OVERFALLS (The Merworld Water Wars, Book 2) (16 page)

“Huh?” she said, starting to walk over to us.

“No! Stay! Just yank it out, all right? Aw, brilliantly focused one, there,” said Jex.

Gully giggled the entire time, but she finally freed the trident. “Got it! I passed!”

“Ugh, it wasn’t really a pass kind of deal,” muttered Jex. “How bad, Luxt?”

Vipor shot Jex a peculiar glare. It was somewhere between shock and loathing. I reckon he didn’t care for the nickname Jex gave him. Can’t say I blame him.

“Uh, five minutes and thirteen seconds,” he said.

“Wretched,” said Jex, shaking his head.

Completely detached, Gully just smiled, swayed back and forth, and said, “I was hoping for five minutes. So close!”

I couldn’t contain a smile, but Jex wasn’t pleased. Even worse was Polly, who glared dangerously at Gully.

“I don’t trust her. She has blond hair,” said Polly.

“Believe me, she’s a Normal,” Jex groaned. “No merp or even part-merp would have performed that badly.”

“Trey, if you will,” said Doctor Tenly.

Trey was up and back so fast, hardly anyone saw him.

“Twenty-seven seconds for Mr. Campbell!” said Vipor, waving the timer.

“Awesome, Trey,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry, for beating your time, Ophelia.”

“Don’t be,” she said, “I didn’t want to be captain anyway.”

Jex tossed his hand in Ophelia’s direction. “Did ya hear that? Didn’t want to be captain! Oh, this is just wonderful.”

Doctor Tenly didn’t have to call Meikle’s name. She was already up there, preparing to uproot the trident before anyone could blink.

“Uh, Meikle, you’ll need to hand someone your bag,” said Madame Helena.

Meikle took the bag, untied the knot in its straps, and slipped it on, cross-body style. “Look, Ma, no hands!” she cried, waving her fingers at a fuming Madame Helena. With barely three tugs, the trident was free.

“Thirty-two seconds, Meikle!”

Meikle, shaking her head as she returned to our side of the room, said, “Could’ve been better if the hag hadn’t distracted me about my bag.”

“I’m happy with thirty-two, so if you can do better, I’m not worried about you,” said Jex.

“It’s Polly’s pull time,” called Doctor Tenly, pleased with his clever use of the letter ‘P.’

Polly, however, was far less amused. She delivered a scowl so demon-like, even Doctor Tenly took a step back.

Soon after Polly took hold of the trident, we knew it was going to be a long one.

“She’s a demon soul swapper, is that right? Brings back bits of demon souls?” asked Jex as we tried to ignore Polly’s loud, tennis-player-like grunting.

“Yep,” said Meikle. “Accounts for the pink hair and social ineptness.”

“Seems she shares a similar plight with your fishy boyfriend, Marina,” said Jex.

“Except she freely gets demon takeover moments. Not now, apparently,” I said.

“What’s happening?” asked Maile.

“Polly’s just up there trying to pull out the trident,” I said, staring at Maile’s eyes. They were quite pretty and—not that this makes any sense—very powerful. The more I observed them, the more I thought I saw something clouding the iris. Instinctively, I brushed over her eyes with my hand.

As soon as my hand left her face, Maile turned and instantly found my eyes. “They’re working! I can see! How did you do that?”

“Yeah, there’s some stuff about me you’ll learn from my friends later on tonight,” I said. “There was some kind of film over your eyes. I think it was keeping your night vision from turning on.”

Frowning, Maile said, “How could that have happened?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out. Just be sure to tell your caretaker tonight when you get to Hambury House.”

“You mean Principal Jeepers?” she asked, pointing to him.

Smirking, I said, “Kind of, yeah.” Watching her observe the room and its many faces, I subtly examined her eyes—they didn’t reflect the room at all; in fact, it was almost as if a secret world existed deep within them.

The sound of muffled laughter finally drew my attention away from Maile’s remarkable eyes.

“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” said my mom, peeking at Polly through her fingers.

“For the love of aged hurricane rain, is she trying to hump the damn thing?!” said Jex.

When I saw what Polly was doing, I nearly had a heart attack. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no.”

There she was, both feet in a spread-eagle position, mounted on the brain coral with the trident between her legs as she moved back and forth, sort of like a really drunk bull rider. The groans and grunts only exacerbated the situation.

I scurried over to her. “Maybe put both feet on the floor, Polls.”

“I think…this position…is working for me,” she said, struggling for breath. “Why should I…change it?”

“Because it looks really bad from various angles,” I said as gently as possible.

“Come on, you bastard!” she screamed. “I think they gave me a defective one! It just won’t get out! It’s too big!”

“Really not helping yourself, here, Polls,” I said, as the snickering grew into serious hysterics.

“COME OUT!” she screamed. And finally it happened. Her eyes turned inky-black and out popped the demon, along with the trident, which she broke in half. The laughing stopped once they saw Polly in all her part-demon glory.

“Okay, Polls, you’re done,” I said.

She shook her pink hair, looked down at the broken trident, and said, “I broke the trident? Well, I will not pay for it. It was defective to begin with and, frankly, I should get a do-over.”

“I’ve missed your brand of logic,” I said, squeezing her shoulders.

“Marina! You can just stay there, since you’re the last to go,” shouted Doctor Tenly.

Jex had his hand cupped over his mouth when Polly returned. Shaking his head, he walked over to me.

“Eight minutes, forty-seven seconds,” said Vipor, somewhat coyly.

“Eight minutes.” Jex laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “You didn’t tell me half of team Normals is ridiculous. I have a flaky, unfocussed one, a shy ninja, and a deranged demon bit-holder that doesn’t know when to use her bits. Bloody fantastic, this is. Do we know what the runner-up prize is yet?”

“Have a little faith,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. “After all, it’s your job to train us up, make us the best we can be.”

“Aw, yeah, can’t bleeding wait,” he said. “Just wanted to make sure you’re not distracted or shy or absolutely crap-balls crazy before it’s your turn to yank this thing out.”

“Actually, I feel really calm.”

“Look, everyone, it’s the Siren Savior,” said Katrina in her nauseating voice. “Wonder how the myth, the legend…the one…will do with her first big task. Bet I can tell ya.”

“Taunting! We have taunting! Grounds for disqualification! Song-death-bird, here, should have better control of her players!” shouted Jex.

“It’s just a little friendly chiding, Jex,” said Margaretta, her voice so smooth, it was like a song in and of itself. “You should know all about that.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “Go. Let me do this.”

Jex smiled reassuringly and nodded. “Remember, from the gut.”

Staring at the newly materialized trident, every inch of my body felt full of power. Though it was a challenge, I had an unfamiliar sense that this type of test was beneath me. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. And so, with Katrina and the majority of merps mocking me in the background, I wrapped my hands around the trident and pulled…one time.

The whole room gasped, apart from my mom who was typically overstated in her enthusiasm.

Vipor gaped at his timer. “Three seconds.”

My side of the room erupted in deafening celebration, while Troy, Airianna, and Benji wore proud smiles.

I eased over to a scowling Katrina and wheeled my trident in front of her. “Take note of that. Nervous?”

“Not even a drop,” she said.

“Too bad…you should be,” I said before winking at Troy, Airianna, and Benji and bounding back to my team.

“That’s called Savior style, mates!” Jex picked me up and swung me around.

“Well done, Marina,” said Doctor Tenly. Leaning closer, he said faintly, “Could have done it in one second.”

Turd. I think for not having any training, three seconds was pretty darn impressive. Heck, I impressed myself, anyway—huge difference from my usual
hang head out of embarrassment
drill.

“Madame Helena, I haven’t heard you officially announce the captain for team Normals.” I swear Vipor even looked proud of me.

She pursed her skinny lips together. “Marina Valentine is the captain for team Normals. Tomorrow, we will have the wish ceremony. Captains, please craft your wishes tonight. There is only one rule regarding your wish: the wish must be made for the benefit of your species only. We will reconvene on the beach in front of Saxet Shores Public Library at ten o’clock tomorrow night.”

I have less than twenty-four hours to make a potentially life-altering wish for all Normals. I bet stabbing my new trident into my brain would hurt way less than what the next twenty-something hours will bring. Tempting, very tempting.

Chapter Eight

The Wish Ceremony

Wishes were supposed to be fun, right? I mean, have I been really wrong about the whole wish-making thing my whole life? Right or wrong, kiddo movies forever cemented the wish concept deep within a wish-reward category. Let’s review: rub a lantern…get a big, blue genie pal (and three wishes. Nice payoff, right?); sob in a dress torn by two jealous hags…get a fairy godmother with all the answers (and a pair of rockin’ shoes); speak a wish into a well while singing a sappy song…get a wish and a prince (not bad, except I don’t do sappy, my singing would probably burst the prince’s eardrums, and I already have a prince). See the pattern, here? Do something innocent like rubbing a lantern (um…never mind), crying, or speaking into a well, and you get a friend, wish, and even some accessories. Talk about wish-reward!

Of course, in those stories, every lighthearted wish came true. In my yet-to-be-written tale, the weighty wish hinges on a battle. We don’t get the fairy tale wish-reward category; instead, we have the wish-risk-maybe reward category, where I make a wish, we battle our brains out for it, and only if we win, will we get the dang thing granted. What happens if we don’t win? We get bupkis and bruises?

What I really needed was a deck of cards. If I could only shuffle, deal, and flip a row of cards, I’d see what I’m supposed to do. I miss being able to read the future. Ever since The Hoodoo Council found me guilty of, among other things, aiding terrorist mentality and seeing my dad’s murder, I haven’t been able to use the very talent that got me institutionalized and banished in the first place. Worse yet, Madame Helena enacted the blocking guard on me, which means I can’t touch a single card, not even with a glove. If I do, I’ll enjoy a fun-filled trip to Washington, D.C., where the Imperia will kill me.

Mom dropped me off at school after a very quiet morning. I’ve always loved how she automatically knew when my brain was too full to talk, listen, or reason.

“Don’t forget your meeting with Doctor Tenly and team Normals after school,” she said as I was getting out of the car.

“I won’t, and even if I do, I doubt I’d miss the car he’s sending to pick us up.” It always puzzled me how he kept the mer-crowd from questioning why a fancy car and driver would pick me up last year. No one asked about it, though, and I never heard any chatter amongst the cliques. I suppose with Doctor Tenly, anything was possible; I’ve learned to adopt a need-to-know basis.

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll see you after your meeting,” said Mom.

“Have a good day at work,” I said.

“Oh, I will! I’m selling chocolate chip cookies with a special smiley candy Eva helped me create. Don’t worry, I’m saving some for you,” she said. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.” Watching her pull away was especially hard today. I just didn’t want to go inside, even though I knew what to expect.

For the most part, the day was typical: more species-charged slurs and taunting; my math teacher’s voice going in the left ear, swimming around my brain, looking to connect to some semblance of activity, before exiting stage right; Ophelia screaming and fainting in the hallway when a pesky fish in one of the many tanks jumped out and spewed water in her face. Yep, the day was fairly predictable…until gym, where my usual uselessness ended with me finding some Savior goodness during a game of dodgeball; I’m not sure how it happened, but when it was my turn to throw, my zooming ball just happened to slam Katrina smack in the gut. It was a special moment, bad as that may sound. Hey, she stabbed me in my stomach and tried to steal my soul! Exactly how am I supposed to feel when she nearly falls over, clutching her gut? Come on!

Lunch was lunch, only worse. News about my uncannily accurate toss had spread through the school faster than a twenty-four hour flu bug. The Fairhairs and Ravenflames no longer kept to separate sides of the cafeteria. Though some stayed to themselves, a good many of them freely mixed and mingled with each other and found a common fondness for berating me with dirty looks and matching words. At least our table has three more Normals in Polly, Maile, and Gully.

“I swear, it’s like the town turned upside down overnight,” I said, flinging my pudding spoon on my tray. “The Fairhairs must be smoking some special seaweed or something. They can’t actually believe the Ravenflames are their BFF’s now, can they?”

“It’s what I said before,” said Airianna. “They’re scared. Younger Fairhairs have only known what it means to follow.”

“That’s what happens when you’re forced into submission by a stronger power,” said Benji. “They don’t know any other way of life.”

Troy shook his head. “It’s not all on the Ravenflames. Fairhairs allowed it to happen. We signed the pact, and then we just took it up the fin over and over again.”

“And now the only way to break the cycle is to prove the Ravenflames broke the pact, right?” asked Maile, staring at the garbage can. I guess Doctor Tenly hasn’t been able to help her with her day-sight yet.