Mer Tales 01 - Everblue

container, afraid to stir the contents. We were supposed to open this together before we left for college. Before she left without saying a word. Oh, Tatchi. My insides ached. I felt more like a thief than a discoverer.
    Inside were the two friendship rings I’d made from a broken gold chain, a paperclip, and fake stones all hot glued together—a blue stone for me and a yellow one for her. Tangled in the loose chain was a necklace charm of a mermaid she’d given me for my birthday one year, something we liked to pretend when we swam in the bay. A picture of us with the inscription “best friends forever” written with liquid paper reminded me how we loved to play with Mom’s office supplies at Gran’s shop. I put my friendship ring on and held the picture to my chest.
    Two envelopes with our names written in glitter pen caught my eye. I stopped before taking mine out and breaking the candle wax seal. A thread of guilt for opening it early wrapped around my heart.

    Dear Ash,
    You are my bestest friend in the whole world. Swimming, reading books, pretending to be rescued by handsome princes, and riding bikes with you is my favorite things ever. I hope we live next door to each other when we grow up and have lots of babies who grow up and like to play together. When you read this, I want you to remember the time we took Fin’s underwear and put it up the flagpole. ha-ha. Or the time we tricked Fin into tasting the whipped cream pie and smashed it in his face. That was hilarious. Okay, I can’t think of anything else to say, so good-bye.
    Love your BFF, Tatiana aka Tatchi aka Super Spy #2

    Ps. If you aren’t Ash, you’re stealing. Rebury it or else.

    I held the note to my chest, laughing and crying at the same time. We’d had such a fun childhood together—so many good memories. And now this. Silence.
    I sat overlooking the water, flipping the mermaid charm in my fingers, contemplating a life without my best friend. As the wind blew through the trees, the aged wood protested—aching with me. Did something bad happen? Did her parents find out about her plans for college and move away? What if she never came home? Would I have to go to college alone? The thought killed me.
    My butt fell asleep after sitting on the cold ground. I put everything away except the picture and reburied the can.
    Dejected, I pushed off shore and began the slow process of rowing back. The urge to cry burned in my throat. This wasn’t fair. Who just picks up and leaves their things, abandons their business, and doesn’t tell anyone why for weeks? Was this the insanity of living with an alcoholic? I pulled out the picture and studied it—our happy faces, our innocent joy. How could we be best friends forever now?
    A ski boat zoomed by, the curious onlookers prying into my business. I turned away but had to grab the sides as their stupid waves rocked the boat too hard. An oar slipped into the water. I went to grab it, dropping the picture, too.
    “ NO!” I cried and reached over the ledge to retrieve both items.
    Another wave knocked the boat just right and I toppled over into the water. The icy current ravaged my skin like sharp needles, jabbing relentlessly into my body. Everything ached except one part of my thigh where it burned instead.
    I tried to swim but my leg wouldn’t work. Something red colored the water around me. A huge tear in my pant leg revealed the source. Lucky there aren’t any sharks. I laughed at myself.
    Horrified I was able to make jokes at a time like this, I turned around to reach for the boat. I slapped empty water. Where was it? Panic began to take over. And then I saw it. The wind had pushed the boat out of reach. With each passing second, it moved further away. I tried to paddle, but my muscles seized with the cold.
    Forcing myself to calm down, I rolled over and floated on my back. But as I watched the blue sky above and felt the icy water below, reality sunk in. If I didn’t get out of the water soon, hypothermia would set in. I was about to drown.
    “ Help!” I screamed, hoping the people who’d just cruised by and caused the accident actually saw me fall in. “Help. . .”
    Salty, hot tears burned my cheeks and slid down my face into the water.
    This was it. The best swimmer on our swim team had met her match. I was going to join the underwater grave of mobsters in cement boots at the bottom of the lake. Cold seeped into my bones, numbing my hands and toes. Uncontrollable shivers overtook