The unfamiliarity of the room only added to her panic, and she sat up quickly, her heart racing. She was gasping, breathing in the salty air in heavy gulps, and that helped a bit. Her head still pounded, and the watersong rang in her ears.
That was the worst part. Everything about the last few days was horrible, but the watersong made it impossible to think or rest. It haunted her dreams, keeping her awake in the night, and made it so she couldn’t even feel comfortable in her own skin.
She wanted to crawl right out of her body, but she couldn’t. She was trapped in it, trapped with that incessant music and those awful girls in this colorless house.
That was the best way to describe the beach house—colorless. Penn had picked it out, choosing the most luxurious property she could find on the ocean. Even Gemma had to admit that it was nice, very high-class and expansive, but it had to be the whitest place she’d ever seen.
The room she stayed in—the one that Penn had informed her would be “her” room—was entirely white. Not eggshell or ivory or off-white but pure, startling white. The walls, the curtains, the bedding. Even the artwork on the walls had a white frame, surrounding some kind of abstract painting in swirling shades of white and gray.
And the rest of the house was more of the same. What little color did manage to seep into the house was always pale gray or the occasional muted blue. It was almost unbearably pristine.
Gemma didn’t know how anyone could live like this, but the home owner wasn’t very helpful by way of answers. Not that Gemma had tried talking to him all that much. Penn and the other sirens had cast their spell on him, turning him into a mindless sycophant, and Gemma didn’t really have any urge to interact with that.
Besides, her mind was preoccupied. Not only did she have that awful watersong gnawing at her constantly, she felt like hell. It was like the worst flu she’d ever had. Her entire body ached, from her bones to her skin. Nausea would sweep over her in awful waves, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing up.
“I take it you didn’t sleep well,” Thea said, seeming to magically appear in the doorway to Gemma’s room. Her red hair hung loose around her face, blowing back in the breeze like she was the star of a music video.
“I slept fine,” Gemma lied. She threw off her blankets, which were drenched in sweat, and climbed out of bed.
Thea snorted. “I can tell.”
Gemma went over to her dresser—also white—and rummaged through the drawers for fresh clothes. She’d taken very few outfits with her when she left home, but Lexi had given her plenty of hand-me-downs.
The only thing she’d taken with her that really meant anything was a picture from home. It was of her, Harper, and their mom, taken shortly before the accident, when their mom still lived at home.
That picture—her one true possession—she kept in a drawer, buried beneath her new clothes. She’d left it in the frame, hoping that would protect it when she carried it in her book bag through the ocean, and it had, some, but the picture was all warped and wrinkled.
As she pulled out her clothes, she looked at it for a second, missing a family she knew she’d probably never see again, then hurried to cover it back up with clean panties and slammed the drawer shut.
“Did you want something?” Gemma asked. “Because I need to get changed.”
“So change,” Thea said, and didn’t move from her spot in the doorway.
“Can I get a little privacy?” Gemma asked.
Thea rolled her eyes. “You need to get over it. We’re all girls here.”
“Isn’t Sawyer running around?” Gemma asked.
“He’s somewhere,” Thea admitted, and looked away. She didn’t leave the room, exactly, but turned her back to Gemma. “I think Penn gave him some kind of task before she left.”
Gemma knew this was the best she could hope for, so she hurried to change into a clean dress and underwear.
“Penn left?” Gemma asked, not hiding the surprise in her voice.
“Yeah, Penn and Lexi went shopping,” Thea explained. “New house, new clothes. That’s their motto.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Gemma asked.
“I had to stay and babysit you and Sawyer.” Thea glanced over her shoulder, and when she saw that Gemma was dressed, she turned back around.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Gemma said.
“Yeah, you do,” Thea said flatly. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” Gemma muttered.
She brushed past Thea and walked down the hall to the bathroom. Thea followed her, but Gemma hadn’t expected any different.
When she looked in the mirror above the vanity, Gemma realized that Thea hadn’t completely told the truth. While Gemma did look worse than she had the day before, and even worse than she had the day before that, she was still remarkably beautiful.