Seashells: Chapter Twelve (Short Story)

Chapter Twelve

Keep Fighting

     It was a strange group that arrived back at Nanny Eleanor’s cottage that day. Charlotte and Sariah carried the unconscious George across the threshold and to the couch. His chest rose and fell periodically, the only sign that he was even still alive.
     Nanny Eleanor gave a side glance at Charlotte—sniffed—and marched off into the kitchen. “Hmm. We’ll get him patched up. I’ll just grab some more bandages and—Sariah, please sit down. I’ll need to wrap your foot, as well, or your mother will swear that I gave you all sorts of infections and rashes, and if they have to cut it off, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
     Sariah claimed the seat by George. She’d never been particularly interested in seeing what the innards of a merman’s tail looked like, and now that she could see it, she was rather disgusted. She would much prefer not to be able to stare at the muscles underneath his scales, the hint of bones she thought she saw. 
     “So—Miss de Berry,” Nanny Eleanor began when she came back. “Perhaps you ought to tell me the whole story.”
     “I’ve been Phineas’s agent on these waters for a while.” Charlotte leaned back against her chair and stared at George. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes sympathetic as Nanny Eleanor began to clean. “I thought I was supposed to be George’s guide. You know how Phineas is—sharp as a tack, but sometimes he forgets to inform us of some important minutiae.”
     “Frankly, I had no idea you existed.” Nanny Eleanor’s rag was soaked with red as she scraped off the clotting. George mewled and twitched in his sleep, so Sariah leaned over and took his hand. “But if you were Phineas’s agent this whole time, why the ridiculous facade of a ditzy, nosy neighbor?”
     Charlotte chuckled and crossed her legs. “I thought that would be obvious. I saw two people carry a merman up the shore, and I didn’t expect there to be any other agents around. Hunters, yes. I had to make sure you weren’t a hunter, and, if you don’t mind me saying, your attitude had me quite convinced you were.”
     “And we thought you were the hunter!” The words burst from Sariah with enough force that garnered a sharp reprimand from Nanny Eleanor. “Sorry—but we did. What made you change your mind? How did you find George and I when we ran away?”
     “I’ve been watching you ever since you absconded with my target.” Charlotte swept her hair back from her face again. It was so long that she sat on it—a very pirate-like hairstyle. Sariah approved. She might even start to grow out her own hair. “I saw you two playing yesterday, but he seemed safe for the moment. But when you ran away today, I had to follow. It took me a while to track you down, but you’re lucky I’m good at my job. James and John are oafs, but even oafs can be dangerous.”
     Sariah sobered again and ran her thumb over George’s knuckles. He twitched once more as a moan escaped his lips. “Will George be all right?”
     “He’s not dead yet.” Nanny Eleanor threaded a needle as she prepared to give him stitches. 
     Sariah has to focus on George’s face instead. His brow furrowed and he gave an odd half-grimace. 
     “Go get him something to drink. Yourself, as well. We’ll get both of you back to normal here in a moment.” Nanny Eleanor shooed Sariah into the other room, and, in a few minutes, the older woman’s promise had come true: Sariah was feeling far more like herself with her foot all wrapped and her throat wet, and George had come to as well. She now sat at the top of the couch, next to his head, and periodically took sips of her water.
     “Hold still one more second,” Nanny Eleanor told George. “I’ve almost got your stitches done.” 
     George’s flipper flicked—which must have been his pain reaction—and he clenched his eyes shut. Sariah gathered him up in her arms—the only part of him she dared to move—and held him close.
      “It’s okay. It’s almost done, and then everything will be better,” Sariah assured him. 
     Nanny Eleanor glanced at Charlotte before she turned her gaze to Sariah. “That’s not an accurate assertion.” She sighed and finished his work on the tail. “This impaled him, Sariah. I can stitch him up to stop the bleeding, but that’s all it will do. He needs a better doctor than me to look over, but I can make sure he doesn’t bleed out until he gets there.”
     Tiny bubbles of panic began to rise in Sariah’s stomach. She twisted this way and that, trying to meet the eyes of Charlotte and Nanny Eleanor. “What do you mean? What will happen? When can the doctor be here?” 
     “Not soon enough.” Nanny Eleanor gently flipped George until he was on his stomach. There was another wound here, bleeding just as fervently, and the whole couch was filthy with gore. The movement made George’s head slip down to her lap, and Sariah patted his hair. “I’m afraid by the time news reached any adequate physician and they made their way back there, George might not be in any position to be saved. As it is, he’s already weak. And…”
     Nanny Eleanor pursed her lips and fingered the area of the wound. She scooped out the coagulated blood and rinsed her hands in the bowl at her knees.
     That must have been the signal for Charlotte to take over. “Look where the wound is, Sariah. It’s very low, but it’s right next to the flipper. James and John knew what they were doing. George can’t swim. Not right now, but possibly...ever.”
     “He could be paralyzed?” Sariah’s words sounded like a squeak. “Forever?”
     Charlotte shifted forward in her seat. Her eyes crinkled, and it looked like she might be holding back tears. “That could be a possibility, yes.”
     Even though it was George they were discussing, he didn’t utter a sound. If he cried, he did it quietly, the tears soaking into Sariah’s clothes. But Sariah, on the other hand—she burst into loud, messy sobs. She hadn’t been a good pirate after all. She hadn’t even been a good friend. If she’d just let George stay in the tub—if she never would have come up with the harebrained scheme to run away—
     “Oh, Sariah.” Nanny Eleanor’s voice was heavy, weary even. “James and John knew where we were, anyway. You can’t blame yourself for what’s happened. Perhaps if I had taken Leon inside...told my father and brother about him…” 
     Sariah’s shoulders quaked with the force of her sorrow. She reached for Nanny Eleanor like a little toddler, although it was safe to say that, even as a toddler, she’d never wanted to cling to her grandmother as badly as she did now. It was if the words she’d spoken, the grief they now shared, had been the thread to stitch together their souls, their hearts, in a way that eleven prior years could never have done. Though her hands were filthy, Nanny Eleanor seized her granddaughter’s and gave her a squeeze. 
     “Your next choice is all that matters, Sariah. And you must do the right thing, no matter how badly it will hurt. Mermen are made to be protected, after all,” Nanny Eleanor whispered. 
     Charlotte’s voice was equally soft. “I can take George. Phineas has some connections that may be able to save his life, but...we would have to leave as soon as your nanny finishes stitching him up.”
     Sariah nodded. “Okay. I won’t even pack—we’ll just go…”
     Nanny Eleanor grasped her granddaughter’s hand more firmly. Her eyes were soft. “Sariah. You can’t go.”
     “Why not?” Sariah would have jerked her hand away from Nanny Eleanor, but her grandmother clung to her too fiercely. “I’m brave. I’m old enough to go!”
     “Sariah...where he might have to go, there might not be a chance to come back,” Nanny Elanor said. “It could be years before he could even get better.”
     “No!” Sariah screamed. She held fast to George even as life threatened to rip him away from her.
     “Riah,” George whispered. His voice was barely a breath against her. “I’ll come back.”
     “What?” She jerked her head down.
     He tilted his own very slightly, just enough so that one dark could look at her—could plead with her. “If you let me go, then I promise. I’ll come back. One day. Just let me go. You have people who love you here.” 
     Sariah’s throat felt clogged. She thought of Mother, Father, Lizzie, Frances, Fitz, Connor, and baby Rosalie. Even Nanny Eleanor. 
     “Do you promise?” Sariah swallowed. Tears dripped down her face and onto George’s, and Nanny Eleanor finally released her hand so that she could wipe the salty droplets from her granddaughter’s cheeks. “Promise me that you’ll come back. Because—because Blackbeard isn’t dead yet, and I don’t think I can fight him alone.”
     “I promise.” George wrapped his fingers around her. “I couldn’t leave my best friend without her sharpshooter.” 
     “Not a cannonball will be fired without you,” Sariah assured him.
     The other women in the room began to piddle about and find necessities: Charlotte somehow built a stretcher from bedsheets and brooms while Nanny Eleanor finished her doctoring duties. But Sariah only stared at George while they worked. 
     “Davy Jones is out for revenge. He’s heard of the great Sharpshooter, and he wants you for his own crew.” “He’ll have to destroy our entire ship before I leave it.” “We’ll just go into hiding—just for a while. Just until he gives up the search.” “He’ll never find us.”
     Their whispered battle plans faded away at different intervals when the pain became too great. When that happened, Sariah would rub his back or his head until it was over. Or, when it seemed like conversation was too big of a strain for him, Sariah would tell a story instead. But they weren’t all from her imagination. She told of swimming trips with her family, of their trip to the mountains where Fitz ran away to be a “wild man” until he got scared by a snake, of when baby Rosalie was born and Sariah was the first sibling to hold her. She told of Lizzie’s great acting skills in their homemade plays, of Frances’s daydreaming, and Connor’s grubby hugs and sticky, honeyed kisses he gave. And, above all, she promised that, as soon as George was better, he, too, would be included in the stories.
     There would always be room in the family for him.
     “Done,” Nanny Eleanor announced after Sariah concluded her last story.
     Somehow, Sariah suspected that Nanny Eleanor had been finished for a while, but she would never accuse her grandmother of having Frances’s sentimentality. 
     Well. Never out loud, at least.
     “Help me move him to the stretcher?” Charlotte knelt beside George and slipped her arms underneath his tail.
     Sariah nodded and cradled his head, and the three women managed to move him onto the pallet and outside. Charlotte’s ship was anchored a little off-shore, so they gently lowered him to the floor of the rowboat the three had paddled to shore earlier. 
     And though no one asked her if she wanted a moment alone, Nanny Eleanor and Charlotte both drifted to the side. 
     George’s breathing was steady now, but his face was still pale and sweat and tears dampened his cheeks and chest. Sariah grasped either side of his face with her hands and, at a loss for what else to do, stuck out her tongue at him (that must have been the spirit of Fitz; she quickly shoved him out). 
     George smiled, but this time, his lips barely twitched, and no dimple appeared. “I’m scared, Riah.”
     “Don’t be. You’re going to pull through this and you’re going to swim again. And you’re going to come back and play pirates. Don’t back out of our plans now.”
     “But what if I don’t make it?” George whimpered. “I don’t want to die yet.”
     “Then don’t.” Sariah rubbed her thumb across his cheekbones. His eyes were a little sunken, and there were huge bags under them. Even quieter, she repeated, “Don’t.” 
     His bottom lip trembled. “I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want that to be the last word I ever speak to you.”
     “It won’t be!” Sariah shook her head. “You just promised you’d come back. You just promised to be my sharpshooter. Are you really going to go back on your word? That breaks all the rules in the Pirate’s Code of Honor!”
     “Since when?”
     “Since I made it up, just now.” Sariah pressed a kiss against his forehead. “Don’t go getting yourself into any more cages, George.”
     George wrapped his arms around her neck. They both lingered there, smelling like salt and sweat and blood and tears. “Don’t go fighting Blackbeard without me.” 
     “Never.” 
     Charlotte put a hand on Sariah’s back. “It’s time to go. We don’t want to dawdle too much.” 
     Sariah wiped under her eyes. She wasn’t sure what liquid she was wiping away, but she sniffed all the while. “Okay.”
     Charlotte got in and used the oars to push off. Sariah stood still and let the waves lap over her toes, felt herself sink lower into the sand. She wondered, if she stood still for long enough, if the world would just swallow her whole and she’d plunge into George’s world. Transform into a mermaid and swim after him, tasting the sea foam and eating seaweed and fish for the rest of her life.
     Nanny Eleanor came and wrapped one arm around Sariah’s shoulders to draw her near. Sariah leaned against her grandmother’s chest and lifted a hand to wave. She almost said goodbye, but then remembered George’s one wish. So, instead, she yelled, “I’ll see you soon, George! Keep fighting!” She waved harder, screamed a little louder. “Keep fighting!” 
     George’s answer was barely audible. “Keep fighting, Riah.” 
     They’d reached the ship. Sariah’s feet were buried up to her ankles. Charlotte tied her rowboat back onto it and scurried up the side so that she could hoist him in. Soon, they were both on the boat, and Sariah took a deep breath. 
     “Keep fighting, George!” 
     She screamed so loudly that even all the mermaids under the sea probably heard that. But all that mattered was one scared, injured little merman heard. He lifted his arm and waved as Charlotte took the wheel. 
     Sariah stared at that pale arm and waved her own back until she couldn’t see him anymore. All she could see was the back of the ship, angled away for her, heading towards parts unknown. 
     George was a real pirate now. 
     “Well. That was quite an adventurous first week, wasn’t it? And, to think. We still have all summer left.” Nanny Eleanor took a deep breath. “I can hardly imagine what might happen.”
     Something caught Sariah’s eyes. She bent down and saw a whole seashell, bright red and white against the sand. She snatched it up and held it against her chest as she ran her fingers along the ridges of the scallop. “So...you said you needed someone to help you with more rescues?” Sariah tilted her head up to look at her grandmother. 
     Nanny Eleanor gazed down as well, a hint of a smile toying at her lips. “Ah, I suppose I did. Are you looking to be my protégé?”
     “Well, I suppose it’s something I might be interested in.” Sariah grinned and planted a kiss on Nanny Eleanor’s cheek. “After all, mermen are made to be protected, aren’t they?”
     Sariah shook her feet free of their sandy prison. Arm in arm, grandmother and granddaughter, mentor and protégé, headed towards the cottage together.

~The End~

Seashells: Chapter Eleven (Short Story)

Chapter Eleven

Yo-Ho

     John fired a shot first. Wherever it was aimed, Sariah didn’t know, but she fell to the floor anyway. The bullet missed its target, and Charlotte de Berry swung her sword in a large arc. John dodged it and fired again, but Charlotte was already moving by the time his finger pulled the trigger. 
     For all the times she’d bested Davy Jones and Blackbeard, Sariah was at a loss for what to do against her two kidnappers. She waved the sword between them, but, luckily for her, both brothers seemed far too preoccupied with their more advanced enemy.
     James swung himself over the railing of the small incline so that he landed right behind Charlotte. She never took her eyes off John, but fired several shots behind her towards the other brother. All of these shots went wide, but she’d managed to disarm John and stall James.
     But James reared back and prepared for a blow.
     “Watch out!” Sariah shrieked. 
     Her feet were moving before she could tell them that drawing attention to herself was a bad idea. But there she was, halfway across the deck, only a small girl with a cutlass against two bloodthirsty hunters.
     But Charlotte was on her side. Charlotte grabbed John and twisted them around until the two switched places. James bellowed and pulled back at the last moment to avoid skewering his brother. Charlotte smirked and gave John a kick in the stomach. He backpedaled until he thudded into his brother’s chest. James only had time to raise his sword before it almost impaled his brother, but somehow managed to retain his balance, even as John collapsed.
     “Now. Looks like you boys didn’t come armed for a gunfight.” Charlotte clucked her tongue and, with a kick, sent John’s gun skittering across the deck. 
     “Ain’t that a pity,” James growled.
     His next movement was almost imperceptible. He grabbed for a holster at his side—shoved his brother away, and aimed at Charlotte. 
     Sariah, though, was behind him.
     She swung the broadside of her sword and hit him in the back. He reeled forwards, tripped over his brother, and the gun misfired. Sariah stomped on John’s hand next, but he grasped her foot and yanked. She smacked against the ground and the younger brother dragged her closer to himself—only to have Charlotte slice through the sleeve of his overcoat. The fabric hung limp while a bit of blood darkened the loose shirt underneath. 
     John uttered yet another word that Nanny Eleanor would not approve of and drew a dagger from his boot. He jammed it into Sariah’s stomach—or, at least, he tried to. Sariah brought her own cutlass around to intercept it. Her aim was a little off, so she actually ended up slicing him along his forearm. He gasped and jerked away; her mouth dropped open and she almost sputtered out an apology until she remembered her place.
     “Good aim!” Charlotte cried.
     James had found another sword somewhere—a curved saber that was a bit longer than Charlotte’s. But she didn’t seem to mind her disadvantage. She parried any attack and thrust once at his hand. James, for all his bravado, must have been a poor swordsman, because his form fell apart. He staggered backward and hit the mast.
     “Hey! Watch your back!” Charlotte said as she charged her attacker. 
     Sariah whirled around and saw that John had found his spear that he’d used against George. She’d already seen his deadly aim once and had no desire to make its acquaintance again.
     He launched it towards her. Sariah collapsed to the ground—but the spear managed to snag her anyway.
     Or, more precisely, it got caught in her hair and pinned it to the deck. She squirmed, but every movement when she tried to extricate herself just resulted in pain all throughout her scalp.
     Someone fired three shots. 
     John tottered. Blood blossomed on his leg, and he collapsed against the raised bridge. But Charlotte didn’t free Sariah yet, so the young girl had no way of knowing what was going on in the battle. She twisted, winced as she did, and craned her neck as far as she could without scalping herself. She glimpsed James and Charlotte caught in a dance of swordplay. They sometimes waltzed into her view, only to run out.
     “You’re getting better. I seem to remember it took me only five minutes last time to disarm you!” Charlotte grunted.
     James didn’t indulge in any witty banter. He mostly just grunted, growled, and yelled.
     Then something happened.
     It was hard to know what exactly had transpired, but somehow, James ended up tripping over the protruding shaft of the spear. He yelped as it snapped underneath his weight and delivered him to the floor. He kneed Sariah as he fell, elbowed her in the chest, and knocked the wind out of her, but it was all worth it. In the next moment, Charlotte was over him, her foot on his chest, her cutlass tip pressing against his throat.
     She, too, panted a bit, and she swiped the messy curls away from her sweaty forehead. “Hopefully this time you’ll remember your lesson.” She glanced at John, who looked pale, even from afar. “If not for your sake, then for your little brother’s.”
     Charlotte tied up both of the Stevenson brothers before she managed to free Sariah from her prison. The older woman squatted down next to Sariah as she gathered herself up the ground.
     “You were very brave, you know. I couldn’t have done better in my first battle.”
     “I didn’t feel like I accomplished much,” Sariah admitted. But her moment of piracy was quickly shoved to the back of her head when she remembered the whole reason she was on the vessel in the first place. “George!”
     She crawled over to the metal gates and pushed them open. They were heavier than she expected, but there was nothing that could stand in between her and the merman in the brig, not even Nanny Eleanor herself. 
     George floated in the filthy water below. It was mostly his own blood by now, and one hand dangled in the muck while the other rested on his bare chest. But when she opened his prison doors, he opened one eye and peered at her. 
     He seemed so tired. 
     “Riah,” he murmured, right before his head lolled to the side.

Seashells: Chapter Ten (Short Story)

Chapter Ten

Pirates (Again)

     Sariah gasped for air as the net exited the water. She clutched at the rough ropes that snared her and pulled at them, though they had no give whatsoever. She hadn’t expected them to, but she had to do something.

     That is, she tugged at them until she heard George’s whimper and felt the spear shaft prod her back.

     Sariah slid down next to George—she really didn’t have a choice; that was gravity’s decision—and yanked on the weapon. 

     George rewarded her efforts with a huge yell. “No! No, no—it hurts—it hurts—it hurts—” He probably would have kept on like this if his voice hadn’t broken. His chest rose and fell in short bursts of air, and his pupils looked...odd.

     “It’s okay, George,” Sariah said, which was the most useless thing she’d ever uttered—and there were quite a few contenders over the course of her lifetime, she was sure. She seized his hand instead and wiped his wet hair away from his brow. And still they crept upwards, to whatever fate awaited them. 

     Sariah didn’t recognize the boat that they were on, not even as they approached the railing.

     “Riah,” George moaned.

     She turned her attention back towards him. Blood soaked everything in their small prison and dripped down to the ocean below. Sariah choked back tears of her own and instead focused on the one thing her trembling hands could do: pat his head and wipe his cheeks. 

     “We’ll be fine,” she assured him. Her voice cracked, and a few of her own salty tears dripped off her chin and onto his face. She hurried to wipe them away, tried to be brave for him, but her bottom lip quivered, her whole body shivered, and she was coated in her friend’s blood. 

     They rounded the railing and tumbled down to the hard, wooden floor. George wailed again and clutched at his tail. Sariah twisted her body at the last moment so that she didn’t land on him or the spear and only multiply their problems.

     She managed to roll onto her back. The sun blinded her, its bright afternoon rays reflecting off the sheen of the boat, off the water, off everything. Maybe that was the reason that it took her a moment to recognize the two faces that leered over her, near-identical smirks on their faces. 

     “You know how long it took for us to track you down?” James Stevenson shook his head. His brother just grunted. “You don’t know the trouble you’ve given us ever since you freed this one from our trap.”

     John jerked the spear out of George’s injury. George shrieked, and whatever clotting had been done was reversed. Blood spewed out of his tail and soaked the floor around them. He latched onto Sariah’s shoulder and dug his fingernails into her so much that Sariah wondered if he was going to break skin on her as well.

     “I’m sure your old buddy George here didn’t tell you why hunters are after him, did he?” James kicked the poor merman’s tail. George writhed and buried his face in Sariah’s shoulder, his breathing shallow and panicked. Sariah wrapped her arms around him and scooted as close to him as she dared. 

     “Because you’re evil, and I never trusted you!” Sariah snapped.

     James clucked his tongue. John took to cleaning the spear as his brother spoke. “Not quite. What Georgie-Porgie here failed to mention was that he’s a runaway slave. In fact, his master just sold him for a lucrative sum to none other than the young mermaid princess. And wouldn’t you know it, the day that the princess comes to pick him up, George attacks another slave and makes a break for it.”

     George whimpered. Sariah could feel his whole body trembling, could feel the way that he acted as if he practically wanted to crawl inside her for protection.

     “The princess must really like you, George,” James jeered. “You should see the fat ransom she’s attached to your head. She really wants her darling slave to come back...although, I have to say, Queen Mummy isn’t very happy that she’s going to have to shell out more money on you. Oh—” James barked out a laugh. “And your old master isn’t too pleased she lost out on your price, either. No, sir. You’re not a very popular merman right about now.”

     “Riah,” George mewled, his voice muffled by the soaked fabric of her sleeve. “Please. Please don’t let them take me!”

     “I won’t,” Sariah whispered. She clung to his hair, the only thing she wouldn’t hurt him at the moment.

     “I’m not sure you have much of a say in it.” James severed the net while John yanked her up.

     As George was ripped from her grip, Sariah let loose a caterwaul that would have made Nanny Eleanor very displeased in her granddaughter—but maybe, in this scenario, she would have deemed it acceptable.

     “Let me go!” Sariah threw her elbows and pumped her legs and even bit at the air. 

     She snarled and hissed until John said a word that Nanny Eleanor definitely wouldn’t have approved of—even in this scenario—when she managed to hit him in the stomach. In the next moment, his beefy, odoriferous forearms were around her neck, the still-defiled spearhead lodged next to her cheek.

     “I wouldn’t squirm if I were you,” John hissed, his breath hot against her ear. “We don’t have to hurt you.”

     She clawed at his arm and choked out a few syllables, though nothing was coherent. With every blow she managed to land, he only tightened his grip until she felt like her head might pop off. Only then did she stop fighting, just to make him relax his grip a bit so she could take in a few desperate gulps of air. 

     James, meanwhile, dragged George across the deck, leaving smears of crimson against the brown wood. George’s dark, tear-filled eyes found hers, but he didn’t say anything. Part of her wondered if he was afraid they would kill her if she tried anything. But he only stared at her while she dangled in mid-air.

     James unlocked a metal door that covered a hole in the middle of the deck. He swung the gates open and tossed George, net and all, into the pit. Both George and Sariah shrieked at this, but George’s was cut short when it was overtaken by a splash. 

     “You killed him!” Sariah yelled.

     “Now, why would I kill something that would make me richer than I’ve ever been in my life?”  James smirked at her.

     George continued to holler and sob from inside the brig, or whatever that prison happened to be called, until James slammed the iron hatch closed again. George’s calls were dim then, barely audible and tinny.

     “Now, what are we going to do with you?” James took off his ridiculous cowboy hat and wiped at his brow. “I wonder, could we hold you for ransom? If your grandmother really does know old Phineas, he’s got connections to merfolk that have been missing for ages. I’d be willing to trade you for them.”

     John grunted. Sariah glared at James. “I’d never let her do that. I’d sooner you sell me with George. I’d be a slave with him rather than know that I was dooming someone else and filling your coffers.”

     James guffawed. “Big words and fancy ideals from someone who’s got to be no older than six.”

     Sariah knew she was small, but only a numbskull would mistake her for a six-year-old. Then again, she didn’t have a high estimation of these men’s intelligence, anyway. 

     James scratched at the brown scruff on his chin. “Just tie her up until we can figure out what to do with her. We’ll just drive the boy to the drop-off now.” 

     The loquacious brother made his way towards the wheel. John took her over to the mast and wrapped several rounds of rope around her torso and arms until she could hardly breathe, let alone move. The sun beat down on her and promised to give her a good sunburn by the time this whole ordeal was over—and that was probably the least of her worries. 

     Her feet were the only thing free. So as John crossed over to his brother, Sariah strained her bare feet forward as far as she could go. She wasn’t entirely sure what she could do, but part of her just wanted to reach the brig door and see if she could open it for him. But she was tied too tightly, too far away, and she couldn’t do anything.

     So, her first terrible idea hadn’t worked. That was okay. She had several other terrible ideas, the next of which was to chew her way through the bonds. But that only gave her a dry mouth and made her worried about what type of infectious diseases she might catch, so she gave up on that rather quickly, too.

     Maybe it was—wait.

     “I—I—” Sariah began to wheeze. This certainly got the brothers’ attention, though James did snap at her to “shut up.” “I—I have asthma...I need an inhaler...I…” Sariah coughed and wriggled. She’d had far enough real attacks to know how to make a fake one believable, especially if these men had no experience with her condition. 

     Sariah started to hack until she could feel the pressure rise in her face. Hopefully, it would turn her red. She let her head loll around a bit as well. 

     “What do we do? Is she gonna die?” John took a few hesitant steps towards her before he glanced back at his brother. 

     James seemed to waver as well. Sariah increased her theatrics and added little horking noises before she spat a few times. She let her eyes roll upwards in her head and sucked in air so that it sounded like she was choking.

     “Just untie her a bit,” James relented.

     John scurried towards her and loosened it up. He put one hand on her back and gave her a few thumps. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, but she at least appreciated the sentiment, even if he was just trying to protect his next paycheck from croaking. 

     She collapsed forward, unsure of what to do next with her show now that she was free. If she fought, she’d only be tied up again. Maybe if she could—

     The sound of a pistol firing made her jerk upwards.

     James cut the wheel hard to the left. Sariah began to roll across the deck until John hoisted her up. 

     Another ship approached them, a person with long, flowing brown hair standing on the top. One pistol was aimed straight at the air, while the other one pointed at them. “Come on now, boys. Don’t you ever get tired of being the bad guys?”

     Sariah had heard that voice before—but where, she couldn’t say. But it was definitely feminine.

     James growled underneath his breath and cut the wheel again. This time, it brought their two ships closer to each other. “I swear I’ll kill you.”

     “Don’t you know not to make promises you can’t keep?” the woman said.

     She seized a rope in her hands and somehow used it to span the distance between the two boats. Sariah was breathless with wonder—this person, whoever they were, was just like a real-life pirate. A girl pirate! 

     Her hair was loose and she wore black pants—pirate pants—and a white poofy shirt—a pirate shirt! There was a holster around her waist as well as scabbards for at least two cutlasses that Sariah saw. But most intriguing was the fact that Sariah could almost place that face… 

     “De Berry,” James growled.

     Miss de Berry gave an elaborate bow. “Pleasure to beat you again, James.”

     The world sprang into action then. Miss de Berry whipped out one sword and used the hilt to knock John away from Sariah. The girl pirate grabbed Sariah and dragged her backward while the brothers were still immobilized by her surprise advantage.

     “So, Sariah. I saw you and George playing pirates yesterday. You’ve got fine form if you want to join my crew.” Miss de Berry’s eyes twinkled as she held out a cutlass for Sariah. “My name’s Charlotte, by the way. And it’s very good to know that you’re on my side, and not theirs.” 

     That was about all the time for introductions they had, because John and James had finally readied their attacks. James unsheathed a broadsword while John drew out a pistol. 

     It was time to play pirates—for real, this time. 

Seashells: Chapter Nine (Short Story)

Chapter Nine

Skipping Stones

    Sariah loaded George onto the wheelbarrow and they set off into adventure. The sun soon drove off the chill of the morning fog, and then the noonday heat dried poor George’s water out and made Sariah’s cheeks feel hot. She realized somewhere around that time that they’d forgotten food, but if she went back, there was no telling what might happen. James and John might be there—or even Miss de Berry. The longer Sariah had to contemplate her on-the-fly theory, the more it actually seemed to make sense. There could be no coincidence that three people of dubious backgrounds appeared at their house within a few days of meeting George. And James and John—well, they’d rubbed Sariah the wrong way. Even if they weren’t hunters, they were jerks, and she’d be loath to surrender George to either option. 

     “You can’t push me forever,” George said. They’d barely exchanged a word or even played pretend. “And I’m hungry.”

     Sariah’s stomach, which she’d been arguing with since the first hunger pain, grumbled loudly to agree. “I—I don’t know what to do, though.”

     George pointed up ahead, to where the sea cut through a large cliff, like someone had carved a huge letter “O” out of the stone. “Go there. It’ll get us out of the sun, at least.”

     Sariah did so, and through a fair amount of dragging, and swimming, and pushing, they somehow managed to make it in the cold heart of the “O.”

     Sariah shivered as George hoisted her up on the rock. He dove under the water a few times, the only thing visible were the little “spines” on his tail and his flipper every once in a while. When he did surface, he had a few wriggly fish and some kelp in each hand.

     “Don’t look,” he whispered.

     “Why?”

     “Because I said so. Please?” George looked up at her with those dark eyes, and Sariah found that she had to obey him.

     She turned her body and stared out at the sea. Angry waves lapped against the solitary pole that seemed to hold up their hiding spot. The foam swirled and tossed about…

     Sariah sighed and turned her attention to her foot. Her wrap had come undone during their journey, but besides that, it was filthy. She carefully unwound it and stared at the injury below. It was mostly scabbed over, but her escape had rubbed raw spots once more. A bit of blood had colored her bandage as well. She washed it off and only cried a bit as the stinging saltwater cleansed her wound. Or infected it—who knew. She wasn’t good at nursing things.

     “Okay, you can look.”

     Whatever he had done, he now had chunks of fish wrapped up in seaweed. He threw away bits of bone back into the water and pushed some towards her. “If you don’t like it, I understand.” 

     Sariah ate it without complaint. It was a little chewier than she would have expected, but her stomach had been complaining for a while. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

     George picked at his own food. It took him a minute before he spoke. “Why are you doing this?”

     Sariah glanced at him. She tugged her knees closer to her body, ever cautious of her injury. “Why am I doing what? Eating? Because I’m hungry.”

     For a split second, Sariah could have sworn the snarky spirit of Lizzie had just possessed her. 

     “No. Helping me. You don’t really know me. Your nanny is doing this because she had a friend like me, but...you’ve only known me for a few days.”

     “But we’re still friends.” Sariah popped another bite into her mouth, as if that was that.

     “But you don’t know anything about me. What makes you think you like me enough to be my friend?”

     Sariah shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re exciting. You’re different.”

     “So you only like me because I’m an experience to you?” 

     Sariah jerked her head up. What kind of a question was that? The spirit of Lizzie must have vacated her body already, because Sariah suddenly didn’t have the answers. But George looked very serious. And almost—like he might start crying. 

     Sariah’s heart twisted up and hurt more than her foot ever did. “No! It’s not that. Sometimes—sometimes you don’t need to know everything to be friends.” She leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. She scooted as close as she dared to on the rock. “You’re fun to play pirates with. You’re a mystery. You’re—nice. And you’re so sad. I just want to make you happy.”

     George didn’t say anything, but he sniffled an awful lot. Sariah held him closer. Maybe it wasn’t the time to be Lizzie, or Frances, or even a pirate. Maybe only Sariah could navigate these dangerous waters.

     “Don’t send me back down there,” George whispered in a clogged voice. “I don’t want to go back to the sea. And—I don’t know what goes on in the house. I hear voices and everyone always talks about me. They all want to protect me, but—I’m just scared that it’s all a trick.”

     “Then you don’t have to worry anymore. We’re here, and I’m not going to let Miss de Berry or James and John touch you.” She hesitated—before she did something that a real pirate would never do. 

     She started to sniffle, too. 

     “My mother—she’s always worried about me. She worries about my health...my lungs...when I was a baby, I was sickly. And—I don’t think she can ever see past the sickly baby that she nursed. So—that’s the reason I want adventure. I just want to be able to do something without people telling me I’m weak or fragile. Because...once you’re told something so much, you start to believe it.” Sariah gave a tiny, breathless cough. “But you’re much more than an adventure! Even if you were just a normal boy with two legs instead of a fin, I would still want you here. I would still want to play with you. I want to be your friend.”

     “I’ve never had a friend before, either.” George’s voice was quiet. “I’ve never even had anyone help me. I’m glad you’re my friend, Riah. I think you’ve got lots of great ideas and you make me happy. I’m glad that it was you who found the cage.”

     “Me, too.” Sariah clung to him for a minute before she drew back. “I wish I was a mermaid like you. I mean—you’re obviously a merman, but—” 

     “Don’t wish that. It’s not that fun.” His eyes flickered to her and back to the water, and he wiped at his own wet eyes before he took another bite of his seaweed-fish wrap. “I wish I just had two legs, like you. Then I could run away and never look back.”

      “But—the sea must be so fun! Swimming all day, catching fish…” Sariah sighed. “You’re free underneath the water.”

     “You might be,” George muttered. Or at least, that was what it sounded like.

     “What do you mean?”

     George opened his mouth. For a moment, Sariah felt like the axis of the world might tilt—that he might tell her something that could never be unsaid or forgotten. The world lingered for a moment—one heartbeat, two heartbeats, three—

     George popped another bite into his mouth and it was over. The normal rotation of the world resumed, and whatever he had been about to say he must have swallowed with the fish. “I mean, we’re both free and happy here. Why do we need to go anywhere else?” He grinned, his dimple appearing once more. “Unless it’s a pirate ship, of course.” 

     “Of course,” Sariah agreed. “George, if you could be anything when you’re an adult, what would you be?”

     He looked surprised. “Nobody’s ever asked me that question before.” 

     “But you’ve thought of an answer, haven’t you?” Sariah dipped her toe into the water and let the waves nibble at it. “Everyone has.”

     George nodded. His mind seemed to toss and turn the question around just like the ocean might rock a boat back and forth in a perilous storm. “I want to be loved. And—” He took a deep breath. “I want to grow up before I think about it all being over with! I’m okay with being a kid. I hear it’s a blast.”

     Sariah laughed, but stopped when she realized maybe he wasn’t joking. There was a look in his eyes that made her think he was serious, despite the jovial attitude. 

     She leaned her head onto his shoulder. “It’s pretty great, I think. Hey—I have an idea! I bet you’ve never skipped rocks before underwater. I could teach you.”

     George blinked his eyes a few times. “Skip rocks? How do you do that? Do you have to jump? I’m a pretty good jumper.” He gave a few little hops on his bottom, and had to pump his arms vigorously to get any air on those.

     Sariah crossed her arms around her stomach and cackled. The laughter echoed off their little cavern, and she tilted over onto her side.

     George’s eyes sparkled. “Want to see something else?” 

     He gave a few more hops to get himself into the water, which splashed her with water. She shrieked and slapped her wet, frizzy bangs away from her forehead—just in time to see him break from the water. He twisted in mid-air a few times, just like Sariah had seen a dolphin do at a circus show, and then disappeared below the waves again.

     And, just like she had for the dolphin, Sariah whooped, hollered, and clapped.

     George surfaced again near her, his head first. He propped his elbows up on the rock and stared up at her, rivulets of water still tracing paths around his nose and down his cheeks. His dimple was out again. “Did you like it?”

     “I love it! We should have our own circus. I could be the—the—ringmaster or maybe the trapeze artist!” Sariah tried to pretend like she was balancing on the high-wire, like she’d seen a woman do at the circus, but it was hard with only one operational foot. So she mostly just scooted along, but that only increased her worry that she might slip on the rocks. She’d surely bust her head open, and there would be blood everywhere—

     Maybe she was her mother’s child after all, but whatever the reason, she still plopped back down. 

     “But what about a pirate?” George rested his chin on his hands. “I thought you wanted to be a pirate.”

     “We can work something out,” Sariah assured him. She lay down on the ground and stared up at the rocky, craggy ceiling above them. “Maybe we’ll be pirates while we’re on sea, driving to different exotic locales, and then put on circuses when we get there.”

     “We better start soon if we’re running away. We’ll need money for a ship and tent soon enough.”

     Sariah nodded. “Very true.”

     Her fingers found a loose rock as she spoke. She twirled it between her fingers before she rolled over onto her side. “Ready for your first lesson in skipping stones?” George nodded, his eyes wide. “Okay, so you hold it like this—find a smooth one if you can—”

     She dictated the proper procedural to him. George nodded and made comments at the appropriate times. His first test came in just a few minutes.

     “So—like this. Flick your wrist, and…” Sariah flung her rock: one skip! Two—oh. No. Just one. 

     Her attempt sank beneath a wave after a very unsatisfying run. “Well, maybe skipping stones on the ocean isn’t ideal. I usually do it at a lake, and the surface is much smoother.”

     George nodded. “Yes—I bet you’re right.”

     He still tossed his stone into the waters.

     One—two—three—

     “Four skips?” She whirled on George, who looked up at her with far too innocent a face. “You knew all along how to skip rocks!”

     George grinned. “I’m a merman. We have competitive rock skipping. It’s a huge sport. People even bet on it—how many skips someone can do, who will win the match...I never did anything professional, though.”

     Sariah gaped anyway. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

     “Because you looked so happy! You wanted to teach me, and I didn’t have the heart to tell you otherwise.” He grinned that dimple-showing smile again. 

     But the dimple disappeared the second they heard the strange sound. It was hard to place at first, mostly because the reverberation in the cave made almost anything hard to hear. But George paled and ducked down under the water without warning her. He surfaced a few moments later. He looked on the verge of tears again. “There’s a boat. It’s coming—it’s coming quick. They must have followed us, Sariah—they’re going to take me!”

     “They are not. Not even Nanny Eleanor could convince me to give you up. It doesn’t matter what happened to Leon. I want you to stay with me!” Sariah slid into the water. Her head bobbed above the waves as she grabbed his pinkies with her. “Promise. We’ll always stay together. We’re going to be pirates and circus ringmasters and friends. Forever.”

     George looked a bit petrified. “Forever,” he whispered, but it was very unconvincing. For one thing, he looked like he might faint.

     “Come on, George. They’re coming by boat, but that means we can sneak by them under the water. Right?” Sariah squeezed his pinkie harder. “So I’ll hold onto you, and you swim us out of here.”

     “Right.” George whimpered a bit but took her hand. “Don’t let go.”

     “I won’t.” Sariah interlocked their fingers and took a deep breath. 

     Then she was in George’s world.

     To be fair, she still had no idea what it held. She was hesitant to open her eyes, she was holding her breath, and it felt no different than swimming. She’d done that a thousand times, with and without George. 

     But this time George held her hand tight, so it felt like an invitation to enter the realm of merfolk, maybe even become a mermaid herself. She could almost imagine her legs becoming a beautiful tail...perhaps George could make her a mermaid somehow? 

     She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to fight through the sting and see what he could see right now. To see his world. So...she summoned up all the courage of Lizzie—and herself—and pried her eyelids open, one at a time. 

     The saltwater stung, terribly, but once she got it open, she could see the sea frothing around her, George’s outstretched arms…

     The whole water seemed to ripple. Then the water wasn’t water at all—it was blood. Clouds of blood rose from...from what?

     George was jerked away from her.

     No—no—Sariah wanted to scream. She wanted to take in a deep breath of salt water and scream. A spear had impaled him, right through his tail. George gave a terrible, inhuman wail as his blood wafted out from the injury, large coils which wrapped around Sariah and threatened to smother her in more ways than one.

     She had to get air. She had to get air, force herself to breathe, maybe even scream as well—and then she’d come back and pull the spear out of his body. 

     “Sariah!”

     He shrieked her name, reached out for her, strained his fingers towards her wrist. His poor body shuddered with the weight of his agony, and he writhed there on the sand bottom. She could see the tears in his eyes, but the ocean wiped them away before she could. 

     Sariah felt blurry. Her whole head was fogged up. He was bleeding out, but she was going to faint. 

     He grasped her fingers once more. 

     Right before a net captured both of them and dragged them up towards the shore.

Seashells: Chapter Eight (Short Story)

Chapter Eight

Visitors

     Sariah woke the next morning far too early. She rolled over only to look at the pendulum clock on the wall. Eight-thirteen; she was right. It was too early. She embraced the knowledge and snuggled into her bed further—until she caught the sound of voices again. 
     Her eyes popped back open. She wished the clock would stop that infernal tick-tocking. She could hardly hear what was going on!
     “—quite shocked—” That was Nanny Eleanor, and there was nothing surprising enough about her words to rouse Sariah from her bed.
     “Ma’am—” Whoever that was, their voice dropped to an uncomfortable whisper. It sounded like a third person chuckled at one point, but that could have been the second person, as well. The other voice—or voices—were definitely male. That, at least, was intriguing enough to get Sariah out of bed.
     She threw off her covers and crept to her door. From there, she could see into the living room, but not the two guests. She could just make out the back of Nanny Eleanor’s dress—which was appalling in itself. Who actually got dressed before eight-fifteen? But Nanny Eleanor was not the type of woman who would be caught in her nightgown, no matter what time it was. 
     “—excuse me—Phineas—”
     “I know—Phineas—couldn’t make it—”
     “Ma’am—letter—” 
     The bits and pieces made absolutely no sense to Sariah. She gritted her teeth and crawled forward a bit more. She moved to the hallway on all fours, past the bathroom...maybe she could hide in there to do her spying… 
     “Sariah, honesty! Child, what are you doing, crawling about like some kind of animal or street urchin?”
     Sariah flinched as she looked up and caught her grandmother’s stare from across the room. Besides her were two handsome men who looked very similar to one another, down to their leather coats and ten-gallon hats. 
     They seemed like caricatures of cowboys Sariah would have dreamed up in her imagination. They even had on leather boots with spurs.
     The one on the left—the taller one, who had more stubble than the one on the right—tipped his hat at her. He actually tipped his hat at her! “Ma’am.”
     The fellow on the right did nothing. He just stared at her with a bit of mirth on his face. 
     “Honestly, and in your nightgown, too,” Nanny Eleanor muttered. “Well? Go change. Right this instant. A lady does not greet guests, however uninvited and unexpected they are, in her nightie.”
     Sariah hopped to her feet and scampered back to her room. She tossed on a canary yellow outfit and stumbled back out, all within five minutes. She hadn’t even taken time to brush her hair or teeth, so it was best not to stand too close to Nanny Eleanor.
     “Who are you?” Sariah stopped at the kitchen table so she wouldn’t kill anyone with her halitosis.
     “I’m James Stevenson,” the one on the left said before he gestured to the one on the right. “And that’s my brother John. We work with Mrs. Eleanor and Mr. Phineas to protect merfolk that come to land. We were just telling your grandmother here how we were her backup. Mr. Phineas couldn’t make it in time for this new rendezvous, so he sent us on ahead. Can’t waste any time when hunters are involved.”
     Sariah toyed with the wooden back of the chair. She pulled it forward and rested her foot on the spindle. “Cowboys protecting mermaids?” She wanted to add: seems fishy to me, but she couldn’t bear to have such a terrible pun on her record. 
     The right one—John—finally chuckled. “We’re not exactly cowboys.”
     Sariah gave him a look that hoped he knew just how unamused she was. “Well, we don’t have a mermaid.”
     James scuffed his boots along the floor as he crossed his arms. There was a little twinkle of mirth in his eyes. Sariah glared at him. He was the kind of adult that probably thought everything children did was “cute,” in the most condescending sort of way. Nanny Eleanor may have been condescending, but at least she was equally irked by children and adults.
     “Well, do you have a merman, then?” He crouched down, as if she were no older than Rosalie and he needed to make eye contact.
     Sariah glanced up at Nanny Eleanor, but apparently this furtive look gave her away to the cowboys. James chuckled and stood back up. “I promise that we’re going to take good care of him. Merfolk on land—they don’t need to stay in tubs or pools. They’re meant to be free, and if they can’t be so in the ocean, then we relocate them to lakes or rivers. Other places where they can be safe.”
     “No!” The word exploded from Sariah’s lips like it was loaded with gunpowder. 
     The three people her word was aimed at recoiled, as well, as if she’d hit them. 
     “Sariah,” Nanny Eleanor began, but faltered. “Think of Leon—just snatched away—”
     “No!” Sariah screamed. Let James and John treat her like a petulant child. If that was the way they saw her, she was more than happy to oblige. “No! I don’t want to give you George. I can keep him safe! I don’t need you two idiotic cowboys!”
     It wasn’t until Sariah was safely in the bathroom, with the doors locked, that she realized how much she had sounded like Nanny Eleanor in that last sentence.
     “Sariah?” George popped up from underneath the bathwater. He rubbed his bleary eyes. “Are you okay?”
     “We’re running away, George,” Sariah said. “We’ll be real pirates. Pirates don’t need anybody else.”
     “But—you can’t just run away!” George balked. 
     “You did,” Sariah said stubbornly. “And just because I’m a girl doesn’t make any difference. I’m eleven years old. I’m old enough to look after myself! I’ve been looking after Fitz and Connor and Rosalie for long enough to know what I’m doing.” 
     Sariah tucked her chin in. Let George argue with her. She hadn’t grown up in a family with five siblings for nothing.
     “I don’t think that you shouldn’t run away because you’re a girl.” George blinked his large eyes and shook his head. “Or because you’re eleven. I’m only ten and—you’re right—I did run away. But you can’t run away because you’ve actually got people that love you, Sariah. Nobody in the ocean loved me. At all.”
     His dark eyelashes brushed his pale cheeks as he glanced down. Water dripped from his cheeks into the tub, and Sariah wasn’t entirely sure if they were tears or just leftover droplets from where he’d apparently slept underwater. 
     “Your parents—” Sariah began. 
     George pursed his lips. There seemed to be so much that he could say, but what he finally settled on was: “No.”
     “But—” Sariah began. 
     George only shook his head. 
     “Well...that makes my pirate plan all the better. You’re my friend, George, and I’m going to keep you safe. All by myself.”
     George looked pained, but he didn’t argue with her. Sariah walked over and grabbed his arms before they repeated their process from yesterday, only with a bit more precision so that he didn’t fall on her again. They somehow managed to get him out with only a bit of thudding and thumping and probably bruising. 
     A knock came out the door far sooner than Sariah was prepared for—and she was even less prepared when Nanny Eleanor unlocked the door and strode right in. “Sariah?” Nanny Eleanor’s voice was soft, which startled her granddaughter so much that she almost dropped poor George on the floor. “Sariah, dear...I sent them away. I told them to give you some time to come around to it. But—you have to see common sense.” Nanny’s voice was a bit firmer here. “There are people who want to hurt George. If you keep him here, then you’re putting him in danger.”
     Sariah tucked her chin in. She wished she could be half as intimidating as Nanny Eleanor, but all her grandmother had to do was look down her nose at someone in that imperious way, and she’d make even the fiercest hunters cower. “That’s not true. You and I can protect him. Forever. We’ll take him home, and—and I can keep him in the lake that Father takes me swimming in…”
     “And you’ll put your entire family at risk to be slaughtered by hunters.” Nanny Eleanor gave Sariah the very same dreaded look. Sariah only glared at her grandmother all the more.
     For the first time in possibly her whole life, someone had withstood Nanny Eleanor’s look. 
     That must have surprised Nanny Eleanor, because she raised her eyebrows—especially when Sariah said, “Nobody will know. I won’t tell anyone. Father’s an accountant. Who would ever suspect an accountant of doing anything interesting?”
     “I’m afraid you’ve conjured up a fool’s paradise if you believe the hunters will never find you. Phineas—the man who organizes these rescue missions—hasn’t been safe since he saved his first merman. He travels all the time, all over the world, using clever aliases, disguises, and shams. Sometimes that isn’t even enough to save the lives of the mermen—but he tries.”
     Sariah twisted up her mouth. She would not budge.
     Nanny Eleanor must have sensed this, because she snapped, “Don’t prove me wrong.”
     This was typically the time that Sariah would relinquish any point she tried to prove, shut her mouth, and just agree with her grandmother. It was a tactic she’d learned from her sisters and parents. It was rumored that the last person who had dared to push their luck further against Nanny Eleanor had been turned into a frog—or had wound up murdered, depending on who told the tale. 
     Sariah was about to find out the truth behind the legend. “Prove you wrong how?” 
     “I picked you to come with me because I thought you alone might be able to help me save these mermen. Frances would flitter her days away, Lizzie would want to dissect them and use them for science—I thought you, at least, would be rational and calm-headed. I won’t last forever, Sariah, but the mermen will always need help. Someone has to come after Phineas and me.”
     Surely it was one of the poets who declared that flattery was better than fighting, and that a honeyed word worked better than vinegar. Whoever had said it, though, they were certainly right: Sariah almost felt special enough to give up her argument. But to give that up would mean to give up George, which was the whole reason she held on. 
     “Well—if I’m going to be you, Nanny Eleanor, I guess I need to learn to stand my ground. I want George to stay. I don’t trust them.” And though she hadn’t really thought of it up until this moment, she suddenly had another piece to play. “Besides, you just sent your letter yesterday evening. How could it have reached Phineas yet? I say those two are in league with Miss de Berry and we shouldn’t trust them. They’re taking advantage of the fact that you haven’t done this in a while.” 
     The whole room was breathless. Maybe the whole world was. Maybe everyone leaned in close to see what would happen when someone dared defy the force of nature that was Nanny Eleanor.
     Nanny Eleanor raised her forehead. Her mouth pursed—before it slowly morphed into a smile. “Well.” She opened her mouth several times, but, suffice to say, she’d never been bested before. It looked like she was ruminating over what would come next. “I hadn’t considered that point.” She gathered herself about, because the world could not continue its orbit if Nanny Eleanor was not back in control. She dusted something off her skirt which was more than likely not there and nodded. “I admit, that’s an interesting hypothesis. When the time comes, you know, you will need to surrender George, but...perhaps now is not the right time.”
     Perhaps never was, but Sariah didn’t want to push her luck. She’d already won one battle against Nanny Eleanor. To win two would probably make the universe explode. 
     Nanny Eleanor nodded, though nothing else had been said. “Yes. Well. I’ll go do a bit more investigating, and…” Her voice trailed off. Her hand dallied on the doorknob. “And...well, I’m proud of you, Sariah.”
     Sariah thought she might drop into a dead faint, right there on the bathroom floor. 
     “Do what you have to do to keep him safe.” 
     With that, Nanny Eleanor shut the door behind her. And though she hadn’t given her explicit permission, Sariah felt some kind of kindred connection with her grandmother now, and they both knew what needed to be done.
     “Come on, George. We’re going to be pirates.”