walls, and in the center of the cave is a slab of granite—their dining room table.
