The Mermaid's Curse (California Mermaids Book 1) by Kristina Ludwig

asks, "So, were your parents terribly angry?"
    I nod, wishing I could forget the unpleasant confrontation. "They were, until I told them that I'm an adult and I have the right to come and go as I please.”
    Xavier smiles. "You stood up to them. I'm proud of you, and I'm glad that you didn't lie. I was honest with my parents, too, and I really think it made everything go more smoothly. I basically told them everything about you, except for the fact that you're a mermaid, of course. And now, you'll get to meet everyone."
    When we reach the long walkway of Xavier's house, Amelie reaches into the bag for one last thing. I groan when she pulls out a pair of those atrocious high-heeled shoes.
    "Sorry, Oceania," she says, helping me to slip into them. "I know you aren't used to wearing shoes, but you have to admit, these are lovely, aren't they? They're the latest fashion.”
    "I suppose so." Fashionable or not, I can't get past the fact that they're cutting off all circulation to my toes. Between the confining corsets and the nightmarish shoes, I have no idea how these women function every day. I suppose that, if I choose land, this is something I will have to consider, although it seems trivial compared to the more serious factors like leaving my family and losing my immortality.
    I draw in a deep breath as we saunter toward the front doors of Xavier’s house. During the day, it looks even more grandiose and terrifying than it does at night, with its glittering windows and bronze-topped towers. It's larger than King Triteus’s palace, and prettier, too.
    I freeze when we reach the doors. I'd thought I wanted to meet everyone, but now I’m frightened to death. Xavier and Amelie are nice people, but what might their parents be like?

 
    Chapter Thirty: Xavier
     
    All color drains from Oceania’s face as we walk, hand-in-hand, through the doors of the house. I give her a smile that I hope seems reassuring, but her delicate hand quivers in mine.
    “It’s okay,” I say. “Don’t be nervous; I won’t leave your side.”
    Oceania smiles, her lips wavering, and makes a tremulous sound that remotely resembles the word, “Okay.”
    Amelie giggles, patting Oceania on the shoulder. “Come on, Oceania. Our parents aren’t that bad.”
    With one last squeeze of Oceania’s hand, I hook my arm through hers, and Amelie does the same on the other side. Together, we half-walk, half-drag the reluctant mermaid into the parlor.
    Father is seated in his deep leather chair, reading one of those dry, dull business magazines he’s always forcing upon me, while Mother lounges luxuriously across her red velvet fainting couch, humming under her breath as she reads one of her penny romances. Both parents look up from their reading material to stare at Oceania.
    Mother floats to her feet, extending a hand to Oceania. “Hello, dear,” she says. “You must be Miss Oceania. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am Mrs. Arabella Rose.”
    I’m thankful that I taught Oceania a bit about our social graces, for she shakes my mother’s hand as though she was brought up behaving this way.
    Father heaves himself out of his seat, thrusts out his meaty hand, and says gruffly, “Mr. Robert Rose. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
    Oceania treats both parents to a charming smile. “The pleasure is all mine,” she says in a mellifluous voice, sounding every inch the well-bred lady. “You have a lovely house.”
    “Thank you,” Father grunts, eyeing her skeptically, as though he expects her to pocket a trinket or a piece of fine china at any moment. He gestures to the couch. “Please, sit down.”
    Amelie, Oceania, and I plop down side-by-side, and Nelly appears with a tray of refreshments. As we take coffee, tea, and water, Father begins firing questions at Oceania with the determination of a bulldog. He really hadn’t been joking about revealing her as a “ragamuffin” quickly.
    “So, Miss Oceania,” he says. “What brings you to