Free Fathom by Merrie Destefano

in the lives of humans,” she said. “You’re daring the gods with words like that.”
    Riley laughed again. “Which gods? The sea gods or the temple gods?” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to Lynn. “Or maybe the gods of the chasm deep who put the curse on the Hinquememem in the first place.”
    A collective gasp sounded in the room.
    Mare’s eyes brimmed with tears. “You’re not supposed to say that name. Ever .”
    “I’m not afraid of the beast,” Riley answered quickly, but there was a new edge to her voice and a tremor in her hand.
    “You should be afraid,” I said, turmoil wrestling inside me. “And now we’ve broken one of the Elders’ high rules. If they find out, we could be branded and exiled, without home or family—”
    “They aren’t going to find out!” she said, her gazing burning through me. “Unless one of us tells them.”
    I met her gaze but didn’t speak what was on my heart. I didn’t believe her blasphemous words. Whether we meant to or not, we’d already changed Kira’s destiny—we’d brought it a step nearer. Guilt rolled over me in a crashing, life-numbing wave. I was the one who had wanted to come to Crescent Moon Bay. I had convinced both Ethan and Lynn to make the trip—twice in one season. They didn’t have to come, they had already chosen their mates. Because of me, he was now dead.
    None of us would be here if it wasn’t for me.
    And, quite possibly, because I had longed to see her so much, now Kira would be dead in a few days as well.
     

Chapter 15
     
     
     
    Kira:
    There should be some sort of handbook for what to do when you almost get suspended from school in Crescent Moon Bay. Something like, “The minute you get out of your last class, don’t pass GO and don’t collect two hundred dollars. Just run all the way home and see if you can beat the gossip.”
    Because that’s what I had to do. Run. All the way home.
    I flew up the driveway, glad when I saw Gram working in the garden—something she rarely does—her gloves covered in dirt and a tall stack of weeds at her side. That meant she had been outside for at least an hour or two. I dashed in the back door and checked the phone for messages.
    Two were blinking.
    I was trying to catch my breath and it felt like my chest was going to explode.
    I turned down the volume on the phone and listened to the messages.
    I heard the principal’s voice and automatically hit the DELETE button. A quick glance out the window told me that Gram was still pulling weeds. I listened to the second message—from the school guidance counselor—and erased it too.
    The pressure continued to build, but I didn’t have time to think about it.
    A poem started to blossom inside me, a thick pool of words pressing against my skin, making me want to grab a pen and let it all out. Metaphors and similes tumbled around inside my head, all in a rugged fast meter where nothing rhymed, the words flowing like river water over my tongue. It was all about danger and missed chances and lips that would never be kissed. But I didn’t have time to stop and write. Instead I spread my books on the kitchen table—usually I do my homework in my bedroom, but today I had to be front and center. I had to be as perfect as all the Paper Dolls. The words settled on the kitchen floor; there they continued rising like a gentle tide as I started dinner. They tickled my ankles, then my hips. By the time Gram came up the steps, they had filled the room and were just about to sweep me out one of the windows.
    I couldn’t make sense of them anymore, still they kept coming, words of desire and rebellion. They were about to cover my head.
    Then Gram opened the door and they all rushed outside, leaving me behind.
     
    •
     
    Dad and Gram were eating dinner—grilled tilapia with mashed potatoes and salad—and throughout the meal, Gram kept telling us a Scottish legend about the Na Fir Ghorm . I’m not sure why, but I lost track of time and got