I chose to be Lo.
I carry Molly’s body to the edge of the pier, use one hand to smooth her hair off her pale face. I hope something about the angels is true. I hope she goes into the air, hope she finds her twin sister. I hope she’s happy.
I release her body. It plummets into the ocean and is swallowed up almost instantly. The water continues on, churns, crashes in the storm.
I hope she’s home.
EPILOGUE
There are lights at the surface, she told them over and over. Lights unlike the sun, lights from carnivals and stars. You have to see them. You have to choose to never forget them.
To never forget yourself.
They were afraid to believe her, though some did anyhow. Not all. It’s hard to believe something ugly over something as beautiful as angels, she reminded herself when some of her sisters turned their backs on her, looked away when she approached.
Angels—that’s what the newspapers called the triplets. Anne and Jane soaked it up, weaving stories about how they dramatically rescued Jude from the hurricane. Celia and Jude smiled, nodded, agreed, but they knew that the real story did not end at the Pavilion that evening. That it still hadn’t ended.
And so they went back to the ocean.
Seven o’clock, just like always. The broken part of the fence by the calliope was patched up, but it didn’t take long for the four of them to find a new entrance. The Pavilion was closed for the season, some of the rides being slowly dismantled to be repaired.
“Who will we practice on, with this place closed?” Jane asked, sighing. Jude rolled his eyes. He knew about them now—about their powers, about their secrets—but after everything with Lo, it barely rattled him.
“You won’t practice on anyone!” Jude said. “It’s weird!”
“We’re going to see a girl who lives underwater, and that’s what’s weird?” Anne pointed out. She still didn’t like Lo and wasn’t convinced that the part of Lo that tried to kill Celia was gone. Yet she was here, walking through the Pavilion with them, hands covered with thin gloves so she could hug her sisters without fear. She and Jane were still debating the best way to convince their classmates that this was a new fashion trend.
“The girl underwater isn’t convincing boys to buy her fondue,” Jude said as they made their way down the path.
“You’d understand if you’d had that fondue. It’s amazing,” Jane answered wistfully.
The beach was littered with the remains of the pier. Clumps of seaweed were everywhere, though the church still stood, a temple that the ocean could never fully destroy. Underwater, things had barely changed—the storm couldn’t affect something as deep as the Glasgow. Lo looked up at the surface, at the bits of evening sunlight filtering through the water. She turned to her sisters, the small handful who believed her, mostly young girls.
“Are you ready?” she asked, and they nodded, nervous, from the Glasgow’s deck. Several glanced at the cherub carvings in the railing just before they kicked off and swam to the surface, quick like dolphins, like fish, like anything born in and meant for the ocean. The ocean helped lift them up, currents pushing them toward the surface, toward the sunlight. Lo broke through first, gently. The air didn’t hurt her face the way it once did, and the sunlight made her smile. She looked to the shore, to the church.
And she smiled more.
As her sisters surfaced warily around her, squinting even in the setting sun, she swam to the shore, to the people waiting there, waiting for her. She found the sand and began to walk forward. The pain in her feet was still there, growing sharper as the water grew shallower, but now she knew it was worth it.
Celia saw Lo falter, knew that the pain was growing, that her feet must be bleeding. She grabbed Jude’s hand and before he could stop her, pulled him into the water. They waded to where waves splashed against their knees, Jude stiff and uncomfortable in the ocean.
Lo stood before them, listened to the whispers of her sisters, who were scared yet amazed at the same time. She craned her neck around them to see Anne and Jane, still lurking at the water’s edge.
“Tell them not to worry,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I promised not to drown you ages ago.”
“Are you all right?” Jude asked after a few moments of the waves crashing around them.
“I am,” Lo said. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
“Neither am I,” Celia said. She glanced back at her sisters, giggled as they loudly counted the number of ocean girls floating farther behind Lo in surprise.
“I’ll be here,” Lo said, and her voice dipped low, like she was worried to say this aloud. “Every other night. At seven. If you’d like. I thought you could talk with them, too,” she said, looking back at her sisters. “Maybe if they know their pasts, like I did, they’ll see they have a present. A future that doesn’t include monsters.”
“Of course,” Celia said, and Lo exhaled in relief. Jude put an arm around Celia’s waist, pulled her close to him and kissed the top of her head as Lo slowly backed up, still smiling, embracing the feeling of the waves around her, holding her up, loving her.
No. Not loving her. The ocean didn’t love anyone. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t loyal. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t love it anyway.
Jude and Celia retreated back to the shore, awkward and clumsy in the water, and watched as Lo and her sisters dove deep into the water. Lo swam down, down, until she was so deep that it was easy to forget there was a world above, easy to forget there were people there, wonders there, life there. Forgetting would be painless, would be simple, would be beautiful.
Yet despite it all, she chose to remember.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing Fathomless felt a little like jumping into the ocean—you leap, and then the water is everywhere at once. One day in July, I was sitting around, and the next I was writing, plotting, revising, and obsessing—the book was everywhere at once, my entire life. I suspect it might have drowned me were it not for the help of the following people.
My agent, Jim McCarthy, and editor, Julie Scheina, for being as eager to read a new Little Mermaid as I was to write one.
My maternal grandparents, for taking me to Myrtle Beach as a kid, land of lemonade drinks and suntan lines, and former home of the real Pavilion.
My paternal grandparents, for taking me to Emerald Isle, a beautiful area with wild ponies, sea grass, and strong waves that remind you how small you are.
Café Jonah in Atlanta, full of incredibly nice employees who always smiled at me, even as I took up their tables for hours on end.
Craig McClellan, for his knowledge of guitars (both pricing and sinking abilities).
Nelson Dean, for talking through the final scene even though he had no idea who Molly, Lo, or Naida were.
Maggie Stiefvater, for distracting conversations and sloth videos.
My parents and sister, for understanding when I slumped around, saying “Spoiler alert: Everyone drowns” for two months.
Contents
WELCOME
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE: CELIA
CHAPTER TWO: LO
CHAPTER THREE: CELIA
CHAPTER FOUR: LO
CHAPTER FIVE: CELIA
CHAPTER SIX: LO
CHAPTER SEVEN: CELIA
CHAPTER EIGHT: NAIDA
CHAPTER NINE: CELIA
CHAPTER TEN: LO
CHAPTER ELEVEN: CELIA
CHAPTER TWELVE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: NAIDA
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: LO
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: CELIA
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: LO
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: CELIA
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: LO
CHAPTER NINETEEN: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY: NAIDA
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: LO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: LO
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: CELIA
CHAPT
ER TWENTY-SIX: LO
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: NAIDA
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: NAIDA
CHAPTER THIRTY: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: NAIDA
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: CELIA
CHAPTER FORTY: LO
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: CELIA
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: LO
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
COPYRIGHT
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Jackson Pearce
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permission
[email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Little, Brown and Company
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First e-book edition: September 2012
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ISBN 978-0-316-20779-9
Table of Contents
WELCOME
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE: CELIA
CHAPTER TWO: LO
CHAPTER THREE: CELIA
CHAPTER FOUR: LO
CHAPTER FIVE: CELIA
CHAPTER SIX: LO
CHAPTER SEVEN: CELIA
CHAPTER EIGHT: NAIDA
CHAPTER NINE: CELIA
CHAPTER TEN: LO
CHAPTER ELEVEN: CELIA
CHAPTER TWELVE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: NAIDA
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: LO
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: CELIA
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: LO
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: CELIA
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: LO
CHAPTER NINETEEN: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY: NAIDA
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: LO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: LO
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: LO
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: NAIDA
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: CELIA
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: NAIDA
CHAPTER THIRTY: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: NAIDA
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: CELIA
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: LO
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: CELIA
CHAPTER FORTY: LO
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: CELIA
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: LO
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
COPYRIGHT
Jackson Pearce, Fathomless
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