Page 42 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
Alistair blew out again, sending a jet of misty water into the air. “I’ve lived through many storms, Pippi,” he said.
“Right. Yeah. Just…I’m not normally near an ocean during a storm—or at all, really—I kinda hateit. It’s just too big and unpredictable and…”
I’m scared. Of being on an island in the storm. Of the ocean.
I’m worried for you. Because the sea is far bigger than even your forty American feet.
You’re kind. It’d break my heart to see you hurt.
I’m scared.
But I didn’t say any of that. “Sorry. I’m being stupid. And I’m sure you want me off your head?—”
“You’re not s-stupid,”Alistair said, “to fear the waters. Never stupid. But you’re safe.” He paused, extruded another jet of water, and added, “I’ll stay here until you’re on land.”
And that was surprisingly comforting, to know he wasn’t going to dump and ditch me. “Making sure the lady gets home safely. You’re a proper gentleman, Alistair.”
“Gentleman…”He savored the word. “I try to be.”
“You are.” I ran my hand over his horn—wondering if he could feel my touch, and if he knew it was meant to be a comfort—and shimmied down, getting ready to slide off his head. But as my toes twinkled the top of the water, I froze again. Another question rolled over my tongue—a question that seemed asinine, but one that refused to be swallowed back down. “Can I see you again?”
A twitch rolled over Alistair’s hide.
“I mean,” I amended, “I’m guessing I’llsee you—that’s the point of being on this island, isn’t it? But is there a way to just have it be the two of us? Like this? Except without me having to nearly drown—I’d rathernotbe in the water. Maybe over by the inlet? If the tide’s in and it’s not stormy, can you go there?”
Alistair said nothing for a long moment.
I chewed at my lip, wondering what had gotten into my head and hashed my brain into this pulp of stupidity.
And then…
“I can swim there. In the inlet. When the water is calm. And when it’s filled,” he said.
Anticipation tingled in my veins. “Would you want to meet me there? Maybe tomorrow night?”
“I can.”
“Okay, it’s a date. Well not adate.But…”
Gosh, Pippi, stop digging the stupid hole and get your soggy behind into the water!
My belly swam with nerves—as unsettled and rollicky as the waves—as I scooched myself down the side of Alistair’s head and into the water, still clutching on to him.
His orange eye followed me, watching my every move.
“Tomorrow?” I verified.
“Tomorrow,” he agreed.
“And you’ll…” I grappled for him when a wave ballooned beneath me, shooting my body up, up, up, and then sending it crashing back down. “You’ll wait? I’ll call back once I’m on the dock. But while I’m in the water…”
“I’ll be here,” he confirmed.
“Okay. Thank you. Again.” And there was nothing else for it.
I let go. And swam like a fish wriggling out of a shark’s mouth.
Or, well, Itriedto have that kind of pep in my kick, but the glacial waters bore down on my lungs, making it feel like I was drowning, even with my head above the surface. My frozen limbs pawed sluggishly, too heavy for a proper doggy paddle.
