Vicious Deep by Zoraida Cordova
I don’t know if it’s the slight chill in the sea breeze, or if she’s scared, but her lips tremble. “That’s the irony, right? I can see, but I can’t say. That’s why I got in trouble. Things were pretty bad for me a few years ago. I had two sisters and a brother to take care of, because our parents got deported back to Romania.
“One day I read a man who was going to win the lotto. I played his numbers. I changed his future, and he walked off the subway tracks. It’s against the rules to use your powers for your own personal gain. So they took my sisters from me. Then they put me up at Thorne Hill High School, grading English papers.”
“That’s tough.”
“You’re telling me. What’s the point, Tristan? What’s the point of having a power if I can’t even use it for the ones I love? The ones who count. The Universe picked the wrong girl for this ‘gift,’ because me? I don’t care about the greater good. I just don’t get to make the rules. I didn’t ask for this.”
“You think I did?”
“Which is why you don’t have to do it.” She holds my hands in hers, a gentle plea. “You don’t have to be the next Sea King. What’s in it for you? Do you think you’ll ever be with Layla? Do you think you won’t have to use that shiny pitchfork to do things you’ll hate yourself for? You’re just a kid.”
The truth of her words washes over me and makes my skin itch. What is in it for me? I’ve never known what I wanted to do with my life. I’ve only wanted to swim. That’s all I’ve ever been good at. That and, well, girls. She’s right. I don’t have to be Sea King. I can let one of the other champions win. They’re been part of that Sea Court longer than I’ve been alive. They know things I don’t.
Then I think of Nieve. She’s going to come for me whether I’m king or not. I can feel it the way I can feel the ebb of the tide right now. I think about the boy on the boardwalk with his leg gnawed off, the bald man who didn’t have to pull him out of the water. Because I want to. Because if I don’t, my world is just going to keep crumbling.
“I need to know, Ms. Pippen. I need to know if I’m wasting my time up here.”
She grunts. “Fine, but you’re getting a D in my class.”
“Make it a C minus? I have to stay on the team.”
“You can’t be on the team if you’re Sea King,” she singsongs.
“Just tell me what I have to do. Have I talked long enough for you?”
“It has to be continuous.” She snaps open her purse and pulls out a paper with her familiar red markings all over it. “Forget the red pen. Just read me the text.”
I read.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them—Ding-dong, bell.
“You’ve got to appreciate Shakespeare,” she says. I follow her eyes behind me, where she watches my friends
“Today, if you please.”
“It’s your lucky day, merboy. There is an oracle in New York, but I don’t know where it is. I can’t see it.”
“What do you mean you can’t see it?”
She shakes her head. “I mean I can’t see it, okay? Either she’s blocking me, or your future isn’t fixed because you haven’t made up your mind yet. Whatever it is, I can’t get a clear reading.”
“So give me something else to read,” I shout. This isn’t me. I don’t do things like this. I put my hands on her shoulders and squeeze. “I’ll read it over again.” My mouth is dry. My heart is racing. My temples pulse in that way they do just before I see Nieve. I shut my eyes and let Ms. Pippen go.
Footsteps rush up to us. Ms. Pippen falls backward on the sand. She holds herself with her hands.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
Ms. Pippen picks herself up and dusts the sand off her dress. “No. Not yet you aren’t.”
Should we let her go?” Layla’s voice startles me.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting on the sand, but long enough that I can’t see Ms. Pippen on the beach anymore. I wave dismissively. “She doesn’t know where the oracle is. She says it’s here in New York, but that’s it.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Come.” Layla holds out her hand to me. When I clasp it, it’s warm in mine. “Let’s take a walk.”
It’s been so long since Layla and I have really been alone together. I steal short glances at her. It’s amazing to me how beautiful she’s become in a few weeks. One day she was my best friend, one of the guys. Today she’s Layla, the girl who brought me back to life. Technically, I was already alive, but still. The girl who got on a ship in the middle of the night, because she thought I might need her. What she doesn’t know is that I always need her.
When I look at her now, I want to tell her that I love her. I know it like I know that I’m part of the sea. She weaves her fingers through mine, something we’ve done since we were little, but right now it means so much more. I need to know. I need to know how she feels too.
“How’s Alex?” I say.
“Who?”
“You know, big orange Alex? The guy who chauffeurs you in the white BMW?”
“You’re a moron,” she says. “That wasn’t Alex. That was my cousin Nick. Also, big and orange. But eww?”
“He picks you up.”
“He works at Steele Gym by Thorne Hill Cemetery, so my aunt’s been making him. You know, little ole damsel-in-distress me.”
I laugh, slightly relieved. “Well, tell her you’ve already got someone to save you.”
“I don’t need any saving, Tristan.” She hops onto the rocks barefoot and walks along them, arms out for balance. When we were smaller and they looked bigger than they do now, we used to pretend we were climbing cliffs in the middle of the ocean, running away from James Bond villains and saving the world.
“Whatever you say, I promise I’ll always be there for you.”
“So now you’re also Pinocchio in addition to a mermaid?”
“Merman.”
“You have to come up with something less fruity.”
“How about mer-stud?”
“Merbro.”
“I kinda liked merdude.”
I stand right behind her at the end of the rocks. The water splashes cold around us. Lavender and honey mingles with that sharp ocean smell. She leans her back against my chest, and I can feel her heart racing against mine. I trace the length of her arms with my fingertips, surprised at how warm she is despite all the goose bumps on her flesh. I kiss the bare skin of her shoulder, surprised at the heat on my mouth, the heat of her skin. The way my skin prickles everywhere as she lets herself sink against me.
“Layla.” I say her name, but I don’t have anything to follow. I just want to say it. Layla, Layla, Layla. If I told her I loved her and then did something typically Tristan, I’d never forgive myself. So instead I whisper, “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Trust me.”
“The last time I agreed to that, you and Angelo streaked across my backyard at the same time my dad came home.”
“Just do it.”
She shuts her eyes.
I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the rocks, along with my sandals and my shorts on top of my backpack.
“What are you doing?”
“No peeking.”
She has her hands over her eyes. Though I wouldn’t mind if she peeked. I stand, close my own eyes, and breathe in the salt in the water, and then I feel t
There’s a second splash. I swim to her, the scales along my arms glistening in the moonlight. She breathes short and shallow. Her teeth chatter when she says, “You’re shiny.”
“Yeah, right. Vampires don’t glitter, but I do.”
“Right? My belief system is totally shattered. I’m going to have to let my mom take me to confession tomorrow.”
I splash her a little. “Come, get on my back.”
“Said the crocodile to the monkey.”
“So let me get on your back, then.”
“Fine. Turn around, and I’ll get on.”
I do, and she wraps herself around my neck, her legs around my waist. “Don’t forget to hold your breath.” I make us dive a little and flick my fin until we swim out a few feet. I don’t want to go out too far, because I don’t know the kinds of things that are out there this time of night. I want us to be able to swim back without any problems.
I stop and flip her over so we’re face-to-face. She puts her hands on my chest.
“Stop,” she says in a whisper I can barely make out over the rustle of the water. “Stop doing this.”
“I’m not doing anything.” I’m barely touching her, just trying to hold her afloat.
“Yes, you are,” she says, still pulling herself closer to me like a rope she’s trying to climb.
“I’m not.”
“You’re doing some mer-thing.”
“Layla, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then why do I feel this way?” She looks away sadly.
“Please, look at me.” I cradle her cheek in my palm. “What way?”
I could lean in and kiss her if I wanted to. She might kiss me back for real this time. Her hands shake in mine. I press her closer so there’s no water between us. She’s weightless against me. My skin is hot everywhere we’re touching. I can’t stand it anymore. I part my lips and lean down at the same time she lifts her face up.
The force of her mouth on mine pushes us back. I’ve never had to balance myself on one tail before. I push us backward, and we sink into the water. She gasps for breath once and keeps her lips parted against mine. She runs her hands all along my arms, and I trace the soft length of her spine. My gills flare as quickly as my heartbeat. I want to hold this moment, just this, for as long as she’ll let me.
Then she pushes me away, holding her last breath in her puffed cheeks. I let her go, and she reaches out for the surface. She slaps the water and lets loose with an angry and frustrated scream. She swims toward the rocks. In her pink lace underwear, she pulls herself out of the water and puts her clothes back on. They cling to her in wet patches. She wrings out her hair at the same time that she walks away from me.
“What did I do wrong? I thought it was pretty stellar.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing, Tristan Hart.” And there it is. She says my whole name the way she does when she’s pissed.
“I told you,” I say. I feel the stinging pain that comes with shifting back into my legs. I have to paddle before the numbness on my feet goes away. I push against the tide that’s pulling. There are still scales on my legs. When I brush them, they crumble into sand. “I said, I’m not doing anything.”
She grabs my clothes off the rocks and throws them at me. “I don’t believe you. You’re putting some kind of spell on me or something. I saw how those princesses make people act. Like lunatics. It isn’t funny to make people feel whatever you want them to. I’m not just one of those girls you pick up and then toss aside after you get bored with them. I’m not—”
There’s so much fury in her voice that I’m too stunned to say anything. What can I say, other than to keep denying it? How can I make her see that she kissed me back all on her own? Her eyes gloss over, but I know she’s not going to cry. She’s too strong to cry.
She turns around and leaves me with my heart still in my throat, my feet sinking deeper and deeper into the sand.
A couple runs toward Layla and me. I’ve followed her to the boardwalk, where the others are waiting. They weave through the rows of garbage cans, holding sizzling sparklers in each hand.
“We’ve been looking all over for you guys,” Ryan says. The red rawness of his lips and the sheen in his blue eyes hints otherwise. “Angelo and the guys are setting up at my house. My folks have gone to our North Carolina house for their anniversary. Who are they?”
Behind us, the Vampirettes, Frederik, and Marty disappear into the Luna Park entrance.
“Just new friends,” I say.
Thalia and Layla each grab Kurt by a hand and start walking away from the shops, past the parachute tower and the Cyclones field and toward Sea Breeze.
Ryan walks with heavy feet and his eyes on the ground. He flicks the dead sparkler stick into a passing garbage can and sighs.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, because he clearly wants me to. It’s not that I don’t care, but I’ve got my own girl problems.
“I just—Do you think I have a chance with her?”
For a moment, I’m tempted to be a real friend and fill him with “go get her, guy” pride. But then I remember that Thalia isn’t my cousin. She’s a mermaid, and she’s eternal. I remember the promise she asked me to make. I didn’t exactly say yes, but I didn’t say no either. I’d have to be king before I could decide that. Sure, she feels this way now, but what about in a couple of days? Just then Layla glances back at me, and I get that choking feeling again, like my heart jumps up and gets stuck. I know how fast feelings can change.
I go, “Remember the Rebecca incident?”
“Rebecca was different. She was a brat. She thought just because my parents have money that I’d be like her other boyfriends and buy her jewelry and shit. All my money is in a bank account that I can’t withdraw from until I start college. Which I may not live to go to if they ever find out I cut class today and threw a party.”
“You don’t have to prove anything, you know.”
“Oh, come on, Tristan.” He puts his hands in his pockets and kicks the sidewalk as we walk. “White Bread? Wonder Ryan? I know they’re just jokes, but sometimes the guys get out of hand with it.”
My insides pang a little with guilt. “They are jokes. It’s not your fault everyone thinks you’re a stuck-up white kid from the only gated community in Brooklyn.”
“You’re white and your parents have nice things.”
“Yeah, but I get all the guys dates.”
At least that gets a laugh out of him. He shrugs. “I guess. I guess she makes me feel cool. The way she looks at me. Your family has strong genes. The iris colors—”
I can’t have Ryan questioning our family heritage too deeply. I pat him on the back a little too hard. “Forget all that. Forget Jerry and Bertie and their shit. Forget Rebecca’s bratty ass. I mean, did she even—?”
“She was my—first—do not tell the guys. I beg you. I don’t even know what god you pray to, but swear on him, please. And do not tell Thalia.”
“I won’t. Cross my heart. Let’s pray on one of the Hindu guys. They don’t get enough attention.”
The smell of ocean is strong. The waves crash hard. My lungs welcome the sea air, with bits of sand carried in the breeze. But then I get a whiff of a familiar stink—the rotting fish smell of the merrows. I wonder if they’re out there waiting for me. Suddenly, I don’t think this party is such a good idea.
“I just wish she lived here, you know? Then I’d be sure that we could have something.”
I think of Layla and me kissing. We didn’t think. We just went for it. Granted she thinks I’m putting a mer-spell on her and is mad at me, but that’s because she’s scared of wh
“Cut the crap, man. Don’t tell me you’ve been holding hands and planning this party all day. Your freaking shirt’s inside out. Just have fun together. Be a man. Show her how much you like her. I mean, if you left Angelo alone in your house to set up for a party, you’re definitely braver than I thought.”
Farther down the street, where the boardwalk comes to a rocky end, are the biggest houses in Sea Breeze. They’re so new you can still smell exterior paint drying on the window shutters.
Ryan’s front lawn is packed with spiky-haired dudes in white undershirts and spray tans that border on toxic. They’re surrounded by girls in micro shorts and bikini bottoms meant to showcase winking belly rings and tramp stamps.
The crowd spills into the living room, where Steve, the school’s radio DJ, is set up. A guy with floppy blond hair is jumping on the couch. A pillow comes out from somewhere and hits him right on the head, knocking him on top of a group of girls, who roll him right back onto the carpet.
We follow Ryan through double doors leading to the kitchen. On the smooth marble countertop is a keg with rows and rows of red and blue plastic cups lined up. Angelo runs in chasing one of the princesses, Kai. They push against the glass doors leading to the backyard pool and head out. Kai holds her knees and then shoots her hands in the air as she dives in, dress and all.
“Don’t worry. She won’t shift here,” Kurt says beside me.
“She’s the least of my worries,” I say. “Do you spot Maddy?”
He shakes his head. “Can’t you smell her?”
Then I realize I don’t remember what she smells like. Despite my new Mighty Merman senses, I don’t think I even noticed.
We step into the backyard. Tiki lights line the bushes. Soft blue lamps surround the pool, which even has a tiny waterfall. It’s almost like being back on Toliss. Layla gets called over by a group of lifeguards from the Brighton Beach side. They whisper something in Layla’s ear, and she brushes them away with a cute little laugh.