Of Poseidon (27 page)

“What human king?” Dr. Milligan asks, picking up his discarded metal stool and brushing it off as if it accumulated dust balls since his last sitting.

Galen shrugs. “I don’t know.” He turns to me again, a wry smile on his face. “Don’t care either. We Tritons tend to dislike humans.”

“Not a very good attitude for an ambassador,” I tell him.

“But don’t worry. I won’t tell Dr. Milligan. Or Rachel.” Galen grins. “Anyway, the human king sent something like

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half his army to collect his ‘belongings.’ He gained support from 0—

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other human kingdoms by telling stories of enslavement and unnatural breeding of humans. When the armies arrived they, killed everyone in sight, even some of Poseidon’s own half- human children. To stop the carnage, Poseidon appealed to Triton for help against the humans. Triton agreed to help, with one stipulation: Poseidon had to abandon his city and promise to live as Syrena from then on. He agreed. Triton used his gift to create great waves that destroyed the city, the Half- Breeds, and the human armies. There were no survivors. After that, the generals agreed to help each other against the humans. Breeding with them became outlawed, the off spring of such a union viewed as an abomination.” Galen hesitates on the last word, probably because he knows it’s a direct insult to me, assuming I’m really a half- breed. Somehow, though, I’m not insulted. The way he told the story was more a formal recital than telling it in his own words. It makes me think he doesn’t believe it or, at least, doesn’t believe parts of it. Also, the way he’s looking at me right now hardly makes me feel like an “abomination.”

“I thought the war was between the kingdoms,” I tell him.

“Not against the humans.”

Galen shakes his head. “We’ve never warred against each other. Not physically anyway.” An unfamiliar emotion fl ickers across his face then disappears like the fl ash of a camera.

“So, that’s Triton’s Gift? To control the sea?” I ask.

“No,” Galen says, scratching his neck. “At least, not exactly.

We don’t know how he did it. Some say strength, that he cracked the earth and that caused the waves. Some say he did it with speed.

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We don’t know. It’s been a long time since a royal inherited the Gift of Triton. So long that the Archives disagree on what that Gift is.”

For a few moments we sit in silence, engrossed in the ghost of Galen’s story, of everything said and of things unsaid. And the more I think about it, the angrier I get. “So, I don’t belong anywhere?” I say, jolting them from wakeful slumber.

“What’s that?” Dr. Milligan says, his eyes still glazed with the past.

“Basically, we’re all in agreement that I’m a freak. Is that right?”

“You’re not a freak,” Galen says.

“I’m not Syrena and I’m not human. The Syrena think I’m an abomination. Humans will treat me like a science experiment if they fi nd out. Which still leaves that big question wide open, Dr. Milligan. How has no one found out?” Dr. Milligan sighs. He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and cleans imaginary fog from his glasses’ lens. His movements are so deliberate, so meticulous, that even I recognize he’s trying to calm me. “Emma, my dear, you haven’t known me for a long time, as Galen has. Yet I consider you my friend and hope you consider me yours. So if we’re friends, then I can be honest with you, right?”

I nod, chewing my lip as if it’s fi lled with cheesecake.

Dr. Milligan smiles in a generic, obligatory way. “Good. Now then, I believe that your father knew of your condition all along.”

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The tears well up instantly, and I don’t know why. Galen 0—

looks away.

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“That’s not possible,” I whisper. “It’s just not. My mom could tell if he was hiding something. She’s the bloodhound of lies.”

“I’m sure she knew about it, too,” Dr. Milligan sighs. “Like you said, you’re a medical anomaly, ” he says, even as I mouth the word “freak” at him. “I don’t have any children myself, but if I did, I wouldn’t want to publicize it either. Scientists from all over the world would be stalking your family, begging for the chance to run a few tests. Your life would be chaos. Your father knew that.”

I take a deep breath. “I guess that could be true. But the thing is, if they’re not my parents, then where did I come from?”

“Could you ask your mother directly?” Dr. Milligan says.

“She’d commit me to a nut house. No, wait. She’d laugh in my face, then commit me to a nut house.” Memories of the day I almost drowned make the words taste rancid in my mouth. The way I crawled into her lap, so trusting and confi dent, to tell her about the catfi sh. The way she laughed so hard she could hardly catch her breath. It was the fi rst time I realized I couldn’t trust my mother with myself. Not my whole self anyway.

Dr. Milligan nods. “But you don’t have to mention anything about being Syrena do you? She may not even know that part. She may just know you’re diff erent.”

“I guess,” I say doubtfully. If she knew about me, about my gift, she wouldn’t have laughed at me all those years ago. She would have comforted me and told me what I was then and there. Wouldn’t she? Suddenly, I’m too overwhelmed to think. My

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world keeps shattering and putting itself back together, but

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every time it does I’m presented with a diff erent mosaic of reality. Maybe I do belong in a nut house.

I hop from the exam table, the linoleum slapping my bare feet. “I’m ready to go home,” I say to neither of them. I almost choke on the word “home.” It sounds foreign on my tongue, like I’ve just made it up. As if it doesn’t exist. “You’re done with your tests, right Dr. Milligan?”

The doctor stands, extending his hand to me. “Yes, I won’t poke and prod you anymore, my dear.” There is nothing generic about his smile now. “It was certainly a plea sure to meet you, young lady.”

But I’m already down the hall, my clothes tucked tight under my arm.

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20

GALEN SLIDES into his desk, unsettled by the way the sturdy blond boy talking to Emma casually rests his arm on the back of her seat.

“Good morning,” Galen says, leaning over to wrap his arms around her, nearly pulling her from the chair. He even rests his cheek against hers for good mea sure. “Good morning . . . er, Mark, isn’t it?” he says, careful to keep his voice pleasant. Still, he glances meaningfully at the masculine arm still lining the back of Emma’s seat, almost touching her.

To his credit— and safety— Mark eases the off ending limb back to his own desk, off ering Emma a lazy smile full of strikingly white teeth. “You and Forza, huh? Did you clear that with his groupies?”

She laughs and gently pries Galen’s arms off her. Out of the

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corner of his eye, he sees the eruption of pink spreading like

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spilled paint over her face. She’s not used to dating him yet.

Until about ten minutes ago, he wasn’t used to it either. Now though, with the way Mark eyes her like a tasty shellfi sh, playing the role of Emma’s boyfriend feels all too natural.

The bell rings, saving Emma from a reply and saving Mark thousands of dollars in hospital bills. Emma shoots Galen a withering look, which he defl ects with what he hopes is an enchanting grin. He mea sures his success by the way her blush deepens but stops short when he notices the dark circles under her eyes.

She didn’t sleep last night. Not that he thought she would.

She’d been quiet on the fl ight home from Destin two nights ago. He didn’t pressure her or pressure her to talk about it with him, mostly because he didn’t know what to say once the conversation got started. So many times, he’s started to assure her that he doesn’t see her as an abomination, but it seems wrong to say it out loud. Like he’s willfully disagreeing with the law. But how could those delicious- looking lips and those huge violet eyes be considered an abomination?

What’s even crazier is that not only does he not consider her an abomination, the fact that she could be a half- breed ignited a hope in him he’s got no right to feel: Grom would never mate with a half human. At least, Galen doesn’t think he would.

He glances at Emma, whose silky eyelids don’t even fl utter in her state of light sleep. When he clears his throat, she startles.

“Thank you,” she mouths to him as she picks her pencil back

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up, using the eraser to trace the lines in her text book as she reads.

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He acknowledges with a nod. He doesn’t want to leave her like

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this, anxious and tense and out of place in her own beautiful skin.

But he needs to go to Romul. Romul will be able to tell him more about the half humans, about why Triton hated them. It’s not something Galen ever thought he’d ask; it’s always been easy enough to fi nd reasons to hate the humans. Still, his handful of human friends makes it impossible for him to hate the species as a whole. And one day, he might need the law to side with him on that point.

The bell rings, startling him from his thoughts and Emma from another mini nap. He grabs her backpack and holds it open while she shovels her book and paper into it. Before she can get away, he grabs her hand, entwining their fi ngers the way Rachel showed him. He’s surprised when Emma leans into him, resting her head on his biceps. Maybe she’s more used to dating him than he thought.

She yawns. “Let’s skip the rest of the day and take a nap at your house.”

He squeezes her hand. Spending the rest of the day with her alone at his house is the best and worst thing he can think of.

“Your mom will kill me and ground you.”

“I didn’t sleep last night.”

“I can tell.”

“I look that bad?”

“You look that tired.”

They stop in front of the door to their next class. He reaches to open it for her. “Galen,” she says, looking up at him. “Please.”

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He sighs. “I can’t miss school today. I might miss tomorrow.”

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The curiosity perks her right up. “Why?”

He pulls her out of the way as some of their classmates dawdle into the room. The tardy bell rings. “I’m going to talk to the Archives to night. To see what else I can fi nd out about the Half Breeds. I thought maybe that would make you feel better about . . .” He shrugs, unable to fi nish the half truth. “Besides, I have to get back here before Friday. Rachel thinks we need to go on a date Friday night. You know, for show.”

“Oh,” she says, her lashes tangling together in the world’s longest blink. She yawns again. “Like the movies or something?”

“She said a few things. Movies was one of them, I think.

Something about roller- skating and bowling, too.” Emma gives a drowsy laugh. “If you think I’m deadly in fl ip- fl ops, you should see me in roller skates.”

“Movies it is, then. I’m not willing to risk another concussion.” He ushers her to the door, and she lets him open it for her. Tyler, a ju nior with an Adam’s apple the size of his nose, subtly waves them to the seats he saved in the back row. Galen slips him a twenty dollar bill as Tyler shuffl es his things to an