“There’s no way. She’s, like, psychic? How-”
“Hey, guys! Wait up.” Ryan jogs ahead of us and slows down to a
backward trot. “You guys sure do walk fast.”
I’ve got to give it to Ryan. As annoying as he is, he’s persistent
as hell.
Kurt nods. I push the cafeteria double doors and am thankful for
the smell of sloppy joes and curly fries mixing with whatever my sixth
sense is picking up.
“He has a good heart,” Kurt says, nodding slightly toward where
Ryan talks to Thalia. Ryan’s eyes are lit up so that they’re almost as
blue as mine. He runs his hand through his hair with a kind of
confidence I’ve only seen him give his science-fair projects and
election videos for student council. I wonder if I should warn him
he’ll never be president if he has to keep his wife in a fish tank.
“Is that a mer-thing she’s giving off?”
Kurt considers this for a moment. “No, I believe it is just his
pure heart.”
I grab a tray and hand it to him while we wait in line. “Pure
heart?”
“As in all of his intentions are pure, and that radiates off him.
In other times he would have been the queen’s right-hand knight, a
just leader, an honest politician.”
Figures. “But she’s definitely glamoured?”
Kurt nods once. “Our kind is naturally alluring to humans, since
humans have weak minds. Her beauty, his pure heart-they’re like
magnets.”
“Is that supposed to be like magic?”
“It’s not magic, per se. It’s a trace of it. Our father had true
magic. Some have more. In the old days, we were more part of the sea
than human. Our powers are rooted in the elements. My father could
summon fires that melted sand into glass. He was one of the main
architects who rebuilt Glass Castle after a battle with some nasty
fey.”
“So what do you do for fire now?”
“Barter with witches. Trade with dragons, the Chinese, not the
Hungarian ones, of course-” He presses against the Styrofoam tray so
hard that it cracks on either side and we have to get another one.
“Sometimes pirates, but they’re shifty.”
Pirates! The eight-year-old boy in me is jumping for joy. Okay,
the thirteen-year-old. “You and Thalia don’t have any powers ?”
“Thalia can speak to her sea horse, Atticus. Our father could do
that too. Thalia and I can completely shift into fish form. We get it
from our mother. It’s temporary but useful when you need to get into
tight spaces. I believe because of that, we are most valuable to the
king-”
“Like in the bathtub?” I stick out my tray, and Lunch Lady Lourdes
ladles a mess of chili onto my plate. “Which I’ll never forgive you
for, by the way.”
Kurt smiles at me and then at the extra curly fries Lourdes gives
him, along with her fake-eyelashed wink. I grab two apple juices from
the cooler and a water bottle. He grabs an orange juice and two water
bottles. Lourdes winks at him and gives him an extra ticket for
dessert.
“You know,” I tell him as we make our way to where Ryan and Thalia
have found the rest of the swim team, “you’re going to be bad for my
image.”
We walk into Jerry leaning too hard against Thalia. “I bet Italy
was off the hook. Angelo went one time, and he came back with hickeys
everywhere.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re confusing hickeys with bruises,” Ryan
corrects.
They laugh and it makes me feel easy again. Bertie leans closer to
Thalia and goes, “You like it here best, though, right? I mean, it’s
Brooklyn, baby.”
Thalia licks the sloppy joe off her wide smile. It has the same
effect on all the boys, a deep sigh I don’t think they’re even aware
of. “It’s my favorite place,” she tells him.
“Really?” Kurt says. His mouth is full of fries and chili sauce,
and his violet eyes glint mischievously in the cafeteria light. “I
always enjoyed the Galapagos Isles.”
“What’s in the Galapagos?”
Her voice sends a jolt right down my center. Layla pulls up a
chair beside me. The suddenness of her voice makes me jump, and I
squeeze the packet of ketchup outward. A big red blob lands on a girl
at the next table.
“Ugh!” she squeals. And before I can apologize, she runs off in
the direction of the bathroom.
Bertie pulls over her tray of fries. He shrugs. “What? It’s not
like she’ll have time to eat them now.”
I start mixing mayo into my mound of ketchup, until the swirls of
red and white become a pale orange. I dip a fry and push the tray in
the middle of the table so everyone can have some.
“So these are your cousins,” Layla says. There’s a tightness in
her voice. It may be because she doesn’t believe me, or because she
hasn’t been invited.
“Kurt, Thalia.” I clear my throat. “This is Layla.”
“Nice to meet you,” Thalia says. “Would you like some of Tristan’s
special sauce?”
Layla shakes her head, ignoring the jeers from the guys. “No,
thank you.”
“Is there something else you would like?” Kurt goes.
She studies his face. I wonder if she remembers him from the
beach. “No, I’m fine.”
Bertie burps long and hard. “Ahh. Much better.”
“How come you’re flying solo, Layla?” Jerry takes a break from
stuffing his face with curly fries and my special sauce. “Where’s your
other half?”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been without a lot of my friends lately.” She
isn’t wearing any makeup, but her eyes look naturally bright and
sparkly. She looks past me to where Kurt is sitting, eating curly
fries and drinking water like he might just die of thirst. It’s her
way of avoiding my face. “So how long have you guys been here?”
Kurt instantly sits up straight and smooths out the front of his
shirt. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “A few days.
We’re visiting.”
“Right. Canada. Ireland. Italy. I remember.”
“Oh, you’re so quiet in classes that I wasn’t sure you were
listening.”
She looks up at the great clock against the wall. “Does this mean
you’re tagging along to art next period?”
Kurt looks to me and I nod at him. “Yep, art is next with Mrs.
Elise. It’s basically a free period.”
Part of my ignore-Layla-for-her-own-well-being plan isn’t going to
work as long as we’re in school together. We have the same friends,
the same classes. I’m not going to outright diss her in public, but I
can’t let her in like I’ve always done. I can’t say, “So guess what?
I’m a merman. And I’m not just a regular merman. I’m a merman who can
shift into human form, and my grandfather, whom I’ve never met, is the
King of the Seas.” And even though I can feel the words on the tip of
my tongue now that she’s sitting here, something in me falters. I know
I shouldn’t. But she’s my best friend.
“So what did you do yesterday?” I ask her. But between Thalia
talking about which beach has the most naked people, Kurt explaining
why surfing is underrated, Bertie showing off his supreme burping
skills, and the general cacophony of phones ringing and iPods
blasting, she doesn’t seem to hear me.
This time I’m not in the middle of the sea waiting for the glint
of silver that’s going to attack me in the dark.
This time I’m not the one who’s drowning.
I stand on a shore of white rock I don’t have a name for. It isn’t
shiny like marble, but it still glistens, like sand that’s been
compacted together with tons of tiny crystal bits. There’s a giant