Waking Storms

Waking Storms

4.5 33
by Sarah Porter
     
 

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"Enchanting."—Carolyn Turgeon, author of Mermaid: A Twist on the Classic Tale

After parting ways with her troubled mermaid tribe, Luce receives news that the tribes queen wants her dead. Dorian, the boy Luce broke mermaid law to save, is determined to make her pay for the murder of his family. And while the mermaids believe that humans never

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Overview

"Enchanting."—Carolyn Turgeon, author of Mermaid: A Twist on the Classic Tale

After parting ways with her troubled mermaid tribe, Luce receives news that the tribes queen wants her dead. Dorian, the boy Luce broke mermaid law to save, is determined to make her pay for the murder of his family. And while the mermaids believe that humans never suspect their existence, there are ominous signs to the contrary.

     But when Luce and Dorian meet, they wonder if love can overpower the hatred they know they should feel for each other. Can Luce fulfill her rightful role as queen of the mermaids without sacrificing her forbidden romance with Dorian?

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
Praise for Waking Storms

"Sarah Porter’s mermaid world is dazzlingly imagined and richly, hauntingly told. Waking Storms is as enchanting—and dark, and lush, and tragic, and gorgeous—as the mermaids' song."—Carolyn Turgeon, author of Mermaid: A Twist on the Classic Tale

"Porter has crafted another winner. . . . Like any good middle novel in a trilogy, Waking Storms leaves plenty of strings untied to keep you hungry for the final installment. But unlike many weaker series, this book also stands up completely on its own two feet (fins?) and is as deep, dark and magical as Lost Voices. A reader could pick it up not having read the previous title and be fine, while fans of the first novel surely will not be disappointed."—teenreads.com

Praise for Lost Voices

"[A] haunting debut. . . . Porter’s writing is expressive and graceful. . . . a captivatingly different story."—Booklist

"A beautifully written and heartbreaking story about a lost soul struggling to forgive the people she loved who wronged her, and ultimately to forgive herself."—Jennifer Echols, author of Going Too Far

Praise for The Twice Lost

"The Twice Lost offers a moving, action-packed and deeply satisfying ending to Sarah Porter's brilliant Lost Voices trilogy. What a beautiful, intense world of ferocious lost girls who find themselves at last. I loved it."—Carolyn Turgeon, author of Mermaid and The Fairest of Them All

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780547482545
Publisher:
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Publication date:
06/04/2013
Series:
Lost Voices Trilogy Series, #2
Pages:
405
Sales rank:
194,972
Product dimensions:
5.66(w) x 8.10(h) x 1.06(d)
Lexile:
860L (what's this?)
Age Range:
12 Years

Read an Excerpt

1

Each to Each

The last words he had absorbed were the ones about Lazarus, come back from the dead to tell everyone . . . everything. That was all wrong, bogus. If you’ve seen death from the inside, Dorian thought, you keep your mouth shut. You don’t say a word to anybody. They wouldn’t understand you anyway.

"Dorian? Can you continue?"

He looked up, blank. Images of plummeting bodies still streaked through his head.

" ‘ Shall I part . . .’ " Mrs. Muggeridge prompted. Dorian pulled himself up from terrible daydreams and forced his eyes to focus on the page in front of him. Acting normal was a way to buy himself the privacy to think not so normally. He found the line and cleared his throat.

" ‘ Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?’ " His voice sounded too fl at. He tried to squeeze more emotion into it, though the words seemed uninteresting. " ‘I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.’ " Now Dorian saw what was coming in the next line and started to panic. He struggled to suppress the memory of those dark eyes looking at him from the center of a wave, the gagging taste of salt, that unspeakable music. Did Mrs. Muggeridge have any idea what she was doing to him? " ‘I have heard the mer . . .’ " He choked a little. " ‘The mermaids singing, each to each.’ " Now there was an audible tremor in his voice, and something rising in his throat that felt like a throttled scream.

"Please read to the end."

" ‘I do not think that they will sing to me!’ " Dorian spat it out aggressively and dropped the book with a crash. The rest of the students in the tiny class were staring, too shocked to laugh. But what did they know, anyway? "This poem is garbage! It’s all lies!"

"Dorian . . ."

"If he’d heard the mermaids singing, he wouldn’t be blathering on like this! He would be dead! Is this poem just trying to pretend that people don’t have to die?"

Mrs. Muggeridge didn’t even look angry. Somewhere between alarmed and amused.

"If you could read on to the end, Dorian, I think you’ll see that T. S. Eliot isn’t trying to evade intimations of mortality." Students started snickering at that. She always used such weird words. It was a mystery to him how Mrs. Muggeridge had wound up in this town. She was even more out of place than he was, with her dragging black clothes and odd ideas.

"No!" Dorian didn’t remember getting out of his chair, but he was standing now. His legs were shaking violently, and the room seemed unsteady. Mrs. Muggeridge looked at him carefully.

"Maybe you should step out of the room for a few minutes?" He couldn’t understand why she had to react so calmly. It wasn’t fair, not when she’d made him read those horrible lines. He stalked out of class, leaving his English anthology with its pages splayed and crushed against the floor. In the hallway he pressed his forehead against the cold tile wall. His breathing was fast and hungry, as if he’d just come up from under the deep gray slick of the ocean.

He could hear Mrs. Muggeridge serenely reading on. " ‘We have lingered in the chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown. Till human voices wake us, and we drown.’ "

He felt like he was going to faint. But at least the poem got something right. Maybe he’d survived the sinking of the Dear Melissa, but he still felt like he was drowning all the time. Every time his alarm clock went off, he lunged bolt upright in bed, gasping for air.

When the class finally poured out into the hall, he straightened himself and trailed after them to chemistry. It was such a suffocating, sleepy, ragtag school, with only sixty students and three teachers. His high school in the Chicago suburbs had been twenty times the size of this place. Everything felt crushingly small.

Other students turned to stare at the two men in dark suits standing near a drinking fountain, but Dorian didn’t notice them. He was concentrating on fighting the wobbly sensation of the floor.

The men noticed him, though. Their eyes tracked him intently as he walked away, sometimes leaning on the row of lockers. A few minutes later Mrs. Muggeridge emerged, gray corkscrew curls bobbing absurdly above her head as she chattered to another teacher, the scarlet frames of her glasses flashing like hazard lights. "I suppose I’m behind the times. Apparently now it’s politically incorrect to make your students read poems with mermaids that don’t kill people. What a thing to get so upset about!"

The suited men glanced at each other and followed her.


• *

Dorian kept trying to draw the girl he’d seen. If he could set the memory down in black ink, slap it to the paper once and for all, then maybe he could finally get her out of his head. He drew exceptionally well, but every time he finished a new picture he couldn’t escape the feeling that something was missing. The drawing he was working on now showed a towering wave with a single enormous eye gazing out from under the crest. The eyelashes merged with curls of sea foam.

He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t been afraid at the time. The fear had come much later, after he was obviously safe, and the fits of nauseous terror that seized him were infuriatingly senseless. But when the ship was actually crashing, wrenching up under his feet, and people were dying all around him, he’d felt perfectly composed and confident.

He also didn’t know where the instincts that had saved him had come from. If he’d done even one thing differently, he knew, he wouldn’t be the sole surviving passenger of the Dear Melissa. He’d be as dead as the rest of them, as dead as his whole family. If he hadn’t faced down that girl in the waves—or that thing that wasn’t a girl, not really, but a monster with a beautiful girl’s head and torso—if he hadn’t sung her own devastating song right back at her, then it would have been all over. She would have murdered him without a second thought. But sitting under the cold fluorescent lights of the chemistry lab, he knew that singing in the middle of a shipwreck had been a bizarre impulse. Inexplicable. How had he known?

Who would have ever guessed that the way to stop a mermaid from killing you was to sing at her?

She’d dragged him out from the wreckage, swimming away with him clasped in one arm. They’d raced at such speed that the blood had shrieked in his head. The foam-striped water had rushed across his staring eyes. He’d struggled not to inhale it, and he’d failed again and again. Salt burned his lungs, and the cold water in his chest swelled into a bursting ache. But every time he’d thought that he was really going to drown, she’d pulled him up above the surface and let the water hack out of him, fountaining down his chin. She’d let him live. Only him, out of all the hundreds who’d set sail together.

She’d even spoken, once. Now that he had time to think it over, he realized one of the weirdest things about it all was the fact that she’d used English instead of talking in some kind of mermaid gibberish. Take a really deep breath, okay? We have to dive under again. Her voice was gentle and much too innocent-sounding for something so utterly evil.

He hadn’t answered. He’d been too pissed off to speak to her, though now looking back, he realized that he hadn’t felt nearly furious enough. He’d felt the kind of anger that would have made sense if he’d been having a fight with a friend, say. As if that monster with the silvery green tail was just a girl he knew from school or something. Worse, as if she was someone he liked.

She’d belonged to the pack that murdered his mother and father; his sweet six-year-old sister, Emily; his aunt and her husband; and all three of his cousins. He should hate that mermaid girl more than anything in the world. He should dream about dismembering her with his bare hands.

Instead he dreamed about her dark eyes watching him as he sprawled on the shore gagging up a flood of sour, brackish liquid. She hadn’t swum off right away after she’d shoved him up onto the beach, and he’d had time to memorize her pale face and dark jagged hair set like a star in a gray-green curl of sea.

He dreamed about her song.


• *

"Charlotte Muggeridge? We were wondering if we could speak to you for a few minutes." The taller of the two men folded back his suit lapel to show her his badge. Mrs. Muggeridge goggled at him in absolute confusion.

"Anyone can speak to me!" She was alone with the men in the teachers’ lounge. The grubby vomit orange sofas sagged in patches like rotting fruit. Inspirational posters urging them to strive for their dreams had faded to anemic tints of jade green and beige. No one sat down. Instead she swayed a little, staring from one glossy, polite face to the other. Both the suited men met her gaze with bland determination. Both had empty blue eyes and freshly shaved cheeks. "You can’t actually be FBI! That is, of course you can speak to me, but . . . I couldn’t possibly have anything to say that you might find interesting . . ." She trailed off, then glanced up at them with new sharpness. "I hope none of our students is in trouble."

"No one is in any trouble, ma’am." Mrs. Muggeridge’s eyes were darkening with a feeling of aversion for the tall man, though she couldn’t justify her dislike. He was perfectly well-mannered. "There was an incident in your third-period English class?"

That bewildered her, again. "Certainly nothing I couldn’t handle without help from the FBI!" She gaped at them. "Don’t you have more important things to worry about than an outburst from a fifteen-year-old boy?"

"In this case, ma’am, we think it might be important."

"A tenth grader didn’t care for T. S. Eliot. Send in the feds!" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. The agents were glowering at her.

"Just describe the incident. Ma’am." The politeness was slipping now.

"Well . . . It was only that we were reading ‘Prufrock’ in class. We reached the closing stanzas, about the mermaids. And Dorian Hurst became very upset, for some reason. He jumped out of his seat and started yelling. But he’s generally been a very good student since he enrolled here."

The two men were obviously trying to keep their faces smooth and vacant, but something excited and a little disturbing started to show in the quick pointed looks passing between them.

"And what did Dorian say?" It was the smaller man speaking now. He had hanging jowls and a high, almost girlish voice. Mrs. Muggeridge thought it contrasted unpleasantly with his blocky gray face.

"He said that if Prufrock had really heard the mermaids singing, he wouldn’t have lived to talk about it." An eager twitch passed through the shoulders of the taller agent. He leaned in on her, and his blue eyes were as brittle as hunks of ice. But why on earth did he care? "It was a peculiar detail to quarrel with, but Dorian seemed very passionate about it. He accused Eliot of pretending we don’t have to die."

"I thought you said the name was Prufrock?" It was the shorter agent squeaking again. Mrs. Muggeridge looked at him with fresh outrage.

"T. S. Eliot is the poet who wrote ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’! How can you be so ig—" Mrs. Muggeridge stifled a number of extremely rude endings to the sentence.

"Did he say anything else?" The tall man sounded bored.

"That was all I let him say. He was being disruptive, so I asked him to step out of class." The shorter man’s upper lip suddenly jerked up in sneer, as if Mrs. Muggeridge had just confessed to doing something extremely stupid. It was all too much for her. "Now, would you please explain why all of this is important?"

"We don’t discuss ongoing investigations, ma’am." The tall agent turned abruptly toward the door, rapping a pen against his mouth

"Do you know anything about Dorian’s family?" The short agent twittered the question in a shrill, malicious tone. His eyebrows arched suggestively. The tall one swung back around, shooting what was obviously meant to be a quelling glance at his partner, but the little man only grinned.

"His family? No, I don’t. I think someone mentioned that he doesn’t live with his biological parents, but that isn’t so uncommon."

"They’re dead, is why. Sister, too. They all died in June." He seemed to enjoy the look of shock on Mrs. Muggeridge’s face. "Drowned."

Mrs. Muggeridge felt her mouth fall into an O of dismay as the tall agent jerked his partner’s arm and towed him from the room. She stumbled a few steps to the sofa and flopped down, leaning her head on her hands. "Oh, that poor boy!" She gasped the words out loud. "Oh, no wonder he was so upset!"

It still didn’t explain why they were so interested, though. Not unless they thought Dorian was hiding something.


• *

His father’s second cousin once removed Lindy and her husband, Elias, had made it clear that they didn’t want to keep Dorian permanently. They were too old and tired to cope with a teenager. It was just their bad luck that they happened to live right in the town where he’d literally washed up and that his parents had included their phone number on some form they’d filled out. The result was that Dorian had been left with them more or less by default. They reminded him occasionally that this was just a temporary arrangement until something better could be worked out, but since nobody else was exactly clamoring to take over as his guardian, he had the impression that he’d probably be stuck with them for a while. They acted skittish around him, mincing and whispering in a way that made him queasy and impatient. The only good thing he could say for them was that they’d at least followed the psychologist’s advice to keep quiet about his connection to the sinking of the Dear Melissa. No one in his school knew he’d been on the ship, not even the principal, and he liked it that way. If everyone had kept asking him questions about it, he was pretty sure he would have gone insane.

He’d been asked way too many questions already, by a parade of out-of-towners flown in to investigate the ship’s crash. Therapists and cops, insurance agents, and even someone who claimed to be from the FBI. What had happened? Had he noticed anything unusual? And, of course, how on earth had he swum twelve miles alone in less than an hour? Some of them seemed to doubt that he’d been on the ship at all, though his name was right there on the passenger manifest.

He gave the same answers to all of them: he didn’t remember anything. He’d been standing on the deck, and everything had gone black. He’d come to on the shore.

It had turned into a kind of game. They asked the same questions; he gave the same answers. Like some kind of nightmare merry-go-round: I don’t remember, I don’t remember, I don’t remember.

He wasn’t about to tell them that he’d been rescued by a killer mermaid.

His reserve wasn’t only because they wouldn’t believe him or that they might even throw him into an asylum for hopeless lunatics, though those were definitely factors

It was all just too private: the mermaid girl’s painfully beautiful face, the searing amazement of those voices, the squeezing closeness of death. He wouldn’t have described it even to his best friend, much less to a bunch of pushy, self-important strangers.

For all he knew, he might be the only person on earth who had heard the mermaids singing and lived. The memory was his. It was all he had to make up for the loss of his family. The dark-haired mermaid’s song burned his sleep, twined through all his waking thoughts.


• *

Over dinner Lindy asked him at least five times if he was enjoying his macaroni and cheese mixed with hamburger meat; every time she asked in precisely the same simpering, anxious voice. Pink scalp winked through the wisps of her fuzzy, apricot blond hair, and her pale eyes looked permanently frightened inside their red rims. She made Dorian think of a sick, senile rabbit.

"It’s delicious," Dorian replied automatically. He kept looking over at the window, where early twilight glowed between red checkered curtains. The kitchen was prim, secure, and always extremely clean. A painted wooden bear in a chef’s hat and apron stood on the counter, forever frying a wooden egg. A game show host jabbered on the TV about how fabulous that evening’s prizes were. How long would it be before he could get away? "I’m going to go study at a friend’s house. Okay?"

Lindy and Elias both nodded so cautiously that it was like he’d just confessed to suicidal impulses and they were terrified of saying something that would push him over the edge. Not that suicide seemed like the worst idea ever sometimes.

Dorian scraped and washed his plate. It was important to keep going through the motions. Convince them that he hadn’t been driven totally crazy by the trauma. It was bad enough that he screamed in his sleep sometimes. They were probably already afraid that he was going to come after them with an axe.

He had to find the mermaid who’d saved him. Not to prove to himself that she hadn’t been some kind of hallucination—he knew what he’d seen. But she owed him an explanation at least. After all, what kind of reason could she have had for murdering so many people? Absolute evil? If that was it, though, why make an exception for him, singing or no? He didn’t deserve to be alive when his parents and Emily were dead.

He needed to talk to her, needed it urgently, and he told himself that it didn’t matter why. He just had to hear what she would say. But how was he supposed to find a mermaid? Steal a rowboat and go paddle around in the open sea like an idiot? He’d been brooding over the problem for weeks, and tonight he thought he might have found an answer. It was worth a try at least.

It was only the middle of September, but it was already cold enough that he pulled on a parka and hat before stepping out into the wild dusk, where the wind reeked with the weedy, fishy breath of the harbor. The smell always brought back the sickening taste of mingled bile and salt water horribly flecked with the sweetness of the previous night’s chocolate cake that he’d disgorged that day on the shore. His stomach lurched a little from the memory, but he did his best to ignore it.

The small tan house stood on a narrow street that ran straight down to the tiny harbor. The hill was steep enough that the sidewalk was a staircase with broad cement steps. He could see the black masts of a few sailboats crisscrossing like chopsticks in front of the electric blue sky while farther up clouds sagged in a violet jumble. He walked between glowing windows, heading for the sea. It was obvious he’d have to walk for a mile or two, past the beach north of town where she’d left him, then up onto the low, ragged cliffs where a path wound through stands of half-dead spruce. The farther the better, really. She wouldn’t want to come too close to a town.

He didn’t want to care how she felt about anything, but sometimes he couldn’t help wondering if she still thought about him. Maybe she’d completely forgotten him in the three months since she’d swum with him in her arms.

Then he’d remind her. He wasn’t about to let her forget what she’d done. He’d show her what a big mistake she’d made by letting one of her victims survive. Especially since that survivor was him.

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Meet the Author

Sarah Porter is the author Lost Voices, Waking Storms, and The Twice Lost . She is also an artist and a freelance public school teacher. Sarah and her husband live in Brooklyn, New York. Visit Sarah’s Watery Den online at www.sarahporterbooks.com.

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Waking Storms 4.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 33 reviews.
Icecream18JA More than 1 year ago
The second book in the Lost Voices series does not disappoint. Luce remains apart from the tribe, she can’t agree with their newest leader, Anais. Anais will be the antagonist of this book; she is hard to like-assuming the reader even tries. Luce, on the other hand, has blossomed into an even better heroine. She is understanding, compassionate, brave, and strong. She pulls the whole novel together. The boy who Luce saved from the ship wreck in Lost Voices wants vengeance. He is suitable angry and depressed from the loss of his family. Luce, ever brave, meets with him….eventually those meetings grow longer and fonder. Dorian, the potential love interest, sees the Luce is not like the other mermaids; her heart is not set on killing humans. Dorian as a love interest is interesting. He might not be the typical love interest, he really isn’t a hero. He represents a part of Luce’s lost life on land, a chance for her to meet a normal human boy and fall in love. He can be angry to the point of cattiness, abrasive, and pushy; however, he also shows a loving, kind, and helpful side to Luce. Their relationship will undoubtedly interest the reader. The secondary characters made the transition, with the exception of Catarina, to this book. Dana and Violet are the sole characters the reader has a chance at liking. Anais and her group are not easy to enjoy. The author does a great job of developing the secondary characters to continue to hold the readers’ interest in them. Overall, this book was exciting to read and easily as good as the first in the series. Any teen/young adult reader remotely interested in mermaids or fantasy tinged with romance will love this book.
chapterxchapter More than 1 year ago
After the events that took place in author Sarah Porter’s novel Lost Voices, I was pumped to begin seeing what happens next in Luce’s new life as a mermaid. For those of you who haven’t read Lost Voices but for some reason are reading this review, not only am I telling you to go and pick up the first novel because it blew my mind, but you should leave this review and check out the review of Lost Voices since this review will most likely have potential spoilers. Now, since I’m assuming that most people have read Lost Voices, you know that the story left off with Luce having just sunk the Dear Melissa and saved that boy from drowning. Well guys, I don’t know if you expected him to have a major purpose in the plot, but that boy who she saved is named Dorian, and Dorian wanted revenge. Who wouldn’t? Mermaids murdered his parents. Luce’s song is haunting his mind. So…Dorian ends up finding ways to speak with Luce and once they begin to communicate a romance blooms between the two characters. You heard me right: Romance. Romance is the one thing that Lost Voice lacked and Waking Storms was just about dripping with it. The one thing that I feel I should mention is that I know most novels mention that a simple kiss is full of lightening and fireworks and stuff, I think that Waking Storms had some of the most accurate descriptions. So for girls who haven’t had their first kiss or something, Waking Storms will hopefully tell you what it’s actually like and for that I give Sarah Porter props. Though despite the romance that took place in the novel, there was a medley of new concepts being added into the story. One of the most important being the fact that humans have begun to discover the existence of mermaids and are searching for evidence and a way to stop the mermaids from killing. Enter Dorian again who gives us insight into the way that the FBI have been searching for survivors from mermaid attacks to give them supporting evidence and maybe even help. That being said, chapters switched between the POV’s of Luce and Dorian and I have to say that I really enjoyed it. Waking Storms is full of twists, turns, and forewarnings. It introduced new characters into the plot and new aspects to the existence of mermaids. Considering that the end of the novel was as gruesome as a Saw movie and had me dying for the next installment in the series, Waking Storms met my expectations. I would recommend this novel to fans of the previous Lost Voices novel, fantasy, and mermaid lore.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This second book of this wonderful series has left me gasping for air. It brings so many point of views and realizations to the story and our reality. I promise you this will bring your mind into a whole level of experience, and it is clearly shown to be a spectacular intense story of Luce and many others. Many emotions are mixed in this story, for us and the characters.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The romance in this book mixed with the action and new characters made the perfect second book. Luce's emotions are passed straight to the reader. Loved it!!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I loved the book but is there going to be another one bc that ending was awlful it like didnt even finish what she was going to do. But over all i did enjoy it
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love this series!!! Im a fan of fiction books that are in a series. Lately ive been reading books about sirens, mermaids, and werewolves! Siren is a great book if you like books about (duh) sirens! And Moon-Linked is a great book about werewolves!!! The ending of this book left me a little bit mad *** SPOILER ALERT*** I knew the Luce and Dorian were going to break up but still!!!! It didnt actually have to happen, but since it did, im extreamly mad at Dorian!!!!!!!! then with Luce finding the mermaids slautered??? I was like, HOLD UP!!!!! the part where it said that Rachel's head was cut down the middle, and how that was Jenna's foot floating on the water, i was thinking, i know that the humans were going to have to kill them one way but i was thinking of poisoning the water or something. NOT SLAUTER! all in all it was a fantastic book and i cant waig to buy the next one!!!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The book is truly amazing. How well she makes you understand each character, how she describes everything and everyone, it made me feel like I was in the book right next to which ever character it was she was focussing on at the time. The only thing that disappointed me and really took me by suprise was the CUSSING! It was seriously out of control, it was as if she wanted to make them like reguler highschoolers when they were talking but didn't know how to make them talk like that when they were mad or sensitive about something so the authur just through in half a dozen F and S bombs... If it weren't for the cussing and some other small things,I would have given it all 5 stars. The funny thing is that I don't remember more than maybe one or two small cuss words in the first book. Can't wait for the next book but please NO MORE CUSSING!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love this book. It was exciting and i cant wait for the next book.
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I told myself that I was only going to read three chapters before I went to bed...........I finished the book at 4 o'clock in the morning. I love this book.
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i think its kind of stupid that the guy dumps her, here friends ditch her and she is the only one left alive
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I did not like how quickly she was betrayed or how she found all the mermaids dead.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Awesome book though
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I love this trilogy so much and cant wait for the last book to come out!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If you love mermaids, you should read this story.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very good
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Just sayin'...its a little graphic. Over all, three stars.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Its a good plot, and i give it credit for that, but the fact that this book is for "young teenagers" bugs me. Im pretty sure the language in here doesnt constitute that age group. Im not even finished reading and i got this on the day it came out and with my normal reading rate, i should be long finished with it, but i just cant bring myself to do so.