faith, my ass.

Her spell breaks around me.

I take the couple by the arms and pull them back on the shore.

They’re confused, but they’re fine.

“What did you do that for?” Sarabell screams.

She’s wading back to the couple, but I wrap my arms around her and

pull her against the tide. I dive backward, yanking her with me. My

fins push against the water for both of us. She shifts, too, and her

weight is powerful for such a small thing. She wails like a banshee.

It ripples and scatters anything in sight.

She struggles against my hold, but I have to take us deeper and

deeper where she won’t be able to swim back to the shore so quickly.

She sinks her teeth into my forearm and I scream as I let her go. She

spits and swims up to the surface, crying and sobbing and wiping the

water from her eyes with wet hands.

“What kind of merman are you?” She hiccups. “Any merman would’ve

loved the look on their faces underwater. They were beautiful.”

I rub the angry spot on my arm where the salt burns and licks the

wound. I’m too stunned to even make coherent noises. “You can’t just

go around drowning people. That is not an okay present!”

I can’t understand what she says between sobs. Her eyes cloud

over, her hair black and stringy all around her.

“Don’t do that again,” I warn.

Then her wicked eyes return. “I’ve given you a chance, champion.

Now, you will be powerless against Adaro’s triumph.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see.” She turns and swims away, smacking me across the

face with her fins for good measure.

I shift out of my tail about a mile out. I let my frustration with

Sarabell fuel my arms, cutting powerfully through water. Ever since I

became what I am, I’ve stopped using my arms as much, preferring the

powerful kick of my tail. Now I welcome the pain, castigating myself

for being such a dick .

My friends and I have one rule: we never, never, ever set each

other up on blind dates. Why did I think a championship would somehow

make it better?

It never ends up well.

I cut through Long Island Sound until I feel I’m back at Coney

Island. There’s a miniscule change in the taste, though I don’t want

to linger on what’s in Coney water since I’ve peed in this ocean more

times than I can count. The kick of my legs feels foreign and numb,

and I try to massage feeling back into my legs as I trip my way under

the shadow of the pier.

But there’s already someone there, and when we see each other

naked, we scream.

“What are you doing here?” Gwen is just out of her shift and

stepping into a red dress.

“Just fresh off my first date.” I pull my damp clothes from my

backpack and throw them on. “Thanks to you.”

She throws her head back and cackles until she’s out of breath.

“It’s not funny,” I shout.

Gwen tries to take my hand but I pull away. “Was Sarabell not

everything you expected?”

“She wanted me to make her my queen in exchange for telling me

what she knows about Adaro. Is that what they’re all going to ask for?

Because I can’t make the same promise to each girl.”

Gwen settles her gray eyes on me. “Why not?”

I have sand on my tongue and I spit it out. “Because it wouldn’t

be true.”

“Do you plan on making Layla your queen?” She leans against the

dark, wet pillar of the pier. “Our people would never accept a human

queen. Just as a fair warning.”

“I didn’t-I’m not-” I take a deep breath. “I’m sixteen. I’m not

getting married. Anyway, I couldn’t get any useful information out of

the mermaid sociopath of the year.” Though Sarabell’s words are

digging into the back of my head where I’m accumulating all the things

I’d rather not be thinking about. Nieve. Archer. Leaving Layla.

Gwen purses her lips and tugs on one of my wet curls. “We’re not

all bad, Tristan.”

“Are any of them normal?” I laugh. Gwen has that effect on me. I

can’t not smile at her. “Say, not thinking drowning humans is a good

engagement present?”

“Normal? Is that what you want?” She spots Sarabell’s dress

getting pulled by the tide. “Would you believe me if I told you she’s

not even the worst of them? Seas, I hate the way she dresses.”

“So I’m the punishment? Know what? Forget it. What are you even

doing here?”

“Don’t be angry with me because Sarabell didn’t work out.” She

points her finger in my face. “This just means you have to move on

until we can find something that will lead you to the next oracle.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” I force my mouth into a comical smile. “Why

aren’t you doing important mermaid things like weaving pearls and

shells in your hair?”

She squints angrily but doesn’t deny it. “I couldn’t stand Layla

and the angry pout she’s got smeared all over her face. Then there’s

Thalia who simply vanished, leaving Kurtomathetis running about the

boardwalk looking for her. Doesn’t he understand? If a mermaid doesn’t

want to be found, she won’t be.”

A dull blast sounds in the distance, like someone pressing down on

the horn. Then I realize Gwen is bleeding. “Your arm.”

I reach out but she pulls away.

“Did something attack you?”

“No, no. There’s a shark in the waters. Small, but hungry.”

I think about the animal accidents on the news this morning. We

were all so sure they had to be merrows. “Are you sure?”

“I know what a shark looks like, guppy prince.” Under the shadow

of the pier, she swipes at the dark trail of blood with Sarabell’s

dress. I can feel the pull of Gwen’s magic. It comes from within her,

and that pulls from the sea itself. The bleeding stops and the

beginning of a scab starts to form. Gwen says magic isn’t

instantaneous. It’s gradual.

“Let me see.” I take a step that’s followed by a gooey crunch. “

Ugh.”

A medium wave crashes and retreats, leaving behind a line of

mangled fish. I pick up the one I stepped on. Its head is still

intact, but the body is all bone. The glossy eye is iridescent under

the sun, mouth open in a final gasp.

“The sea will only keep getting disturbed.” Gwen traces a finger

along the pewter scales. “This is a freshwater fish.”

A lifeguard’s whistle blows. He waves his hands in our direction

in warning, but when he realizes it’s me, he turns it into a friendly

wave. I signal back that we’re leaving and he shakes his head,

smiling.

I throw the fish carcass back into the waves. Then I say something

I never thought I’d say. “Let’s get the hell off this beach.”

We trade the hot, noisy boardwalk for the quiet of Command

Central. The other champions may have seers and prophets and ships,

but I’ve got a microwave and Hot Pockets.

When Gwen and I arrive, Kurt’s sitting at the counter reading

through the papers from Greg. Gwen is equally fascinated with them,

touching them with the utmost care. I tell her all about Greg and his

booby traps.

“You don’t think the old fart was messing with us?” I ask.

Kurt shakes his head. “I believe Greg wants to see you rise to the

throne. There is something in these papers, I tell you. As a scholar,

he respects knowledge.” Then he mutters, “Unlike some of us.”

I take the parchment from him. “I totally respect knowledge!”

“I wasn’t referring to you.” He takes it back.

Gwen sing-songs, “Yes you we-re .”

“Gregorious, or whatever he wants to be called,” I say, “was

shady. What’s the point of giving us drawings? It doesn’t tell us

anything about the next oracle. Neither did Sarabell, by the way.”