Shelly jerked her head away. The image was a clear warning from the sea witch not to double-cross her. And it had also signaled something else—something far worse.
As she’d feared, she wasn’t the only one in danger anymore.
Enrique was, too.
“Come on, let’s turn back,” she said, feeling cold. Nothing felt safe anymore.
“So, what’s the plan then?” he asked, seeing the frightened look in her eyes as they headed back to the beach.
“Tomorrow,” she said, knowing that she didn’t have a choice anymore. She couldn’t let that horrible fate befall Enrique. They had to get the trident. There was no way around it. “Meet at the aquarium after sunset,” she told him, eyes narrowing. “And we’ll take the trident.”
The spare security card had a silver key ring attached to a yellow-and-blue foam flounder.
Shelly had stolen it from a drawer in her mother’s home office the night before, and now, with Enrique by her side, she swiped the security card, then slid the key into the lock. The new security system frightened her. Her father had it installed after a recent series of strange burglary attempts. The police thought it had been local teens, but Shelly wondered if it was something far more insidious—Ursula. What if they were wrong and she could leave the bay? The foam flounder bopped around, and she held her breath, then twisted. The bolts turned and released, admitting them into the dark aquarium.
Enrique gave her a thumbs-up. “Nice work.”
They slipped through the side entrance and followed the corridor down the main hall. The main lights were out, but the exhibits were still lit with their signature blue-green light that cast eerie shadows through the cavernous space. The aquarium felt totally different after hours, when the tourists had cleared out, leaving their sticky residue behind. No kids played tag, careering around the exhibits, or pressed their noses to the glass. No parents chased them, looking exhausted. Instead, it was quiet and foreboding. Not even staff were there. The sea witch was watching; she’d know if they failed. They couldn’t let that happen.
Suddenly, Shelly felt short of breath, like her lungs couldn’t get enough oxygen. Enrique glanced back at her in alarm. He noticed her struggling to keep up. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m . . . having a hard time . . . breathing,” she managed, still gasping for air. Her lungs were screaming at her. “It feels like my lungs suddenly . . . aren’t working.”
He pulled her toward the nearest tank. “Hurry, over here! I have an idea.”
“What . . . do you mean?” she gasped. “Where are you taking me?”
“Maybe it’s the gills,” he said, leading her to a small tank and removing the top. “Fish can’t breathe out of water, remember? And you’re turning into . . .”
“A fish,” she said, recalling zombie Mr. Bubbles saying, You’re going to go belly-up!
“Just try it,” Enrique said, and she dunked her head into the tank on command.
As soon as the salt water hit her gills, it was like she could breathe again. Really breathe. Gradually, her lungs stopped screaming. She pulled her head out with a frightened expression.
Their eyes met. He held her gaze. “That means . . .”
“Not much time left,” she finished in barely a whisper. Her eyes fell on the main exhibit that towered over the hall. The reef shark darted around the trident, coasting by the pirate ship.
Enrique followed her gaze. “How are we going to get it?”
“Superpowers, remember?” she said, stripping off her scarf and gloves, revealing her hands, which were now more fish than human.
“It’s really progressing, huh?” he said. “Your hands weren’t like this yesterday.”
She nodded. “Faster than before.”
Her lungs constricted; she was gasping for oxygen. “Let’s go,” she said, pulling him toward the main exhibit into the staff-only area. “I need to hurry up and get into the tank, or I’m going to have trouble breathing again.”
They hurried down an echoing stairwell into the bowels of the exhibit, where few got to go. There, it looked and felt industrial, and at night, almost sinister. The space behind the scenes consisted of metal scaffolding, rusty ladders, and other equipment. She led Enrique over to a ladder that ran up the side of the main exhibit. Light from the tank washed over them as they climbed up and onto the catwalk that spanned the tank. Shelly looked down at the rippling water, illuminated by its artificial light. There were sharks in the tank, but she wasn’t really afraid.
“You know, something’s been bothering me,” Enrique said, shooting her a worried look. He balanced on the catwalk beside her, wobbling.
“What’s that?” Shelly unzipped her hoodie to reveal her wet suit beneath.
“It’s almost like the sea witch knew this fish curse would help you get the trident for her. Because it’s easy for you to swim into the tank. It’s like this was part of her plan all along.”
Shelly gulped. “Maybe you’re right.”
“She’s evil—and wicked smart,” he said with a shake of his head. “She tricked you.”
Shelly handed him an oxygen mask and fins. “Here. Since you don’t have superpowers like me and all.”
He laughed, then pulled on the mask. She switched on the oxygen line. He gave her another thumbs-up. Then they clambered farther down the catwalk. It was slippery and narrow. She’d never swum inside the main exhibit. It was dangerous with sharks and other animals, not to mention the hazards of diving with an oxygen line. One needed to be a trained professional, but she might as well have been. They hovered over the pirate ship. She could just see it through the rippling water.
“Here goes nothing,” she said, diving into the tank with a soft splash.
Enrique followed, landing with a churn of bubbles beside her. He was clumsier in the water with all the gear, but she was practically a fish now.
She cut through the tank, diving toward the ship, past it and the faux treasure chest.
The trident stood before her, skewering the sand.
Enrique caught up. Without thinking, he reached out to
