Fathom Page 4

  “I wonder if I can ask for one of those newspaper apology things,” I said out loud.

  “Huh?”

  “For printing my picture. Isn’t that illegal or something? Some kind of privacy infringement?”

  “I have no idea. I can’t believe you’re still worrying about it.”

  I frowned. “You'd worry too if your face was on hundreds of cheap magazines. If it goes viral…”

  Sam sighed in annoyance. “Even if it does, nothing is going to happen. No one knows who’s in the picture! Let’s go back to the beach; the sun is going to set soon, and I want to take more pictures. We can get your mind off this crap.”

  I shrugged. “Fine.”

  She jumped up from the couch. “I’ll get my camera.”

  “Don’t forget to bring an extra memory card!” I said as I got up from the couch too. As I went toward the front door, I paused in front of a mirror hung on the wall in the entryway. I studied my reflection for a moment. Then I reached up and pulled out my ponytail. Yeah, okay—I guess with my hair falling down my back and over my shoulders, I could pass as a mermaid. I huffed and rolled my eyes at the thought.

  Soon, Sam and I arrived at the beach. I sought solace by staring at the horizon while she took picture after picture of it.

  She gasped. “Liv, there he is.”

  “Who?”

  “Hottie McScottie.”

  I whipped my head around. My heart fluttered without my permission.

  “Where?” I asked before my brain could catch up and tell me to quit being stupid.

  Sam lowered her lens and pointed up the beach. “Over there, next to that red-headed chick.” I spotted him. He stood in the same spot we had seen him before, talking to a woman with long red hair. A familiar woman.

  “Samantha, that lady he’s with was at the grocery store.”

  “Yeah? Huh. Well, you’re way hotter than she is.”

  “That’s not what I—oh, never mind.”

  “Yeah, that’s the spirit.” She nodded. “Ah, look at the light on the water!” She resumed her camerawork.

  Good. We were done with it. I glanced back up the beach to “Hottie McScottie” and his companion. They stood a few feet apart, arms folded. She drank from a gallon-sized water bottle. He pointed at the sand and gestured across the beach. I looked away, then looked back. A group of three guys holding surfboards walked in between, blocking my line of sight. One of them had feathery blond hair. My stomach simmered with anger.

  “Samantha,” I said, tapping her arm. “Look.”

  Camera still held up, she peered around. Brock spotted me and stopped. For a second, we stood there. He shifted his feet, averted his gaze. I scowled. Sam let her camera rest around her neck. A wicked smile spread across her face.

  “So you’re Brock Mallory,” she said with a grin. Brock’s friends stopped walking. Brock stared at me. His eyes darted from my face, to my legs, and back again.

  “What, no camera this time?” I asked scathingly as I folded my arms.

  He looked at my legs again. His friends grinned and rested the end of their surfboards in the sand. I ignored them and glared at Brock.

  “Why’d you take my picture?” I asked. Brock’s friends both gazed at me with matching puzzled frowns. Brock, on the other hand, swallowed and scratched his head.

  “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch you later,” he said to his friends.

  “Wanna come with us?” one of them asked Sam. She smiled.

  “Just for a sec, I guess. I’m Samantha.” They wandered away from us as Sam made small talk with her new little friends.

  I raised my eyebrows at Brock, waiting for an answer to my question. He looked, yet again, at my legs. He brought his eyes back up to my face slowly, taking his time to gaze over my body. I ground my teeth.

  “What are you?” he asked, his voice low. I wasn’t sure if I heard him right.

  “Huh?”

  “I mean, who are you?”

  “Answer my question first.”

  “I, uh—I just…who are you? How did you…” He trailed off with a disbelieving shake of the head.

  I stared at his face, his eyes fearful and adamant. His lips hung half-open and he still kept glancing at my legs.

  No way. It wasn’t possible. Was he serious? Had too many hours surfing under the sun somehow baked his brain? I had to make sure, so I played along.

  “So, um…” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh “I guess you know my secret.”

  He continued staring. I had to bite my lips together.

  “I knew it,” he said. “Everyone said he was crazy, but I knew one day…” He trailed off and shifted his grip on the surfboard.

  “Who?”

  He shook his head. “Just my dad. He’s obsessed. But never mind.”

  “Why did you think taking my picture and sending it to a cheap tabloid would be a good idea?” Then, with a stroke of inspiration and a desire to freak him out, I added, “You must have known it would upset…us.” I almost said me but at the last second thought us would sound more threatening. Brock’s eyes got wider.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Obviously.”

  “So, what happens now? What are you doing here?”

  “Is it any of your business?”

  “Nah, I was just…uh, what’s your name?”

  I paused for a second. “Olivia.”

  He smiled. “That’s pretty.”

  Oh, please.

  “Thanks,” I said insincerely.

  His smile widened. “How long do you have?”

  “How long do I have for what?”

  “Until you, you know”—his voice dropped as he leaned closer to me, nodding his head to the ocean—“go home.”

  He was serious! I snorted, then tried to make it look like I had sneezed.

  “Um. I’ll go home at the end of the summer.” This was true. I pressed my lips together again. Trying not to laugh was hurting my face.

  “This is so awesome. Can I take you out sometime?” Brock asked.

  Wow. He was hitting on me! My scowl deepened.

  “What makes you think I’d want to do anything with you?”

  “I can show you what life is like here.” His eyes trailed over my body again. I lost my temper.

  “No, you know what? I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what life is like here.” I took a step closer and pointed a finger at his chest. “And if I get any trouble for what you did, I swear you’ll live to regret it.”

  Leaving him with my best daggers-shooting-out-my-eyes look, I headed toward Samantha. Hottie McScottie and his red-headed companion watched me. For a second, I locked eyes with Hottie McScottie and felt a sudden swoop in my stomach. My pace faltered. Why had he come back with the lady from the grocery store? Just like the first time I saw him, neither was dressed for normal beach activities. Could they have had anything to do with what happened at the tide pools?

  I shook my head and pulled my gaze away and strode toward Samantha.

  “Come on, we’re leaving,” I said, towing her away from the boys.

  “Bye!” She waved, keeping a loyal pace with me. “So, how’d it go with Brock, mermaid girl?”

  “You are not going to believe the things he said to me.”

  Her eyes grew big with the intensity of her glee. “What?”

  I glanced back once more. Brock had returned to his friends and headed down the beach. The Scottish guy had gone, but the red head still stood there, watching me. She opened her mouth as though about to say something. I turned away and took Samantha’s arm.

  “Let’s go back home. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  The clock read after eleven o’clock. Samantha lay on the couch, laughing her head off with her arms and legs curled up like a beetle on its back. I laughed too, but on the floor. Around us lay the remains of our chicken pot pie dinner, along with empty ice cream bowls and discarded candy wrappers.

  “The look on h
is face, Sam,” I said after relating, for the millionth time, what had happened between Brock and me. “I swear I’ll never forget it. This guy totally thought I was a mermaid!”

  “Guess I’m a better photographer than I thought,” she said with a residual giggle.

  “No, you’re a better seamstress than you thought. He saw me in the costume, not just a picture. A costume! Seriously, what is this guy?”

  “I wonder if he got money from the tabloid for turning the picture in.”

  “Ah, I should have asked him!” I snapped my fingers.

  “Yeah, because it was my photo shoot. If he got money for it, I should sue him.”

  “Yeah, sue him! Sue the crap out of him!” I shouted like a battle cry.

  “Sue him and win a zillion dollars to pay for my photography!” She rolled to her knees on the couch.

  “Pay for my marine biology degree!” I stood.

  “Pay for my trip to Paris!” She threw her arms in the air.

  “To Fiji!” I punched the air.

  “Any place where the shopping is choice, and the men are smokin’ hot!” We fell back into more laughter. Fatigue and large amounts of sugar made us slap-happy. When the final giggles subsided—which took a while—I looked down at the mess from our unhealthy dinner and groaned. “I don’t feel like cleaning this up.”

  “Then don’t. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Sam got up and stretched. “I’m tired. I’ve gotten up early every day we’ve been here!”

  “I’m ready for bed too.” I burped and tasted pot pie on my breath. Gross. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “G’night.” I slouched into my bedroom while Sam trudged to hers. I had intended to find my toothbrush, but the last thing I remembered was lying on the bed for a minute, just to rest my eyes before changing into my pajamas, brushing my teeth, washing my face…

  I saw Landon. He smiled, his hair gelled to perfection and his eyes glinting with beckoning allure. He wore my favorite blue tee shirt. But he stood far away, dark and indistinct. I looked away and saw my parents standing together. My dad had his arm around my mom. They both watched me with love in their eyes, serenity erasing the dark circles from my mother’s face and the extra gray in my father’s hair. But I turned away. Landon. My parents. Landon. My parents. I tried to run to them. At first, I moved slowly, like trying to run under water. Then I stopped. I didn’t feel like running anymore. Instead, I just wanted to go to the beach. The beach was everything.

  I didn’t know why because I woke up.

  At least, I thought I did. I sat up in my bed, feeling an odd detachment from myself. I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. The glowing numbers read 3:27 a.m. I gazed around the room for a moment, disoriented and sluggish, until I realized why I had woken up so suddenly.

  Someone called my name.

  “What?” My voice came out weak and hoarse.

  “Olivia. Please come…”

  I looked around. Was it Samantha? I sat and listened for a moment.

  “Olivia, my sister, please…”

  It wasn’t Samantha. It came from the window. I got out of bed and walked toward it. It sounded like a woman’s voice. Why did she call me her sister? I was an only child. I hesitated, my hand shaking on the blinds. Someone waited out there, on the other side of the window.

  “Olivia, help me.”

  It could be a trick. Some psycho could be standing out there. But how would she know my name? And I was only dreaming, wasn’t I? The woman sounded so sad, so desperate.

  I pulled the blinds open.

  A face stared back at me. I gasped. The blinds dropped and clattered over the window. My heart pounded in my ears. Even though I’d expected to see someone standing there, I still couldn’t calm my racing heart. I should’ve run from the room. But my curiosity and her distress kept me from running. And this was only a dream.

  “Help me. Please.”

  I swallowed, went slowly back to the window, and peeked through the blinds. The same red-headed woman I saw at the store and the beach stood there. She put one hand on the window. Her large eyes brimmed with tears. Her pale skin reflected the moonlight. She was beautiful, but eerily so—like a ghost.

  “Please.” Her voice sounded like a whisper through the glass. After a minute, I calmed down and slid the window open. The damp, cold air exhaled on me and I could smell the ocean. Where was the window screen? Had she removed it?

  “Take this,” she said without any other introduction. Into my hands, she placed a white clam about the size of my fists. It was smooth as glass and heavier than it looked.

  “But—”

  “Keep it safe at all costs.” She looked quickly over her shoulder, then back at me. “Take it home, make sure the Captain gets it. Tell her Lieutenant Delfina gave it to you, but tell no one else where you got it.” Then she turned and ran away, her long, wild hair flying behind her. A half-empty bottle of water jostled at her side.

  I opened my eyes. Bright morning light shone through the blinds in the window. Ugh, what a weird dream I’d had. I sat up on my bed, still in my clothes from last night, feeling tired, stiff, and icky—until the smell of bacon and eggs reached my nose. I smiled. The aroma pulled me out of bed. I changed out of my clothes and walked out of the bedroom.

  “Hey, sleepy,” Samantha said from the kitchen. “Come get some bacon before it burns.”

  “Aw, thanks.” I headed for the kitchen. Sam handed me a plate. I took a bite of bacon as I went to sit down. “I had the weirdest dream last night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Remember that red-headed lady we saw with the Scottish guy at the beach?”

  “Uh huh,” Sam said with a snort.

  “I dreamed she came to my window and gave me a seashell.” I smiled and shook my head. It sounded even more ridiculous out loud.

  Samantha laughed. “Must have been the pot pies. I dreamed I was tap dancing on a surfboard to impress Cooper.”

  “Nice. Junk food hangovers are the best.”

  “So, what do you want to do today? I’ve wanted to go shopping to get some souvenirs.”

  “Yeah, we can do that. There are some places to shop within walking distance. I’m also thinking I’d like to try and get a summer job or volunteer at an aquarium while we’re here.”

  “You’re going to leave me all alone to go off and hang out with some fish?” she asked in mock distress. I gave her a look. She laughed and turned the stove off.

  “Maybe I’ll go see if any surf shops are hiring.” She put the empty pans in the sink and walked out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna go shower.”

  “Thanks for the breakfast, Sammie Ka-blammie,” I called after her. Then I finished eating my breakfast and cleaned up the dishes since Sam cooked. Bacon smell lingered in the kitchen.

  I took my turn in the shower, then went into my room to get dressed. Where’d I leave my shoes? Not in the suitcase, not in the closet. I lifted the bedspread lying half on the floor, then stopped.

  Underneath the bed sat a big, white clam.

  A knot twisted in my chest. I reached down and picked up the clam, swallowing through a tightened throat. The dream—it actually happened? Why would a total stranger come to my house and give me a clam in the middle of the night?

  I looked at the window, crossed the room in two running steps, and threw the blinds up. The window was still open. I stuck my head outside and looked down at the flowerbed. The screen sat on the ground next to the window, propped against the wall. There were fresh footprints in the mud.

  “S-Samantha?” I called. I could hear her asking what I wanted, but I didn’t answer her. Her footsteps came quickly down the hall.

  “What is it?” she asked from the door. I turned from the window and held out the seashell. She looked at it with a furrowed brow. “I thought you said it was a dream.”

  “I guess it wasn’t.”

  “You didn’t go buy it yesterday and make up a story just to be funny, did you?” She shifted her weight an
d put a hand on her hip.

  “No. We were together all day yesterday. When would I have had time to buy a clam?”

  “Let me look at it.” She held out her hand and I gave her the shell. She turned it over, felt the smooth exterior, and weighed it in her hands. “It’s heavy.”

  “Maybe it’s still alive.”

  She tossed it back to me with a shudder. I caught it and stuck my thumbs on either lip of the clam to pry it open.

  “We might have to get a knife to…” I gasped and dropped the seashell on the bed. No rubbery flesh. Only light. A golden glow like a candle flame came from the inside of the clam.

  “What?” said Sam.

  “It was glowing!” I stared at the seashell as if it were a snake about to strike. For a long time, neither of us said anything.

  Sam looked at me with wide eyes. “You said the lady from the grocery store gave it to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  “Um… yeah. She told me to take it home. Oh, and give it to the captain.”

  “The captain? What captain?”

  I shrugged.

  “That’s so weird.” She looked back at the clam. “Maybe she was just drunk.”

  “She was carrying a water bottle,” I said, remembering it from last night. “Maybe it had alcohol in it.”

  “Did she smell like alcohol?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” I thought back on the woman’s face, which had been so earnest, afraid, and beseeching. “She looked so desperate. But then again, I thought I was dreaming.” I looked up, as if the answers to all my questions would be written on the ceiling.

  “What should we do?”

  I looked back at the seashell glistening on my bed.

  Keep it safe at all costs. Why, though? What was so special about a seashell with a lamp inside it? The lady had to have been crazy. Maybe on drugs.

  “Nothing. It’s probably just a weird novelty lamp.” I opened the drawer in the nightstand and put the clam inside.

  “Okay. You still want to go shopping?”

  I shook my head a little to clear it. “Yeah, of course.”

  Samantha went back to her room. I sat on the bed, staring at the nightstand.