Chapter 12: The Pearl

If there's one thing I never thought I'd see, it's Beck Faysol panicking. He's always figured things out, adapted, adjusted. To this day, I'm intimidated by how his entire personality changes the second he's on the phone with his family. Hell, even before I met him, he was like this. I've heard the story a couple of times, but on the way to a conference a few years ago, when he was a baby intern vying for the Marine Biology board's attention, a young seal's throat closed up during transportation. The guy didn't even hesitate and shoved a straw through its neck. He helped breathe for it until they could drive to a specialized vet.

Mom was on that transport. She hired him that afternoon.

And then promptly found a way to blackmail him into living with us so that she could comfortably share the purpose behind her research without worrying they might expose me. Yet, he even took that in reasonable stride.

Nothing overwhelmed Beck.

Nothing, that is, until everything just spills out of my mouth, about how James needs a place to hide and I'm helping him and begging him not to tell Mom anything.

After he does a lot of uncomfortable laughter and pacing, he steps right up to James' face and asks, "Can you give us a moment?"

"Yep, I think I can do that. But I don't think I should be the one leaving the room, so..."

"Right." Then Beck grabs my arm and drags me out into the hallway. The second the door shuts behind us, all that tension in his face spreads to the rest of him, including his running mouth. "So you're not only keeping a stranger in your room, but you're harboring a fugitive."

Beck grumbles and keeps pacing on the top landing, and I'm almost afraid he'll fall down the stairs, with how aggressively his steps are. He says, "It would have been so much better if it was a cat!"

Sucking in a deep breath, I tell the one truth I have that could get me leverage: "He wasn't a stranger. I met him at the Leatherback bonfire."

Beck throws up his hands, exasperated. "Of course you did. Dammit. He's the lifeguard we hired, isn't he?" The exasperation fades to confusion, though, and I can almost see his brain scroll through his bonfire memory files.

"But I saw him all night with some-" he starts, but I cut him off with an awkward raise of my hand, the shy kid in class even in my own home.

"Beck, it was me." When the confusion on his face doesn't subside, I explain, "I can still be Astra."

From the dead look on his face, it seems like I made him short-circuit. If my brain's an ocean, Beck's is a finely tuned laptop, and I've just poured several watery secrets all over it.

He says, his voice cracking, "Throw another curveball at me, why don't you." He runs a hand through his hair. "Christ, if you can use other forms, why aren't we testing this? Exploring your adaptability and range? Or better, learning how well you can maintain them?" Beck almost starts pacing again, but then he asks, "Your Mom told me you couldn't be Astra anymore."

I swallow, careful not to let my words catch in my throat. "Not because I'm unable. Mom forbid it."

"Of course she did." Beck now shakes his hands through his hair, like conducting electricity to get his cranial machine working again. I haven't seen him this stressed out since the surprisingly fertile breeding cycle that doubled his sea monkey count overnight. "Back to the original point. Why did you ever think hiding a grown man in your bedroom would ever work out?"

"...He's been here for almost two weeks."

"He's been-?! You're going to get me killed and fired. You know that, right? Your mom-"

"We can't tell her." I take a moment to steady my breathing and act as sure of myself as I wish I were. "He won't be here very long. Just keep pretending you know nothing. Please."

This time when Beck looks at me, it's like he's assessing me in a new light, a new filter. I don't know why. He's always known I'm capable and willing to hide secrets from my mother if they'll keep her happier and save my sanity. That's how this whole system works.

But what comes out of his mouth isn't... that.

"You like him." To fight my stiff jaw and instinct to fluster, I open my mouth, but Beck shakes his head and cuts me off. "And not just platonically like him because you would absolutely not risk your mother's wrath for me. Not like this."

I suck back in the blowhard air. I'm ready to spew and defer to what Beck and I are better at: honesty.

Glancing back at my bedroom door, I say, "It won't last. He'll be gone in a month, probably less. In a year, I'll be Mom's secret research partner and I'll find a way to be happy. But I just-"

Beck scoffs, with a sour smile on his lips. "You're lucky I struggle to say no to you." He doesn't even give me time to thank him before he's heading back into my room.

The first thing he does is place himself right in front of James, who looks bewildered at best.

Standing all tall and looking down at the lifeguard (granted, there are few people Beck didn't look down on), Beck says, "So pretty boy, it's your lucky day because I will be ignoring this little situation you have going on here."

"T-thank you," James says.

Somehow this went from interrogation to business meeting, and Beck sticks out his hand and waits silently until James takes it, his palms sweaty enough to see from here.

"My name is Beck Faysol. Here are the house rules. Stay quiet. Stay off the first floor. Stay inside. Do anything weird, and I promise you I have watched enough Bruce Willis movies to probably toss you over that balcony, even if you seem fairly fit. Sounds good?" James nods, looking understandably frightened. Beck looks back at me and raises an eyebrow. "This is an honest aside, Kai, but how'd you attract a beach god the one time you go out?"

Blinking, I detach Beck from James and start pushing him towards the door. "Okay, you've made your point. Now your invitation into my room has been officially revoked."

"I wasn't invited in the first place, Kai."

"Exactly."

When the door shuts behind me, I look in horror at James. "Well, I guess now somebody knows."

"So, is that, like, your alarmingly young step-dad?"

If I was still sipping tea, I would've choked on it. "Beck and my-" The mere image of Mom and Beck together in a romantic scenario makes me nearly suffocate on another laugh. "No, Mom's way too gay for that. He's my mother's research assistant. Because she works so much from home, he lives with us."

"Oh." James nods his head absent-mindedly, but adds, "Weird."

"I agree, but he's kinda like family now? The weirdo little brother I never got?"

"He's very obviously older than you."

"I said what I said."

Just then, the door opens again and Beck peeks in like the annoying neighbor in a sitcom. "Okay, I just left, but also no sex." His forehead wrinkles. "Or maybe you should? I mean, Kai, you've never-"

Considering my situation, I assumed I'd never feel the horrific mortification of public humiliation like in cheesy high school movies, but no. This pretty much feels like it has to be it.

Pointing at the door, knowing my cheeks have gone full-on pink now, I say, "Beck. Out."

"Right. But we should talk alone in a bit, okay? About... Cuttlefish."

And then Beck finally shuts the door and backs off, thank god.

When I turn back to James, I'm already compiling any excuses and apologies that could make up for Beck. I swear, if he leaves because Beck acts like an invasive space-head with a lack of boundaries, I'm going to-

Well, I don't know what to do. I've gotten used to the company, and I'm not ready to let go quite yet.

A little uncomfortable with every gull flapping in my chest or each chilly tide in my head when I look at him, I cough and say, "I should go check on Beck."

I don't really look for a response, but James doesn't stop me, either.

In a few fluid motions, I dart behind the refuge of the door. My fingers dig into the wood of the other side, knowing I feel too much when it comes to James. I'm not an idiot. I watch movies and for god's sake, I've kissed him. I knew what I was doing and what I felt when I let him stay.

But I guess I never expected to feel so... attached. Vulnerable, desperate, helpless.

I don't want to keep thinking about that.

Instead, I trek down the stairs to the second floor, where Beck keeps himself and his sea monkeys.

Three quick knocks, and his door is already open. His hair is ruffled and the ends of his shirt wet (typical), giving him the mad scientist look he deserves. Beck says, a little startled, "That was quick."

"I'm here for... Cuttlefish."

Beck snorts. "Kai, I don't think we need to use code in private." Ushering me into the room, he makes sure the door is shut and locked before turning my way.

I appreciate it. We don't need any chance of certain anti-shapeshifting mothers barging in and getting way more upset than necessary.

We're just trying a few things out, right? No harm.

Even with a deep breath, Beck can hardly maintain any professionalism. He keeps smirking and says, "Now, show me."

I don't do it on purpose, but my skin begins to crawl. No one has seen me shift in person since... Well, it'll be nearly over a decade. Mom certainly doesn't like it. "I don't-"

"Aren't you just as curious as me?"

I find myself holding my tongue because... he isn't wrong. That is what matters, right? I've been told to hold it back for years, and here I am with a perfect opportunity to do something different. What is holding me back?

Perhaps the deep-rooted rule that my skin is a dangerous mistake; the long-winded game plans of what to do when my hands get shimmery; the fact I pulled the plug on my own life the second I messed up. Maybe that gives me some pause.

Looking into Beck's dark eyes, though, I figure he probably isn't the worst person to try with. He might be the only good one, honestly.

I suck in some air before closing my eyes and feeling my skin shift. I don't have to look in a mirror to know what Astra feels like. Kai is a sense of serenity and balance, a starry sky over a hectic world; Astra is a warm summer night with my toes deep in beach sand. More passionate, more authentic, but so much closer to getting swept up in the tides. My curls bounce on top of my shoulders and every limb isn't stretched so thin.

When my shorter lashes flutter open, Beck's jaw is practically on the ground. "Holy shit. You look exactly like the old pictures, just... older."

Considering how my finger's been tapping on my thigh this whole time, choking on a surprised laugh is a welcome change. "That's sort of how growing up works."

Beck doesn't flinch at my teasing; he just starts asking questions. "Have you tried any other forms?"

"Not really." I shrug. Why try other forms when all but one are forbidden?

"Okay, well, hit me with your current known limitations." Though I raise an eyebrow, he waves my surprise away. "Dr. Caspen doesn't exactly discuss them openly, Kai. I was basically told, "Kai's a cuttlefish, tell anyone and I will kill you and slowly feed you to a leopard seal". I wasn't keen on asking questions."

Asking why he even bothers working with Mom after that would be a dumb question. Of course, Beck would find the unique, mad scientist freedom of working with her worth the price. Having an in-house mystery is just a... cursed bonus of sorts.

I cross my arms, a little uncomfortable with the examining eye he's circling me with. I expect it, sure, but it doesn't feel any less... microscopic.

Instead, I focus on my own mental datasheet. "The freckles are hard to get rid of. It's easier to keep the same hair length. The same age. Same mass. Kai is taller than Astra, but Astra just distributes the weight differently." There's a shimmer on my hand, a shade of lighter skin and freckles, and I'm reminded: "I can fall in a sort of hybrid place between them when I'm stressed."

Despite my discomfort, Beck is doing a terrible job of hiding the scientific sparkle in his eyes. Mad scientist to his very core, indeed. He asks, "How so?"

Even though he still makes my skin feel softer than it should be, answering logistical questions is easier than all the feelings James asks me about.

Why am I thinking about James? Stop that. Focus.

Clenching my fists and focusing on simplified explanation, I say, "Let's think of it in layers. When I'm feeling good, every form feels roughly the same. Different, but I'm comfortable with all of them. When I'm stressed, Kai becomes difficult to hold. I tend to default back to Astra or when it's worse, the... cuttlefish." On cue, I let my skin go full elastic. This time, though, I watch. Brown gives way to orange and white "tiger stripes" as Mom calls them, white freckles dot my skin, tendrils of skin replace where my hair normally is, and those empty, black eyes of mine blink.

Beck grimaces, but he doesn't talk about my eyes or the bizarrePhotoshop softness of my skin. "How about we give that form a name, too?"

"...What?"

"It feels weird to call you a cuttlefish. I get it's been the layman's term for years, but-" Shaking his head, he looks at me, softer. Almost as soft as I feel. "It's still you."

Waving him off, I say, "Okay, give me a name, then."

"I don't think that's my job, Kai. But think about it, okay?" Before it can get too uncomfortable between us, he taps his chin and asks, "How did you create the original forms?"

"I touched my mothers' hands." He waits for me to elaborate. I hate being on this end of interrogation and experimentation. I sigh and elaborate, "Kai was actually, in theory, created before Astra. When Mom found me, she touched my hand, and I... copied her. In my own way, of course, Kai has sharper cheekbones and a thinner frame, but-"

"So Astra looks like your other mom." It's like I can feel a sharp pin-prick in my chest.

That isn't quite the painfully accurate revelation I need today. I just nod.

Beck snorts and says, sarcastically, "No wonder it's forbidden, then."

He looks for permission before he picks up my fingers and jolts a little, probably because of the delicate smoothness. That isn't surprising. The texture is uncomfortable for me sometimes, too.

While assessing my hand, he says, "For one, we definitely have to see if in the water you default to tentacles instead of these replicated humanoid limbs, but we'll check that out another day. For now, let's try this- Hold my hand and try to copy me."

I swallow, feeling- well, I would've shimmered. If there had been anything to shimmer to. Instead, I'm just a normal girl with normal anxiety.

Minus the black eyes and possibility of tentacles, of course.

"I dunno-"

"You said this is how it works for you. We have to try, right?"

My gut impulse is to back away, but when I look down at the shimmers of my hand, for the first time, I feel... curious more than nervous.

I don't have to think about it for long. He's right. I want to try. I don't want to feel so helpless and clueless for the rest of my life, even if I spend all of it indoors.

I don't even bother breathing deeply again; I just focus on the warmth of Beck's hand, the mixed smell of powdered algae and his personal stocks of sample cologne from the mall. I imagine those family pictures he's so fond of, hugging his father and smiling so wide, a contrast to the stern, embarrassed, proud man next to him.

Beck, as a person, is like a warm cup of coffee on a lab table, dedicated to his work but kinetic and wired, too. My eyes don't open until Beck gasps. "Ho-ly Shit. You look like you could be my brother."

"I do?"

Beck turns me towards the other side of his bedroom, where a surprisingly opulent oval floor mirror stares me down. From all his stories, I assume it's from one of his many aunts who are always begging him to embrace his culture. Beck always looks so bittersweet when he talks about that. The ratio of bitter to sweet directly correlates to how long it's been since he's called them, though.

In the mirror, my hair, my skin, and my eyes are all the same. Compared to Beck, my hair is longer, my eyes a bit more almond, and my skin a bit paler. But Beck is right. I look like I'm the Faysol son who gave his height gene away to make his big brother taller.

Never seeing myself as a man before, and never seeing my face so different, my skin breaks out in shimmers. I know it originates from my gut and I try to keep it in, but within thirty seconds, I've shimmered away back into a Kai/Astrid hybrid.

Frowning, I force myself back to Kai and say, "I'm sorry-"

Beck cuts me off. "That was amazing. You're amazing." He shakes my shoulders and keeps looking me up and down, even though I'm normal, old Kai again. "I'm definitely naming that one. You are... are...Alhibar. Yeah."

"...What does that mean?"

"Definitely not cuttlefish," He says, tossing me an awkward wink.

I snort. Maybe it's best that the man didn't name my cuttlefish form.

Beck starts pacing, getting all Mad Scientist again. "Can you alter the specifics of the look or is it just copying? Can you make perfect copies? How long can you hold these forms, even if they're new? Is there a limit to the number of forms you can hold onto without touch involved? I have so many questions, Kai. You could be like a goddamn super-spy like this!"

Overwhelmed, my fingers tap against my thigh and I try not to think about the fact my elbow was definitely brown and I can feel a tiger stripe fading onto my neck.

Why would it feel easy, talking about this with anyone? The only reason it's even bearable is that it's Beck.

He's just like this; the best-case scenario of a human being. A friend. He didn't turn Mom in for her blackmail. He didn't turn me in for sneaking out. He puts his all into being the best scientist he can be, working long, exhausting hours... He even bends over backward to be a perfect son.

But I know, and my Mom knows, that not everyone is so perfect. Not even people you love.

Reluctantly, I ruin the mood and say, "Or I could be a lab rat."

Beck stops dead in his tracks. "I didn't mean-"

"I know." I pull all my hair to one side, play with the ends, and don't look at him, just keep staring at the limp, black lock. "I get you're excited, but can that be it for today? I'm tired."

"Of course." As I start walking towards the door, he offers, "We don't have to do this if you really don't want to."

My hand holds onto the knob, knowing I can walk away. It'll be easy. I'll tell Beck to shut it down, I'll tell James to go, and I'll be Kai forever, the girl in the tallest tower living life from afar. I can close this can of worms. I still have time.

But instead, against my better nature, I shake my head. "Don't worry. I do."

And that's the scary part.

Walking upstairs, I'm desperate to be distracted by James. Sure, I know it's dumb since the boy won't last. And temporary distractions don't actually solve long-term problems.

Who says I'm the smartest cuttlefish in the sea, though?

When I'm back in my room, he's looking all wistful out the balcony, door open and everything—one step in, one step gone.

I swallow and say, "Hi."

James turns around and gives me this beam of a smile that almost makes up for all the storm fronts in my head. "Hi." The smile doesn't stay, though, and in a few seconds, James is staring down at the floor, scratching his stubbly chin, lost in thought. And then he says the worst thing I can think of. "He looks familiar. Beck."

My heart skips at least three beats. Panicked, I say, "Probably not-"

"I watched him ask a girl to dance."

Good going, Kai, pointing out Beck to the hot lifeguard. Trying to be impressive and cool wasn't worth it.

James shakes his head when I don't respond, and the poor guy explains the situation to me like I don't know exactly what happened. "I went to that turtle hatching thing two weeks ago. He was there." His hands start to rub his jaw rougher, like he's desperate to feel something. At least, that's why I do that to my legs.

Glancing out the balcony window again, he asks, "Has it really been that long?"

My desperation for him to stop talking about it, to stay away from the one person I can't hear him talk about, I lie. "It happens every year. Like always, it was just some boring beach event-"

James cuts me off and says, "Not for me."

His gaze is too serious and I can't tell if it's a guilt thing or he's thinking about Astra. I've never wanted to be a mind-reader more in my life. What's making him look like that? It isn't my business and he barely knows me, but...

I desperately want it to be my business.

Suddenly, I'm aware his eyes are on me, not the sky. And his brows are furrowing, and he isn't smiling, and it's like he saw something horrible and secret that I don't want him to know. With a quick glance up and down, he straightens his glasses and frowns. "You okay?"

My curiosity overrides my own desire to be alone. That, or I'm just desperate to get as close to James as I can while he's here before I come back to my room one day and the balcony doors are wide open and he's just gone forever.

Dumbly, I ask, "What was special about the bonfire?"

James raises an eyebrow but doesn't hesitate. Not like I would've. I probably would've lied.

"Well, I had just recently left home. I tried so hard for so long to deal with it like a good son. But without Mom-" He pauses and sighs, stepping back inside my room. "I'd probably be halfway to my own teaching post, if she was still around. I'd still be having Wednesday family pasta nights that she made tolerable. Enjoyable, even, when we were lucky. She just... she brought out the best in my dad and me, and maybe that's why without her, we're both such idiots." James shuts the balcony doors and sits back down on my bed.

I didn't know I'd been holding it, but I exhale.

"But it doesn't matter where I was two weeks ago or where I could have been. I can't go back," James says.

I sit next to him, tuck my legs underneath me. "Why not?"

"She had this necklace. It meant a lot to me, but Dad insisted he'd keep it. Well, after the arrest warrant went out, I figured if my dad wouldn't let me have it, neither of us would. So I trusted it with... with a friend."

He changes the subject, then, and I let him. It's easier to listen to him rave about how his high school friends would be embarrassed with the lifeguard he turned into. Then hear him ramble on about nerdy things they got up to in high school, like throwing Great Gatsby flash mobs in the hallways that actually ended in someone running over a girl named Myra, which he said was close enough to be a hilarious coincidence. I don't bother to interrupt him to get context for the joke. Just let him keep lighting up my room in that bright way he does everything.

But the serendipity of him leaving home and mentioning the necklace when talking about that same moonlit night that I met him keeps digging a hole in my gut.

I wait until James is asleep, long after we snuck a late dinner of frozen pizza and hot peppers. Once I can hear the soft lullaby of his breathy, quiet snoring, I slink out of my bed and into the depths of my closet. It takes a few moments, but under three pullovers and my "graduation gown" that mom bought for the sweetest, lamest one-person ceremony, I find my green long-sleeve and my shortalls.

Two weeks ago, I thought I might burn these. Now, I'm afraid they're holding something much more precious than memories of turtles and secret beach nights and a kiss I never deserved.

Holding my breath, I dig into my back pocket. Much to my disappointment, I grab hold of a thin chain. When I pull it out, there's a golden necklace with a beautiful diamond and pearl pendant. My chest seizes up and I don't know whether to feel honored or horrified.

James, I think you have terrible taste in friends.

Then I put the necklace back, tuck the shortalls into the back of my closet, and spend all night trying to sleep when all I can think of is sunshine on the beach.