Part of Your Nightmare (Disney Chills 1)

“Ruin it?” Shelly asked.

“Yeah. Beating her that badly in the drill? At her own event? Surpassing her record time? Then parading in here like you’re the captain of the swim team? And like you’re better than her at the breaststroke now?”

Shelly felt her stomach drop. Her gills also flared, making her feel self-conscious. She clutched the towel tighter. “I didn’t mean to do that. I was just trying to make her happy. And do what the coach wanted and was best for the team!”

Attina frowned. “Well, just know it’s a sensitive subject, so be careful.”

“I just want to win—to help us get the trophy. So Kendall can throw her party.”

Attina shook her head. “Look, you’re new, so I don’t expect you to understand everything. But this is a big deal for Kendall. If you beat her in the next match, she won’t forget it. Trust me on this one. I’m just saying this as your friend.”

With that, Attina headed for the showers, leaving Shelly alone on the bench. She could feel the wet towel wrapped tightly around her neck—and, underneath it, the gills that flared every time she bre

athed. Wanting to race home and cry, she forced herself to head for the showers instead. Still in her bathing suit, she scooted into a shower stall and turned it on.

“What’s good about being the best swimmer if being the best swimmer means that Kendall will hate me?” Shelly muttered to herself, stepping under the scalding water.

And aren’t friends supposed to celebrate the successes of their friends? she thought.

She reached for the shampoo bottle. The water pelted her skin. She felt her gills flare. She had thought that becoming the fastest swimmer would help her keep her friends, not lose them. On top of that complication, she had actual gills. She’d signed her name in gold on that contract. She’d made her wish and agreed to the deal. But now she almost wished that she hadn’t.

Was it too late to take it back?

Then she remembered Ursula saying, “There’s no going back,” and her heart stopped.

Mindlessly, she squirted shampoo into her palm—but thick oily black sludge came out of the bottle. It coated her palm and dripped down her arm.

She gasped, dropping the shampoo bottle. “What the—”

The sludge leaked from the bottle and stained the water black. It reminded her of an oil spill in the ocean. She looked down. Her hand was still stained with the oily black sludge. She tried scrubbing it under the scalding water, but the black stain wouldn’t come off.

The sea witch’s sultry voice echoed through her head. “You can’t change your mind!”

A horrible cackling filled the showers. “You wanted to be the fastest swimmer!”

Shelly grabbed her towel and bolted from the shower, darting past Kendall and the twins, who were now dressed. She tried to hide her hand, hoping they wouldn’t notice the black stain.

“What’s wrong?” Kendall asked as she detangled her wet hair with a comb.

“Nothing!” Shelly said, her voice higher than she meant it to be. “I—I’m late for dinner!” Shelly quickly tugged on her outfit over her bathing suit and ran from the locker room.

The sea witch’s cackling followed her out into the parking lot, where her mother’s car waited for her. But as soon as she hopped in and slammed the door, the cackling ceased.

What is happening to me? Am I going mad?

And . . . what am I going to do?

Shelly hoped dinner would take her mind off everything.

Takeout containers littered the cafeteria table at the aquarium. Colorful murals of fish, sea turtles, dolphins, coral reefs, and other marine life covered the walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Triton Bay, where the sun was dipping into the ocean. Soon darkness would fall. She, her brother, and her father had gone to the aquarium after school to order Chinese food.

But Shelly’s father had been so busy with a leaking tank on the upper ocean deck that he’d forgotten to call in the order. So Shelly had taken matters into her own hands, locating the crumpled takeout menu and his credit card. By the time the food showed up, they were famished. Dawson was even starting to drum his fingers on the table. She had thrust the lo mein at him the second the food arrived, along with chopsticks, even though he ate with his hands.

“Sorry about dinner,” her father said, digging into his chicken and veggies.

“No problem,” Shelly said, reaching for the kung pao shrimp, her favorite dish of all time.

“Lo mein is like salty spaghetti,” Dawson said, slurping up the noodles. “Isn’t that cool?”