Read Online The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1) by Kristina Ludwig - Free Book Online
Authors: Kristina Ludwig
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Everything that I’d questioned during my younger years has suddenly sprung into focus: my parents’ prejudice toward land people, their refusal to visit the surface themselves, and their general overprotectiveness. “I just can’t believe that you didn’t tell me the truth sooner.”
Father draws his thick eyebrows together. “Don’t question us, Oceania. We wanted to protect you from the harsh reality as long as we could. Can you blame us for that?”
“No,” I reply quietly. I can see that this is not an argument I’ll ever win. At that moment, I know that I will have to keep my relationship with Xavier a secret from my parents for the next twelve full moons, until I decide what to do. If I stop talking about him, they will forget all about this.
Meanwhile, I can see him every night, when they’re asleep. This will actually work better than fighting about it; if I argue, my father will probably forbid me to go to the surface altogether and watch me 24 hours a day.
So, I drop that subject and ask the other question that has been burning in my mind. “All right. So I understand my lineage, and why you kept it a secret until now. But is there a way to break the curse?”
Chapter Twenty: Xavier
All morning on the fishing boat, Mr. Roth and Mr. Simonsen pepper me with questions about my academic performance at Berkeley last semester, and how I’ve been spending my summer.
“Oh, I’ve been helping Father out with the banks a bit,” I answer. “And I just finished composing a sonata for the piano and harp—”
“A nice pastime, naturally,” Father interrupts. “But only a pastime, right son?”
His flat, dark eyes auger holes into me, and I nod, not wanting to argue with him.
“And what better pastime to have, really?” Mr. Simonsen says, gazing out over the water. “Well, besides fishing, of course. My Victoria is quite the proficient young musician. Voice like an angel, that one has.”
“His” Victoria just happens to be the girl I’ve been half-heartedly courting for the past few months, not by choice on my part, although she’s a nice girl and she certainly seems fond enough of me. But our lukewarm romance has been completely orchestrated by our fathers.
“This year will mark her last year of finishing school,” Mr. Simonsen continues, his thick, walrus-like mustache wiggling from side to side. “She’s excelling in all subjects, especially voice and painting.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Quite a talented girl, your Victoria,” I say politely, thankful that Mr. Simonsen can’t read minds. I’ve accompanied Victoria’s singing on the piano, and her voice most resembles a high-pitched caterwaul. I’ve seen her paintings, too; she claims to be a realist, but her paintings are as impressionistic as Claude Monet’s, only with none of the technique and raw talent.
A moment later, I scold myself for having such mean-spirited thoughts. I suppose Victoria’s paintings aren’t that atrocious for an amateur, and of course her singing will come up short when compared to Oceania’s otherworldly gift of song.
“ Our Victoria,” Mr. Simonsen corrects me with a laugh, his big belly bouncing up and down like Saint Nicholas.
“Lovely girl, just lovely,” Father agrees. “Say, Henry, we’re hosting a party at our house next Saturday. Why don’t you bring your family along? You too, Edward.”
“Of course, we’ll be there,” the other two men chorus.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mr. Roth says.
“And I’ll be sure to bring Victoria, in her best finery,” Mr. Simonsen adds, winking at me.
I fake a smile as my stomach twists itself into knots. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Luckily, all talk of Victoria ceases as Father reels in a splendid Pacific salmon, and the other two men marvel over his catch. The remainder of the boat ride is full of financial and political discussions, and I completely block out the idle banter, instead listening to the natural orchestra of
Father draws his thick eyebrows together. “Don’t question us, Oceania. We wanted to protect you from the harsh reality as long as we could. Can you blame us for that?”
“No,” I reply quietly. I can see that this is not an argument I’ll ever win. At that moment, I know that I will have to keep my relationship with Xavier a secret from my parents for the next twelve full moons, until I decide what to do. If I stop talking about him, they will forget all about this.
Meanwhile, I can see him every night, when they’re asleep. This will actually work better than fighting about it; if I argue, my father will probably forbid me to go to the surface altogether and watch me 24 hours a day.
So, I drop that subject and ask the other question that has been burning in my mind. “All right. So I understand my lineage, and why you kept it a secret until now. But is there a way to break the curse?”
Chapter Twenty: Xavier
All morning on the fishing boat, Mr. Roth and Mr. Simonsen pepper me with questions about my academic performance at Berkeley last semester, and how I’ve been spending my summer.
“Oh, I’ve been helping Father out with the banks a bit,” I answer. “And I just finished composing a sonata for the piano and harp—”
“A nice pastime, naturally,” Father interrupts. “But only a pastime, right son?”
His flat, dark eyes auger holes into me, and I nod, not wanting to argue with him.
“And what better pastime to have, really?” Mr. Simonsen says, gazing out over the water. “Well, besides fishing, of course. My Victoria is quite the proficient young musician. Voice like an angel, that one has.”
“His” Victoria just happens to be the girl I’ve been half-heartedly courting for the past few months, not by choice on my part, although she’s a nice girl and she certainly seems fond enough of me. But our lukewarm romance has been completely orchestrated by our fathers.
“This year will mark her last year of finishing school,” Mr. Simonsen continues, his thick, walrus-like mustache wiggling from side to side. “She’s excelling in all subjects, especially voice and painting.”
“Yes, I’m sure. Quite a talented girl, your Victoria,” I say politely, thankful that Mr. Simonsen can’t read minds. I’ve accompanied Victoria’s singing on the piano, and her voice most resembles a high-pitched caterwaul. I’ve seen her paintings, too; she claims to be a realist, but her paintings are as impressionistic as Claude Monet’s, only with none of the technique and raw talent.
A moment later, I scold myself for having such mean-spirited thoughts. I suppose Victoria’s paintings aren’t that atrocious for an amateur, and of course her singing will come up short when compared to Oceania’s otherworldly gift of song.
“ Our Victoria,” Mr. Simonsen corrects me with a laugh, his big belly bouncing up and down like Saint Nicholas.
“Lovely girl, just lovely,” Father agrees. “Say, Henry, we’re hosting a party at our house next Saturday. Why don’t you bring your family along? You too, Edward.”
“Of course, we’ll be there,” the other two men chorus.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mr. Roth says.
“And I’ll be sure to bring Victoria, in her best finery,” Mr. Simonsen adds, winking at me.
I fake a smile as my stomach twists itself into knots. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Luckily, all talk of Victoria ceases as Father reels in a splendid Pacific salmon, and the other two men marvel over his catch. The remainder of the boat ride is full of financial and political discussions, and I completely block out the idle banter, instead listening to the natural orchestra of
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