Deep Betrayal

mermaid’s unexpected release, the copper taste of blood in my mouth, red pooling around my face, and the tug of two arms pulling me onto the rocks, a silver ring appearing around a throat … the howling sound of voices calling my name …
    I woke up with a shout. “Dad!”
    Ugh . Groggy and stiff, I looked around to get my bearings. The movie was over, the lead actor’s voice replaced by a late-night talk-show host’s. I clicked off the TV andstood up. Jules slept peacefully in my bed, her hands curled under her cheek. It wasn’t nice, but I gave her a swift shove, and she rolled off the edge, hitting the floor with a satisfying thud .
    “Hey!”
    “You fell,” I said, crawling into the warm sheets. “Better go back to your own room. Graduation and all. Get some sleep.”

3
BLUE
    “G eez, it’s so blue,” Jules said as we walked into Humphrey Auditorium. She was right. The decorating committee had gone overboard: blue balloons, blue banners, a curtain of blue and white streamers hanging behind the stage. Add in six hundred kids in blue caps and gowns and the effect was a little overwhelming. It was the first time in a long time that I was dressed like everyone else. It made me feel a little off balance.
    “I got to get to my seat,” Jules said. “Good luck.”
    I nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah, you too.”
    I found the H row and my metal folding chair with only minutes to spare. Rob Hache slapped my hand as I squeezed by him. Besides Jules, Rob was my oldest friend—ever since we tied for third grade spelling-bee champ. Sometimes he tried to cross the friendship line, but lately we’d reached a truce in that debate.
    Up front, the superintendent stood at a shiny blue podium, coughing into his sleeve before making some comments about how we were all heading off into a grand adventure . It wasn’t long before the name butchering began with “Mary Margaret An … An … drze … ze … jewski.”
    The superintendent continued to trudge through the alphabet, while Principal Landsem, who was handing out the diplomas, quickly began to lose his enthusiasm for the ceremony. By the time we got to the H ’s, my classmates had already deposited two hundred pennies into his palm, and the pockets of his suit coat bulged and begged for the floor.
    Brian Halvorson turned and winked at me as his name was called, saying “Penny for your thoughts,” then he strode confidently across the stage. I clenched my penny tight in my fist. It might have been a boulder for how heavy it felt.
    “Lily Anne Hancock.”
    Principal Landsem, his mouth pinched at the corners, stood with his hand outstretched. I shifted the penny from my sweaty palm to my fingers and walked forward with an apologetic smile.
    When I was halfway across the stage, an air horn blasted me out of my embarrassment. I turned towardthe audience and caught, for just the briefest of seconds, a familiar dark head in the standing-room-only section. I stopped in my tracks and stared. No. Why would he be here? Now?
    But I lost track of the beautiful figure ghosting through the crowd. And then I lost faith in my eyesight. Wishful thinking , I decided. Calder didn’t like crowds.
    Mom and my ten-year-old sister, Sophie, screamed my name and waved blue pompons in the air. Dad sat stoically beside them, mirroring my wide-eyed expression, his face pale as paste. The sight of my family shook me out of my befuddlement. I refocused on my diploma and finished the trip across the stage.
    “Congratulations, Miss Hancock,” Principal Landsem said. He handed me a black certificate case as I slipped him the penny. He added, “Although I expected a little more maturity from you.” The penny made a plinking sound as he dropped it into his pocket.
    And then I was free! Thirteen years of school were over!
    Jules high-fived me as I passed the B row and made my way back to my seat. I collapsed onto my folding chair and Rob reached across a couple of laps to shake my hand.
    “Good going,” he whispered. His red-brown hair curled around the edges of his cap. “You didn’t wimp out.”
    I rolled my eyes. As if . I’d wrestled with sea creatures. It would take more than a stupid, juvenile gag to undo me. Really, there was only one thing that could make me lose it, and that day was drawing near. Back in the Badzins’ guest room, thirty-one paper links hung from my bedpost.
    The drone of names continued. I let the sounds blend like the beads of sweat that met and