“Someone’s got the boo-boo face,” Bex says, nodding toward Gabriel.
“I sort of led him to believe he was going to get lucky last night,” I mutter.
She looks back at him and laughs. “Poor guy. Where did he take you this time?”
“A bird-crap-covered rooftop above a furniture store,” I say.
“And that wasn’t good enough? Geez, Princess Lyric! What will please you?”
I catch his eye. He scowls, then gives his attention back to his shoes. Funny, yesterday I would have been panicked about him being mad at me. Today, I’ve got bigger problems.
Mr. Ervin enters with the soldier, Luna, and, much to my surprise, Ghost. The class murmurs as the Nix struts across the room. Apparently the new kids are not going to the Tombs. Jorge growls something under his breath. I turn and see that he is wearing a Niners shirt with a black mermaid on it. There’s a slash through her body, and underneath are the words throw the fish back.
Terrance Lir enters next. He scans the room as nervously as the day before, then gestures to someone in the hall. A moment later, the prince steps into the room and stands next to his friends. He towers over them, shoulders back, perfect posture, surveying us like we’re privileged to be in his presence. Terrance whispers something in his ear, and the boy nods.
“You may go,” the prince says. Mr. Lir bows deeply and leaves, but not before he turns his head and looks right at me. Is he going to say something? I hear my father’s warning and look down at my desk, feeling ashamed. I love this man. He’s as good as family to me, and I have abandoned him. My father doesn’t trust him. That has to be good enough for me, even if it makes me feel like a jerk.
“People, we have another new addition to our class,” Mr. Ervin says.
“This is such bull,” Jorge shouts. He’s so angry, he kicks an empty desk really hard and it slams into the wall.
“Kid, shut your mouth,” the soldier barks. His hand is already on his rifle.
Mr. Ervin jumps in without missing a beat. “He calls himself Fathom and he is the son of the Alpha king, which I learned this morning is called a prime. Thus, Fathom is a prince—he’s royalty, and I have been asked to inform you that he is accustomed to a level of respect you may not give your friends.”
“Hey, prince, you suck,” Jorge shouts.
Fathom peers down the aisle at him.
Jorge laughs. “Yeah, I said it. What are you gonna do about it?”
“Son, that’s strike two,” the soldier shouts at him.
“Let’s all have a seat,” Mr. Ervin says.
Ghost and Luna slip into a couple of empty ones near the front while Fathom slides into one next to me. My heart rate multiplies, and I’m sure I’m bright red. I want to crawl under this desk and die, yet I can’t help taking quick glances at him. His hands are criss-crossed in white scars, and I can see the horrible open wound where his blades break the skin. His arms are rock hard with bulging triceps, and his face is—oh, he’s staring at me like he’s waiting for me to tell him what to do. I bury my head in my hands.
“Where’s Deshane?” Jorge asks.
“Deshane will not be back,” Mr. Ervin says.
“Did he go to jail?” one of the girls in the back asks. I think her name is Lynn.
“He did,” Mr. Ervin responds. “But he was released to his uncle. Together it was decided that Deshane would be better off in a different learning environment, so he was transferred to a new school.”
Jorge stands up and points at Ghost. “What about him? He started it all.”
Ghost stands and hisses. “If you feel you’ve been wronged by me, you are welcome to challenge me.”
“Bring it to me, ugly,” Jorge shouts, knocking over another desk.
“That’s it. Let’s go,” the soldier shouts. He charges down the aisle and snatches Jorge by the scruff of the neck. The boy struggles to free himself, but the soldier is too strong. All Jorge can do is flail and scream on his way to the hall.
“Fine with me. I don’t want to be around those things, anyway. They smell!”
“They are simple beasts, with no backbone, Your Majesty, like sea cucumbers that can talk,” Ghost says to Fathom, then sweeps his gaze over the rest of us. “Cowardly, too. What about the rest of you? Or are humans all talk, like they say?”
Mr. Ervin slams a book down on his desk. “Ghost, sit down.”
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you,” Ghost says. “You grunt like a blobfish, and you’re only slightly less ugly than—”
“Silence yourself,” Fathom commands. “This man is a teacher, like the Children of Ceto, and he deserves your respect.”
Ghost is startled by the criticism. “Your Majesty, these beasts can’t be compared to Ceto!”
“I have three challenges that await me in the camp, Son of Nix. Are you proposing a fourth?”
Ghost shakes his head. His eyes are full of panic.
Another soldier enters to replace the first. “Enough talk. The next person to make a peep is going to the Tombs.”
When the bell rings, ugliness floods the halls like bursting sewers after a long rain. It comes pouring out of every room, a boiling soup of aggression aimed at the Alpha, and it threatens to drown us all. My classmates aren’t happy that Deshane is gone, even though most of them probably wished for it at one time or another. Someone has to answer for the outrage, and the Alpha are at the top of that list. Luna is cornered and called a whore to her face. The stupidest kid in the world tries to start a fight with the big Selkie. Ghost can’t walk six inches without getting shoved, but it’s the smallest of the bunch, the Ceto girl, who I learn is called Bumper, who gets most of the abuse. She’s small and quiet, but it’s her troubling appearance that makes her a target: a flat nose and a soft, pudding-like face. Her shoulders and neck have thick, black crustacean-like growths and her skin is slightly see-through. But like Ghost she hides something deadly, and if the others provoke her enough . . . No, I can’t get involved.