by Anna Banks
“Sent you here?”
“Well, it was actually more of a scavenger hunt, I guess,” Emma says quickly. “He pointed us in your general direction but didn’t tell us what we would find in Neptune.”
“Why would he do that?” Reed looks Galen square in the eyes.
Galen decides Reed has a gift for discernment.“We were wondering the same thing,” he mutters.
Emma laughs. “It’s obvious he wanted us to find you. Oh, um, no, Neptune,” she stutters. “I meant he wanted us to find Neptune.”
Reed shifts his attention back to Emma. “I’m glad he did.”
Galen is quite certain Reed is not under any false impressions about his relationship with Emma. And he’s just as sure Reed doesn’t care. Reed is thoroughly enchanted by Emma, and Galen can’t blame him.
But I can knock his teeth out.…
Reed continues to ask questions, and Emma continues to offer vague but truthful answers: Her mother has lived on land all of her life. Her father was a human doctor, who knew her mother was Syrena. She met Galen off the coast of Florida. The kingdoms are aware of her existence, and for the time being are okay with it.
To Galen’s relief, Emma doesn’t offer any information about their Royal heritage or the recent events that led to her discovery. He knows she feels a connection with this new stranger, and while he doesn’t like it, he at least understands it. Reed is a Half-Breed like her. With that carries novelty and curiosity, and for Emma, a certain sense of belonging. Especially if they’re approaching a town full of Half-Breeds.
But Galen’s not about to trust this blond boy who oozes charm. Galen has been fooled by a good-natured smile before. It won’t happen again.
9
IT’S LIKE Galen’s not even in the car with us. Reed and I converse while Galen broods over the steering wheel. At Reed’s direction, he pulls us onto a winding gravel road, leading us farther and farther into the woods, closer and closer to the cleavage of two nearby mountains.
To the town of Neptune.
There is a wooden sign at the edge of town with the words WELCOME TO NEPTUNE carved in big letters at the top and TOWN OF MEMORIES at the bottom in smaller, more elegant letters. The sign stands in a flower bed lined with white-painted rocks. Galen’s gaze seems to linger on the bottom words as we pass. I want to ask him about it, but I know better than to do so in front of Reed.
Galen’s quiet saturates the air between us, a silent disapproval of my immediate acceptance of Reed. It occurs to me that Galen could be jealous, too, which is moderately insane. Especially given our afternoon make-out session just hours before. So I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and treat his withdrawal from the conversation as caution. Actually, I’m kind of hoping this is about Reed in some way and not about the existence of Neptune, or my excitement about it. Because of course I’m excited. What’s not intriguing about a town of Half-Breeds? Surely Galen can understand why I’m so interested. And if not, he should make more of an effort here.
The SUV pulls onto what looks like the main street of Neptune. A row of small, endearing stores and offices line both sides of the street. To me, it’s the cliché depiction of a town in the old West, only there are cars parked in front of the businesses instead of horses tied to wooden posts. A medley of people promenade the concrete sidewalks. Some are obviously Syrena—olive skin, black hair, violet eyes, classic muscular build. Others are obvious Half-Breeds. And then there are those who could be human—or a cocktail of all three species combined. There are blond pale Asians. There are blond lighter-colored African-Americans. Old and young. Male and female. A walking jumble of species and races and ages and genders.
I take it all in, ignoring my growing excitement and Galen’s deepening scowl. “So all these people live around here? Where?”
“They live in houses, just like regular people. We live like humans here. Because most of us are partly human.” Reed gives me a meaningful look, which I pretend not to notice.
“So what do you do here?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is the purpose of the town? Is this—” I sweep my hand toward the buildings and people around us. “Is all this just for show? Or are those shops really open?”
Reed laughs. “Of course, they’re open. We need hardware stores and post offices and grocery stores just like any other town. We have electric bills, too, you know.”
Mind-blowing. “So how does it all work? How do you pay the electric bills?”
“This is turning into a social studies lesson.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“We are pretty self-sufficient. I work part-time at the grocery store after school, but I take off summers for fishing. Some of the humans commute to neighboring towns to work at banks and insurance companies or whatever. I guess I don’t know how else to explain it. We’re just a normal town.”
Reed doesn’t know how to explain it, and I don’t know what else to ask. I guess I thought maybe it was all for show and they were all independently wealthy like Galen. But Reed is right, they really are a normally functioning small town. As normal as a town full of Half-Breeds could be.
We halt at the only stoplight in sight, in front of what appears to be a three-story cottage-like bed-and-breakfast—a big sign in the front indicates there are no vacancies. A man sits on the front porch in a white rocking chair. So far, he is the only one who seems out of place, and maybe that’s just because he’s wearing a white lab coat covered with the soil he’s packing into the potted plant in front of him. He looks up and pauses, watching the SUV as if it were an approaching predator. Once again, I’m grateful for the tinted windows.
I look at Reed. “Who’s that man?” Not that I think Reed could possibly know everyone in town, but this guy lends himself to speculation.
He glances at the man on the porch. There is an underlying tension when he says, “Mr. Kennedy. He’s been staying at Sylvia’s place for about a month.”
I nod. “Why is he here?” Which might seem like an odd question, but really, all the other humans I’ve seen seem to belong here. All of them seem privy to the secrets of the little town of Neptune. All of them except this guy.
Reed shrugs. “We try to make the town as uninteresting to tourists as possible—for obvious reasons. But Mr. Kennedy is not a tourist, exactly. He’s a botanist, and he’s here to look for new plant species. He’s kind of a nut, actually. Always talking to himself and running into things. And he always has black fingernails from digging around in the dirt.” Reed’s face scrunches up as if playing in the dirt were the same thing as playing in a pile of crap.
The light turns green, and we pass the bed-and-breakfast, but I don’t have to look back to know Mr. Kennedy is still staring after us. “And what makes him think he’ll find new plant species here?”
I can practically hear Reed shrug. “Not sure. He’s not really a talker. And he’s mostly in the woods all day, searching for his eco-treasure.”
“You can’t get rid of him?” Galen says, startling me.
“Get rid of him? You mean kill him?” Reed laughs softly. “I don’t know how you do things in the ocean, but here, we don’t go around killing people. That sort of thing is kind of frowned upon in these parts.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Galen clips. “Why don’t you drive him away? There are more of you than him.”
“It’s not as easy as it sounds. Back in the 1950s, all the residents here decided to incorporate as a real town. Which meant Neptune fell under the jurisdiction of the county and the state and all that garbage. Sure, we had to follow human laws before that, but it wasn’t until then that we had to keep a close eye on who we ran off and who we let stay. Nowadays, someone can cry discrimination based on the size of their shoe, and then we’re in one huge mudslinging competition.” He turns to me and winks. “We had to change our bullying ways.”
Galen snorts. I give Reed a reproving look. “Well, were you discriminating?”
Reed grins. “Of course,” he says, and my tongue is gearing up to unleash all the things my temper is about to say. Galen almost looks amused. That is, until Reed covers my mouth with his hand. “Before you haul off and say something you don’t mean, I was just kidding. We filter the people we tell our secrets to, of course, but it doesn’t have anything to do with race or religion or whatever.”
“Get your hand off her,” Galen says. “If you want to keep it.”
I second the motion, returning his entire arm to him in the backseat.
“He’s a bit touchy, huh?” Reed says without looking at Galen. “Not that I blame him.”
Really? He’s going to go there? Galen’s jaw locks. His patience is almost obliterated. “I think we should establish—”
But Reed interrupts him, unaffected. “Here it is. Here’s my house.”
As soon as Galen pulls into the dirt driveway, Reed is out of the vehicle and hopping up the three steps to his front porch with his rope of fish slung over his shoulder. The house is old and dilapidated, but not without appeal. Bright baskets of pink and white pansies line the porch railings, drawing attention away from the peeling paint and chipped wood.
Galen and I get out but wait in front of the SUV. It’s not like we’ve received an invitation to come in. Reed has disappeared inside the house, but we can hear him stomping around and calling, “Mooooom! We have company. And I caught fish for dinner.”
Galen throws me a look that clearly says, “Let’s make a run for it.”
But I shake my head. I’m sure this is what Grandfather wanted, for me to come here and meet others like me. Galen crosses his arms. I walk over to him and plant a soft kiss on his lips.
“What was that for?” he says, noticeably pleased.
“For cooperating when I know you don’t want to.”
He’s about to say something else, but Reed materializes in the doorway and beckons us inside. “I guess Mom’s not here,” he says over the slamming screen door behind us. He’s got a chocolate chip cookie in each hand. He offers me one. “They’re still warm.”
I decline, a little perturbed that he didn’t ask Galen if he wanted one, too. Not that Galen would eat it, but it’s the principle. Reed seems to read my mind.
“We’ve always got some sushi handy,” he says to Galen. “I know most Syrena hate the sweet stuff. My dad included.”
“No, thank you,” Galen says, though I think robots sound more courteous.
Reed gives us the shorthand tour of the house. The three bedrooms upstairs belong to him, his parents, and his little brother Toby. There are homemade crafts decorating every wall, beautifully constructed quilts gracing each bed, and the smell of a fire going somewhere, even though it’s midsummer. The floor squeaks in a kind of charming serenade.
He circles us back down to the kitchen, where he swipes another cookie from a well-endowed plate. This time, I accept his offer for one. I know Galen thinks I’m throwing caution to the wind, but it’s more like I’m throwing it up as a kite and seeing if it will fly.
We take a seat at the retro orange-and-yellow kitchen table.
“So,” I say around a mouthful of chocolate goodness, “How old are you?”
Reed grins. “Twenty. You?”
I’m about to tell him eighteen, but I’ve managed to get another year older during all the chaos. My birthday pretty much went unacknowledged by me—and apparently, by everyone else. It’s been a busy year. “Nineteen.”
He glances at Galen. “And you?”
“Twenty-one.”
Reed nods, more to himself than to us. Then the stringy sound of a banjo fills the air, giving us a reprieve from yet another awkward moment. Reed jumps up and grabs the cell phone erupting with country music on the counter. Apparently it’s his mom. He walks it into the living room, and all we hear are a few hushed words and then, “See you soon.”
This makes Galen uneasy. Not that everything doesn’t make Galen uneasy nowadays. When Reed returns, he brings with him his laid-back smile. “Mom wants you to stay the night and visit with us. Galen and I can take the couches in the living room, and you can sleep in my room.”
“We don’t want to impose,” Galen says quickly. “If we’re going to visit,” he glances at me as if he’s asking me if we are, instead of agreeing to it, “then we can stay at the bed-and-breakfast. What did you call it? Sylvia’s?”
“The sign said there’s no vacancy,” I say.
“The sign always says that,” Reed says. “Mr. Kennedy creeped out poor Sylvia, so she’s not accepting new out-of-towners. I’m sure you’ll be the exception though, since you’re one of us.”
A frown tugs at Galen’s mouth. He doesn’t like being referred to as “one of us.” It makes me feel guilty that I do like it. In fact, I’m kind of delighted by it. But for now, I’m relieved to check in to our room and have a private discussion about the day’s events. Staying here at Reed’s house would feel too … public. Which is silly, given that the inn is about dead center in town. Anyone who’s curious could come up there to see us—including the spooktastic Mr. Kennedy.
I admit Mr. Kennedy wouldn’t have registered on my weirdness radar under normal circumstances. It’s just that Reed seems to view him as “different,” and it’s nice to view someone else that way instead of feeling like the outcast, as selfish as that sounds.
Reed offers to accompany us to Sylvia’s, but Galen holds up his hand. It’s a finalizing gesture. “No, thank you. I remember the way back.”
Our new friend doesn’t miss a beat. “Just be back here at six o’clock. I told Mom you were coming to dinner, at the very least. Don’t make a liar out of me.”
When it looks like Galen might protest again, Reed supplements, “Toby caught some trout over at the creek. I’d love to know what you think of freshwater fish, Galen.”
Galen runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. We’ll see you at six o’clock then.”
I pretend not to notice that Reed is smiling at me like a canary-gobbling cat.
10
GALEN HAULS the suitcases to the second floor of Sylvia’s Starfish Bed & Breakfast. He waits while Emma opens the door to her room before he drags her belongings in behind her. Since he and Emma aren’t mated yet, Sylvia insisted on them staying in separate rooms, as all of them were “romantically designed” with only one bed.
Apparently the town of Neptune picks and chooses which of the old laws is most convenient to follow.
Emma falls onto the bed, a beautifully appointed wrought iron creation with light blue satin bedding and lacy ruffles around the bottom. The bed squeaks with her every movement, and she giggles. “It’s not that romantic, if you know what I mean.”
Galen grins and sets the suitcases underneath the window. Then he takes a spot on the bed next to Emma. The air in here smells stale to him, as if this room hasn’t been used in ages. “What do you make of this place?”
What he really wants to say is, “What do you think about Reed and his infatuation with you?” but that would just start a fight, not to mention bring all the jealous feelings he’d had bubbling up back to the surface. Reed’s fascination with Emma has gotten Galen’s imagination stirring on so many levels.
First, he imagined bringing the SUV to a sudden stop that pitched Reed straight through the windshield and landed his bloodied, broken body on the gravel road ahead.
Then there was the fantasy of using his fist to relieve Reed of every one of his teeth, thereby creating his own version of an easy smile.
Not to mention the daydream of punching Reed in the stomach hard enough for him to choke on whatever remnants he forgot to chew of his chocolate chip cookie.
“I think it’s too early to tell yet,” Emma says, startling him from his reverie.
“Really? That’s not what it looked like.”
She rolls her eyes as he rests his elbow on the mattress, propping his head up so it rests just over hers. Their noses almost touch. Triton’s trident, her ski
n is flawless. “I don’t think you give me enough credit. And I don’t think you give Reed enough credit, either.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” He leans back and stares at the ceiling. “Emma, we don’t know these people. And what we do know about them is that they shouldn’t exist. That they’re here living on land, risking our discovery.”
“I think it’s safe to say they’re risking their discovery, not ours. Can’t we agree on the fact that they’ve stayed hidden—even from us—for long enough to prove they mean us no harm?”
“You’re a Half-Breed, angelfish. If they’re discovered, you’re discovered.”
“How so? No one’s going to point me out of a crowd and start shouting.”
“You don’t know that. And I don’t want to find out.”
Emma sighs. He can tell he’s aggravating her, but what does she expect? For him to embrace all of the strangers like long-lost cousins? It just doesn’t work that way. Especially not under the circumstances.
“You don’t want to be here.” She says it as if he’s betrayed her somehow.
“I want to be wherever you are.”
“That’s a generic answer.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No. I don’t want to be here.” He rolls over again, looking down on the glory that is her face. Tracing the back of his hand along her cheek, he says, “Truth be told, my first instinct is to run. To get as far away from here as possible.”
She doesn’t like the honesty in that answer. He can’t help it. “Why?”
“Because they’re breaking the law.”
“But you said yourself the law is a bunch of superstition. Have you forgotten? I’m an exception to the law. Couldn’t they be?” It’s true, he’s back and forth about the law. But right now, the law seems to have reinvented itself into good common sense.
“Well they’re not exactly asking to be pardoned, are they? Besides, what I think about the law doesn’t matter. It’s what the kingdoms think about the law—and they still have a law against the existence of Half-Breeds.” He winces when a glint of pain flashes across her face. “Of more than one Half-Breed,” he corrects. “Right now, I think we should concentrate on keeping the peace between the kingdoms and not throwing another Royal scandal in their faces.” Every time he opens his mouth, Grom comes out.
