OVERFALLS (The Merworld Water Wars, Book 2) (14 page)

Meikle crossed her arms. “It’s dark in here.”

“I can tell…problem is, I can’t seem to get my vision to kick in,” said Maile. “It’s been unreliable lately for no reason.”

“Her talent is sort of hit and miss,” said Gully.

“I know the feeling,” muttered Ophelia.

“Still, it’s an awesome talent. And I’m guessing you’ll soon meet someone who can help with your day vision,” I said, thinking of Doctor Tenly.

“Do you really think so?” asked Maile.

“I’m sure of it.”

“It would be nice to see a sunny day again,” she sighed.

“Again? You used to be able to see in daylight?” asked Meikle.

Maile nodded. “I’m not sure what happened. I mean, I’ve always had awesome night vision, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t see perfectly fine during the daytime. Then, one day, I woke up in the Kauai Camp for the Curiously Creepy, unable to see anything during the day. Gully and Gus, my boyfriend, thought I was targeted by someone in the institution. That’s why we escaped. During my appearance before The Hoodoo Council, Madame Helena said she thought my night vision powers had drained my day vision dry. Her explanation made perfect sense. I’ve made peace with it. Sort of, anyway.”

Meikle, Ophelia, Mom, and I exchanged quizzical looks. When Madame Helena offers a logical opinion out of the blue to a ‘malfunctioned,’ soon-to-be banished runaway—the very type of humanoid she hates with a fiery passion—then something about the situation smells worse than Mom’s tuna fish sandwich.

“So y’all are seventeen, then?” I asked.

“Yep. I really didn’t know turning seventeen could cause so many weird things,” said Gully. “Once Maile turned seventeen, she started shooting mile-long beams of light from her eyes, like headlights. Anything inside the light is totally protected from whatever. It’s so cool.”

“Kind of burns, though,” Maile added, rubbing her eyes a bit.

Madame Helena cleared her throat rather loudly. “We do have an issue of where to have the new Normals live. I also have it on good authority that there are resident Normals whose relatives or guardians have abandoned them. Apparently, they have been living like nomads. This is unacceptable. If we cannot find suitable homes for them, The Hoodoo Counsel must insist on their immediate removal and placement back in their former institution.”

“Like hell,” growled Meikle.

“No, Miss Martinez…like now,” said Madame Helena.

The loud crash of cafeteria doors slamming against the wall startled us. “So sorry I’m late!” Doctor Tenly in his Principal Jeepers finest ran across the room, weirdly waving a piece of parchment. The way he waved the paper was so peculiar, almost tauntingly, like holding a plate full of greasy goodness under the nose of someone on a rabbit diet. As he meticulously brandished the paper, I noticed all merperson eyes briefly flashing green. When he passed Mr. Smarmy and Luxton Vipor, their eyes also flickered green. “Wonderful news! The owner of Hambury House has agreed to house all parent and guardian-less Normals, naming me their caretaker.” He quickly handed the paper to Madame Helena, who frowned and refused to look at it.

“I’m not entirely certain you’re fit to be a caretaker, nor am I confident this mysterious homeowner is even lucid in his reasoning. I’ll have to meet with this owner, question you, and…” She finally glanced at the paper and her eyes shimmered green for a split second. “This looks good. I see no issues here. Normals without family members may stay with you, Principal Jeepers, at Hambury House. Quite like the name of the house, you know.”

“Figured you would,” said Doctor Tenly, smiling.

“But, for the purposes of this scroll, we’re still short one Normal, unfortunately.” Madame Helena hid her lips to keep from grinning. “It looks as though we’ll have to move to the bylaws.” She picked up a small red book, skipped a few pages, and started reading. “In the event there are not enough Normals to warrant breaking the seal on the scroll…”

“Did you count me?” Trey just burst through the doors with Mr. Gibbs, and I couldn’t help but do a little fist pump. Trey joined us, while Mr. Gibbs happily took his place beside my mom.

“It appears we have six Normals, Madame Helena,” said Vipor. “That’s enough to break the seal and finally read the scroll.”

Madame Helena grimaced. “Isn’t this a peachy keen surprise?”

“She still can’t fake a happy reaction,” I said.

“Just imagine how inadequate her lovers must feel,” Trey quipped.

“Assuming she has lovers,” said Meikle.

Breaking the seal, Madame Helena slowly unrolled the scroll, its paper crackling as she did. “Bravery builds respect. Respect builds legends. And legends build legacies. As Poseidon once said, ‘Harmony between species can only be attained through mutual respect; respect can only be reached through strength of character in adverse situations; strength of character is built through actions; and actions must be proven.’” After skimming the next line, she reluctantly passed the scroll to Doctor Tenly. Perhaps the scroll required a merperson to read the next passage.

Doctor Tenly gladly took the scroll from her hands and continued where she left off. “This day is the start of our shared history as Normals and Merpeople vie for the most coveted reward in our universe—the wish. Welcome to the Overfalls.”

Everyone in the room gasped, clapped, or anxiously bounced on their heels, except for the Normals; most of us wore
what the hell
expressions—apart from Meikle, who colorfully articulated her displeasure at not being in-the-know—which Doctor Tenly was quick to acknowledge.

“Overfalls is a renowned tournament prophesized by Poseidon’s oracles many centuries ago,” said Doctor Tenly. “Over the years, it has come to be known as the Mer-Nor Games. Six merp students and six Normals will compete to have a single wish granted.”

This time, the Normals owned all the gasps and wows. Some of the merps arrogantly laughed and commented on our delayed reactions. Jerk-wads.

“Now that we have enough students, I suppose it’s time to raise the brain coral,” said Doctor Tenly.

“Uh, Principal Jeepers, I’m afraid we have a problem,” said Mr. Smarmy, jumping up from the table to steal the floor from the doctor. No matter how hard Mr. Anderson tried to be the main man, Doctor Tenly simply swallowed him in every possible way, from stature to presence; it was rather amusing. “Although the Normals have six present participants, only five are actually eligible. As you know, the matches are exceedingly perilous…”

“I think this group has abilities far surpassing the requirements of the Overfalls,” said Doctor Tenly, scratching his nose and stealing a look at his watch.

“I’m not referring to their malfunctions. Would you not agree that basic senses are also vital to successfully compete in the matches, Principal Jeepers?”

Faking a sneeze apparently makes the perfect excuse to study the cafeteria doors, as the doctor just demonstrated. “Well, yeah, of course. Unfortunately, I find that many lack sense these days, especially the common kind.”

“I’m not talking about mental sense,” said Mr. Smarmy, stomping his foot. “I’m talking the big five—hearing, taste, touch, smell…sight.”

Doctor Tenly once again took a gander at his watch, this time just before running his hand through his wiry, salt and pepper principal-hair. With a sigh, he said, “They’re the foundation for any additional powers.”

Smiling and bouncing on his tiptoes, Mr. Smarmy said, “Excellent. It’s unfortunate for the Normals that Maile Lahela is hereby disqualified from the Overfalls for her vision impairment.”

“Won’t the matches be at night?” asked Vipor.

“Indeed, Luxton!” said Doctor Tenly, now pretending to cough up a hairball in order to check out the dang doors again. What was he up to?

“Oh! I can see in the dark!” yelped Maile, sadly facing the back corner of the room.

“Her night vision is spotty, at best,” offered Madame Helena. “Inconsistency is far too risky for this competition.”

“Very well, then,” said Vipor. “Now that Miss Lahela is disqualified, what is the next step?”

Making a huge production of opening her little red bylaws book, Madame Helena said, “It just so happens I have the answer right here. In the event of a disqualification on either team, said team will immediately forfeit. The opposing side will be deemed the winner by default and the captain of their team will be granted his or her wish.”

“That’s not fair!” I shouted. “They can’t get a wish if there wasn’t a competition to begin with!”

“It’s what the rules state, Marina,” said Vipor. “There’s no room for interpretation. I am sorry.”

“Yes. Sorry,” said Madame Helena, much like a snake. “As the designated administrator of the Overfalls, I hereby declare a forfeit due to the Normals not having an eligible six—”

“Sixth participant?” Sauntering across the room with a wicked smile stretching across her face…was Polly.

“Polly!” I yelped.

With the best ever gotcha grins, Troy, Airianna, and Benji followed behind Polly. Even Doctor Tenly did his very best to hide a relieved smile. Airianna proudly scrunched her nose as she passed me to join the merp side of the room, while Benji winked and Troy stealthily caressed my waist and lower back in one unnoticeable move.

Soaked and dripping, Polly spotted Gully. “Who the hell are you?”

“She’s a Normal, Polls,” I said quickly.

Narrowing her eyes on Gully while ringing water out of her pink hair, Polly said, “I don’t trust you.”

“The hair?” asked Meikle.

“Naturally. She’s blond. Since when have the Normals had a blond on their squad?” replied Polly.

“Check out the other one,” Meikle suggested. I could have killed her.

Maile meekly peeked around me to try and find Polly’s face, but all she found was my chest, poor thing.

Polly looked at her incredulously. “Why is she staring at your boobs?”

“She has a slight issue with vision,” I said.

“Boobs? I’m telescoping her boobs? I’m so sorry,” said Maile, looking Polly straight in the shoulder. “I have night vision…faulty night vision.”

“Amazing,” said Polly, shaking her head. “She can find your mosquito bites, but overlooks my melons in favor of my shoulder. Is she really a Normal?” I nodded. “What’s with the hair? Based on the mane alone, it’s like she’s a distant cousin to the Ravenflames.”

“I’m not,” said Maile. “Promise. I’m clearly just really effed up, that’s all.”

I smiled, and, to my surprise, Meikle actually sported a grin.

Polly, however, rolled her eyes and whispered, “I strongly dislike the newbies.”

“Miss Purdue? Is it…rather…are you actually here?” asked Madame Helena, her face resembling a nun being chased by a vampire with a one-track mind.

“In the dripping wet, pissed off flesh. The question is…why are you here? Thought we were rid of you post-banishment.”

“Polly,” growled Trey.

“Oh, pish-tosh,” said Polly. “I have every right to know why the hag is back.”

Murderous thoughts fumed behind Madame Helena’s glowing orange eyes. “I’m the administrator of the Overfalls, and I’m also a judge.”

“Oh, well, we’re completely screwed, then. I really hadn’t planned on being screwed for the first time by an evil shrew,” said Polly.

“Maybe hold some of those thoughts in, Polls,” I whispered.

“Uh, maybe we should proceed,” suggested Doctor Tenly. “We hereby summon the blessed brain coral.”

The empty floor between Normals and merps cracked open; from within the fractured floor, a colossal piece of green brain coral emerged. Cemented inside the coral were two dual-ended, bejeweled tridents.

“Trident A, please select your contestants on the Merpeople side,” said Madame Helena.

The trident closest to the merps cast a white light upon six participants: Troy, Airianna, Benji, Katrina, Muriel, and a large, scowling, Ravenflame guy.

Luxton Vipor smiled while pulling out a fancy pamphlet from within a pile of papers. “Vice Principal, if you will.” Mr. Anderson waved a mini-trident at the pamphlet; when he did, it floated midair, grew two sizes, lightened to a beautiful gray-blue, and formed into the shape of a crescent moon. “Thank you, Mr. Anderson. We will now create the official Overfalls announcement program. Contestants for the Merpeople are as follows: Fairhairs Troy Tombolo, Airianna Hail, Benjamin Wamberly, Muriel Yoots, and Ravenflames Katrina Zale and Irving Michaels.” As he spoke, wispy silver letters appeared on the program. “For the Normals, we have Marina Valentine, Trey Campbell, Meikle Martinez, Polly Purdue, Ophelia Fountains, and Gullivere Pensmackden.”

The program then hovered alongside Madame Helena. “Each team will have a coach unaffiliated with the participating species. I’m pleased to announce the coach for team Merpeople is Margaretta Spokelay, a siren from the Pacific.”

From the dark food station room, an extraordinarily tall, utterly flawless woman emerged. Margaretta was the creature equivalent of a supermodel. Her fair skin shined like moon beams, while her waist-length, chocolate-brown locks softly billowed between a pair of baby blue, bird-like wings. Even her gait was ethereal, and the flowing lavender gown only accentuated her elegance. Every guy in the cafeteria was transfixed, while every girl heaved a jealous sigh and wished for even a single speck of Margaretta’s beauty.

As she moved to stand beside Troy and the rest of team Merpeople, my once healthy envy found its inner Hyde. This goddess-y woman would be spending countless hours with my boyfriend. Troy will be training in the company of legs-for-miles (my legs only go on for…well…inches), kiss-y, pout-y lips (mine are better suited for sneering and sarcasm), perfect curves (I don’t possess curves, unless they’re ballooning and mushy from too much junk food), and silky, shampoo-commercial hair (yeah, mine’s more akin to a glow-in-the-dark troll doll). I suppose there was a slim chance Troy would find her wings off-putting…or consider them the kingdom of kinky fun. Ugh. Barf.

“Hey, Marina, that severely hot boy over there is staring at you,” whispered Gully as poor Maile craned her neck and bent over to try and see across the room.

When I looked up, Margaretta had her green, almond-shaped eyes on my boyfriend, but he wasn’t paying her a bit of attention; instead, he watched me with the gentlest eyes imaginable. And whoosh! My insecurities melted straight away…well, fifty percent of them, anyway—still don’t trust the sexy siren.