Oceanborn

by Amalie Howard

  “There’s so much...”

  “Don’t try to process all of it now,” Jenna says. “Just breathe.”

  Lo stares down at his arm, frowning. “I remember it, but it feels like a dream, like none of it was real.” His eyes shift to each of us in turn and then to the shambles of the stern. “But it was real, wasn’t it? I... Them...” Lo grips Jenna’s leg, and my heart jumps into my throat, but he only wants to ask her a question. “I did all this, didn’t I?”

  Jenna seems unsure of what to say, and then just nods. She moves to squat beside him. “It’s going to be fine, Lo.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I do.” And that’s when she jabs the tranquilizer needle that fell out of Dr. Aldon’s hand into Lo’s neck. He arches against her, but he’s no match for the powerful sedative, not in human form. “Sleep now. You’ll feel better, I promise.”

  She cradles him as he slumps against her, his eyes opening and closing with delayed blinks. “Okay, Jenna,” he says drowsily.

  With a glance at me, she brushes the hair out of his face. “Lo, when I asked you to hold on to something before, what did you think of?”

  Those languid dark eyes meet mine just before they slip closed, his eyelashes fluttering across the tops of his cheeks. For a second, I think he’s gone to sleep, but then Lo’s lips shape a whispered answer.

  “Her. I thought of her.”

  * * *

  I glare at Jenna in the mirror of the girls’ bathroom. “Seriously, you could have asked me first. I told you I was done with hockey.”

  She glares back just as fiercely, not backing down for an instant. “Look, I’m your friend and you’re more stressed than I’ve ever seen you. You don’t surf. You don’t swim. You don’t do anything to get all that negative energy out. You’re going to explode, Riss. So yeah, I talked to Coach Fenton. You can play in the scrimmage after school.”

  “I don’t have time for hockey. You know that,” I say tiredly. I splash some water on my face and take a deep breath. I’m stressed because I’m worried. Bertha and Grayer told Echlios that Lo hasn’t moved from his bed all week, except to sit at the water’s edge for hours at a time, staring into space. Since what happened on the boat, he hasn’t said a word to anyone about anything. His silence terrifies me.

  Jenna sighs, meeting my eyes. “He hasn’t talked to you?”

  “No,” I say. “Still out sick. No calls. Nothing. The only reason I know he’s alive is Grayer. On top of that, I can’t find my phone. I think it’s at the Marine Center, so I don’t even know if he’s texted me.”

  “He needs some space, Riss. He’ll come around when he’s ready.”

  I stare at her. “When’s that? It’s not like we have a ton of time.”

  “I know. But you can’t break yourself into pieces in the meantime. Look, it’s one game. I think you need to take your mind off everything, and hockey is the one thing you had that was yours...unrelated to the two of you.”

  We both jump as a toilet flushes behind us. I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t been aware of another person inside the bathroom with us. Hastily thinking back over the conversation, I’m confident that neither of us has said anything too outlandish. Still, I’m hoping beyond hope that it isn’t Cara. That would be the last straw. The stall door opens and I heave a sigh of relief.

  “Hey, guys,” Rian says with an embarrassed, apologetic look. “I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything. Sounded kind of intense, so I was waiting for you guys to leave. But then, I didn’t want to be late for class.”

  “No big deal,” Jenna says, wiping her hands with a paper towel and busying herself searching for something in her backpack.

  “Sorry,” Rian says with a sympathetic smile at the neighboring sink. “Boy stuff?”

  “Sort of.”

  I run my wet hands through my hair, twisting it up into a ponytail. Although I like Rian, I don’t want to be rude, but it’s not like this is any of her business despite overhearing our conversation. An awkward silence descends on the bathroom, with the three of us looking anywhere but each other. Jenna is still applying sixteen layers of lip gloss and Rian finishes rinsing her hands in silence. She clears her throat at the door, chewing on her lower lip as if she hasn’t quite decided whether or not to say anything. She hesitates and shrugs with a wry twist of her mouth.

  “I know it’s none of my business,” she says as if she read my mind, or my tight expression. “But for what it’s worth, you should play today. Speio told me that you used to be really good. Maybe it’ll...take the edge off. Just my unsolicited two cents. See you guys in class.”

  Jenna grins after Rian leaves, pocketing her gloss. “See? Even the new girl thinks you should play.”

  I shake my head. “Fine, I’ll think about it. Your lips are really shiny, by the way. Like someone-could-get-blinded shiny.”

  Jenna puckers up. “That’s just how I roll.”

  “Too bad you almost blew a lip-gloss bubble. I’m surprised your lips aren’t stuck together.”

  “They kind of are,” Jenna admits with a snort. “Give us a kiss.”

  “No way! Go kiss Sawyer.” Giggling as she blots her lips with a tissue, I grab my discarded backpack and sling it over my shoulder. “Now come on before we get sent to the office for being late and I have to mind-meld Principal Andrews again.”

  Barely sliding into our seats in English just in time as Mr. Donovan shuts the door behind us, we’re still grinning like a pair of idiots. Not wasting any time, he taps his copy of The Importance of Being Earnest. “Class, please open up to act two, part one. Sawyer, please begin the part of Algernon. Marcus, you take Jack.”

  Despite Jenna’s droll expression, my lightheartedness is short-lived as my gaze lands on Lo’s empty chair. Despair returns in full force. What I wouldn’t give to be done with this whole double life and be back in Waterfell where I belong with Lo at my side, pretending that none of this ever happened. I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Jenna again, and things would be as they should. Seriously, this play is like a metaphor of my life. Monster invents fictional girl. Fictional girl falls for boy who has a fictional reality of his own. Pair admits to inventing fictional other lives. Fiction becomes reality. All bets are off.

  Oh, and history repeats itself.

  Staring down at the cover of my worn copy of the play, I think about Jack’s sense of duty and obligation being his downfall. Maybe Jenna and Rian are right—a fun hockey game would take the edge off. Funnily enough, just the thought of it makes it feel like a weight as been lifted off my chest. Not completely, but just enough so that I can breathe.

  I coast through the rest of class, getting more excited by the minute as the last bell gets closer. By the time I’ve stashed my books in my locker, my pregame adrenaline is skyrocketing. I forgot how it feels...how all your senses zing in anticipation of facing off against another team, of pitting your skills in an arena, of working as a team toward one single objective.

  “So, you in?” Jenna says.

  “I don’t have a uniform with me.”

  Jenna’s eyes light up like the fourth of July. “I’ve got extra.”

  “What about my lucky stick?”

  “With skills like yours, you don’t need a lucky stick, but I’ve got an extra stick that’s lucky enough for the both of us.”

  In the girls’ locker room, it’s as if I never left. You’d think that the odd combination of sweaty gym socks and fruity conditioner would be off-putting, but it’s soothingly familiar. I’d never realized just how grounding hockey had been for me. Tracing the old sticker with my name on my old locker, I realize that in an odd, unexpected way, I’ve come home. With a sad smile, I wonder whose locker it is now. It would have been reassigned for sure.

  “Welcome back, Marin,” a quiet voice behind me says through
the open door. Coach Fenton looks the same as I remember—his smiling, no-nonsense face with kind blue eyes. I follow him outside.

  “Thanks for letting me play, Coach.”

  “It’s good to have you here. Thought you would have come back to us when you transferred back in, but I understand family commitments. We’ve missed your talent on the field.”

  “I’ve missed the team, too. Not so much the three-a-day practices on the weekend,” I tease. “Or the early-morning runs.”

  “Well, suit up. I’ll see you out there.” He grins. “Let’s see how rusty you’ve gotten without my three-a-days.” He points at my locker. “Forgot how to open that, have you?”

  “I thought it was someone else’s.”

  “Nope. The girls wanted to keep it for you just in case you came back.” He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorjamb. He nods to someone behind him in the hallway. “Plus, no one else could open it. Thing gets stuck every time.”

  “You mean like this?” I double-punch the upper right corner and the locker pops open.

  My jaw hits the floor. The locker is crammed full of streamers, photos and welcome-back signs, in addition to my old uniform and my gear. Jenna. But before I can react, the whole room erupts in shouting and screaming as some of my old teammates throw themselves on top of me, including a delighted Jenna. I see Cara out of the corner of my eye, standing in the corner with a scowl on her face. Of course she couldn’t just be happy that I was there.

  “Did you plan this?” I ask Jenna amid the cheers, jerking my head toward my locker. “You knew I’d say yes?”

  “Of course I did. It’s hockey...kind of like giving crack to a baby.”

  “That’s a messed-up visual, but thanks, I think.”

  Kate, the right forward, thumps me on the back. “Good to have you back, fearless leader.”

  “Great to be back,” I say. “For this scrimmage, anyway.”

  Kate shakes her head. “Jenna hasn’t been the same without her cocaptain. She kind of sucks as full captain, honestly.”

  “Hey!” Jenna chucks her in the shoulder, grinning. “All right, ladies, get your gear on. Let’s show our old cocaptain exactly what she’s been missing.”

  On the field, I tap my stick onto each of my cleats for good luck and troop out with the rest of the team. I wave to Speio, who is sitting in the stands next to Rian. They wave back, grinning and cheering with the rest of the crowd. Seeing Speio happy at one of my hockey games is a far cry from how against it he’d been last year. Must be the company. Rian’s certainly had a good effect on him. He’s far less moody and even smiles occasionally. I’m not complaining. I don’t miss Sour-Patch Speio one bit.

  “You ready?” Jenna shouts to me breathlessly.

  “You bet.”

  Breaking from tradition, we’re playing a mixed coed game with the boys’ team for the pep rally. As usual, the boys’ team is nowhere near as good as the girls’ team, but with the mixed teams, it’ll make for a good matchup. I was surprised that Coach Fenton agreed to let me play, considering that they’re facing our school’s nemesis—Bishop’s—the following week, but I’m not complaining.

  Jenna and Cara face off in a bully at the centerfield mark. I’m sure Cara’s thrilled that she’s playing against me and not with me. She’s the captain for the opposing team, and even though Jenna picked me first, I know it’d be a cold day in hell before Cara voluntarily chose me to be on her team. Or vice versa.

  I forget all about Cara as the whistle blows and the ball is in play. Complete athletic instinct and muscle memory take over as Jenna passes me the ball, and I race up the field toward the goal with it. I deftly swing my stick, passing it back to Kate—my old right-wing attack forward—before dropping back and to the right. It’s our old bait and switch, and one that Kate obviously remembers as she passes me the ball with a devilish grin in a backward swipe from between her legs. The boy on the other team facing Kate is at a complete loss until he sees me veering up to the right, ball in play. Maneuvering it toward the goal past two junior defenders, I take the strike, watching as it pounds into the far left corner of the net.

  “Goal!” the crowd cheers.

  Jenna thumps me on the back, exhilarated. “Like riding a bike, right? How are you feeling?”

  “Better than I have in weeks.”

  We smash sticks and it’s all I can do not to hug her right there on the field. She’s always known how to bring me back to my center, or how to read the signs of when I’m close to losing it...first as a human, and even now as an Aquarathi. If there’s one thing I can be proud of during my cycle here on land, it’s Jenna. She’s as loyal a best friend as they come, and more than most. And she’s saved my skin on more than one occasion. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

  “Let’s show them what we’ve got,” she yells to our team, high-fiving Gregg, a senior from the boys’ team who is playing with us.

  Nearing the end of the two thirty-five-minute regulation halves, the game is tied five-all, so we go into overtime. Technically, we don’t have to play overtime since it’s just a scrimmage, but the crowd is on its feet cheering wildly. This has turned into an exhibition match more than anything, with older players flaunting tricks and sick stick skills all over the field.

  I show off some fancy footwork of my own, trapping the ball up onto my stick’s curved face and into the air, only to have it snatched out from under my nose by Cara. Grinning, I chase her down the field, watching her expert handling of the ball. I forgot just how good she is. I hold back even though I know I can tackle her easily, and let her think she’s got the advantage just before making my move.

  At the last second, I dart to the right and then twist in a half circle in the reverse direction, putting me nearly nose to nose with Cara. We jostle for position with rough elbows and high-sticking until the umpire blows his whistle for a double foul. We square off in a bully near the midfield line.

  “Why don’t you go back to South Africa or whatever hole it was you crawled out of?” Cara growls.

  “And miss seeing you break a sweat?” I toss back. “I think not.”

  “You think you’re so tough, don’t you?”

  “If you say so.”

  “The truth is, you don’t even belong here.” She glares at me.

  I eye her evenly, despite the hollow feeling spreading in my chest. “You would know.”

  “Know what?”

  “About belonging.” I lower my voice and lean in just as the umpire drops the ball between us. “After all, you’re not even from here. Tell me, do you miss L.A.? Truth is, Cara, you’re the biggest outsider of them all, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes narrow to such slits that I can barely see her pupils. Despite the twinge in my stomach at opening old wounds, Cara’s unknowing jab touched a nerve that made me respond in kind. She had no idea that I knew about her not-so-perfect foster-child past, discovered during a misguided break-in to Cano’s office last year. Still, I shouldn’t have said what I did, even in the heat of anger. Not now, not after I’ve come so far. It isn’t who I am.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  But despite my best intentions, I can’t even finish the apology. An unfamiliar tug interrupts my words and jerks my attention toward the sidelines, but there’s no one there. The pull intensifies sharply, making the hairs rise on my human skin and wrenching a pained gasp from my lips. Something wet and cloying stretches its way across my mind like a vise. The sensation is cold and alien. Assessing.

  Then it moves with icy purpose, twisting down into my center with vicious hunger. It feels as if something—someone—is digging clawed talons into the center of my belly and eviscerating me. My stomach clenches against it with futile resistance, white-hot spots bursting like fireworks behind my eyes. I close them for a split second, and
then the pain is gone as quickly as it came, as if it had never been there in the first place...as if I’ve imagined it all.

  A hollow feeling spreads through me just as the whistle blows, and there’s a mad flurry of movement around us. Disoriented, I face off against Cara, but the last thing I see coming toward my face is a snarling girl and the blunt end of a short stick.

  And then all I see is darkness.

  14

  Sleight of Hand

  The sharp scent of ammonia wafts into my nostrils, making me sit up and gag. I swipe at the smelling salts in front of my nose and wince at the pain shooting across my cheekbones.

  “Be still for a minute,” an indistinct voice says. Dark shadows flicker in front of my eyelids. My eyes flutter open and squint shut against the glare of the sun as Speio’s worried face comes into view. My eyes flick to Jenna, kneeling at his side.

  “Riss? What happened?” Speio whispers in my ear as images come flashing back—Cara’s furious face and her stick swinging toward my head—neither enough to knock me out on my worst day. And yet she did. And what was that strange gutting sensation in the pit of my stomach? It was as if someone was taking the measure of me, of what I am.

  Jenna frowns, leaning in. “Kate said she saw Cara clobber you in the face. That true?”

  “I...don’t know.”

  Truth is, I have no idea what happened. Even seeing that stick coming toward my face would have given me enough time to either dodge or deflect the strike, but I didn’t. I was too distracted by the unexpected intrusion. My gaze flicks to the bleachers, but there’s no one there now. The sensation was so utterly foreign that I can’t even imagine what it might have been. Maybe it’s something related to Lo, and what’s happening with him. Although I can’t imagine that it would be—I know Lo. My body can identify him in a breath. Maybe Soren or Echlios would have more of an idea.

  Wincing at the dwindling sting on the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath. Cara’s strike was a lucky one. I didn’t think she had it in her, but everyone has a breaking point. I’d obviously pushed her to hers. I look for her in the crowd of faces hovering above me. She looks as surprised as I do, but the emotion disappears from her face as soon as we make eye contact. A flush winds up her neck. She knows that if I say anything, she’ll be suspended.