One of the kids in the back leads the class in laughter. “Wait! That one’s name is Ghost? That’s a crazy-ass name!”
“All right, Jorge. Yes, it’s unusual. The Alpha language is complex and meant to be spoken underwater,” Mr. Ervin explains. “From what I understand, some of it is impossible for humans to speak, so each of the thirty thousand immigrants were given a new name by members of the Red Cross. Sometimes they picked names that sounded similar to their own, but when that wasn’t possible, they had to be given English names. As you can imagine, they ran out of Jennifers and Davids and Jorges pretty fast, so the volunteers got creative. Luna’s name must come from the old amusement park. I think there was a haunted-house ride with the word Ghost in its name.”
“So one of them is named Funnel Cake?” Gabriel says. He is rewarded with howls of laughter.
“Be cool,” Mr. Ervin begs. “Luna, Ghost, welcome. I hope you can forgive us, but we’re all very curious about you. Not many people have gotten to speak with an Alpha face-to-face, and I bet the class has a million questions. I know I do. Would you share a little about yourselves? Why don’t we start with you, Luna?”
Luna looks pleadingly at Ghost. He nods, and she turns back to Mr. Ervin.
“My name is Luna. I am a Daughter of Sirena,” she says, shifting her gaze between the teacher and Ghost.
“Daughter of Sirena?” Mr. Ervin says.
“Yes, Sirena was the first of the Alpha. Our clan has taken her honorable name.”
“How fascinating!”
The scales on her arms and neck turn a silky pink. The effect is like fireworks for the class, and they ooh and ahh, which only makes her more awkward. Luna shifts back and forth from one leg to the other like a child doing the pee-pee dance.
Mr. Ervin ignores her discomfort. “Pay attention, everyone. A clan is a bit like a tribe, like our Native Americans.”
I can see Luna has no idea what he’s talking about, and why would she? Luna grew up at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. She doesn’t know anything about American history.
“So you and Ghost are in a clan—”
Ghost snarls. “No! I am a Son of Nix, the holy thinker.”
“A thinker?”
“An inventor, a medicine maker, an adder of sums,” he boasts.
“A scientist! Fascinating. How many clans are there?” Mr. Ervin asks.
Luna looks to Ghost again. Is he in charge of her? Mom has told me about the Alpha caste system—their community has different strata, and those on the lower levels have to obey those on the higher ones without question. Ghost’s family must have an important role within the Alpha.
“There are many,” she says.
“But exactly how many?” Mr. Ervin presses.
Ghost snarls. “Are you finished with your spying, human?” he snaps. The word “human” comes out like spit on the sidewalk.
Mr. Ervin is so befuddled, he takes a step back. “I’m not spying, Ghost. I’m trying to get to know you. Do you have any questions for me?”
Ghost shakes his head, then laughs derisively.
Mr. Ervin turns back to Luna. “Aside from your appearance, what separates a Sirena from a Nix?”
Luna looks to Ghost. He nods his approval and she beams proudly. “Sirena are speechmakers and counselors and . . . I don’t know the word in your language.”
Mr. Ervin smiles. “There’s no need to feel insecure about it, Luna. English is not an easy language to learn. Maybe you could describe what it is you do?”
Luna looks to Ghost again. He sighs impatiently.
“I comfort others?” she says in something just above a whisper. “Does that make sense?”
That’s enough, Luna! Please, just shut your mouth. I close my eyes and try to project this thought as loudly as possible, but Luna’s proud of herself. Her role is a great honor to her people, a position of power and influence. She’s been selected to be something like a life coach, steering a leader toward good decisions, guiding their choices and careers in an effort to achieve greater power and prestige. Luna is the literal woman behind the great man, and in this case, the great man is Ghost. She’s his girlfriend in all meanings of the word, but her job is to prepare him for the responsibilities of a future role in Alpha government and for his role as a husband to someone else.
“Comfort others?” Mr. Ervin presses.
C’mon, Ervin! Let it go!
“Yes, some Sirena are honored to be . . . pleasure givers—I think the word you use is mates?”
I want to jump up and stop her. This is too shocking for a bunch of rowdy teenagers on the first day of school. They’re going to label her a prostitute. I know because when my mother told me this story, I thought the same thing. There’s so much more to it, but this frail girl doesn’t have the words to do it justice.
Luckily, Mr. Ervin’s face tells me he’s getting an inkling of what Luna is trying to say. His face burns red and he begins to stammer.
“Okay, so, let’s see. Um, tell us about these gloves the two of you are wearing. Are they jewelry?” he asks.
Yes, change the subject!
“She’s a ho!” someone shouts from the back.
The boys hoot and holler, whistle, and pound on desks. The girls gasp in a collective judgment that sucks all the air out of the room. American teenagers have seen it all—the Internet is a bottomless cup of OMG—but this is something entirely new to them. They aren’t used to being surprised.