I want them to know Luna doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, and that it is she who actually chooses whom to guide, that Sirena get to pick those among the Alpha who have the most potential. I want them to understand that Luna’s role is nuanced, but I’m being naive. Jorge, Deshane, and Keith aren’t into nuances.
“How much?” Jorge shouts. A crumpled dollar flies over my head and lands at Luna’s feet.
Frightened, Luna takes Ghost’s hand. I might be imagining it, but their gloves shimmer, a faint light weaves through the etchings, and then it’s gone.
“You’re not doing Caspar the Ghost, are you?” Deshane shouts. He’s an enormous kid—a hulk, loud, and lacking in all self-restraint. If our school had money for a football team, someone would have steered his aggression toward organized sports and away from the rest of us, but our school doesn’t have money for a football team. “You need a pimp, honey?”
“Ignorant filth,” Ghost rages. His fists are balled up so tight, the powdery white skin beneath his webbed fingers turns a hot crimson. “Luna holds an honored place amongst our people. Know your place, bottom feeder.”
Suddenly, Deshane is all out of laughter. “What did you call me, fish head?”
“I called you a bottom feeder. That’s a fish that eats feces off the ocean floor,” Ghost says as he stomps toward Deshane.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Mr. Ervin crosses the room to get between them. “We all need to remember that we’re from two very different cultures with completely different ways of living. What might sound strange to us is perfectly normal to someone else. I’m sure there are things we do that the mermaids—”
“Mermaid?” Ghost snaps. “Do I look female to you? Do I look like something out of your brainless fairy tales? I am a Son of Nix! My name is . . .”
What comes out jars my bones. It’s a vibrating wail and a bark and a roar all at once. It feels like it could pop my eardrums if I didn’t clamp my hands over them.
Mr. Ervin stammers an apology, but Ghost won’t let him get started.
“You clueless jellyfish. My people would have you thrown into the Great Abyss to prevent you from mating and creating more dull-witted minnows. No wonder these sea cucumbers are so simple.”
Deshane gets to his feet. “Say it to my face!”
Ghost looks at Deshane and laughs. “Step up if you didn’t hear me, but know this: the moment you’re in my reach, I will gut you.”
Jorge stands up. “Kick his ass, Deshane.”
The soldier takes a step toward us. He’s got his rifle in his hands. “I want everyone in their seats now!”
But no one is paying attention to him. Every eye is on Deshane. He’s a wrecking machine. He put a teacher in the hospital once back in elementary school, but if my mother’s stories are true, Ghost is the one to worry about. I always thought she had exaggerated what comes over them in a fight. It sounded like something from a horror film. But when Deshane charges up the aisle, I see it for myself. Ghost’s fingertips split open like overcooked sausages. Black talons creep out of the meat and gristle. What was once his mouth stretches impossibly wide, as if his jaw is not connected to his skull and can just grow and grow until it devours the entire room. Inside are rows and rows of teeth planted in milky-white gums. But what is far more frightening is the eager, murderous smile in his bulbous, bloodshot eyes. Ghost wants to hurt Deshane. He wants to show off.
I can’t let him, even if my father’s voice is trumpeting in my head. Don’t get involved! Stay out of their business! Let the soldier handle it. But my father is not here, and he doesn’t realize that I listened to the other things he used to say to me back when doing the right thing was more important than being safe. Be the person who stops the fight.
“Sit down, Deshane,” I say as I leap to my feet.
“Uh, Lyric?” Bex says, reaching for my hand.
Deshane looks at me like I materialized out of thin air. I haven’t talked to this kid since he and I sat out the fourth grade field trip to the aquarium because we kept laughing at the tour guide’s lisp. I hope he remembers.
“Get out of my way, bitch.”
Okay, I guess he doesn’t remember.
He tries to get past me, but I block him, then do it again. He looks at me, laughs, then shoves me so hard, I tumble over my desk and slam my shoulder onto the floor. There’s a flash of red, an instant ache, and spots before my eyes. Oh, man, I’m going to have one serious migraine.
Bex kneels beside me. “There’s my wild thing,” she says with a proud grin.
“Stay in your seats!” the soldier roars. He’s on his radio shouting for backup. Seconds later the door flies open and ten heavily armed men storm into the room. They stomp down the aisles and drag Deshane and Jorge into the hall, then come back for Ghost.
“Get your hands off me,” he hisses as they pull him out of the class.
There are hands on my arms too, and I realize I’m not being helped to my feet. I’m being arrested.
Chapter Seven
The gymnasium is now a temporary holding cell for students waiting for the bus to the Tombs. Twenty-five desks complete with chairs bolted into the hardwood floor make up five neat rows. I’m handcuffed to one. Some whimpering freshman is to my right. Ghost is to my left, grumbling in his barky language, and Deshane and his pals are behind me, laughing. They aren’t taking any of this seriously.