Chapter Text
Gil had been relieved to go by plane. Perhaps she should have seen that coming. Whenever she probed him on why, on whatever benefit of the scenic route he possibly didn’t foresee, his answer had been simple and conclusive:
“Whales go to the bathroom in there, Lagoona.” He’d yawned this assertion one final time before take-off, then finally collapsing the other side of her and Sirena. Snores loud as ever, as if to drown out whatever she may plead to the contrary. Ghoulia, Heath and Abbey on the other side. Four water monsters (three river, one sea) separating them from view in this cavernous, yet cramped fuselage. Strips of light ran on forever in both directions, with monsters and humans dotted throughout rows of seats, fading moquette or tattered strings of carpet or indeed defeated sea monsters themselves spread no less sporadically. A few faces came plucked straight from her own memories. Straight from New Bodmin. Perhaps all she had done was replace one team, one crew from the water, with another.
The first time had been in business class. Encased by plastic and rapidly ageing technology. Everywhere had some glorified goods to shove in your face. Pleading more by the second for you to give in. Naturally, they’d worn her down quickly and she’d waded in plastic wrappers and food she only saw the true side of well after she landed. As the years went by, and her origin became more of a distant memory, that fact only compounded. The ingredients may be the same. The recipe followed to the same basic letter. Nevertheless, nothing really tasted the same as home.
Wherever that was.
One side of her wanted to say that she’d found it. That her real home had, as all were in some essence, forged over an entire childhood. Decorating it lay not with some ornaments or idiosyncratic heirlooms. Instead it came with the friends you made and lost throughout the years, growing more authentic as you moved towards the exit of adulthood. Realising only after the event that when you broke down the prison gates of all the restrictions childhood was marred with, and ran towards freedom, you actually ran right into the merely more spacious exercise yard of an even bigger prison.
Such a realisation had been slow to come since the big day. Since the candles had been blown out and she’d left herself in the dark, with only newfound friends around her. Neither mum nor dad was anywhere to be found, beyond the briefest of texts sent seven minutes from midnight. A suffix moderately begging for her return had attached itself as a postscript. Some brief conversation had ensued instead of yet another void, degrading assignment from Mr Rotter. One thing had led to another. Now her gaze remained locked on the blue carpet below. Forever restless. Turning this way and that to shake off whatever human invaders remained in the hopes of manifesting destiny. Anyone like her would know a story like that as well as she knew how to breathe. A subconscious knowledge. More a chore to remember it than something she recounted as pleasurably as, say, hitting up her first club with Draculaura. Or the premiere of the latest Vampire’s Heart movie right in Hauntlywood, when her and Gil had got front row seats without paying a single cent.
Gil. He’d come round. Hadn’t he come to her rescue at Skull Shores? He’d always sat by her side when that wish had transformed her into a river monster just like him. Waiting for the real her, the her he knew and enjoyed, to resurface. The likes of Clawdeen and Ghoulia would do well to remember that when he came round for her again. Who could name a teen, monster or human, that didn’t battle with their own anxieties? Hard enough at the best of times. All too often external critics failed to bring his backstory into the equation. To see what happened behind the scenes as a motive for what happened within. There was a time, far in her mental rear-view mirror, almost too far to even see among the fog of the present, when such a mantra had been drilled into everything she did. Up there with the insistence to project. To react as well as…
Never mind. That was then. This is now.
At once, she drove all scraps of those past actions from her mind with the same internal insistence. Now she could be here with people like…like…
A part of her went to Gil at once. But that scotched the snake. Never killed it. Sirena? Ghoulia? The ghouls? Better. That would do. That would tide her over as the plane began its slow descent into the very blue forever it, and its charge, hovered over for hours. Making no attempt to escape. For they all had the knowledge that soon, it would drag them down all the same. Down. Down. Down. Already she could hear Heath’s breaths quivering. The sheer image of him leaping into Abbey’s arms came to mind with ease. Reflected even easier as she peered over Sirena’s translucent head. The seatbelt a mere distraction to what he saw as the safest possible place to be. Abbey merely rolled her eyes and clutched him tighter. Not even breaking a sweat.
“No worry, Heath. In Himalayas plane crashes all the time. This just common passenger procedure before landing for us."
“Ha! If I were piloting this thing, it would land as light as a feather. Only time I even know about crashes is from Die Trying. Other than that, there’s nowhere you have a softer landing than under the Heathster.” he replied coolly, though all from the safety of Abbey’s arms. Forever staring at the floor for the slightest tremor. One such hint of turbulence sending a whimper from his mouth across his entire body. It’d been that way well before she’d met him, they’d met through such a display of hubris, and she didn’t ever see it changing. She didn’t see people ever changing. Merely going through phases. Yet retaining their constitution at the end nonetheless.
“Hey Sirena, remember when you had that whole phase of wanting to be a vet?”
No reply from Sirena. Her eyes remained deadlocked on a flight magazine. Specifically, a picture of a bacon roll inside. No credit card in her hand. The time of attendants serving food had long passed. Meanwhile, her tail kept bobbing through the seat cushions and back out again, while her top half remained perfectly still.
“Sirena?”
Not even the pupils of her eyes diverted from that roll.
“Sirena?”
Sirena’s head whipped round with a little startled shudder.
“W-what? You have simply got to check out this bacon roll, Lagoona. Finest unsmoked Wiltshire back bacon. Semolina seeds on the bun. Maybe that’s why it’s seven dollars. But you were saying?”
Lagoona giggled. “Remember when you wanted to be a vet?”
“Oh-oh yeah! And there was, like, that whole idea of me having this big compound on the Oregon coast and catching local fish and I was gonna practice my skills on them.”
Ghoulia groaned at Sirena, folding her arms. Her gaze wasn’t fully serious, but far from joking.
Sirena’s head swivelled again, barraging Lagoona’s face with the ghostly chill of swathe after swathe of dark azure curls. “For the last time, Ghoulia, I meant Sir-Hoots-a-Lot no harm when I-ahem-borrowed him from Dead Languages. You’re just lucky that he didn’t have sea-fleas and his temperature was no more than a common cold.”
Ghoulia groaned more indignantly.
“Oh, pulling out the ‘I have a higher Bite-ology exam score’ card now, are we? Well, as Charles Darwin would say when that apple fell on his head, that, my dear zombie, is low hanging fruit!”
Ghoulia gave a more dulcet moan, her palm magnetised straight to her forehead.
“Isaac Newton, then! Whatever. They’re all old white men anyway. But where was I? Oh yes-”
And without further ado, Sirena immediately resumed her examination of the bacon roll. Onto a wine list not even a minute later. Then the strip of light. Peeking as far as the illusion of being restrained by her seatbelt would allow (such crude instruments never managed to hold ghosts) at the ever-screaming Heath.
Thud.
Right down into a place she’d once forsaken. Right into Lagoona’s heart. Together with the sands, the waves forever crawling onto the lands which had made her from when she crawled into everyone’s life herself. Right up until when she’d crawled out. Even now, she made no effort to be the first to leave the plane. Sidling in just before Ghoulia, to avoid any more awkward questions. Always best to avoid those. For how else had she survived so far from home for so long? All other coping mechanisms had had to go. As the world changed, choices grew smaller and smaller until you had no choice but to go with the flow. One phase after the other. Best not to think about any deeper reasons she’d returned after so long. Why, mere minutes from a moment she’d thought of for so long, she hesitated and wished for nothing more than to be back at Monster High. This Great Scarrier Reef no more than a distant memory.
The sand still slipped under her feet. Forming a chasm among its many ripples instantly. Every grain becoming a blur. Multiple colours from multiple origins merging into one story, shifting underfoot. The calls of the gulls overhead, changing with every tide for a fresh victim. One man’s trash, another gull’s treasure. Perhaps the first pearl of wisdom she remembered from her father’s kitchen lectures. Another coming right up before this day was done, no doubt. Then it would begin. Then Gil would warm to everything. Then spring break could begin with a sense of freedom after working so hard for so long. Then she could
feel what every eighteen year old felt. And Gil could feel it too. One more phrase her father always said drifted back into mind:
“A tide going together is a tide that will remain resolute forever.”
Her newfound family had already begun their search for what she’d been truly excited for. No point dithering any further.
No parents waiting at water’s edge, frantically honking the horn of a careworn family submarine anymore. For better or worse. Instead, an empty one waited without a scratch or memory on its body. Standard issue. Specks of rust revealing themselves the closer she got to a place which had once seemed as natural as her leaning into Ghoulia now. Their hands locked and intertwined over time, forging an irremovable connection like ivy. That in itself proved to only add a certain charm to her history, however modest and impossible to place. The submarine, in comparison, only looked all the shabbier as a result.
It only went down from here as they all clambered in. The sea swallowing all indiscriminately as she pushed the key right into its soul, giving it a savage turn. Faint embers of what she had known as fact, what she had cherished so much, flooding back in with it. Now she had to bite back laughs. People were watching her every move, after all. Even the wheel proving heavy under her fingers, the sweat beading under her forest of blond curls, had to be kept as obscure and murky as the view before New Bodmin.
It hadn’t always been this way.
From the back seat of the family sub. Sharing her seat with old crumbs of long-forgotten origins. The battered doll in her hand now replaced with a fresh, alien steering wheel. Her only navigation came from the memory of seeing coral dotted through an eternity marked only by its sandy floor. Enough colours to fill an entire artist’s palette. Fish darting in all directions when they whittled through entire forests. An entourage to welcome such a humble little family back home to their humble little slew of villages. A haven right under the humans’ noses, where they’d never think to look.
One fish made an appearance a good five minutes in. Making little populace of what had become a silent trip. In childhood something new popped out every time. Some little detail about an area she thought had given up its novelty for discovery, maybe. A younger fish all grown up now, with its own family to guide through the waters. Maybe, as her high-pitched cries of “Are we nearly there yet?” had long since tickled her throat, a few mermaids would dive through he water. Sea monsters following suit. If she really thought back-ah, there it was-river monsters would go hand in hand. Coming and going as they pleased. No worries, though. For sea monsters had been more than welcome to do the exact same.
Such a past now lay, both figuratively and literally, behind smog which covered any notion of it even existing. Gil cowering further into his corner of the submarine, saying nothing. Any coral which did appear had greyed. Notable by its holes instead of its substance, those stained with a rot similar to that on teeth tainted by a lifetime of cigarettes. Seaweed which had once been vibrant and swayed with the current now lay limp and defeated. Mottled at best. Torn to bits at worst. What had been very much following nature in the submarine’s headlines now cut through it in a clinical white arc. Indeed, such a stab could be felt right in Lagoona’s core the more she looked.
“What happened here?” Heath murmured to Abbey. They all knew the real answer, deep inside. It encroached on their lives more by the day. It had done since the very first Halloween. It showed no signs of ever stopping. But none said a word. Only looking forward to New Bodmin. Maybe it would prove to be somewhat of an oasis. Some things never changed. After all, Lagoona had not returned to her old source of happiness since…
To say that the place Lagoona had left, the detritus which had shoved her out and the hollowness that began to seep in, had remained would be untrue. It would not be a falsehood either. Far, far from it. Every village has its neglected parts, its shabbier backstreets and areas which slip under the radar for a while until the community noticeboard begins its redemption. However, those had spread like a rash to become the exception rather than the norm. More windows found themselves facing scrappy boards instead of customers. Closed signs littered the entire compound, the village made so by a makeshift wall cobbled together out of wood and stones already beginning to part in more places than the gates.
There it lay. Right at the centre. Right where she’d left it. Hoping to never return.
“The Minack Theatre.” Lagoona whispered. The very words striking a chill down her entire back. Once the sharp walls, the fairytale tower, empowered Lagoona. Made her feel like a princess with the entire world at her feet. The clock would strike seven and off she’d go. The wonder of New Bodmin. Now, that same clock forbade her. Ghoulia already groaned in delight, scribbling down a sketch of the tower. No doubt they’d discuss it again soon before work began on her latest Deadfast fanfic. If only she could merely enter that discussion. Forget all of the implications. Instead, her eyes never left that lance-like tower. Neon letters which had once united the town lay wonky, most other words having lost their spark entirely. Same with whatever inhabitants lay skulking round the wreckages. No smoke would catch light here. Any libraries were in bad business even when Lagoona had called this place home. Easy to tell herself that no questions needed to be asked on their fate.
“You never told me about that theatre.” Sirena noted. “It’s massive! Even I’d struggle to miss it. Ooh-nice sign.”
Lagoona sighed, attempting to keep that under her breath. Attempting to narrow down what made her to just one house. One house which she should know easily. Even after a good month in Monster High, the path back was as natural as every jump off the diving board which had become her new defining feature. Straight from the theatre. Take two lefts. Past a string of independent cafes and toymakers. Past names which now eluded her memory even if she tried. Even if she wanted to try. Anything other than that same program she had run in her head whenever thoughts like these, annoyances like these, sprouted in the garden of her thoughts to ruin everything. It would all follow one procedure. No need for anything more than that. No promises made. No talk of the future beyond what university she may have in mind. All routine.
And there her eye went again. The same place as, by now, Heath’s eyes had gone. She gave no more than a brief snort. To be expected for him. What did he know of appreciating anything beyond his own inflated self-image? One finger tapping like a measly, underfed raven scouring for any old trash. He may as well have been Gory or Toralei or Draculaura. Her brain could rattle those names and more off in seconds. None with anything more than a judgement she coldly made and then shunted aside. Ready for the next. The shack which made her still evading any detection whatsoever among a sprawling grey mass, nestled on the sand like an ancient starfish.
Ah. Right where she’d left it.
Nestled among an expanse which, in truth, had always been an unsightly brown. Yet now that brown hung over entire neighbourhoods like a pall. The decay it inflicted only more evident as it appeared the water which kept her at safety fell underneath. Diving down into an abyss she had fought so hard to get out of. Yet she came back at such speed. Such eagerness to land in exactly the right spot. Such eagerness to go in.
She reminded herself that it was only part of the process to get out.
She’d have to. So have that thought. Acknowledge it. Then shove it to the side. It would resurface to play with her anxieties again. No doubt about that. But it would have to be enough for now. So it could all be over fast.
One last thud on the sand, its true tainted nature rising in a cloud all around. A moment of silence before any of them dared move. Nothing but blue, punctuated with scraps of metal, floating endlessly before them. A dark blot at the centre. Far away from any semblance of the town. A distant part of Lagoona’s memory triggered. Though she could never place the culprit down to one.No way of explaining the distinct chill which teased her entire back as soon as she dared exit. Abbey had already made a move for the door. Same as Heath. Same as Sirena. Ghoulia’s hand on her shoulder, a long moan droning right into her ear.
Lagoona sighed and gave the only response which would come naturally.
“I don’t know, Ghoulia. I just…don’t know.”
Even as the words left her mouth she recoiled. Ghoulia probably saw it all. They’d known each other far too long for either to feasibly believe. But she didn’t know the full picture. No one did. The only one who possibly might wouldn’t dare show her face. Not here. She never did.
And at that precise moment, a deafening bang sounded behind everything. Coating her, and all those she now held dear, in rolling black smoke. More shards of metal tossed into an endless blue abyss. Like it, like the people, tossed into the same conclusion. Worthless. Far past the point of disputing that. That same dark blot remaining in place for a moment, then sidling off into the nearest rock. Never moving any closer. Yet still felt as if it was right next to her. Judging Lagoona as she finally faked a smile, took nine steps up to a door seemingly moulded to her, and struck it three times.
Instinct forced her arms round the belly of the middle-aged man who opened it. No more. No less.
“Ooh, Lagoona. I missed ya. I really, really missed ya. How you been, you little kookaburra egg?”
His voice, the same as his body, always carried a far larger presence than life. That’s what she’d loved about her father in the days of fantasy and a world which ended at the once-clear blue void both now inspected. No words said. No words needed. What lay inside was the reason he’d had to miss her so much, wait so long for her return. Both knew that full well. Instead, he surveyed what he hoped dearly would one day soon become his son-in-law.
“Alright, Gil?” He always smiled warmly to punctuate his sentences. Never once breaking his gaze. Not even taking the complete lack of response, verbal or nonverbal, personally. All the same, Gil was the last in by a sizeable amount. He paused at the threshold for a moment while all others immediately got to questions about childhood Lagoona would take to her grave. Quaint questions about embarrassing moments or interests before she had laid influence to their spheres of the world. At least the laughter for most of those came naturally. Tales of her snorting up seaweed when she was little or having a favourite Barbie doll were common enough to be expunged of any guilt. The mutual understanding in that sense could be clear enough to make safe ground.
Yet she could never hope to turn herself away from the outside world.
The smoke still curling onwards and upwards outside. The long-dilapidated houses and shops which began to resign themselves to boards after hope for customers had been squeezed out, like the juices of a once-fresh orange. Gil not moving into the darkness. Not moving into the light, either. One foot on either side. All the while giving only the merest glance up at the woman he supposedly loved. The tank on his head made him a good foot or so taller. Yet it was he who seemed small in the moment.
It'd been a swim meet where they’d first locked hands. A mutual understanding of what it took to get where they needed to be. He’d gone first and made that freshwater look as if it parted just for him to slice through. Then she went and he sat transfixed at her almost dance-like movement. Stroke after stroke. The definitive slap on the concrete at the end of the pool to crown only one winner. Monster High would start a long streak that day. Aspiring commentators would be shocked today and pleasurably expectant tomorrow. They need know nothing about the two outlets of steam in the school sauna right after. One always came artificially from vents underneath their webbed feet. The other came from when he pressed her lips onto hers, and she tasted every flavour his mouth had to offer. To this day she still tried to figure out how it had all come to be. What might he have said-or not said-to get their lips so close and so personal? And how had it remained resolutely so? Deuce and Cleo had their status at the top of the school pecking order. Their love forged through the toughest fire in the heart of Boo York. Draculaura and Clawd had prised love right from a self-interested thief time and time again, his fraudulent images of redemption and a changed sexuality. Even she was forced to concede that, though she may not understand what drove Abbey and Heath to walk through the cavern she called home hand in hand, they did so all the same. Abbey laughing all the way. Whenever she tried to recall memories of her and Gil doing the same, they came back foggy and as distant as that unknowable dark blot in the sea.
But she loved him, all the same.
Best to take a leaf from her father’s book. Stay positive. He’d come through in Skull Shores. If Draculaura and Clawd could do it, so could they. Let him come around in his own time.
She had her own demons to banish as well.
So best stride fully in. Immerse herself at once in those rasping coughs she had long feared would rear above her physically again. She’d held this all off for as long as she possibly could. Already she heard the naïve accent of Sirena interrogating everything in her sight. Best to join it. Do what she had to. And leave it all in the rear view as soon as possible.