35. Pippi #2
Jackson gave a good-natured huff. “I gotta say, I never thought much about how weather and humidity can affect hair. Not until I started dating Pippi. My hair’s always the same.”
“Such is the way with men.” Elisabeth sighed, and then gave me a light tap on the shoulder, whispering, “I think your man wants to take you to see the show.”
“I think he wants to protect me from the monster,” I whispered back.
Elisabeth laughed.
Jackson managed a thin, but charming, smile.
We took our spots along the railing near the front of the ship, on the opposite side of Rune, which made Jackson grumble. And he would’ve tried to zoom me to the other side, if one of the attendants hadn’t swooped over and forced him to stay put.
The air thickened as the ship slowed, the geriatric wood grinding when the weight of the anchor pulled on it.
Some people were discharging globs of anticipation, others were throwing fear into the pot; Jackson had added a big handful of disgust, and all of it simmered together to create a chunky soup.
A sour , cream-based broth that’d curdled before it was lugged into the pot.
I choked on it, as I slipped the splash goggles over my face.
But that cough turned to a surprised “ oh” when I peered through the enchanted plastic.
The world curved, as though it was looping itself around a big fishbowl, but the churlish grey waters were as transparent as glass.
Hundreds of green, blue, and yellow fish scuttled beneath those crystalline waves, flashing googly-eyed expressions at the groaning ship.
Jouncing tendrils of sea grass, coral, and other vegetation danced atop of the seabed.
I could see everything. Straight down to the ocean floor.
It was freaky.
Shrieking laughter billowed into the misty sky as people gawked over the edge of the boat, peering down at the seabed.
Thankfully, the magic only worked for the ocean. The wood of the ship, bowed slightly because of the shape of the goggles, remained solid. People did too, although several of our more mature individuals wondered out loud if they’d have X-ray vision through clothing.
Spoiler alert: they didn’t.
I couldn’t imagine what a lawsuit that would’ve been if the goggles gave people the power to view their neighbors’ genitals.
Voices boinged between my ears as I leaned against the railing.
“That is gorgeous .”
“Look at the fish!”
“Fishies!”
“That is one ugly effer!” This said as a long-bodied creature sleazed its way near the surface, flashing its wide-set eyes and pronounced underbite at us.
“Is that an eel?”
“Who ran him over with a truck?”
I wanted to be on the same level of awe and joy as everyone else. I really did. And I had been, for a hot second, after I’d first seen the sea bottom. But the more I looked down, watching the ocean life rippling beneath the waves, seeing how very big it all was…
A bulbous shark swaggered on to the set, chasing half the fish away and making the tourists shriek with delight.
A cold sweat prickled at my forehead.
That shark was decent-sized—fifteen or twenty feet, or more—but it looked tiny in the vast waters.
I’d been in this ocean. Had swam in it, played in it, nearly drowned in it, and had always, always, always been aware of its scope. But knowing it and seeing it were two completely different things.
“There he is!” a girl on the other side of the ship screamed.
“Ho-lee shit. He’s huge !”
“He looks hungry, huh? Should I throw him a snack?” This joke warmly uttered by a man who laughed when a small child bleated, “ Noooo , Dad!”
“Oooooh buddy, the pictures shortchange the shit out of this bastard,” Rune boomed.
Alistair quietly meandered beneath the ship and emerged on our side.
The fish scattered when they saw him. Even the doofus eel, with its big underbite, got all bug-eyed and started scrambling.
People cheered, drumming their hands against the rail.
Alistair flipped himself sideways, scrunching his neck into a U-shape so he could scan his orange eye over the crowd.
He blinked when he saw me.
“Is that f-f-fear, Pippi?” His playful voice soothed my very soul.
I exhaled and almost responded out loud, which would’ve made me look like a mad little hatter, if no one else could hear him talk. So I gobbled the words back down, making a garbled noise that had Jackson snapping his eyes to me.
“Oh dear, that is fear,” Alistair teased gently. “Of little old me?” He did a graceful arch into a backflip, flicking his tail above the surface, and splashing everyone along the railing.
I laughed along with them—how could I not, when I had Alistair’s joy nourishing my heart.
He twisted back around, his eyes scanning the group, but always, always coming back to me.
My heart gave a hard, happy thump.
I smiled.
Alistair tucked his serpentine body into a ball, spinning in a series of underwater somersaults that had everyone cheering.
“Those guh-glll-glasses are lovely , Pippi,” he said once he’d arched gracefully out of the spin cycle. “They make your eyes as big as mine.”
I clapped a hand to my mouth to shove the giggle back.
“I’ve always wondered, so be h-honest, please, Pippi—do those glasses make my b-b-b-butt look big?” He wiggled his body as he lazily glided beneath the ship
I tried to swallow my mirth, but ended up gagging on it.
“Unbelievable.” Jackson clapped his hand over my elbow. “The ship’s barely moving, Pippi…”
I blinked at him, the giddy haze twining around my brain making me a little loopy. It took a full thirty seconds to understand why Jackson was looking at me with such annoyance .
He thought I was going to be sick.
Which, I probably had looked a little sick, with the way I’d been cackle-choking.
But he wasn’t concerned, wasn’t holding on to my elbow to keep me steady, or staring at me to make sure I was okay. He was livid .
A toxic mix of disappointment, disgust, and anger sizzled in my stomach.
I jerked my elbow out of his hand. “I’m fine, Jackson.”
He scowled.
I leaned back against the railing. “I’m okay,” I said this last bit to Elisabeth, who’d peered over a group of people to look at me with actual concern.
“The alcoholic seltzer…you know.” I made a vague circle-y motion with my hand that could’ve been a symbol for being bloated or tipsy, and both would’ve worked.
She laughed, and then tapped her head, indicating that she felt the same.
In truth, I hadn’t even finished the first drink I’d been given. The half-empty glass still sat on the stool where I’d left it.
“You were drinking?” Jackson asked. “When you already get seasick. Real smart, Pippi. Absolutely genius…”
“I had a drink,” I said. “And I’m not going to get sick. Jackson! Hey!”
He grasped my elbow again, this time forcibly hefting me away from the railing, just as Alistair made a trip back to our side of the ship.
“Pippi?” Alistair called.
A few people turned away from the ocean, fixing their goggle-covered eyes on me and Jackson.
“My girlfriend doesn’t have great sea legs.” Jackson laughed and tucked me against his side—a motion that looked like a comforting hug but felt like he’d zipped me into a straight jacket. “Real landlubber. I’m gonna get her to the bathroom.”
“It’s right this way, sir.” One of the attendants, a round-faced woman in her early twenties, rushed forward.
“Everything okay?” Kian pushed away from where he’d been pressed to the rail next to Elisabeth.
No. I wanted to scream.
“Fine, fine.” Jackson smooched the top of my head.
“Pippi?” Alistair’s voice grew thin. Worried. “Who was that? The man who d-d-dragged you away?”
“Does she need to lie down?” Elisabeth walked toward us, her worry fermenting in the sour emotion soup.
“We do have some seasick patches onboard if she needs them,” the attendant added.
“Pippi, I can’t see you,” Alistair called. “Are you alright? Please…if you can give me a sign…something.”
There was just too much .
Too many voices.
Too much movement, with some people rushing toward me, legitimately worried I was about to have a medical emergency, and some people rushing away , afraid I’d get puke on their shoes.
And I did feel a little (lot) sick now.
I was either going to vomit or explode.
My free hand joggled, a futile attempt to soothe myself.
Jackson seethed and tucked that hand against his side, stilling it.
Alistair’s concerned voice kept pinging off my brain.
And Onyx…
At some point she joined the flurry of movement as she stood on top of her bench and stared at me, her head cocked to the side. A strange, knitted emotion gripped her face.
And I…
I couldn’t breathe .
Couldn’t think .
“Pippi?” Alistair called again.
Jackson hustled me across the boat and down the rickety little steps that led to the bathrooms below deck. All while flatly muttering, “It’s okay” and “I gotcha.”
But once we were below deck—in a dark, musty area that smelled like brine, and piss, and damp—I snapped. And shoved at Jackson. Hard. “What is wrong with you?”
“ME?” he spat. “Fuck, Pippi, you were about to fall over the railing.”
“I was not. ”
“And, c’mon, babe.” “ Babe,” in this case, being a word he lashed at me. “Have some fucking decency. People don’t want some random chick hurling her guts all over their tour.”
“I wasn’t going to be sick. I—” Well, this was a pickle, eh? Couldn’t well say that I was fighting a laugh because my sea monster friend had shaken his tail feathers at me. “I had to burp.”
“Burp?”
“Yeah. I mean…I only had one seltzer, but they’re fizzy and it was…you know…fizzing back up.”
“Pippi? Please, please let me know if you’re alright.” The distress in Alistair’s voice hurt me.
I ripped my goggles off, moving to hide how hard my hands were shaking.
Jackson slipped one of his hands over his head and then crossed his arms over his chest. “A burp. Really?”
“Yes.”
“The fuck didn’t you just say so?”
“Because you didn’t let me.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You just hauled me off. That wasn’t okay, Jackson. That…You shouldn’t treat me like that. And I-I don’t want to be down here. It stinks .”
I started toward the steps.
He snatched my elbow.
“Don’t!” I arched back, preparing to rip away.
He sighed gustily and shoved my arm back at me.
Between his push and my overexaggerated pull, I stumbled, crisscrossing my feet. My arms pinwheeled, and I tried to right myself, but then the ship lurched, and down I went.
DING!
My chin drilled into the edge of the step.
Ouch.
Stars, that was a bad spot to hit.
My neck gave a sickly crunch as my head snapped back, and big, neon checkerspots dropped in front of my eyes.
“Shit, babe!” Jackson rushed to me. “Fuck.”
He grasped my shoulders.
I batted him away.
“Babe, I’m sorry.” He tried to heft me onto my feet.
I shrugged him off and stood on my own. My legs shook though, and I had to grasp on to the stair railing when my knees threatened to nope out.
Pain mushroomed along my jaw and fanned across my skull.
And this was all my stupid fault for overreacting the way I had.
So why, why , did I feel a gnawing fear in the pit of my gut?
Was it Jackson’s fear?
Mine?
Alistair’s?
Someone else’s?
I couldn’t tell.
But with my face throbbing and terror stabbing at my insides, all I wanted to do was curl up somewhere quiet and safe. Like the top of Alistair’s head.
Instead, I rubbed at my jaw and mumbled, “I’m going back up, Jackson. I promise I won’t blacken your reputation by puking in front of the people you’re trying so hard to impress.”
“Pippi?” Alistair continued to call for me.
The sea salt air caressed my face as I clambered back up the steps, soothing the raw, throbbing ache in my jaw.
Jackson followed me up but said nothing.
“Feeling a bit better?” the attendant asked.
I nodded again. A lie. But I didn’t care.
A few people looked at me as I shuffled back over to the railing.
I snapped the goggles back onto my face—a process that hurt this time—and smiled at them.
Or, well, tried to smile.
The slight muscle contraction around my jaw drilled a deep, molten pain into my bone. My eyes watered. When I gingerly pressed my fingers to the area, the skin there felt red hot. It would bruise. Badly. But it likely wasn’t discolored yet.
I leaned back on the railing.
“Pippi.” Alistair blew out in relief as he shimmied back to our side of the ship. “I was scared. I…Who is that? The man? Your b-b-boyfriend? Why did he drag you like that?”
Alistair turned in an elegant, looping dance beneath the water. But he never took his eye off me.
“You’re not alright. Are you?” he asked.
All I could do was shake my head.
“What’s wrong?”
I closed my eyes.
Jackson shimmied up to my left side and draped an arm over my back. “I am sorry, Pippi,” he grumbled.
“Would you tell me?” Alistair pressed. “Later?”
I tucked my chin down.
Jackson tugged me against his side.
I opened my eyes to find Alistair frozen in the waters, staring at me and Jackson.
“He was rough with you,” Alistair said. “It s-scared me. Seeing that. Not being able to…Did he hurt you?”
I should’ve shaken my head.
But I couldn’t.
A low growl went through Alistair, one that had people cackling in mock horror.
And two things happened simultaneously.
Onyx stood on her bench again and fixed me with a stare intense enough to sear my skin. I looked at her—I had to, with that intense gaze scalding me—and I swore she knew. Swore she’d heard Alistair’s one-sided conversation with me. Her beautiful face contorted into a smug sneer.
But then Alistair exploded from the surface, twining his neck up, up, and up, along the side of the ship, looking for all the world like the insidious sea beast painted on the side of the building.
People shrieked.
Alistair shot a stream of water out through his mouth, blasting everyone standing to my left side, making sure to get the bulk of it on Jackson.
As Jackson yelped and leapt back, swiping the water from his face, Alistair bellowed in pain.
I turned to him, just as his head disappeared beneath the surface, and saw the hooked rune above his left eye light up an angry red.