Undertow (10 page)

He stands up and reaches into his pocket and pulls one out. I want to push his part-time butt off this roof, but I still go to work on my belt.

“I'll be over here,” he says as he crosses the rooftop to a blackened chimney. Once he's there, I watch him remove a pair of fancy binoculars. He holds them to his eyes and points toward the beach.

“This
is
your clubhouse!”

He chuckles. Oh, he's just so amazingly dumb and adorable and beautiful. Some nights when I lie in bed, I can get high off the smell he leaves on my clothing.
Imagine how it will smell on your skin.
But this isn't right. It's not how I pictured it. There was supposed to be a canopy bed, and linens as white as milk, and creamy tulips spilling out of vases. It was supposed to look like an Anthropologie catalog. There was supposed to be music, a cool, heartbreaking playlist of Joseph Arthur and some old-school Jay-Z to heat things up. Instead there's a filthy sock stuck in the tar, a Wonder Bread bag floating around, and an abandoned Swiffer. A car alarm complains from the street below.

But maybe the Anthropologie catalog isn't what you get. Maybe this is the best you can hope for in the Zone.

“You know, what you did today was dumb.”

“So I've heard,” I say as I fumble with my button. My fingers are not cooperating the way they should. They feel stiff, full of concrete.

“You should have let Deshane knock him out. He had it coming. If he wants to go to our school, he has to learn the rules, ya know?”

“I really don't want to talk about Ghost when I'm trying to take off my jeans,” I say. “What are you looking at?”

“Come here.”

I cross the roof and take his binoculars, fiddling with the focus until I can see the beach. There is so much activity down there, Selkies battling with terrible weapons, children chasing a half-inflated soccer ball, women feeding plump, happy babies. There are Nix and Sirena kneeling in what looks like a church.

“You spy on them?” I ask.

“Sometimes I can sit up here and watch them all day.”

I spot the prince. He's in his shell armor and kneeling in a circle before the old woman in the odd nun's habit. She must be some kind of priestess. She rests her hand on his bowed head and says something I can't hope to hear. His face is full of heartbreak. I can feel the sadness from here. Watching him feels wrong. It's an intrusion.

Gabriel takes the binoculars back. “I love when they try to act all human. It's like when they put monkeys in people clothes. They're hilarious.”

I press my hands to his mouth so no more of his words can escape. I want to shout,
Shut up! You're ruining this for me.

“What?” he asks.

He would stare at me if I was in that camp. He would think my private moments were funny. I would be the monkey in his zoo.

“I can't do this,” I whisper.

“Huh?” he says, setting his binoculars down. “What's wrong?”

“I've changed my mind,” I say as I rebutton my pants and fasten my belt. My fingers give me no trouble now. Interesting.

“Hey, where you going?” he says as I walk to the fire escape.

“I've got to get home. I've got a mess to clean up.”

I
n the morning
I
wake to an
F3
jabbing where my spine meets my skull
and Bex curled next to me in my bed. She's wearing the clothes she wore yesterday. I guess Dad didn't like what he found when he went to check on her. It's a peace offering I'm happy to accept.

It's early, probably still dark outside, and normally I would be cursing my body for waking me up—sleep sometimes helps the migraines—but I'm going to take advantage of it. Our apartment is so tiny, we have to climb over one another to do the simplest things. When you throw Bex into the mix, which is most days, it's similar to living in a clown car. It's rare to have a moment to just sit and sort things out, and this morning I need to get my head on straight.

I tiptoe into the living room and push the coffee table aside so I can sit cross-legged. I haven't gotten a chance to meditate in months. I listen to my breathing, trying to be present. A little
om
will get my mind right. It will help me compartmentalize this hot mess of problems.

I meet my new BFF—the Alpha prince—today.

I have to be ready.

I need to show Mr. Doyle I'm a team player.

If he gets what he wants from me, he'll leave me alone.

I can do this. I can do this.

This is my mantra.

I can do this, and if I can't, then I can fake it. I'm good at faking it, and I have a brilliant teacher in Bex. I'll just channel her, borrow her smile for the day, the one that hides the troubles. Besides Shadow, I'm the only person at our school who doesn't think Bex has a charmed life. Yeah, that's it! I'll be Bex Conrad today. I run a cold bath to push back the F3 to an F2, all the while practicing my grin. By the time I'm dressed, I'm actually starting to believe everything is going to be all right. So I head back to my room, barge through the door, and shout, “Wake up sunshine! It's time for school!”

Bex is sitting on the floor digging through my getaway pack.

“I was looking for some undies,” she says defensively.

I bolt to her side and pull the pack away, then shove the scattered contents back inside.

“Lyric—”

I look into her face and know she found the gun. She doesn't have to say it. Her eyes are shouting it.

“Bex, the pack is—”

I don't know how to lie about this. What kind of story could I invent that wouldn't sound like outrageous BS? I fumble a few times, starting and stopping, leaning toward spilling my guts, but before I can, she gets up and points to the closet.

“Is this off-limits?” It's a little sarcastic and sounds awful, like
What craziness are you hiding in here, too?
But it also sounds like an out. She wants to change the subject, and I'm grateful, but it feels like we're now standing on either side of a fault line and the ground is rumbling.

“I need something to wear today,” she continues. “I can't go back home until Russell calms down.”

I nod. “Take whatever you want.”

She turns her back on me and opens the closet.

“Where are all the skirts?” she says, sorting through the survivors of my tantrum. “Didn't you have a blue mini in here?”

She turns to me with a cocked eyebrow. “Oh, wait! Did you say whatever I want?”

“I did.”

“The flapper dress?”

“It's yours. Early birthday present,” I say.

“Seriously?”

I nod because the next word would accompany sobs. Watching her pull it from my closet and squeal while she clutches it to her chest is excruciating. It feels like she ripped a child out of my arms, but it has to be done. Anything you want, Bex, as long as we get back to stable ground.

Compared with today's throng, yesterday's crowd was downright chill. There are easily twice as many people gathered outside the school, and they are bigger, meaner, and shriller. And the biggest, meanest, shrillest of them all, Governor Bachman, is back in a fresh blue business suit and a brand-new megaphone. This one is painted red like the shirts the Niners wear. Her face is painted with phony conviction.

“America welcomed the Alpha with open arms. That's what we always do. Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free! That's what makes us so exceptional: the world knows that America is a place where you can start a new life. I personally extended an olive branch, but they turned their backs on me. I tried to show them all what our great nation has to offer those who work hard and pledge allegiance, but they're an arrogant bunch. They call themselves the Alpha, the First Men. I hear they think they're better than us. Their actions over the last three years tell me so. They don't want to be part of our nation. But oh, are they ready for the handouts! Now they want a free education! Well, I say enough is enough. You want to thumb your nose at us? Fine! Human schools for human children!

“I call on the president, Congress, and the mayor of New York to give up this failed experiment and let the children of Coney Island have the school their parents worked so hard to provide for them.”

“This is no place for sea monkeys,” someone shouts.

Bachman smiles. “No sea monkeys!” she echoes, and it morphs into a chant.

A reporter pushes to the front and begs the governor for an interview. “Governor, how is your plan to build an electrified fence on the beach coming?”

“It's an uphill fight but one the people of New York will win,” Bachman says with a smile.

“I reviewed your plans. You want it to be constructed five yards away from the shoreline.”

“And thirty feet high, which I'm told is just higher than an Alpha can jump,” she sings.

“That will push them back into the ocean.”

Bachman's face is full of mock surprise. “Will it? Well, you know, that property belongs to the people. It's valuable real estate, and the taxpayers want it back. The amusement parks that used to operate there brought in millions in tax revenue. They were a cultural and historic treasure.”

Bex laughs. “Cultural and historic treasure? The most popular attraction was an open field where people paid five bucks to shoot paint balls at a dirty clown.”

A buzzing drowns out the crowd when the Selkie Guards arrive, which, like yesterday, gob-smacks the crowd. Next come Terrance Lir and the six Alpha students. They rush up the front steps with the help of two dozen soldiers. As they pass, I spot the prince and we lock eyes. I can't read what he's thinking, but his female friend's glare could melt me in my shoes. Is she his girlfriend? She must be. Only a girlfriend would act that territorial.

Bachman charges up the steps after them and blocks the doors, and like yesterday two cops follow and arrest her. Another win for her! The crowd demands her release. A few surround the squad car they place her in before officers start blasting them in the face with pepper spray. All the anger that was aimed at the Alpha is now focused on the police and soldiers.

My father takes my hand. “Lyric—”

“Dad, don't worry. I know what I have to do. No more trouble.”

He nods. “Be careful.”

“Like it's my middle name,” I promise.

When Irish Tommy gives the word, Bex and I run for it. Today I manage to make it inside catfish-free.

Shadow is already waiting for us outside Ervin's class. He does a double-take when he sees Bex. She's all legs and blue eyes, a high school supermodel with a dress that barely covers her butt.

“Yo,” he says just after he wipes the googly eyes off his face.

“What do you think?” she says, giving him a twirl. The beading lights up like fireworks.

He shrugs.

She growls and stomps into Ervin's room.

“You're not fooling anybody,” I whisper in Shadow's ear.

He shakes his head and quietly mouths the words, “I'm fooling her.”

I can't help but grin. He is lovestruck. I see it in the way he laughs at her jokes and how he stares when she isn't paying attention. He looks for her when she is not nearby, and when she's with him he smiles like my father does when my mother walks into the room. But he's got game. This boy knows what he's doing. He's driving her crazy with indifference. I just wish his little plan wasn't taking so long.

“Just tell her!” I beg.

“I'm waiting for her to tell me first,” he says, then saunters down the hall.

“I need to get caught up in some true love right now, even if I'm riding in the sidecar,” I shout to him.

Homeroom is shell-shocked—no dancing, no throwing stuff, no fronting. Everyone sits face forward, feet on the floor, quiet as houses. Deshane is missing in action, and since he is captain of the troublemakers, his crew looks adrift. Gabriel, however, is pissed. He comes in just before the bell rings and won't even look at me. He keeps his eyes on the floor, like the meaning of life is written on his Doc Martens.

“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.