Читать книгу Oceanborn - Amalie Howard - Страница 13

4 Surf Your Heart Out

The warm sun on the patio is definitely something I’ve missed. Jenna waves from the middle of the pool and I smile back, lifting a hand and watching the greenish-gold lights flicker down my forearm in response to the sun’s rays. There’s nothing quite comparable to sunlight, not even in the warm, jeweled depths of Waterfell. And while I miss my home, I’ve missed being here, too. And I missed my best friend. I’ll admit freely that Jenna is the only person keeping me from falling to bits.

What I discovered about Lo has kept me wide-awake every night. After all, how do you make sure that a hybrid Aquarathi human doesn’t go off the deep end if and when he starts exhibiting alien qualities? Not even the High Council could have anticipated this. It’s uncharted territory for us—not just because Lo is a hybrid, but because he’s a hybrid who thinks he’s a human—so all in all, the situation has potentially catastrophic consequences, simply because he puts our entire species at a greater risk of exposure.

For the moment, we agreed that Echlios would keep an eye on him at home, and I’d do the same at school, which means official reenrollment at Dover. That wasn’t part of the original plan. Readjusting will be tricky. I went from girl to alien queen in the span of four short months, and now I have to revert to who I was before. On top of that, going back to high school means seeing the boyfriend who isn’t really my boyfriend anymore on an excruciating daily basis. It’s going to be unbearable.

I sigh and say as much to Jenna. She swims to the side of the pool and props her chin on her forearms on the edge. She stares at me with a thoughtful expression, studying the flickering lights underneath my skin.

“Can’t you just mind-meld him into remembering you? You know, with that shimmer-glimmer thing you do?” she asks, nodding at my forearms.

“Not that easy,” I say. The lights on my arm die a swift death at the turn of the conversation. “I tried, and there was nothing there—nothing of me, anyway. It’s like any memory of us has been wiped out of his head completely.”

I gulp past the lump of misery in my throat. Apparently everything I learned during my previous human initiation cycle doesn’t apply to relationships. Turns out you can break someone’s heart...so much so that he eliminates everything about you just so he can cope.

Jenna hauls herself out of the pool and grabs a towel from the side table. “I did a little research on what you told me. Dissociative amnesia is pretty common after trauma, but the memories do come back most of the time. You have to believe that.”

“I don’t have a year, Jenna. I have months, and then I have to make a decision to go back, with or without him. With him would be so much better. Without him means things I don’t want to consider.”

“What things?” Jenna says, her eyes narrowing.

I meet them honestly, my heart in mine. “You know our laws, Jenna. We can’t take the risk that he’ll expose us.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t say anything more but stares at the undulating surface of the pool, lost in thought. She loves Lo as a friend, but if the time comes and we decide to leave without him, she’ll have no say in what happens to him. She knows that as well as I do. After a while, she turns to me again.

“Won’t that...hurt you, too?”

“Yes.”

Her face drains of color. Jenna doesn’t know the intricate ins and outs of bonding, but I told her what Soren once told me. If Lo dies, a part of me will die, too. And I’ll never be able to bond with anyone again. Those are the rules of what we are—we bond for life.

“Well, you’re just going to have to make him fall in love with you again,” Jenna says with a forced, overbright smile.

“We’ve bonded, Jenna. There’s nothing beyond that.”

“For Aquarathi,” she points out. “Not humans. And Lo’s part human, right? Look, you said it yourself. He already loves you because you’re bonded. There’s a part of him that recognizes itself in you and probably always will. You just have to make him see that. As much as the human brain can incapacitate itself, so it can rebuild itself. It’s a two-way street.” She pauses, her expression intense. “And maybe if you can do that, then you can get him to remember everything else. Damaged neurons self-repair.”

“You know this how?”

“Told you. I did research,” she says, taking a peach from the fruit basket on the table and biting into it. As always, I’m amazed at Jenna’s base of knowledge. She’s more than smart—she’s practically a human encyclopedia. And what she doesn’t know, she makes it her business to learn. Like, obviously, rare neurological conditions. “According to some studies, once you get the cells refiring, the rest is inevitable. The human brain is an amazing thing. It can actually rewire itself.”

I snort and attempt a lame joke. “So you’re saying I have to hot-wire him?”

“Baby steps, Riss.” Jenna laughs. “Remember last year? I mean, you couldn’t even flirt without popping a blood vessel and freaking out. Every time Lo made a move, you, like, ran the other way like a frightened bunny.”

“Did not,” I retort, flushing.

“Total bunny.” Jenna grins, enjoying my discomfort. “Your scary sea-monster side was completely bunnified.”

“My scary sea-monster side is going to make an appearance if you don’t quit it,” I threaten, baring perfectly human white teeth in her direction.

“Oooh, I’m so scurred!”

“You should be,” I say, and remove the human eye film from my eyes, revealing the shimmery multicolored iris and pale gold sclera beneath.

“You think some gorgeous eyeballs are going to freak me out?” she says, sticking her tongue out and rolling her eyes. “Been there, done that.”

I shake my head at her comical expression and we both start laughing. Six months ago when Jenna found out the truth about me, she could barely look at any of us without her blood rushing around inside her in terror, and now she’s totally at ease with the whole alien-best-friend thing. Things could have turned out worse if she hadn’t been okay with it. Way worse...as in goodbye-best-friend worse.

“So, what does Speio say about all this? Coming back to Dover? Pretending to be human?” Jenna asks.

She and Speio weren’t exactly on the best of terms during the last year. He was averse to me revealing anything to Jenna, and even though she ended up saving our collective hides on more than one occasion, things between them never went back to the way they used to be. I do give him props, though, because before we left he apologized to Jenna.

“He’s fine with it, actually,” I tell her. “Volunteered to come this time around.”

“I thought he wanted to be back there.”

I snort out loud. “He did, and then he realized that females are the same, no matter the territory. They don’t come running just because a male decides he’s ready for a mate. Let’s just say that Speio had a rude awakening.”

Jenna’s eyes widen with that little bit of gossip. “So no bonding?”

“Nope.”

“Wow, payback’s a bitch,” Jenna says. “Although I still feel sorry for him. All we’re looking for is love at the end of the day. Aliens need love, too. Maybe that’s all he really wants.”

“And alien booty.”

“TMI!” Jenna screeches, covering her ears. “Oh no! Icky mental image! Thanks for that,” she says, and tosses her towel at me. I can’t help laughing at her grossed-out expression.

“Come on,” I say. “It’s not that bad. We coil around and—”

“Stop! My bleeding ears!”

We are laughing so hard by then that Jenna starts snorting through her nose, a snort that she futilely tries to stifle when Speio walks out of the living room toward us.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she spurts through her teeth, clamping her lips together and turning a splotchy shade of red. “Girl stuff.”

Speio rolls his eyes skyward and shoots me a withering glance. I keep my thoughts carefully guarded and my face blank, knowing that he’d flip out if he knew we were making fun at his expense. He’s still a little sensitive about the whole not-bonding thing.

“Whatever,” he says. “So, are you guys going to the meet? Sawyer just texted me to see if you were on your way.”

“Crap,” Jenna squeals, jumping up to grab her phone out of her bag. “Yikes. He’s texted me, like, thirty-eight times.” She shrugs into a pair of cutoff jean shorts and glares at me. “Move your ass, queen of the sea! We have to go.”

I sink backward into the lounger. “Do I have to? I’m not sure I’m ready to mix and mingle.”

“It’ll be good for you,” Jenna says, her head disappearing into a neon-colored tank. “Plus, Lo’s going to be there.” She throws a meaningful look in my direction. “He asked you to come today, remember?”

I offer a noncommittal shrug. I don’t know why I’m so cagey about going. Maybe it’s because I don’t want anyone—particularly any of our old friends from school—seeing that Lo’s amnesia is so bad that he can’t remember his own girlfriend. I don’t want to feel their pity, or worse.

Jenna reads me easily. “Better to get it over with now than on Monday when you have nowhere to go but a four-walled classroom. It’ll be fine, Riss. I’ll be there, and Sawyer, and Speio,” she says with a glance at him.

“Are you going?” I ask Speio.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Speio reddens as if he’s hiding something. “You have to go. You’re signed up to surf,” he blurts out. “Sawyer did it!”

“What?” I splutter. “I haven’t surfed in months. I’m not up for a surf meet!”

“Maybe it’s what you need,” he says.

Jenna agrees with Speio, nodding emphatically. “Totally what you need. It was my idea, by the way, so don’t be mad at Sawyer or Speio.”

“What are you guys? Best friends now?” I say with a halfhearted glare. I’m not a fan of being tricked and pushed into things, but Jenna’s probably right. If I’m out surfing, I’m hardly going to be thinking about what people are saying about me. Or focusing on Lo. Or on Cara being all over Lo. Or vice versa. That last thought makes my stomach flip-flop, and not in a good way.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

I grab a shorty wet suit and tuck my surfboard next to Speio’s in the back of the Jeep before climbing in beside Jenna. It’s only a fifteen-minute ride from La Jolla to Pacific Beach Drive where Speio says the competition is being held.

She eyes me. “Seriously, I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about. You command the sea. This is your space. Be one with it.”

“Calm down, Yoda.”

I stare out the window, preoccupied—or forcing myself to look preoccupied—to avoid further conversation. As we near the location, I’m surprised at the amount of traffic and cars parked along the side of the road. I can just see the tops of a few dozen multicolored tents along the edge of the beach.

“Which meet is this again?” I ask, my suspicion growing by the minute at the throngs of people walking toward the beach.

“RUSH,” Jenna says sheepishly.

“What?” I nearly choke. The RUSH Annual Surf Series is one of the biggest surf competitions in San Diego, and is sponsored by the coolest surf magazine on the planet. I ignore the sudden dip of my stomach. Not only will Lo be watching, but thousands of people will be there, including photographers. “How did we even get in for that? I didn’t qualify to compete.” I stare at her with a disbelieving frown.

“Slow your roll, princess,” Jenna says. “Sawyer hooked it up.”

“How?”

“Technically, it’s only an exhibition heat. He showed them some footage of you from last year and he called in a favor. No biggie.”

“You’re killing me. Really.”

Jenna grins, hopping out of the Jeep as soon as Speio comes to a spot in the narrowest parking spot possible. “What better way to start your senior year at Dover than with a splash? No pun intended.”

“This is a Pro-Am competition,” I say with overexaggerated emphasis. “As in pro. RUSH is more than a big deal. And the exhibition surfers at these events are professional surfers, not amateurs.”

“Seriously, Nerissa Marin, can you stop being such a wuss and suck it up for half a second? You’re a great surfer. Better than great, if you know what I mean,” Jenna says, grabbing my board and shoving it toward me. I shoot her a dry look. “Go have fun. And show off a bit. What could go wrong?”

The question is so loaded that I nearly start laughing hysterically. Besides enticing giant ocean predators like great white sharks, which are attracted to Aquarathi pheromones—mine in particular—what could possibly go wrong other than the worst possible thing? Like mangled, chewed-up people everywhere.

Speio pats my arm, sensing my panic. “It’s a new moon,” he says quietly. “Full moon’s already gone, so you should be fine. Just try to keep it together.” Okay, correction...maybe it’s not the worst thing, since our pheromones are at their peak during the full moon, but that doesn’t mean it’s not risky.

With a resigned sigh, I walk down to the crowded beach, where we meet up with Sawyer. He’s at one of the tents, pinning his number onto his rash guard. His smile is infectious as he comes in for a warm hug.

“Hey, Riss! Glad you got here.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I tell him, punching him half-playfully in the arm.

“Any surfing down in Cape Town?” Sawyer says, his teeth white in his darkly tanned face. A move to South Africa was the cover story for why we left months ago. “Heard there’s good swell there year-round.”

“Nope, didn’t surf at all,” I say truthfully, grabbing a piece of wax off one of the nearby tables. “I’m going to be rusty. Hope you don’t have too much riding on me not completely wiping out.”

“It’s only exhibition,” he says, and nods out at the ocean, where the waves are breaking in perfect sets. “Epic out there. I had an early-morning heat and it wasn’t near as clean as those. High tide. Offshore winds. Epic combo.”

“If you say so.”

I survey the teeming beach—only exhibition...with a gazillion people watching my every move. Waving goodbye to Sawyer, I head over to where Speio’s standing and crouch down next to him on the sand, slowly rubbing wax onto the deck of my board with rhythmic, consistent strokes. I breathe in and slowly exhale with each circle, feeling my body calm and center.

“Hey,” a voice says over my shoulder, making my skin leap like it’s alive. Only one person has that effect on me. I look up, shading my eyes from the sun.

“Hi, Lo.”

“You came,” he says, crouching down beside me. “You’re surfing?”

“Sawyer’s idea,” I say, trying not to let his proximity or the citrusy-vanilla smell of him affect me. It’s a losing battle. Here, with the ocean so close, everything is amplified. For me, anyway. I haul a deep breath into my lungs, furiously scrubbing the square of wax onto the board and remembering Speio’s words about keeping it together. Fat chance with Lo looking on every second.

“So, you any good?” Lo asks, and then answers his own question. “Well, you must be if you’re surfing RUSH. Heard it’s the epic of the epics.”

“Yeah.”

“You nervous?”

“Some.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Lo says with an awkward smile. “See you around.” I know my body language and monosyllabic answers are anything but welcoming, but I can’t help it.

Keep it together, I remind myself. “See you.”

“Good luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

I don’t allow myself to turn fully around, but my gaze follows him despite my better judgment. Bad move. I’m just in time to see a bikini-clad Cara throw herself into his arms. Lo catches her effortlessly, tossing her over his shoulder. She laughs at something he says and kisses him on the cheek. I duck my head, letting my hair cover my overheated face. The jealousy that spins through me is like acid, scorching every part of my insides without mercy. I gasp, nearly doubling over my board.

Speio is at my side in a second, his hand over mine stalling my movement with the wax. “You all right?”

“Fine.”

“You sure?” he says, his face concerned. He looks over his shoulder, and understanding dawns in his eyes. “You know they’re just friends, right?” he says. His hand tightens on mine. “You don’t have to do this, Riss. Stay here, I mean.”

I squeeze his fingers, forcing the ache into a dark corner of my brain. “I have to deal with it sooner or later. Jenna’s right. Better out here than in a closed environment.” A loud bullhorn has everyone breaking out in a wave of mad cheering as the announcers of the event broadcast the exhibition heat. “That’s me. Don’t worry, Speio. I’ll be okay.”

As I paddle out to the lineup with the five other surfers in my heat, I try to leave all my negativity back on the beach. Being extra careful, I duck-dive under the oncoming waves, letting the ocean flow over and into me, taking strength from its dark blue depths. This is my space...my world. It’s where I belong. With every stroke, I feel stronger.

Out past the breakers, I straddle my board and float, facing the beach. People cover every possible inch of sand for miles. I know exactly where Lo is because I can feel the magnetic pull of him even as far away as I am, but I keep my eyes averted, searching instead for the red flag of Jenna’s hair. Instead a distorted, misshapen face beneath a wide-brimmed hat catches my attention, and I blink, my stomach dipping in fear. But when I look back, the hulking figure is gone. Shaking my head to clear it, I spot Jenna, jumping up and down and waving madly. I wave back and drop down to grab the rails of my board.

The waves are breaking in perfect sets, with glassy blue faces and white-tipped crests. Sawyer’s right—conditions couldn’t be more perfect. Paddling effortlessly, I streak past one of the other surfers to grab the second wave in the set. I pop up and carve steeply down the face of the wave, marveling at my human body’s muscle memory. Everything feels fluid, as if my bones are one with the wave.

Exhilarated, I trail my right hand across the wave’s face and then crank my hips up and over so that the board shifts into a sharp cutback. I’m gliding over the foamy crest, nearly suspended in air for a breathless moment and then slipping back down onto the face. By the time the wave starts to run out of steam, I’m on fire, adrenaline rushing through my entire body.

The cheering from the beach is deafening as I pump a triumphant fist in the air and somersault off my board over the back of the wave. I surf several more waves, even doing a three-sixty spin and a back flip off the last one, before heading back to the beach.

But once I’m back and surrounded by unfamiliar faces, I remember the figure I spotted from the lineup. I summon Speio and tell him in a few short words what I might have seen.

His eyes widen as he scans the crowd. “Are you sure that’s what you saw? A hybrid?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a trick of the sunlight.”

“I’ll check it out.”

A grinning Sawyer thumps me on the back, along with a giant throng of people yelling out all kinds of greetings, as Speio melts into the crowd.

“Feel better?” Jenna asks me with a knowing smile.

“Yeah.”

“Good. You totally rocked it out there. No one,” she says pointedly, “could keep their eyes off you.” The lurch of happiness in my chest is squashed by the sudden warning look in her eyes at someone over my shoulder. “Speaking of...”

“Jenna, help me with these boards, will you?” Sawyer yells out. She throws me an apologetic look and shrugs, mouthing, Sorry. As she leaves, I turn around to face a very impressed Lo and his not-so impressed entourage of Cara and her cronies.

“You were brilliant,” he breathes, extending his hand for a high five. I slap it with mine, wincing at the torture of the too-brief contact, and fight the urge to beat a hasty retreat up the beach behind Jenna.

“Thanks,” I murmur, glancing at the others beside him. “Cara,” I manage civilly.

In response, she drapes a possessive arm around Lo’s waist. “Oh, hey, Nerissa, didn’t know you were back.”

Sure she didn’t. Last semester, I found out that Cara had lived with a foster family before enrolling at Dover, where her uncle—Cano—was principal. In some small way, she, too, was an outsider trying to fit in. She and Lo became friends, probably because they connected over the whole foster-life similarities. Lo told me that she’d never felt she could confide in anyone until she met him, and he liked being able to help. Deep down, I know I shouldn’t fault Cara. Of all people, I know what it’s like to want to run away from who you are—I did that for the past few years, and my people paid the price. I just wish she wasn’t so smug and obnoxious all the time, but then again, maybe that’s a front, too.

“Yes,” I say. “Back for the semester.”

Cara’s voice is an insidious purr. “I think you’ll find that senior year is going to be a lot different from junior year. There’ve been a few interesting changes. I can help you work those out if you like.”

Or maybe it isn’t a front...maybe she’s just Cara, plain and simple.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say coolly, refusing to let my eyes follow the motion of her palm against Lo’s rib cage. I fight an equally violent urge to smash her pretty face in with the sharp end of my board. Instead I look away with effort. “I think I can manage on my own.”

“You do that,” she says. “Lo, you coming? We’re going to get floats.”

“In a sec,” he says to her. “I’ll catch up.”

Cara shoots me one of her oh-so-familiar death glares of impressive proportions and I wink back, taking small pleasure at the instant heat blooming in her cheeks. Despite knowing that sinking to her level won’t solve anything, I can’t help giving in to the desire to make her suffer just a tiny bit for the grope-fest she just flaunted in my face.

“So, how amazing were you out there?” Lo says, shaking his head in admiration.

I try valiantly not to blush, or in my case, go all bioluminescent at his sincere compliment. “Thanks. Would you believe it if I told you that you used to surf pretty much exactly like that before?”

“There’s no way I could surf like you.” The warmth in his voice is deep and velvety, doing things to me that leave me breathless. And his eyes...I force my gaze away, looking for anything to stop those eyes from breaking me into a million pieces.

I swallow and force a smile to my lips. “You did, and you will. One day. It will all come back...all of it.”

“I hope so.”

His whisper is soft, wistful almost—I don’t know why it sounds like a promise, but something in it does. And for a second, looking into those earnest, bottomless blue eyes, I let myself hope, too.