“It’s evidence,” she explains.
Bonnie reports it to someone on the other end of her radio, which only attracts more attention from those in the hall. Soon kids are gathering around us, mumbling and staring like I have been in a terrible accident, a twelve-car pileup with broken bodies and burning gas trucks, and everyone is slowing down to gawk at the horror. What’s worse is I know one of these bastards did it. If my hand didn’t hurt, I’d punch them all out until one of them confessed.
From there it’s like I’m watching a slideshow presentation: down a hall, past the library, into the cafeteria, at a table with a plate of french fries in front of me I don’t remember buying, Bex’s worried face, Shadow’s worried face.
“Doyle assigned Fathom to me,” I say.
“Assigned him?”
“He’s trying to assimilate the Alpha kids by having them hang out with humans,” I explain.
“That’s why Fathom is in all your classes?” Shadow says.
I nod. “I meet with him for an hour every day, too. I’m teaching him to read.”
Bex looks hurt. Her eyes have the same bewildered look they had when she went through my backpack.
“It’s just been a couple of days,” I say defensively.
She can’t even look at me.
“I was trying to protect you,” I plead.
“So here’s the fish lover,” someone says behind me. I turn and find a weasel-faced girl standing over me. Her name is Svetlana . . . something. I don’t know her as much as I know of her. Once, last year, she broke a girl’s nose with a sock full of D batteries. I later learned the injured girl was her cousin and the attack was over some boy who didn’t like either of them. Right now, Svetlana’s eyeballing me with watery, bloodshot eyes. She’s bouncing on her heels and unable to stand still. Her pupils are as wide as manholes.
“You’re famous,” Svetlana continues.
“Leave her alone,” Bex says, springing to her feet.
“Was I talking to you, bitch? I’m not here to mess with her. I thought someone should warn her that people who fool around with the fish heads get jacked up.”
“You think you know something you don’t,” Bex says.
“Damn, Lyric, your friend has got a smart mouth,” Svetlana says. “Friends of fish lovers get jacked too. Especially mouthy ones.”
“Back off, tweeker,” Shadow says.
Svetlana laughs. “I got a big surprise—”
Suddenly, the cafeteria doors open and the Alpha enter. Fathom and the beautiful Triton girl are first, then Ghost and Luna, followed by the tiny Ceto girl called Bumper and the hulking Selkie kid. Terrance Lir follows close behind. Svetlana whistles, and a group of students, maybe twenty of them, climb up on their seats. Svetlana yanks the free chair from our table and does the same. Once she’s up there, she pulls her shirt off and reveals a red Niners shirt underneath. The others have all done the same, and together they raise one fist in the air and pump them to a beat only they can hear.
“We are the Coney Island Nine,” Svetlana shouts to everyone. “We ain’t afraid of no monsters, and neither should you be. If you can’t stand to look at those freaky things, then join us and we will drive their hermit-crab butts back into the ocean.”
Now she’s got the two cops’ attention. “Get off those chairs!” they demand as they charge toward us. Five of the kids step down, but the others refuse, which gives the cowards the courage to climb back up.
There’s a booming roar, and everyone’s attention turns to the Alpha. The Selkie is charging toward the Niners, all seven feet of him. I stand and drag my friends out of his path.
Terrance leaps in front of him. “Surf, you were told to expect this.”
Surf grabs him by the collar and yanks him off his feet. “Don’t call me that filthy bottom-feeder name. I am a Son of Selkie, and you should know better than to stand in my way,” he cries. His tone matches the disgust on his face.
Terrance is not shaken. “Selkie you may be, but you are but a pup who should respect the advice of your elders.”
“And you should know your place,” Surf barks. “You have grown arrogant living with the human trash.”
The hulking boy slaps Terrance in the face, and his whole body is jerked off the floor and launched across the room. He slams into a table with a horrible crash, knocking over chairs and then tumbling to the floor twenty yards from where he was standing.
There is a gasp in the room and then total silence. Even the cops are gob-smacked. It takes them several moments before they shake off their shock and remember to point their Tasers at the huge boy.
“Step back or I will Taser your dumb ass,” one of the cops threatens as he circles Surf.
Surf responds with another roar, this one sounding like a warning. One of the officers fires, and a dart attached to a long copper wire sticks into Surf’s chest. There’s a zap, but the boy seems unfazed.
“Shoot that ugly freak!” Svetlana cries from her chair.
Suddenly, Fathom is standing next to me. It doesn’t seem possible that he could have appeared without me noticing, but he’s there. He steps to Surf.
“Halt your challenge,” he demands. “These humans are fragile, Son of Selkie. They are also stupid. They talk without thinking. They do not see the consequences of their actions.”
Surf snarls. If he was angry before, now he’s apoplectic. “They insult us!”