Chapter Two
Ten minutes later, I sat shotgun in Devon’s car with Mandy behind the wheel. Cooper and Elizabeth were in the backseat giggling like school children.
“Do you really think your mom will call the cops?” Mandy asked nervously.
We all knew my mother would; she’d done it before.
“Probably,” Liz spoke up, echoing my thoughts. “Mrs. Andrews is sort of neurotic.”
Neurotic was an understatement. Mom went through my cell phone while I was in the shower, or at least she did when I had one that was working. On nights she stayed late at the office, a police cruiser drove past the house every couple of hours. I’d actually confronted her about the drive-by patrols once. Instead of denying it, Mom had insisted it was for my safety and not because she didn’t trust me. I believed that like I believed the Tooth Fairy, Santa, and the Easter Bunny had brunch together every Sunday.
“How much time do we have to get to Liz’s?” Mandy asked, pressing the accelerator to the floor. The Chevy’s engine groaned before reluctantly gaining speed.
Angling my wrist, I tried to catch enough moonlight to read the time. The new watch’s hour hand was on the eight, the minute hand between the fifth and sixth hash marks, and the second hand was frozen. A new record—I’d worn the watch for only an hour before it stopped working.
Groaning, I flicked the mother-of-pearl face like it would make the hands start moving again.
“What’s wrong?” Mandy asked.
“The watch is broken,” I muttered.
Elizabeth laughed. “The electric Eel strikes again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cooper asked, confused.
While most everyone called me Eel, few knew the nickname’s origins. Mandy had been part of my inner circle since moving to Westwood the previous fall and picked it up from Devon and Elizabeth’s teasing. To the others, my casual friends, I didn’t advertise the bizarre talent for short-circuiting electronics.
“Nothing,” I told Cooper, shooting Elizabeth a warning glance over my shoulder. “Liz is just being silly.”
The overplayed song of the spring was on the radio, and Mandy hummed softly along. The rural landscape passed in a blur of trees interspersed with random houses. Staring out the window, I pondered the irony of nearly drowning to death on the same day I’d been born. Even more ironic, it had been exactly eighteen years since I’d died the first time. I shuddered at the memory. Not that it was really a memory; I didn’t actually remember dying.
“Wasn’t your party awesome?” Elizabeth asked, dragging me from my thoughts.
I blinked and furrowed my brow. Was Liz seriously asking me that? Sure, the party had been fun at first. Nearly drowning kind of put a damper on the night, though.
“Yeah, it was great, Liz,” I replied with a sarcasm that was lost on her. “Best birthday ever.”
All the lights in Elizabeth’s house were off when Mandy pulled into the circular driveway. We had several minutes to spare before my mother’s deadline.
“Mom! We’re home!” Elizabeth shouted once the four of us were standing in the foyer. When Mrs. Bowers didn’t answer, Liz took off up the staircase and headed for her mother’s bedroom.
Hurrying to the phone on a small table, I dialed the number from memory.
My mother answered on the first ring. “Endora,” she said crisply.
“Hey, Mom. We’re back at Elizabeth’s now. We decided to go to the theater instead of renting movies,” I told her.
“Is that so?” she asked. Her tone was the one typically reserved for cross-examining hostile witnesses.
Crap. I’d already violated the first rule of testifying: don’t offer more information than was requested.
“What movie did you see?” Mom asked. I envisioned her ears perking up like a bloodhound that caught a scent.
“Night of Horrors,” I replied automatically. The movie was playing at the local theater, and I’d seen it the weekend before.
“How was it?”
“Bad. You know, typical horror movie.” I forced a laugh. “We’re heading to bed now, we all have lacrosse practice in the morning.”
“I expect you home afterwards,” Mom said after a long pause.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Goodnight, Endora. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks. Night, Mom,” I whispered as the dial tone filled my ear.
When I replaced the receiver, Mandy and Cooper were staring at me. Mandy’s hazel eyes softened.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Everything was fine. At least Mom had remembered my birthday, that was something. My mother didn’t believe in birthdays.
“Celebrating your own birth is narcissistic,” she’d always said. “You weren’t the one in labor for thirty-three hours. You had nothing to do with bringing yourself into this world. If anyone should get gifts and a cake, I should.”
Admittedly, she had a point. Nevertheless, her logic was little comfort when I was five and the only girl in kindergarten without a sugary cake bearing my name. Or when I turned eight, and Tia Ross accused me of not inviting her to a birthday party that I never had.
The front door opened. Cynthia walked in, followed by a handful of junior girls from the lacrosse team and their boyfriends.
“Eel, you look awful!” she exclaimed.
“I did almost drown, Cynthia,” I snapped, only to immediately feel badly about biting her head off.
“Rowr.” Cynthia clawed the air in my direction. With her obsidian eyes and ginger hair, Cynthia sort of resembled a cat, too.
Despite myself, I glanced at a mirror hanging on the wall above the phone. My brown-green eyes were bloodshot, dirt streaked both of my cheeks, and a dime-sized patch blazed red against the unusually pale skin over my right cheekbone. Tangled clumps of half-dry auburn hair framed my face, highlighting the blotchiness. I really did look awful. Sadly, I felt worse than I looked. My entire body ached, my head throbbed, and the places where I’d imagined the lake creature touching me burned. The rest of me was numb, still cold from the water.
“Hey, guys,” Elizabeth called, appearing at the top of the staircase. “The hot tub is on the back deck. You know the way.”
“What about your mom?” Cooper whispered loudly.
Mandy and I exchanged a knowing look.
After Mr. Bowers married his second wife, Elizabeth’s mother had turned to sleeping pills to soothe her bruised ego. While the affair and subsequent divorce were still town gossip, Mrs. Bowers’ coping mechanisms were not.
“She’s a heavy sleeper,” I mumbled. Technically, that was true.
Elizabeth bounded down the staircase. “Let’s take this party outside.”
Cynthia, Cooper, and the others followed Elizabeth through the house, leaving Mandy and me alone in the foyer. Headlights pierced the windows on either side of the front door, signaling the arrival of more partiers.
“I don’t feel like swimming,” I said. Really, I only wanted to crawl into bed and pretend like the entire night was nothing more than a bad dream. “I’m just going to go lie down.”
“Want me to come with you?” Mandy offered.
I shook my head. “Nah. I’m exhausted. You go have fun with the others.”
Mandy chewed her thumbnail, hesitating.
I made a shooing motion, indicating that she should go.
“If you’re sure,” she said finally. Mandy opened the front door and stepped outside, calling to Kevin Mathis.
Glad I have an excuse to miss spending time with Kevin, I thought. He was Rick’s best friend, and I’d been the unwilling object of his lecherous affections for a while now. He always made excuses to put his arm around me or touch my hair. No matter how many times I shot him down, Kevin never gave up. I headed for the stairs, hurrying up them before he made it inside.
Elizabeth’s bedroom was on the second floor at the far end of a long hallway. With the flip of a switch, a soft glow illuminated the room. Immediately, I felt my shoulders untense. Elizabeth’s bedroom was comforting to me, and her canopy bed with its burgundy drapes was as familiar as my own. I spent a lot of time at my friends’ houses. As always, the room smelled like Elizabeth: a mixture of perfume and fruity lip gloss.
Weariness had settled into my bones. My foot and head throbbed in perfect unison. I sat on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed and removed my tennis shoes. The inside of my left sneaker was stained red. The sight of my own blood caught me off guard, and I gasped.
A shiny sliver, as long as my pinkie and half as wide as its nail, was lodged in the arch. The memory of kicking the lake creature came back to me.
Just a hallucination, I reminded myself. She isn’t real; lack of oxygen plays tricks on the brain.
Fingers trembling slightly, I tried to grab the sliver with the nails of my thumb and index fingers.
“Hey,” a voice said, startling me.
My head shot up, and I saw Devon standing in the doorway to the bedroom. “Did you find my necklace?” I asked immediately.
Devon shook her head, blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Rick and I looked. Even with the flashlight app, it was too dark to really see anything. We can go back tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure,” I mumbled. Disappointment clouded my words. The necklace meant a lot to me, but there was no telling where or when it had fallen. We’d have to retrace all of our steps; it was a tedious endeavor that I planned to endure alone.
“I’m sorry, Eel.”
“Not your fault,” I replied with a small smile. Turning my attention back to my foot, I tried again to grasp the silver sliver from the bottom.
Devon crossed the room and peered down at it. “What happened?”
“Cut my foot in the lake,” I said uneasily.
“On what?”
I shrugged. “Dunno.”
“Well, don’t use your fingers. I’ll get tweezers,” Devon instructed. She hurried to the bathroom and returned with a pair of eyebrow tweezers. Devon also brought two hand towels into the bedroom, one damp and one dry. When she handed me the wet one, I gently wiped the blood from the wound.
When I finished, Devon gave me a sympathetic look. “Ready? This might hurt.” Without waiting for a response, she pulled the sliver free in one swift motion.
It hurt like hell. Fresh blood poured as Devon hurriedly covered the wound and applied pressure. I winced as my foot throbbed in her hands.
“Keep the pressure on. I’ll find some bandages.”
Once I heard Devon rummaging in the bathroom cabinets, I examined the cut. It was deep and looked much more serious than I’d expected. The skin around the wound was a mottled purple and extremely tender. I prayed that it wouldn’t require stitches. My mother would never believe that I’d hurt my foot while at the Westwood movie theater.
After rewrapping the towel, I examined the thing Devon had removed from my foot. It appeared translucent when I held it up to the lamp on the bedside table. The color was somewhere between blue and green, and there was an almost metallic quality to the smooth surface. I expected the shard to be brittle, but I couldn’t break it between my fingers.
“What is that?” Devon’s voice startled me, and I dropped the tweezers.
“No clue,” I said.
Devon retrieved the shard from where it landed on the bedside table. She held it close to the light bulb and leaned down for a better look. “Sort of looks like a fish scale. Like, from one of those really pretty tropical fish that you see at the aquarium.”
A fish scale? My stomach flip-flopped. The lake creature hadn’t had legs, at least not that I’d seen. Was it possible that she was some sort of….
I wouldn’t let myself finish the thought. It was too absurd, even for my imagination. The creature in the water wasn’t real. I was hypothesizing that I’d encountered a fish person, a mermaid, and the experience had never truly happened. My friends always joked that I was rational to a fault. If they only knew the thoughts running through my mind at that very moment. I laughed as I imagined telling Devon that a mermaid had tried to strangle me.
“What’s so funny?” Devon set the tweezers down and began wrapping white gauze around my foot. Her mother was a nurse at Westwood General, and Devon was skilled in first aid.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “It’s probably just a piece of rock or something.”
“Maybe,” Devon said, her brows knitting together. “It looks a little exotic for Caswell Lake, though. Everything that comes out of there is usually brown and smelly.”
Devon had swaddled my foot in so many bandages, it was five times the size of its mate. Then, she grabbed a pair of pajamas from Elizabeth’s walk-in closet and threw them to me. After changing into the plaid boxers and blue tee, I slung my own wet, dirty clothing over the bar of Liz’s shower.
“Be right back,” Devon said, heading into the bathroom once I’d emerged.
She added the dirty towels to the laundry pile. Water running, she scrubbed blood from her hands as I watched through the open doorway.
Outside, the party was in full swing. My friends’ voices drifted through the open window. Shouts of, “Whose hand is that?” and “Liz, where are more shot glasses?” wafted into the room. Part of me longed to join them and put the encounter in the water as far from my mind as possible. I was too tired, though. My eyelids felt like weighted blankets ready to cover my eyes.
“Take these. They will help with the headache.” Devon reappeared, holding two white pills on her outstretched palm. In the other hand, she held a fresh damp towel. “To wash your face,” she explained.
“Thanks.” I took the pills and swallowed them dry. Scrubbing the dirt streaks on my face, I winced when the terrycloth moved over the wound on my right cheek. The red patch I’d seen in the mirror burned and felt hot to the touch. Where had it come from? The lake creature hadn’t touched my face. The boy had, though; his fingers had skimmed my cheek when he’d brushed the hair back from my face. While I was vomiting lake water, of course. The skin-to-skin contact had produced a shock, was that was created the mark? The memory of it caused the muscle under my eye to twitch.
“What happened to your face?” Devon asked, pointing to the spot I was delicately fingering my cheek.
“Not sure.” I shrugged, the blood rushing to my cheeks. For some reason, I was reluctant to tell her about the static shock. She’d probably joke it was part of my strange quirk, since I did shock her all the time. Though I’d never left a mark on her skin.
Devon tilted my chin upwards, examining my face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s a burn. Like…an electrical burn? It looks like the patch my dad had on his thumb after he forgot to turn off the lamp before installing a new bulb.”
I averted my eyes. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Devon’s hands fell away. She sat down next to me. The concern was gone from her expression, replaced by a mischievous twinkle I knew well.
“So, tell me more about your mysterious new friend,” she said.
Heat rushed to my cheeks again. The color probably matched the burn by this point.
“There’s not much to tell.” I shifted uncomfortably on Liz’s bed. “My foot got caught on something in the water, I hit my head, and then I blacked out. When I came to, he was there.”
“You never thought to ask his name?” Devon pressed. “I mean, he did save your life.”
Right. Then, he burned me, I thought. Had I burned myself somehow, instead? Was that even possible?
“He’s totally your type,” Devon added when I remained silent.
“My type? I wasn’t aware I had a type.”
Devon shrugged. “Uber preppy. Electric. Boyfriend material.”
“Electric?” I asked, my voice squeaking slightly. Does she know he’s the source of my burn?
“That lifestyle blogger I follow started using it as slang for hot. Figured I’d try it out.” Devon wrinkled her nose and giggled. “Guess you’re not feeling it?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Whatever. Mr. White Knight was hot. You should’ve got his name.”
A picture of his brilliant green eyes flashed in my mind, and another wave of heat deepened my blush. He was good-looking. Like, very good-looking. And I’d been drawn to him. Except, even now, I could recall the uneasy feelings he stirred up. There was something about him…something…off.
“I didn’t notice his hotness,” I lied. “It was sort of hard to look him in the eye after I power-puked for ten minutes.”
“Good point. Though, you kind of owe him doubly.” She shuddered dramatically. “I’ve seen you power-puke. It is not pretty, Eel.”
I glared down my nose at her. “Why are we friends again?”
She laughed and scooted closer until we were touching. Then, Devon rested her head on my shoulder and snuggled in like a cat.
“Because you’d be bored without me in your life, obviously.”
“I’m tired, Dev,” I said softly. “It’s been a long night.”
“Right.” Devon got to her feet. “I’m just saying, if some hot guy inexplicably appeared in my hour of need, I would be intrigued. Maybe I’d even look him up online, see what I could find.”
“That would be difficult without his name,” I pointed out, snickering.
“If he was at the lake, then he probably lives in or around Westwood,” Devon said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Someone we know probably knows him, too. We could find him. I mean, I’m sure you want to send a I’m-sorry-I-yacked-on-your-shoes present.”
Did I want to find him? If I did, it wasn’t to send a bouquet of chocolate-dipped fruit.
“I’ll think about it,” I promised.
Devon stood awkwardly by the bed, shifting from one foot to the other.
“Go join the party,” I insisted. Forcing a smile, I added, “Drink one for me.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind keeping you company.” The relief in her eyes contradicted her sentiments. Not that I blamed Devon. Hanging out with me was a drag when she could be lounging in a hot tub and gossiping with our friends.
“Positive. I’m going to fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”
Devon hesitated a moment longer, indecision flickering in her big blue eyes.
“Okay,” she said finally. “But I’m leaving my cell on the bedside table. Call Liz’s phone if you need me.” There was a soft clatter as she placed the phone on the wooden surface. “Don’t touch it unless you have to,” she teased. “I can’t afford to replace it.”
“Very funny,” I grumbled.
I curled up under the comforter as Devon headed for the door. She flipped the light switch and paused.
“I’m really sorry about the necklace, Eel,” she whispered. “Hopefully we’ll find it. Or, maybe, he’ll send another this year.”
I said nothing. Yes, I intended to go back and scour the woods for my dream catcher. I wasn’t getting my hopes up, though. Regardless, I knew Devon was wrong. My father wouldn’t send another one this year. I had six of them—well, five now—one for every birthday from my eighth to my thirteenth. He hadn’t sent a single necklace in the time he’d been away.
“I’m sure he’ll call, if he hasn’t already. Your phone is dead. He probably left a message,” Devon continued softly.
A phone call. That had been Dad’s birthday present to me these last five years. Truly, I cherished each and every minute of those calls just as much as the dream catchers.
“Happy birthday, Endora. Love you.”
With that, Devon was gone and I was alone. Tears burned the backs of my closed lids. With everything that had happened, my father’s yearly phone call—or lack thereof—had managed to slip my mind. Since my friends had snatched me from my bedroom, there hadn’t been a message from him on my phone. I’d called my voice mail every hour on the hour to check.
Of all the birthdays to miss, he had to pick my eighteenth, I thought wryly.
The room was eerily quiet. I had the urge to grab Devon’s phone and tell her to come back. As much as I wanted to fall asleep and forget about the incident at Caswell Lake and my absentee father, I didn’t want to be alone.
I started to reach for the cell. High-pitched giggles drifted up from Elizabeth’s back deck, and I retracted my hand. My foul mood didn’t need to ruin the rest of the night for my friends. At least someone should enjoy my birthday.
Two hours later, I was still awake when a chlorine-scented Elizabeth crawled into bed next to me. I practiced even breathing, so she would think I was asleep. It worked. Within minutes, Elizabeth’s soft snores filled the bedroom.
The last thing I heard before drifting off was Devon yelling that she needed more whiskey.
The dock swayed beneath my feet. Vertigo swept over me. A full moon cast a hazy glow over his beautiful features, creating a halo of light around golden-chestnut waves of hair. Blue-black water quietly lapped the wooden support beams, creating a soothing soundtrack for the evening. Spring was in full bloom, and lilac shrubs were sprinkled across the grass bank behind me. Their fragrance was an intoxicating addition to the ambiance.
He stood on the end of the wooden walkway, clad in a tuxedo with a single red rose fastened to the lapel. He held out a hand in my direction, and I moved forward to join him.
Silk swished softly as I walked. The strapless green dress fit me to a tee. The gown’s train trailed behind me, gliding effortlessly over the dock. In one hand, I held a pair of gold heels. The wood was rough against the soles of my bare feet, but I hardly noticed. All that mattered was reaching him.
He stood still as a statue, watching my every move with unwavering intensity. As soon as I was within arm’s reach, his hands darted out. They closed around my waist, and he pulled me against him.
When his lips touched mine, I didn’t flinch at the spark that passed between us. The kiss felt right. It felt familiar, like it wasn’t the first we’d shared. I threw my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.
Lifting me off the dock, he spun me around in a circle. I laughed against his mouth, thrilled by the weightlessness. He released me. Instead of my feet finding the dock, they were met with nothingness. Suddenly, I was falling too far too fast. What felt like a dozen tiny hands grabbed the hem of my dress and yanked, speeding my descent.
Shock overshadowed my desire to scream or cry out. My eyes found his, silently begging him to say something, to do something. He stood motionless, watching me fall, his emerald green irises full of pain and remorse.
My back hit the icy water with jarring force. The hands slid over my entire body like slippery vines. The more I struggled, the tighter they held on. Just before my head disappeared under the water’s surface, he whispered in my ear.
“I’m sorry.”
I opened my mouth. Fishy water washed over my tongue and poured down my throat, cutting off any words I might have said. Panic engulfed me. Instead of fighting, I let the blackness take me under.