Turning Tides

Chapter Three: Sea Change

When she was on land—and a little more alive, apparently—Malia had never attempted to change into wet clothes while in a bouncy house, but she figured she knew the pain now. Thankfully, she could hide in her cave-like room as she struggled into the tangled shirt while floating haphazardly into the furniture; she had given up on standing straight long ago.

At this point, the wrinkled rag bore little resemblance to the thin button-down blouse that Beatrice wore, and at least one cream-colored button was now lost somewhere on the rocky floor. Malia's lack of motor control and the water's unfamiliar buoyancy complicated the task even more, and more than once, she found herself either sprawled on the floor or pressed against the ceiling.

"Aha!" Malia exclaimed when she managed to fit both of her arms into the sleeves.

Her proud grin quickly faded when she realized her shirt was both inside-out and upside-down.

It wasn't long before her frustration took over, and when there was a knock on her door, Malia froze with her shirt covering her eyes and her body stuck in the upper corner of the room like a loose balloon.

"Malia?" Beatrice's voice sounded muffled through both the door and Malia's arms pressed against her ears. "Are you in there?"

For a few seconds, Malia seriously contemplated staying quiet and hoping Beatrice would give up. But after tugging her arms against her tangled shirt and feeling nothing but firm resistance, Malia knew she would have to be the first to give.

"Come in," she mumbled, her words partially getting caught in the cloth with her limbs.

Belatedly, Malia realized she should have mentioned something about her state of disarray, but she was more self-conscious about her lack of coordination than her lack of clothes. Given the circumstances, she could be forgiven for forgetting that her shirt was mostly off than on, and her bra was basically a bikini top. Plus, at least she had pants on.

Apparently, that wasn't enough for Beatrice if her startled "oh my" and awkward coughs were anything to go by.

"If you're going to laugh, at least do it later," Malia grumbled. "Preferably when I'm clothed and back on the ground."

It was a moment before Beatrice spoke, and Malia felt her cheeks grow warmer against her arms at the thought of the woman struggling to hold her laughter.

"Right," Beatrice said, her voice tight and high-pitched. "Sorry."

A moment later, Malia felt the rough ceiling leave her back, and her feet touched the floor soon after.

Beatrice cleared her throat again. "I—I'm going to... you know... Just... tell me if I'm hurting you."

Malia grunted in response, not trusting herself to form words through her embarrassment.

Unfortunately, even Beatrice seemed to struggle with the mess Malia made, and it wasn't long before she too was viciously tugging the fabric, along with Malia's defenseless limbs.

Malia yelped when the shirt was caught on her nose. "Ouch! Be gentle!"

Beatrice sighed. "You have to relax! This will be much easier for both of us once you do."

"I am relaxed! You're the one that's being rough with me."

For a moment, Beatrice went still and silent before clearing her throat again. "Sorry. I suppose I was a bit... Nevermind. Just... stay still, alright?"

It wasn't like Malia could do much else in her state, but she kept her comments to herself and tried to relax as much as she could as Beatrice continued to work on freeing her, thankfully with less aggressiveness than before.When Malia's head and limbs were finally free and her shirt was in its proper place, albeit looking like it went through the wringer, she nodded awkwardly.