Part 19 (1/2)

”Hurts?” He nods at my bandaged hand.

”No,” I lie, and squeeze it for show.

”Are you up to giving a statement?”

”Like the girls said,” I tell him. ”We were hanging out on the field. These guys just came through the fence. Attacked. We tried to fight them off, and they went away.”

”Guys?” The question lingers as he chews his gum. ”The other students say they were creatures. That they looked like sharks and”-he stops himself, because he might just be too professional to even utter this-”creatures from the blue lagoon.”

”I'm pretty sure it's the black lagoon,” I say, regretting my smart mouth. ”I think they had masks on.”

”The girls say that they melted into the rain.”

I shake my head, thankful that Ryan had been smart enough to put our weapons away for us, thankful that Layla was alive in my arms. She'd just left with her parents, wearing my s.h.i.+rt because we had to rip hers. ”It happened so fast. They ran away after they heard the sirens.”

I can smell Detective Donovan's doubt and his irritation, like dirt in my mouth.

”You kids involved in some kind of gang activity?”

”No, sir.”

”You don't go here, do you, son?” He turns to Kurt. Thalia sits beside her brother. The blanket slips from her shoulders and onto the floor. No one moves to pick it up.

”I am not your son, sir, and no, this is not my school. We're Tristan's cousins, visiting students for the remainder of the summer.”

”Some summer,” he scoffs. His dark eyes squint, like if he looks hard enough I'll cave and tell him I'm a criminal.

An argument breaks out over in the parking lot. ”Ma'am, please stay behind the tape!”

”Don't you touch me. I need to see my son!” My mom pushes her way through. She pulls me into such a tight hug that I spill coffee on myself.

”Sorry! Sorry. Oh my G.o.ddess-”

”Ma'am, are these your niece and nephew?”

”Yes, why?

”They have no identification.”

”Well, yes, it's all at home. I didn't antic.i.p.ate they'd need their pa.s.sports in case there was an attack on the school.” She sniffs down her nose at him. ”Dad's waiting in the car around the corner. Most of the streets are blocked off.”

”Tristan,” Detective Donovan tries once more. His hard mask falls, and his frustration peeks through. ”Do you remember what these men looked like? Anything that can help us? Any of you.”

What am I supposed to say? There's no Sea King, so the nasty things that live in the ocean have come out to play? I'd be halfway to the nuthouse before anyone can say, Are mermen supposed to be so s.h.i.+ny? ”It was dark. They came out of nowhere.”

”Are you finished?” Mom asks Detective Donovan.

He nods. ”I'll be in contact. Here's my card. If you remember anything.”

I want to tell him that they can't help me and I can't help them. Instead I take the thin white card and pocket it so he'll at least get off my back. We follow my mom through the crowd. People stand on their porches and stick their heads out their windows. There's a PIX 11 camera crew and a lady TV reporter in a pale pink suit, who looks sternly at the cameraman. Everyone she interviews points in my direction. This is so not good.

I can see Ryan getting into the back of his parents' car. He looks behind one more time so he can wave to Thalia, who gives him a sad smile. I put my arm over her shoulder. The lady in the pink suit b.u.m-rushes us, and suddenly between the sidewalk and our car, I have a hot white light on my face.

”How do you feel about people calling you the hero of the night? Is there a connection between this attack on your school and the missing boys throughout the city?” I swat the microphone away from my face and shut the door. As the reporter smacks the gla.s.s with her hand, my mom hits the gas.

Neptune's Diner is buzzing with families and early bird couples. Old Ukrainian waitresses with graying buns and faces that would scare you out of changing your order bus their tables as quickly as they serve them. We've got pancakes, French toast, eggs and sausage, and about ten side orders of bacon.

We skipped dinner the night before, everyone staying in their own section of the apartment. I sat in front of my Command Central wall, staring at maps that didn't tell me anything useful. Thalia went right to my room to call Ryan and convince him he didn't see exactly what he saw.

Dad slaps his newspaper with the back of his hand. ”Who even took this picture?”

Under the caption ”Local Heroes Fight for Fellow Students” is a crude picture of us fighting the sea creatures. We don't look like we're winning. I stuff my mouth so I'll have something to do.

Dad shuts the newspaper, stopping short of crumpling it into a ball and throwing it across the diner. ”I can't believe they would keep the school open today.”

”We have to go. We have to find Maddy.” And I have to see Layla. She was dead in my arms, and then she wasn't. If anyone knows what it's like to think you've died and come back, it's me.

Kurt clears his throat. ”How do you know your previous paramour will be there? She wasn't there yesterday.”

”It's okay to just say ex-girlfriend, you know.”

A different waitress rounds our table. But when I look at her again, I see she's not a waitress. She's wearing an ap.r.o.n with the picture of a cupcake haloed by stars with the logo ”Erica's Cupcakes” in neon pink. She glances behind her nervously. There's something familiar about her, only I can't sift through my mind fast enough. She bows lightly at me. Kurt looks up at her, wearing the same expression I am.

”Have we met?” he goes, Mr. Smooth Criminal.

She smiles, tucking her long brown curls behind her ear. That's when I notice a tiny suction cup protrude from the side of her wrist and then sink right back. I jump back, rocking our booth, which alarms the early bird couple behind us.

”I didn't mean to frighten you, Lord Sea.”

”Will you guys stop calling me that,” I hiss.

”Pardon again.” She looks back and waves at the cook visible behind the line of yellow order tickets. He winks at her and flips a pancake. ”I've been looking for you. Your whereabouts are more secret than the Gla.s.s Castle.”

”Who are you?” Mom asks, pus.h.i.+ng herself erect.

The lady shrinks back a bit. ”My friends call me Penny. I wish to speak to Lor-”

I hold up my hand. ”Call me Tristan.”

Everyone scoots over a seat to make room for her.

”You were on Arion's s.h.i.+p,” I say. ”You were with the turtle boy.”

She nods happily. ”He's my son, Timmy.”

Timmy the turtle. No wonder merpeople are known for their cruelty.

”I remember you,” Thalia says matter-of-factly.