The program then hovered alongside Madame Helena. “Each team will have a coach unaffiliated with the participating species. I’m pleased to announce the coach for team Merpeople is Margaretta Spokelay, a siren from the Pacific.”
From the dark food station room, an extraordinarily tall, utterly flawless woman emerged. Margaretta was the creature equivalent of a supermodel. Her fair skin shined like moon beams, while her waist-length, chocolate-brown locks softly billowed between a pair of baby blue, bird-like wings. Even her gait was ethereal, and the flowing lavender gown only accentuated her elegance. Every guy in the cafeteria was transfixed, while every girl heaved a jealous sigh and wished for even a single speck of Margaretta’s beauty.
As she moved to stand beside Troy and the rest of team Merpeople, my once healthy envy found its inner Hyde. This goddess-y woman would be spending countless hours with my boyfriend. Troy will be training in the company of legs-for-miles (my legs only go on for…well…inches), kiss-y, pout-y lips (mine are better suited for sneering and sarcasm), perfect curves (I don’t possess curves, unless they’re ballooning and mushy from too much junk food), and silky, shampoo-commercial hair (yeah, mine’s more akin to a glow-in-the-dark troll doll). I suppose there was a slim chance Troy would find her wings off-putting…or consider them the kingdom of kinky fun. Ugh. Barf.
“Hey, Marina, that severely hot boy over there is staring at you,” whispered Gully as poor Maile craned her neck and bent over to try and see across the room.
When I looked up, Margaretta had her green, almond-shaped eyes on my boyfriend, but he wasn’t paying her a bit of attention; instead, he watched me with the gentlest eyes imaginable. And whoosh! My insecurities melted straight away…well, fifty percent of them, anyway—still don’t trust the sexy siren.
Smiling, I said, “That’s Troy, my boyfriend.”
“Lucky you,” said Gully, sighing.
Yep, lucky me. She sure had that right.
“Regrettably, I see we do not have a single candidate to coach the Normals,” said Vipor. “Without a proper coach, we are faced with a forfeiture situation yet again.”
“Shame, isn’t it?” said Madame Helena.
“Could another siren take the job, perhaps?” suggested Vipor.
Madame Helena shook her head. “According to the scroll, it’s against the rules to have two coaches from the same species.”
“We’re screwed,” said Meikle. “If the two coaches can’t be the same creature AND can’t be a Normal or a merperson, what does that leave us?”
My mind swirled around only one such person: Manakel. “Madame Helena! If you can give me fifteen minutes, I’ll bring the Normals a coach meeting all required specifications.”
Her nasty, bird-eating grin disappeared. “Five minutes.”
“Ten,” I retorted.
“I think we can afford ten minutes, Helena,” said Vipor firmly. “Go on, Marina. Bring back your coach.” He smiled kindly.
As I started to run for the doors, Doctor Tenly quickly added, “Uh, don’t forget he must have a name.”
Damn. I’m going to have to get Manakel to tell me his real name. Bolting from the cafeteria, I sprinted down the winding halls, passed a few empty fish tanks, and flew out the front doors. Though the night air was balmy, it felt refreshingly cool against my skin. Looking to the starry sky, I was about to call for Manakel, but before I could, I recalled something he told me the night Airianna and I stole the stone from Zale’s mansion: “When you’re ready to scream my name, I’ll tell you.”
“I’m ready to scream your name,” I said, smiling. The faintest whisper of a name drifted in and out of my ears and fell from my lips as easily as rain falls from a cloud. “Jex.”
“You called?” Manakel—or Jex—appeared behind me, smiling gently.
“Jex. So, that’s your name.”
“It is,” he said, smirking.
Oddly, he looked more human to me than before. Oh, he was still a horny rogue, but now there was something almost familiar about him that warmed me to him. “Oh my God. Your name rhymes with sex!”
“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”
Wonderful. His angel sex energy was sending a freaking hurricane over me. “Well…right...phew!”
“You know, the ladies in my time didn’t have sex.”
“Well, they were chaste then. They waited for the honeymoon…with their honey…by the moon…and, uh, honey,” I said. Oh, brain, really? Damn hormones twist every freaking word into a nasty thought.
Jex chuckled. “No, I mean…they didn’t call it having sex or getting laid.”
“What’d they call it?”
“Having Jex and getting Jexed. Sex can’t compete with Jex.”
Tossing my hands up, I said, “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?” Fool. “It suits you, though. It’s definitely sexy, kinda mysterious, and a little badass.”
He laughed. “A lot badass, my dear.”
“Fine, fine. A lot badass. You said when I needed to scream your name, you’d tell me…although I didn’t really scream it, did I?”
“I haven’t heard my name in many, many decades. So, to my heart, it was a scream,” he said. The soft, sad relief in his smile captivated me. “You must need me for something.”
“Interesting choice of words,” I muttered before the brain clicked in. “Oh! Yeah, I do! Mana—Jex, I need you to coach the Normals for the first ever Overfalls.”
His soft, gentle demeanor vaporized. “Are you out of your bloody mind, Savior? Hear me when I say you do NOT want to be involved in the Overfalls. You must know it’s designed to put a wedge between Normals and Merpeople, to devalue your kind.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it takes something like this to bring groups together.”
“Really doubt it,” he said.
“Look, all I know is if we don’t try, we forfeit and the wish automatically goes to the captain of the merperson team,” I said angrily.
“Wish? You mean the winning team gets a wish granted, guaranteed?”
“Yes. Imagine a wish in the hands of the merps. If the captain turns out to be Troy, Airianna, or Benji, I won’t worry. But what if it turns out to be that Ravenflame guy, Irving, or Muriel, who hates me, or, worse yet, Katrina?”
Jex (funny, but I’m already completely used to his name, almost as if I never knew him as anything else) caressed his feathers for a moment. “Fine, I’ll do it.”
“Let’s go,” I said, yanking his arm.
“Less than a minute,” I heard Madame Helena cry just as we walked into the cafeteria.
“Principal Jeepers, Mr. Anderson, Mr. Vipor, Madame Helena, I’d like to introduce you to our coach, Jex,” I said proudly.
Troy grimaced, folded his arms, and clenched his jaw. Perhaps he was as uneasy about Jex being my coach as I was about Margaretta being his; that really was the only fair solution to the slightly overdramatic, jealously manic part of my makeup.
“And you are an earth angel, is that right?” asked Madame Helena.
“That’s right,” said Jex sternly.
“I suppose it’s settled, then. I’ll just add your name to the official announcement.” Clearing her throat, very displeased, Madame Helena said, “The coach for team Normals will be Jex…what is your last name again?”
“Didn’t give you one,” said Jex.
“Ah, well, without a last name, we cannot accept you as a suitable coach,” said Madame Helena, running her long nails across her chest.
“Manakel,” said Jex. “Jex Manakel.”
“That’s not your last name,” shouted Katrina.
“Indeed, it’s not,” said Mr. Anderson. “Manakel is an angel group name.”
“That’s right, what of it?” asked Jex.
“We need your last name. Group names do not suffice,” said Mr. Smarmy.
“Really? Well, I can’t give you my last name because it’s against earth angel law. Only upon need shall my last name be known,” said Jex.
“Uh, but we do need it,” I said. “Just like I needed your first name. Same deal, different part of your name.”
Grinning sexily, Jex whispered in my ear, “Watch and enjoy.” He sauntered to the middle of the room, standing opposite Madame Helena. “I see Miss Deadly Song over there, Margaretta Spokelay, is coaching the fins. I take it you’ve already signed off on her, then?”
“Naturally. She meets all requirements, including providing a first and last name.”
“Right. Except, she doesn’t. You see, Spokelay is a siren tribal name, not a last name. It describes what group she comes from, much like Manakel articulates my angel group.” Madame Helena’s peachy cheeks turned chalky white. “And if you, being the administrator of the Overfalls, officially accepted her tribal name as a last name by placing it in the legally binding merperson ink within the program provided to you, then you have set a precedent you cannot now overturn. Thus, by your own tacit admission, Manakel will more than satisfy the last name requirement.”
He left Madame Helena completely dumfounded and rejoined me.
“Were you a lawyer in your past life or something?” I asked.
Jex puffed his chest out a bit. “Close, but no, nothing nearly that fancy. I haven’t revved my outwit engine in many years. Felt good.”
Doctor Tenly and Luxton Vipor stared at Madame Helena, who appeared to be vainly scrambling for an out-clause to her own logic.
“I do believe you have a program to finish,” said Vipor coldly.
“What? Oh, of course. As I was saying, the coach for the Normals will be Jex Manakel.” When she finished, Madame Helena whipped around the table and plopped down, glowering at Jex.
Doctor Tenly turned back to the scroll. “We just have to determine who will be the team captains! This is the simple part. Each of you will take a turn trying to remove a double-ended trident from the brain coral. The one who does it the fastest on each team will be that team’s captain. Understood?” We all nodded. “Fintastic! First up, Irving. Time starts when you touch the trident.”
Irving stepped up to the brain coral, placed his hands on the trident closest to their team, and pulled, yanked, twisted, and tugged. He was a burly Ravenflame, too. If he struggled with this task, then we were seriously screwed. Finally, the trident popped out. Irving held it in the air to cheers from all the merps, his dark skin dripping with sweat.
“Three minutes, forty seconds for Irving,” said Vipor.
“Hmm. Unimpressive,” said Doctor Tenly. “Muriel, you’re next.”
Pulling her golden curls into a topknot, Muriel waited for a moment as another double ended trident materialized in the same spot as the first. She didn’t seem to know how best to attack it. She tugged at it sideways and diagonally until it snapped free and flew into the crowd. Luckily, someone caught it.
Vipor stopped his timer. “Five minutes, Muriel.”
“Awful,” said Doctor Tenly. “Benji?”
Benji was awesome. Literally six short yanks later, and he had his trident.
“Fifty-five seconds!” shouted Vipor to loud applause.
“Surprised they’re cheering for the ‘traitors,’” I said to Jex.
“Their goal now is to demolish the Normals. They’ll bandwagon anyone in position to do just that, even the traitors,” he said.
Doctor Tenly nodded proudly at Benji’s time. “Better. Airi, up you go, dear.”
Airianna glanced at me with her worry-brows. I made a you can do it face and silently prayed. Ooh, do I pray to God or Poseidon? Huh. That’s a stumper. Placing one leg on the brain coral, she twisted three times and SNAP! She had her trident. Airianna was so proud that she started jumping up and down and nearly bonked herself on the head with her trident. Yes, it was that adorable.
“Thirty seconds flat for Airianna! Good job!” said Vipor, thoroughly enjoying himself. Sometimes I forget he belongs to the Imperia.
“That a girl, Airi! Well done.” Doctor Tenly applauded her as she returned to her place in line. “Troy, can you beat thirty seconds?”
“What do y’all think?” he said arrogantly to a hyped-up group of merps.
Sexy beast.
He rubbed his hands together and winked at me over his shoulder.
“They really should have fans in here,” I said.
“Honey, no fan on this planet will cure you of that kind of heat, I promise you,” said my mom.
Troy placed his massive hands over the trident and barely pulled two times. Twisting it around in spectacular fashion, Troy garnered loads of hollers as guys fist-pumped and girls giggled and fanned themselves (Dear God, some even unbuttoned their tops).
“Wow,” said Vipor, marveling over his timer. “Twenty-five seconds!”
“He’s so damn hot, I’m actually sunburned,” I said, my mind not at all in the game.
“Focus,” said Jex.
“Oh, believe me, I am,” I said, biting my lip.
Jex frowned at me and folded his arms. “You’re going to be hell, aren’t you? That’s why I didn’t get sent straight to Hades when I died. God had you in mind to torture me.”
I just shrugged and continued focusing. What? My coach said to focus, but he never specified what to focus on.
“Brilliant, Troy. That’s how it’s done, folks,” shouted Doctor Tenly. “Take note. Okay, last up, Katrina.”
Katrina moseyed to the brain coral. Turning to face us, she kissed her necklace and ring, smiled, and wrapped her hands low on the trident. In what seemed like a flash, she had the trident out.
With a small, victorious humph, she purred, “Take note.”
“Was that quicker than Troy?” I asked Jex.
“Too close to tell,” he said.
“I think Troy was slightly faster,” said Trey.
“Luxton? How did she do?” asked Madame Helena, practically foaming at the mouth.
Swallowing hard, he replied, “Twenty…three seconds.”
As one side of the room celebrated—apart from my merp friends—our side felt the weight of a thousand rogue waves crash down on us. Katrina Zale was their captain.
“Congratulations, Katrina!” Madame Helena had regained her giddiness. “Katrina Zale will be the captain for the Merpeople and will make a wish for her group.”
“Yes, yes, congratulations, Katrina,” said Doctor Tenly. “As the captain, you will be allowed to keep the trident and also have the advantage of using it one time during the Overfalls.”
“Thank you, Principal Jeepers. I promise to represent my team to the best of my ability. And I wholeheartedly promise to make a wish that benefits as well as heals.” She twirled her trident in her hand as Mr. Anderson collected the other tridents from her teammates; Troy had a tough time letting his go.
Oh, I hate her so much. Let me at that damn trident!
Scratching his head, Doctor Tenly added, “Yes, well done. It’s almost as if you have a powerful demon inside of you, Katrina!”
Oh no. I knew that was a subtle slam at Troy. Doctor Tenly knows as well as I do that Troy doesn’t utilize his inner demon. Just as the doctor hinted, if Troy had allowed his demon-self to break free just a little, Katrina wouldn’t be their captain.
“Normals! Your turn! First up will be Ophelia.”
“Why me, why me, why me, why me…” Ophelia said over and over again.
“Hey, look, you’re a ninja waiting to shine,” said Jex. “Thing is, you already shine. So, go out there and show them what we see.”
Ophelia’s eyes did something for the first time: they sparkled with determination. Walking with her head high, Ophelia approached the trident on our side of the coral, muttered something, and started the tug of war game. After a few solid attempts, the trident released.
Vipor shouted, “One minute seventeen seconds! Not bad at all!”
Jex gave her a high-five when she returned. “Great start.”
“Nicely done, Ophelia,” said Doctor Tenly. “Gully, give it a go.”
“Oh, um, what do
es that mean exactly?” she asked Doctor Tenly.
Blinking his eyes a few times, the doctor replied, “It means go on over there and try.”
“Oh, yeah, okay, I get it,” she said, twirling on her heel.
Clasping the trident in both hands, she tilted it up, then down, then sideways. She paused and placed her hands on her hips. “Hmm. Stubborn, isn’t it?”
“Oh, God, just keep pulling, yeah?” shouted Jex.
“Huh?” she said, starting to walk over to us.
“No! Stay! Just yank it out, all right? Aw, brilliantly focused one, there,” said Jex.
Gully giggled the entire time, but she finally freed the trident. “Got it! I passed!”
“Ugh, it wasn’t really a pass kind of deal,” muttered Jex. “How bad, Luxt?”
Vipor shot Jex a peculiar glare. It was somewhere between shock and loathing. I reckon he didn’t care for the nickname Jex gave him. Can’t say I blame him.
“Uh, five minutes and thirteen seconds,” he said.
“Wretched,” said Jex, shaking his head.
Completely detached, Gully just smiled, swayed back and forth, and said, “I was hoping for five minutes. So close!”
I couldn’t contain a smile, but Jex wasn’t pleased. Even worse was Polly, who glared dangerously at Gully.
“I don’t trust her. She has blond hair,” said Polly.
“Believe me, she’s a Normal,” Jex groaned. “No merp or even part-merp would have performed that badly.”
“Trey, if you will,” said Doctor Tenly.
Trey was up and back so fast, hardly anyone saw him.
“Twenty-seven seconds for Mr. Campbell!” said Vipor, waving the timer.
“Awesome, Trey,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry, for beating your time, Ophelia.”
OVERFALLS (The Merworld Water Wars, Book 2) Page 12
