Her face becomes an instant smile, the way she used to smile at me
before-everything. She squints, and the black fringe of her lashes
looks like it’s nestling the gold of her eyes. The sun breaks behind
me and lights up her cheekbones and the rich browns in her hair. I
smile back, even though I don’t know what we’re smiling about.
Then she says, “Marty!” and her chair flies back as she
practically flies to him.
Marty pulls up a stool beside me. He shakes Kurt’s hand and avoids
my eyes when he holds out his hand to me.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I go, leaning casually against my chair.
“On land. Out here in the world.”
He slumps down. “Dammit! Shouldn’t you be in school right now?”
I sit up straight. “Guess today’s just my lucky day.” I add, “
Na-na-na, boo-boo ,” in a hushed voice so just he can hear it.
Marty fixes his cap from side to side. “Okay, I promised I’d tell
you what I am.”
I’m unable to keep the smugness from my face. “Let’s have it.”
“Not here, bro. It’s one of those believe-it-or-not things.” And
even though he says that, he leans into Layla’s ear and whispers. She
stares at Marty with a sort of wonder that is rare for her lately. It
was the same expression she had when she saw the Sea Court, when my
grandfather gave her the shell around her neck. I wish she’d look at
me that way, but all I get is Tristan Hart, her best friend, who
kissed another girl while he already had a girlfriend.
I turn to Layla. Trusted lifetime best friend. “Come on, spill
it.”
Kurt comes to my defense. Trusted merman sidekick. “Now, that’s
hardly fair to Tristan. He’s been very patie-” Layla cups her hands
around his ear and whispers to him !
“Interesting.” Kurt tilts his head at Marty, who in turn takes off
his cap and bows like he’s just finished an encore. “I never would’ve
guessed. Though it completely makes sense.”
“That’s not cool, guys,” I say.
Toward the back of the bar, Angelo and the guys have massacred
half of their wings. The princesses look at them with something that
crosses between hunger and disgust. Maybe with a splash of
fascination. I wonder how come Gwen isn’t with them.
“Trust me. You’re new to this world. You have to see it to believe
it, dude.” Marty puts his cap back on. I’m about to argue that Layla
isn’t even part of this world and is more human than I am, but I don’t
feel like getting her right hook again. Marty calls out to the
bartender, “Hey, Jimmy, let me get five bucks of the Rocky Mountains
to stay and the Andes Picante wings to go.”
I pull out the black leather wallet my dad gave me when I turned
fifteen. Behind my ten-dollar bill is a photo-booth picture I’d
forgotten about. It’s me and Layla from the summer before high school.
I’m holding my finger in my mouth like a hook. My face totally is
leaned into Layla’s. She couldn’t even hold her funny face without
cracking up. I push it down before she can see me looking at it.
“Put your pretzel monies away, Little Prince,” Marty goes. “This
round’s on me.”
Kurt, the rigid MerWonder, scratches the back of his neck and
glances carefully around the room. I hate when he does that. He says,
“This is all great, but we have some pressing-” But he doesn’t finish.
The distinct sound of a gunshot jolts us. We duck, but the screams
come from the boardwalk.
I grab my backpack and run out the door, pushing past the crowds
of onlookers. Straight ahead, where there are scattered
rainbow-colored beach umbrellas, people grab hold of their things and
run away from the beach. Memories of the day of the storm fill my
head. I realize it’s just a world of people who run the other way.
I search the clouds for a bit of black, anything that might
suggest it was thunder and lightning and another wave. But the sky is
an endless blue.
Emergency 4x4s honk at the traffic of people on the boardwalk.
Farther away, police sirens wail. The crowd parts for a man with a
bald head that’s been slicked with suntan oil. In his arms is a heap
of tattered bloody clothes.
He’s struggling with the weight of a boy, and when he almost
trips, a hand breaks loose from the pile of clothes and dangles, cold
and blue.
The man’s leg goes weak, but he balances on one knee. I reach
forward to help, but I’m not fast enough, and the boy hits the ground
with a wet thump. The corners of his lips are white and cracked. His
eyes are open, staring at the sky. The smell of copper and salt hit me
like a sucker punch. Down where the boy’s leg used to be is a mess of
sand and bone and loose skin.
The man leans down and uses two fingers to shut those dead, gaping
eyes.
“What happened?”
When he speaks, his voice is a low growl. “I was just sitting.
Reading. Beats me if I’ll find my book in that mess now. Saw the top
of a shark. But it was deformed.” He hovers, his palm over his head to
signal where the dorsal fin might be. “Then the boy-” He breaks off
and stares back down at the dead boy. I realize my hands are shaking
at my sides.
A set of hands comes down on my shoulder. It’s Marty. He leans
close to my face and whispers, “Come on, man. We don’t want to be here
when five-o shows up.” My body is numb as we weave along the Coney
Island boardwalk, away from the mangled body on the ground.
We sit in a straight line, our feet dangling over the edge of the
pier. This is where Coney Island turns into Brighton Beach.
“That was awful,” Layla says, her voice catching in her throat.
“The merrows.” Kurt says what I’ve been thinking but don’t want to
admit to.
I remember when Layla would curl up in bed because she didn’t want
to touch the edges, as if whatever was in the dark would reach up and
snatch her. This is the same, except now we’re all scared and pull our
feet away from the water and set them firmly on the ground.
“Is this all because of the nasty sea witch who’s out to get you?”
Marty has a way of making even the worst things sound harmless.
“Yeah, that one. Apparently she might have an army of mutant
merpeople called merrows.”
I wait for a smart comeback that doesn’t come. Marty tosses the
bottle cap into the water. It skips once, twice, sinks. “Aw, sh iii
t.”
“What?” Layla gets ready to stand and run.
“I forgot the hot wings.”
She sucks her teeth and smacks him for once.
“What? I paid for them.”
“I’m falling behind,” I say. “The other guys are halfway down the
Pacific, and I’m still on land, watching people die around me and not
doing anything about it.” I punch the wood and regret it. The scabs
over my knuckles crack and bleed. I look at Marty. “That’s where you
come in.”
“Me?” Marty tilts his cap from side to side.
“You know everyone.”
“Not every-”
“What do you know of a psychic who teaches at my school? Ms.
Pippen.”
“Wait, wait.” Marty dusts sand off his black jeans. “Olivia
Pippen?”
I stand to face him. “So you know her?”
Marty hesitates like he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But
he can’t take it back.
I repeat, “Dude, do you know where she lives?”
He holds his hands up in the air as if he can conjure up a force
field between us. A few more steps back and he’ll fall off the pier.
“Guys, I’m neutral. I can’t-” He looks to Kurt. “You know I can’t put