of girls walks past me. I don’t know what they’re doing with those

bikini straps playing peekaboo from under their T-shirts, but I don’t

really mind. They walk a little slower past me and Kurt and smile

their lip-glossed smiles. They smell like whatever perfume they doused

themselves with this morning, and underneath that somewhere they smell

like the freshness that comes with having zero to worry about.

“Is there a cut day that no one told me about?” Ryan climbs the

steps in twos to get to us.

“I don’t think so,” I say, even though he’s not paying any

attention to me, because he walks past me and stands directly in front

of Thalia. She’s wearing a powder-pink ballerina tulle skirt and a

white T-shirt with sequins on it. She has on these purple stockings on

that got caught on something somewhere between leaving the house and

standing here, because there’s a tiny run on the knee. It doesn’t look

bad on her, though. I think she could wear a paper bag and still be

able to pull it off. Her slightly green hair shines, even in the

overcast light. She sure as hell spends enough time brushing it.

Ryan looks like he’s standing in front of a goddess. I wouldn’t be

surprised if he fell to his knees right now and asked her to marry

him. The two of them smile like lunatics. Part of me wants to warn

him. Part of me is glad that he gets to feel this way, even if just

for a little while. The rest of me is just jealous.

The bell rings, and when I breathe deeply, I know it’s Layla. I

don’t need a sixth sense to describe the way she smells today, like

sunshine on this terribly cloudy day. I hesitate in turning around,

but when I do, I only catch the tip of her swaying ponytail.

•••

I keep in mind what Kurt said about Ms. Pippen. Today she wears an

electric-blue dress that fits every single curve. It comes down to the

knee, and it has sleeves and all, but man, I can’t stop looking at

her. There is no way that Kurt is right about her being like a

psychic. I think I start to get an erection when she says, “Tristan,

you’re supposed to start us off today, if my memory serves me right.”

And I wave good-bye to Mr. Happy.

She makes the motion of opening a book. So I flip open the

Greatest Poems by the Greatest Poets anthology to any page and sigh.

“The Young Man’s Song.”

“Yeats,” she says, giddy. There’s surprise in her eyes, and she

leans forward, legs crossed, showing off her smooth calves. Her heels

are yellow like sunflowers. I whispered, “I am too young,” And then,

“I am old enough”; Wherefore I threw a penny-

Thankfully, a voice crackles through the speaker. The feedback

pierces my eardrums like needles. A shy voice clears its throat.

“Sorry about that-microphone-I mean-Will the members of the swim

team-varsity, that is-please report to the pool? Oh, at Coach

Bellini’s behest. I mean, request. Bye now.”

I catch Ms. Pippen watching me from the perch of her desk. For

just a moment, I think something passes in her eyes. What if Kurt is

right? Of course he’s right, isn’t he? Then I realize it’s just light

coming from the window, beaming down on her-a stray bit of sun that

breaks through the cover of clouds and halos her.

“Curious,” she says. “Very well, off goes the swim team-” and we

do. I motion for Kurt and Thalia to follow me, but Ryan’s already got

hold of Thalia’s hand. On the way down to the pool we meet up with the

guys, who hoot and holler over being set free from their classes.

I keep my eyes on the back of Layla’s head. She doesn’t even turn

around to look at me. There is nothing like the silent treatment from

the only girl you want to talk to.

Kurt grabs me by the elbow just outside the entrance to the pool.

Bertie slides between us, and his sneakers squeak and echo against the

cold tiles.

“Remember…” The stern violet eyes watch me steadily. “You will

want to shift the moment you’re in the water. Don’t do it.”

“Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“ Obviously. ”

We’re the last ones to sit on the bleachers, since I couldn’t find

a proper practice Speedo for Kurt.

“Thanks for joining us, Hart. Hart’s cousin.”

Thalia pulls at the strap of her bathing suit and makes a face.

“It itches my shoulders. Layla gave it to me.”

My heart feels like a Hacky Sack in use when she says Layla’s

name.

“Now, listen here,” Coach says. He hooks his thumb on the loop of

his jeans and stands like the Vietnam navy vet he is. “I don’t want no

funny business out there. This isn’t synchronized swimming. It’s a

goddamn race. We still got ourselves an important meet, and while

schoolwork is important, you can make it up tomorrow. The meet cannot

be postponed.”

The team cheers. Ryan leans close to me and whispers, “Yeah, I’d

like him to try to explain that one to my mom.”

Coach blows his whistle. Everyone lines up for basic diving

drills. Since Kurt and I were last in and last to get ready, we’re at

the back of the line. “So if the calamari tattoo works, then why the

worries?”

Kurt frowns at me. “It’s an ancient and sacred cephalopod, not

calamari. I’m simply advising you in case you get an urge.”

The only urge I have right now is to punch him in his gut, if my

hand wouldn’t break on his stomach. I catch Layla looking over at us

before taking a dive. She breaks clean through the water, her hair

wrapped into a tight bun.

“She’s got a fantastic stroke,” Kurt says, his eyes following her

across the length of the pool.

“The line’s moving.” I push him along.

“Good form, Santos,” Coach yells.

Maddy goes, then Thalia, then Ryan and the others.

I let Kurt go first, mostly because I’m curious to see him swim,

but also because my stomach is in knots. This is the first time in a

week that I’ll be getting back in the water. The faster the practice

ends, the sooner I’ll have to get to the boardwalk. Then I’ll be on

some ship on the way to some island inhabited by others like me. Or

unlike me, if I’m the only truly half-human merman.

At the edge of the pool, Kurt shuts his eyes briefly, as though

he’s saying a prayer. He stretches his arms in the air, giving him the

effect of being seven feet tall, and then he bends his knees slightly

and dives cleanly into the pool. He’s so fast that he gets about

halfway without having to surface, not that he really needs to.

There’s an audible moment of awe as everyone turns to watch him. Even

Coach’s whistle is dangling from his lips.

I suck my teeth the moment Kurt pulls himself up at the opposite

end of the pool. I can do that. I do do that. I take a moment to

breathe in the water-laden air, the smell of chlorine, the cigar scent

of Coach lingering around, the burnt sweetness of curiosity that

breaks through all those smells. I envision myself in the water,

thinking how much I’ve missed it, like half of me has been hiding for

days. I push away the face of the silver mermaid lurking in the back

of my thoughts. I think of the sea. I think of me in the sea.

Hey, this pool works too.

I dive, harder than I really need to, so I push myself more than

halfway across the pool. I let my gills open, my eyes taking in the

blueness of the tiles, the lights bouncing off the surface of the

water. I let myself spin in one place, then surface to stroke. The

gills recede and I turn my face to breathe. I’ve already reached the

end of the pool.

“Twenty seconds!” I’ve never heard Coach scream like that. “You