that summer |percabeth au| ✔︎

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - Can't

Mrs. Olympia's discovery lent speed and urgency to our final renovations, and though she'd ultimately confirmed that the mayor hadn't realized the extent of P&D's plans, he wasn't interested in challenging them once he knew. After all, he wanted the same golden-paved streets as they did, regardless of how they made it happen.

It was down to us, down to winning the bet.

For two and a half weeks we scrambled.

By day we worked beyond bone weariness and aching muscles and lack of sleep. We dry-docked the boat to inspect the hull, which—luck on our side—was intact, requiring only a good scrub and polish. We cleaned. Fastened and tightened. Primed and painted. Oiled and adjusted winches and tracks. Tuned. Checked and double-checked and triple-checked, prioritizing for speed and lightness, and finally getting her back in the water, where we repeated the process all over again.

By night we kept watch.

During the final days leading up to the big race, Percy called in reinforcements in the form of Drew and Piper, finally taking them up on their offer to help. Alternating with the girls and Artemis, Percy and I stood guard on the boat, sometimes checking in at random intervals in the middle of the night. We plasticked the window, fixed it up with duct tape to keep out curious birds. Candy had even cast a spell of protection on the boat, fitting the helm with a small stone gargoyle, all to discourage further acts of piracy.

None came.

Candy believed it was her magic, which I wasn't discounting. But ultimately, this rivalry was between the Jacksons and the Stolls. None of the other sailors was interested in screwing with another man's boat. All along, Travis—and his father—had been our main concern on the pirate front. And rumor had it Never Flounder was still belching up crickets.

Rumor also had it that Travis had yet to find a first mate. The mayor had volunteered the city hall intern for the position, a college kid named Grover from Oregon who'd probably never sailed a boat in his life.

The night before the regatta, as Katie, Artemis, Candy, Travis, and most of the population of Atargatis Cove roamed the streets for the Mermaid Festival's fellowship walk 'n' feast, Percy and I slipped onto the Vega to christen the boat.

To celebrate the accomplishment of getting her seaworthy.

To offer some good-luck wishes for the big win on our horizon.

And tonight, with the fate of the Cove resting squarely on our shoulders, Percy looked happy. Confident. Why shouldn't he be? He was certain the Vega was faster than Travis' boat, and together we'd reviewed the charts, mapped out the course, talked through all the potential trouble spots. Prepared was an understatement.

"Took her out this morning," Percy said excitedly, handing me a plastic cup from the spread on the saloon table. Grapes, crackers, cheese, champagne—he'd thought of everything. "Handled herself just fine with the mainsail and standard jib. One spot on the route looks a little rougher than usual, but as long as we're careful and the wind doesn't pull any surprises, the Queen will get us through."

The water was calm tonight, and I tried to follow its cue, smile through my nerves, but Percy's words had sent a new bolt of fear through my heart.

For weeks I'd been convincing myself that I could do it, get back out on the open sea. I'd reached an impressive level of denial, mainly by not thinking about it. It was enough to focus on getting the boat in shape, keeping it clean, preventing piracy, saving the Cove. Sailing? That was a far-off fantasy, nothing to worry about.

But tonight his words made it real.

I twisted the bracelet around my wrist.

"With me, Stowaway?" Percy squeezed my shoulder. The gesture should have been reassuring, comforting. But it only made me feel guilty as I sank deeper into old fears.