Maybe they, too, had met on Siren Beach, the place where differences didn’t matter. Maybe she’d been drawn to how free he’d seemed, how unlike everyone else in her life. I bit my lip and, glancing back, ran my hand along the black lacy dress. Maybe my grandmother and I were alike, alike in ways beyond our dark curls and fair skin, alike in ways I never could have imagined.
I thought about what Delilah had said, all those days ago on the beach, about history repeating itself. She’d been referring to T.J. and me as echoes of Mom and Mr. Illingworth. But now I felt that I was repeating Isadora’s history, following her path like a series of steps that led down to the ocean. Maybe people didn’t just inherit looks and talents and the propensity for illnesses, but they also inherited desires.
I heard the front door unlock then—Mom returning from the market. Hurriedly, I stashed the cream-colored dress and the letters back in the trunk, relocked it, and stuffed the key in the pocket of my pajama bottoms. I would come back tomorrow to finish reading. Then, acting on a sudden, sure instinct, I removed the high-necked, lacy black dress from its hanger. Holding the dress in my arms, I carried it to my room, where it would wait for nightfall.
That I made it through the rest of the afternoon was a miracle. I took a long, hot shower and then walked along our private stretch of beach, all but counting the minutes as they passed. When evening began to creep across the sky, I went back inside, where Mom, decked out in an elegant dress, was preparing to leave for dinner. As soon as she left—with a slightly suspicious glance in my direction and a reminder that I should make myself food from the fridge—I went up to my room and started to change.
Moving with all the assuredness of a chemist in a laboratory, I stepped into my black swimsuit. Then, with butterflies in my stomach, I lifted Isadora’s dress from my bed. There was a small zipper on the side that I undid before pulling the dress over my head. The material was soft and scratchy at the same time, and I was surprised at how perfectly the dress adhered to my figure. The fit was as precise as if the dress had been sewn for me. A chill passed down my arms, but the fact that the dress fit seemed to be a sign that I was doing the right thing.
Finally, slipping my feet into flats, I regarded myself in the mirror above the dresser. I’d decided to leave my hair loose after my shower, and, remembering Jacqueline’s actions from yesterday, I’d borrowed some of Mom’s eye shadow from the bathroom cabinet and dabbed it on my lids.
I was prepared to see my resemblance to Isadora again, but what faced me in the mirror was more than resemblance. Tonight, I was my grandmother. It was the retro dress, to be sure, but there was something else, too—a glow to my face, a coyness in my eyes. Was it Leo—my feelings for him—that had effected this transformation?
Or was it me?
I wasn’t sure if my grandmother was someone I wanted to be, but I felt as if I had no choice in the matter. The old Miranda, she of the rational head and the responsible actions, would never have snuck out of the house with her mother already upset with her. But this new Miranda—half herself, half monster—was doing the impossible. She was turning out the lights in her room and tiptoeing downstairs, not bothering to leave a note. And she was locking the front door before stepping into the embrace of the hot island night.
Fourteen
TIDES
As I stole through the darkness, glancing at the starlit ocean, I wondered if this was something Isadora had done—run under the cover of night to meet Henry by the seashore. Perhaps she’d even done so wearing this very dress. Had her pulse raced as mine was racing now, both at the anticipation of seeing her beloved and at the knowledge of her betrayal? My going to see Leo tonight was a form of cheating, after all—I was cheating on Mom, on the promise I had made her that I would be a good girl.
Grateful for the hazy light of the crescent moon, I made my way down the pebbly path to the dock. The scent of blooming jasmine mixed in with the sea air, and the boats rested quietly on the water. I decided to cut through the alley that led to Fisherman’s Village, and although I was alone, I felt no trepidation. The village itself was vibrant and bustling, lit up in all its red and gold magnificence. Again, music and people flowed out from the pubs, all merriment.
This time, though, I took careful notice of how old all the buildings were. Here, even the roots of the oaks seemed to run deeper than they did on my side of the island. And, as I walked down the steps to the beach, I realized that the residents of Fisherman’s Village were the true heirs of Selkie Island. I decided that I’d use that argument with Mom if she challenged me about Leo again.
On the sand, I picked my way steadily over the black rocks. Up ahead, I could see the grotto where Leo and I had waited out the storm. Flickers of light danced out from its small opening, and hope uncoiled in my chest.
I felt only a small burst of surprise when Leo emerged from the grotto, his hair damp. He wore his swim trunks and the red hoodie he’d gotten back from me. He bit his lip, grinning at me. I didn’t ask him what he’d been doing in the grotto or whether he had been swimming. I only hurried toward him.
When we reached each other, Leo put his hands on my waist and lifted me, effortlessly. I felt small and light, but also somehow powerful, as our lips met. We kissed for a long time, the beach around us falling away.
“Hey,” Leo said as he gently set me down. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”
He said this matter-of-factly, as if telling me that the chemical formula for water was H2O. There was no sense, as there had been with T.J., that he was studying me as if I were a painting. He was merely speaking what was on his mind. And for the first time in my life, I realized what it was to feel desired.
“Thank you,” I said, standing tall before him, the wind blowing my curls back.
Leo took my hand, drawing me toward the grotto. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight,” he said. “I was worried your mom locked you in the house.”
“She tried,” I replied, a little dizzy from our kissing.
Leo laughed. “Well, I’m glad I came prepared,” he said as he led me through the opening of the grotto. What I saw in there made me lose my breath.
A checkered blanket was spread on the sand. Two wobbly candles were perched in each corner of the grotto, illuminating the feast in the center of the blanket: French fries in a waxed paper cone, and on two torn newspaper pages, vegetarian sushi rolls and the delicious crab cakes I’d eaten at the pub in Fisherman’s Village. A decanter of red wine was balanced beside two plastic cups.
“Leo, you’re unreal,” I whispered—and then, considering my words, smiled.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get actual plates,” Leo said, pushing a hand through his hair. “You’re probably used to eating off—”
“Stop,” I told him, kissing his cheek. “It’s perfect.”
And it was. We squeezed together on the blanket and ate by the flickering candlelight, Leo telling me about the events at the marine center that afternoon, while I told him things at home were tense. Leo let me have all the crab cakes, and I let him have the vegetarian sushi rolls. We split the fries, and Leo poured us each a cup of wine.
“I don’t really drink,” I told Leo, taking a small sip. The wine was tasty, though, rich with flavors. Better than the fancy Champagne I’d tried the night before.
“Me, neither,” Leo said, touching his cup to mine as his dimples appeared. “But I figured this was a special occasion.”
“Why?” I asked, and with a sharp twist of pain, I remembered that, because of Leo’s fishing trip and my Sunday departure, tonight would be our good-bye. Leo didn’t know that yet, but I felt a wave of sadness so strong that I had to put my French fry down.
“Because…I missed you,” Leo said, his cheeks coloring.
“I missed you, too,” I whispered, hoping I wouldn’t burst into tears again. I took a bigger gulp of wine to swallow down the feeling.
“Hold on, what’s the matter?” Leo asked right away, putting down his cup and taking my
hand.
“Leo.” I gazed at him, my throat tight. I wished that he wasn’t always so perceptive. “I’m leaving Selkie Island this Sunday. My mom and I, we’re going back to New York.” Just saying the words was heart-wrenching.
Leo’s face fell, and his sea green eyes darkened. “Really?” he said after a minute, his voice deeper than it had been before. I could only nod. He took a drink of his wine, then spoke again. “I mean, I knew you weren’t going to be here permanently. But I guess I didn’t expect it to be so soon…” He trailed off, the muscle in his cheek jumping.
“It’s not fair,” I blurted, grasping his hand and feeling a swell of frustration. “We only just found each other.” I thought of what Leo had said the last time we were in the grotto, about summer storms on Selkie. Maybe he and I were meant to be nothing more than a storm—quick and intense and then over.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be fair, or easy,” Leo said thoughtfully. “The course of true love never did run smooth.”
At the word love, my heart juddered. I’d always dismissed love as such a fleeting and unreliable emotion. The stuff of fairy tales, of fiction. But there was a certainty to the happiness I felt when I was with Leo. Was that love?
Instead of giving voice to my thoughts, I asked, “Who said that?”
“Who else?” Leo offered me a small smile. “Shakespeare. A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You should read it sometime.”
And for the first time, I did wonder if I should read a play, or a poem, or a novel. Maybe falling in love—if that’s what was happening to me—made people want to read and listen to and see beautiful things. Though, at the moment, I felt as if Leo and I ourselves were in the middle of a midsummer night’s dream, with the candlelight around us and the muffled roar of the ocean outside our rocky enclave.
Which made our impending separation all the more bittersweet.
“I just wish…New York and Selkie weren’t so far apart,” I said quietly, hearing the wobble in my voice. “I mean, do you even have e-mail? Or…”
“Miranda,” Leo said, resting his forehead against mine. “Stop thinking about practicalities for once. And logistics. Just go with the flow. Okay?” His crooked smile was as disarming as ever.
“Okay, dude.” I laughed, which started him laughing, too.
The next thing I knew, we were kissing. Softly at first, then with growing urgency. I felt addicted to the taste of Leo’s salty, sweet mouth, the pressure of his lips against mine. It’s our last night, I thought. I wanted to savor everything.
Still kissing me, Leo used one arm to clear away our leftovers from the blanket. I twined my arms around his neck, and together we toppled over. Again, we both burst out laughing, but then our lips were brushing once more and we couldn’t stop ourselves from kissing. Our breathing grew heavier, and my skin felt hot as the Selkie sunshine. Leo put his hand on my lower back and drew me so close that I could feel the full length of him against me. I trembled. There was an intensity building within me, one I had never known before.
Without hesitation, I took Leo’s hand and guided it to the zipper on my dress.
“Are you sure?” Leo whispered, breaking our kiss for a moment. His face was flushed and his green eyes were glowing in the near darkness.
“I’m sure,” I said steadily.
It was then that I understood: I hadn’t been ready with Greg, because Greg hadn’t been right for me.
With Leo, I was ready.
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath as Leo pulled down my zipper and eased me out of the dress. The cool, misty air bathed my shoulders and arms. It crossed my mind that Isadora’s dress would get sandy but I decided not to care. I reached up and unzipped Leo’s hoodie, and he yanked his T-shirt up over his head and flung it away.
Then I felt Leo pause.
I opened my eyes and found him studying me with an amused expression.
“You’re wearing a swimsuit,” he observed.
Right.
My swimming plan. I’d forgotten.
I lifted my head and glanced down at myself, taking in my black bathing suit and flats. I felt a pang of embarrassment, quickly followed by a surge of resolve. As much as I wanted to be with Leo right then, I needed to go swimming with him first. I couldn’t skip this experiment.
“Yes,” I said, tossing my hair in the confident way CeeCee did. “I thought we could go for a dip in the ocean.”
Leo furrowed his brow. “Now?”
“Sure,” I said, before I could lose my nerve. I propped myself up on my elbows.
“Why?” Leo asked, sitting back on his heels.
So I can have concrete proof that you are not, in fact, a strange sea creature.
“Why not?” I countered as I sat up entirely.
“Well.” Leo bit his lip in an adorable manner. “We’re kind of in the middle of something, aren’t we?”
I laughed, getting to my feet. “We’ll come back in here after. But let’s go swimming now. It’ll be fun.” It might have been the wine, but I did feel suddenly impulsive, and I wasn’t going to let that feeling slip away.
Leo was still staring up at me like I was acting insane—which wasn’t too far off the mark. “Miranda, it’s really dark out,” he said, standing as well.
“I thought you went swimming at night all the time,” I shot back, ducking out from under the grotto.
“Yeah, but you don’t,” Leo pointed out, following me with our newspaper scraps and cups in hand. He tossed them in the trash bin a little way up the beach.
I stood on the sand in my swimsuit and flats and looked up at the sky, a navy sheath dotted with stars. The ocean crashed into the shore, its foam rippling out in a curved line. Leo came to stand beside me.
“I don’t think this is a great idea,” he said.
His resistance only deepened my determination.
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow. “How’s this—I’ll wade in first and test the waters, and then you can join me.”
“Okay,” Leo said reluctantly.
I stepped out of my flats, ready to walk to the water, but then Leo crouched beside me and put his hand on my bare ankle. My stomach tightened.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, looking pensive. “Why do you always hide your toes?”
“Are you trying to distract me?” I asked nervously.
“I’m serious.” Leo laughed. “You have perfectly nice-looking feet.”
“No, I don’t,” I replied, years of embarrassment rising to a crescendo inside me. “They’re…weird. My toes were webbed when I was born. Look, you can still see the scarring from the surgery.”
I pointed, a little startled that I was showing off my biggest flaw.
“Miranda,” Leo said patiently, “you can’t see much. But if you do look close enough, it looks, well…interesting.”
“You mean weird,” I supplied.
Leo shot me a grin, releasing my ankle. “What’s so wrong with weird? I’m weird, too. We can be weird together.”
Weird how? I wondered, but I didn’t speak. I just leaned down to kiss the top of his head, and then I marched toward the water. The cool sand squished between my toes, and the warm ocean licked at my feet.
“It feels wonderful!” I called to Leo over my shoulder, hoping to entice him.
But he only waved, laughing. “I know!” he called back.
I stuck my tongue out at him, then turned and walked in deeper. The water climbed past my calves, my knees, my hips. I tilted my head back, feeling my hair brush my waist and the crisp air kiss my cheeks. With Leo standing not far behind me, I felt secure. Invincible.
So I ducked under.
I puffed out my cheeks and watched in wonder as my dark hair pooled out in front of me. Kicking off from the sandy bottom, I flattened myself and began to swim through the blue-gray world I had come to love so much. For a moment, I forgot to care about my Leo experiment and just relished being underwater.
r /> When my lungs felt too full and my eyes were burning, I resurfaced. The air came as a shock, and I squealed, my hair plastered to my head and my mouth salt-stained. I spun around and waved to Leo, who now looked tiny standing on the sand. He waved back, and I felt my feet rise up on their own as I bobbed farther out.
“Come!” I called, my voice bouncing across the surf.
Leo held a hand to his ear, miming not being able to hear me. I laughed and submerged again, letting the current carry me. I swam lazily, doing a low-key breaststroke. The waves, though large, lapped lightly against me, rocking me from side to side like a mother rocking a child.
And then, suddenly, the ocean’s embrace grew tighter, firmer. A force larger than me—it felt like gravity—began sucking at my feet, drawing me down. My heart stopped for a second. I noticed that the water around me had formed ripples that were a darker blue than the rest of the ocean. A riptide, I thought, remembering what T.J. had said on the boat. But what else had he said about riptides? Wasn’t there some specific way to get out of them?
I couldn’t remember.
It didn’t matter; I was an experienced swimmer. I’d make it back to shore. I began to paddle hard, pushing against the strong current. But the harder I paddled, the harder the current seemed to push back. Fear gripped me, and I opened my mouth to call to Leo, but the wind snatched my words away. Water sloshed into my mouth, and I realized how deep I was floating down. I tried to wave to Leo but my arms felt very heavy, and I was working hard to slash at the water with my hands.
Stay calm, I told myself as I fought against the tide. You’re smarter than nature. You can do this.
Something slimy wrapped itself around one of my legs. I tried to shake it off but its equally slimy twin twined itself around my other leg. I had a vision of my feet being bound, bound so tightly that I could no longer move. In my growing panic, I thought of sea serpents and krakens, of the beasts that lurked beneath the water. I’d been so wrong to dismiss those stories.
I tried to scream but I was dipping under, under. Just before I sank under the waves completely, I thought I saw Leo running toward the shore, but I couldn’t be sure.