The Savage Blue

In the train, my legs are shaking.

Racing from Central Park, on the 6 train, all the way down to the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Old drunk pervert,” I mumble. “I knew he was hiding something.” Thalia pats my arm to placate me. “It’s not our way to give up our secrets. That isn’t who we are.”

“His shelf was lined with it. Water from Eternity. No wonder I feel so stupid! I drank it and that’s the reason for my super healing ability.” I wave my hand in her face.

“It’s a good thing you did drink it,” Thalia says. “Or your fighting hand would be useless.”

“Greg knows where Eternity is,” I say. “Find Eternity, find the next oracle.”

“I wonder…” Thalia says. “Why is Greg here? Why is he not at court? Before tonight, I’ve never heard of such a place as Eternity.” The doors ding open and we get out. Manhattan twinkles on the other side of the bridge. Despite it being past midnight, dozens and dozens of cars speed hungrily to their destinations. We take the same turns as before on the Brooklyn streets. The same cars on the same empty parking lot. The same silence on this dead-end road. I march up the steps to Greg’s withering house. I knock, and it feels as if the whole structure will shatter like glass under my fist. On the sidewalk, Thalia is frozen. Nose turned up to sniff the air. I want to ask her, “What is it?”

But I hear the shuffle of feet crunching over the dried leaves in the backyard. Thalia’s face is suddenly lit by a blue flame. The force that pushes us is like a powerful gust of unstoppable wind. Glass shatters and falls like rain. Brick crumbles to ash. Greg’s house erupts into blue fire. I land on the sidewalk, ears ringing. Hands try to pull me up from the ground. My head is shaking, split in two. I hear Thalia’s voice, muted and far away.

Debris pelts all around.

There’s Thalia again, tugging on me, but the blue fire is mesmerizing and consuming. It’s alive, like hands reaching out to me. “Tristan!”

My ears pop. Thalia is screaming at me. I get up and take her hand. We race back up the street in the direction we came from. I can hear the booming wail of the fire truck in the distance. We stop after a few blocks to check our bodies for missing parts.

We’re intact, although covered in dirt and sweat. Then we keep running, and when I look over my shoulder, I can still hear the crackle of flames, as if they’re following me all the way home.

•••

When I dream, I dream of the silver mermaid.

I hate saying her name, even in my mind. Nieve. Neeehv. In my dream, Layla is sitting on a white beach. It’s snowing. She’s speaking to me in Spanish, and I can’t figure out what she’s saying because even in my dreams I can’t understand it. In my dream, Layla is a mermaid. She has a golden tail that matches her eyes. She shifts in the water and I’m chasing after her until the musky Coney Island water turns navy blue and cold. There’s a whale eating silvery fish by the ton, and I swim beside it until I reach the surface.

Above us, the sky is a clean white. It hurts to look at so much snow, and everything is so pristine that I don’t even notice her sitting on a block of ice until blood trickles from the head of a silver fish. It dots the snow like a constellation and spills into the clear sea in muddy clouds. When she sees me, she smiles. The lovely angles of her face are marred by a nasty set of razor sharp teeth. “You’ve found me…” Nieve’s voice is a tired breeze.

She loses interest in her meal and dives in for me. Her voice is thin and weak, like her body. I know I can swim faster than she can, but when I turn around, she’s still swimming right at my tail. Her jagged nails touch the tip of my fins. I can hear her all around me, like an echo. “You’re mine, Tristan. You’re going to be mine.”





When I wake up, I’m in a tight embrace with someone. I hug the warmness to me and rest my forehead on the warm back—

When I open my eyes, I notice the broad shoulders. Soft, wavy brown hair, just like mine. At the same moment, he turns around and we roll over. I fall out of my bed and curse at pain from my toes to my temples.

But I manage to laugh and say, “You pervert.”

Kurt groans. There’s a sickly green pallor on his face. I’m afraid he’s going to throw up on me so I get up and throw some clothes on.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Why are you shouting?” He picks up the closest shirt on the floor and puts it on.

I bat my hand over his face. “Sweet baby Zeus, I can still smell the beer in your pores.”

My laugh is cut short when I remember yesterday. My craptastic date with Sarabell. My parents and their new baby. The arrow piercing my hand. Midnight poker. The prophecy. Eternity. Gregorious. Blue fire.

Kurt rubs his eyes slowly. I throw a pillow at his head. “Come on, Captain Lightweight. You slept through all the good stuff.”

•••

“Why do humans do this to themselves?”

Kurt holds on to the kitchen counter for dear life.

My mom comes in and makes tea. She holds it up to Kurt’s face and he drinks it slowly.

I take the black marker and draw a big X on Monday. Dad’s already at work and it’s Tuesday morning. I feel about a hundred years old. Then I flip on the news. A great blue fire ought to have gotten someone’s attention.

Eighty-five degrees and partly sunny with a storm warning for Thursday is followed by the morning news. Behind a frazzled newscaster is the great blazing fire, and farther behind that, the Brooklyn Bridge is backed up with traffic. Firemen blast the house with water but the flames are violent, living things like hands reaching up, climbing up the tree and fanning out against the open space on either side of the crumbling brownstone.

“That’s our combat flame,” Kurt says. “How in the world did it get here?”

My mom gapes at the same time I drop my spoon on the floor. Layla says that when silverware falls on the ground, it means unexpected visitors. I really hope that’s just a bunch of superstitious bullshit, but my merman senses are tingling.

“We were there last night. At Greg’s house.” I stand in front of the television so they look at me instead. I tell them about Shelly and the translation and running to Greg’s house. “What gets me is that he has the protection stuff. The wreath that the court gave him.”

“It’s a symbol, Tristan.” My mom rests one hand on her belly, even though she isn’t showing yet, and places the other on my shoulder. “Just like the one on our door. The king is only king right now as a formality to crown the new one. But without the trident, his power ebbs. Whoever did this knows that.”

“My behavior is unacceptable.” Kurt broods. “I should’ve been there.”

My mom takes my hand and examines the smoothness. “She shot you?”

“She’s new,” I say. “Frederik’s been calling in reinforcements because of the rise in dead bodies.”

“And they were all there,” Kurt asks. “The vampire and the shape-shifter? They heard everything Shelly told them?”

I don’t like what he’s implying. “They’re our allies, man. Anyway, I figured something out.”

I take five index cards and flip them over to the unlined side. I tape them in a row on the Command Central wall. “We’ve found Shelly in Central Park, but that’s been her home for a long time. She hasn’t moved anywhere. Unlike the others. Kurt, what do you know of the oracle from the Vanishing Cove? The one you were expecting to see?” “Her name is Lucine,” he says.

If Shelly is the youngest, I’m afraid to see what the oldest one of the oracles looks like. But when I start to write her name down, Kurt hops off his seat and takes the marker from me. He draws the outline of a mermaid with a split tail.

“She’s the Starbucks mermaid?”

Kurt ignores me and labels her name and location.

“Then, there’s Chrysilla, the nautilus maid.” I draw a spiral and label her as well, leaving us with two blank cards. “If Chrysilla came from Eternity, that means one of her sisters took her place.” I put the cap back on the marker, expecting them to start shouting out compliments for my brilliance. “Greg was my only chance because that’s where he got this water. That’s why I was healing so quickly. Only now he’s gotten blown up.”

Mom and Kurt exchange skeptical glances.

“What?”

“It’s just—” Mom says, like the time she confessed there was no Santa. “There is no place called Eternity. It’s a state of mind.”

I shake my head. “How do you explain my hand? Kurt, you were there. You saw Greg change after he drank that stuff.”

“Perhaps it was something else,” Kurt says. “Lady Maia is right. I’ve never heard of such a place.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“Darling, you don’t understand. What Kurt is trying to say is perhaps Shelly’s throwing you off. You can’t trust them all.”

I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “Who am I supposed to trust? Kurt? You? I have nothing else to go on except for riddles, because that’s what you people are good at, right? Riddles and prophecies. I have Nieve trying to take over the seas. Merrows killing on my own shore. Oracles swapping places. And I’m the one who has to fix it. Because of you, Mom. Because you never told me what I was. Don’t you see? I am what I am because of you, and if I fail I have nowhere, nowhere else to go.”

As soon as I say it, I wish I could take it back. My mom’s face is crushed.

Kurt shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“I never,” Mom says, “never wanted you to get hurt.”

I laugh. In the last couple of days, I’ve been injured more than during the last twelve years of school sports combined. “I’m on the right track. I know I am. If you guys don’t want to help, there are plenty of other mermaids who will.”

“Like Gwenivere,” Kurt says.

I’m about to argue, but someone knocks on the door and I run to answer it. I need to calm down. Never in my whole life have I yelled at my mother that way. I can’t even look at her.

Even before I reach for the doorknob, I know it’s her. Her greeting is muffled as I pull Layla into a hug. She resists at first, putting her arms up, but then she relaxes and wraps her arms around me.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers.

“Thalia says you were put in the ground.” I change the subject.

“Yep. Six feet deep.” She looks over my shoulder and, as if sensing I don’t want to go back into that kitchen, pulls me out into the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I came to get you. Coach called an emergency meeting.” She traces her finger on the pearly scar of Sarabell’s teeth marks. “And it’s Ryan’s memorial.”

“I have to find—”

“I know.” She rests her hand on my chest and I shut up. “I know you have the championship and it ends in four days. But when it’s over, you’ll hate yourself for not—”

“For not what?”

“Not saying good-bye to your old life.”





Even before we climb the steep steps leading to the gothic building that is Thorne Hill High School, I can smell it.

Dirt, covering my body like I’m digging into wet earth with bare hands.

At the school entrance, beneath the archway statues of two clashing angels, is a massive flower wreath with Ryan’s graduation photo at the center. Thick white candles drip on the floor like waxy tears.

I realize that the dirty smell of guilt is coming from me. If I’d told him my secret, maybe he’d still be alive. He would’ve known to run, to hide. I pull out an action figure I’ve had since fifth grade—Captain America with his tiny toy shield. The year he transferred from Nowhere, North Carolina, with his side-swept blond hair and big gray eyes and honest face—well, it was pretty annoying. So we called him that until it stopped being a joke and just became part of his shtick. Ryan was better than the rest of us. Better than me.

All around and along the wreath are tiny things left by the rest of the school. Amid all the roses and daisies are a cluster of forget-me-nots from Mrs. Santos’ garden and an Italian horn Angelo had always promised to give him but just couldn’t part with.

Kurt shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t know to bring something.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

He shakes his head, frustrated. “It isn’t.”

I thought I’d feel weird coming back, but despite the silence in the halls, I think I still fit right in. The tension is familiar, clinging with loss, excitement, hormones, and anxiety. Yep, still the average high school.

Ryan didn’t have a funeral in Brooklyn. As soon as his parents got his body back from the morgue, they moved back to North Carolina, convinced of the dangers of the big city.

Flanked by Layla and Kurt, we file into the auditorium, which is full to the brim with kids.

“Are you okay?” Layla asks, crossing her fingers with mine.

“No.” I hate the way the swim team is looking at me. The day I left for the Vanishing Cove, we had our final meet. We wouldn’t have swum, not without Ryan, but I’m their captain. Was their captain. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, you should.”

For a second, Angelo stares at me with that way he has, like he can’t decide if he’s going to deck you in the face or shake your hand. Then again, Angelo doesn’t shake hands. Everything about him— his messy button-down, the gelled hair that feels like a helmet to the touch—is comforting. No matter what, he’ll never change who he is to the core. Then he grins and pulls me into a man-hug.

“Can you believe Principal Quinn asked me to give a speech?” Angelo holds out his fist and I bump it.

Principal Quinn finishes setting up the microphone. Angelo puts on his game face. The real concentrated kind he reserves for meets or when he’s on lifeguard duty. People can say a lot about Angelo: he’s a player; he probably stole your lunch money at least once in first grade; he chews with his mouth open; and he doesn’t stop to think about what he wants to say. But when it comes to being your friend, he’s your friend for life.

“Uhh, I don’t really need an introduction,” he says into the mic as he loosens his tie from the knot his mother probably redid three times. “We’re here to talk about Ryan Morehouse. I met Ryan freshman year. He was this dorky little thing. I-I made him buy me lunch sometimes because I knew he was so happy to have a friend, you know? One time, I went out with this girl he liked. I sort of knew he liked her, but he still didn’t turn on me like Tristan.”

I sink down in my seat. “I’m pretty sure it was the other way around.”

“Don’t worry you’re still my boy, T.” He pounds his fist on his chest, then points to me so that everyone turns to snigger.

Angelo’s voice trembles and I realize he needs to make fun of something; otherwise he won’t get through it. “Anyway. Ryan still helped me with my homework because he knew I wasn’t so good. All week I’ve tried to replay that night in my head. I try to put myself in a different location. Maybe if I wasn’t so busy trying to protect a stranger, I could’ve had his back. Maybe—who knows, right? All I know is we were a team, and Ryan was always on our side.

“We used to call him Wonder Ryan, ’cause you know, he was so vanilla. All nice and proper and stuff. But now, we should still call him that because he risked his life, like a superhero.

“I make a promise to my friend, right here and now. I never knew what I wanted to do with my life. Now I know. Maybe I’ll be a cop like my brothers, maybe those cool FBI guys. I just know I’ll make sure that what happened to Ryan doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

The auditorium cheers. One after another, they go up there and talk about him. How awesome he was. How cool. How nice. How cute. I refuse to go up because I know I’d get up there and say one thing: “I’m sorry.”

Coach Bellini gets up and accepts the Triborough trophy. The other team forfeited before we could. Four boys from their team went missing, and only one washed up on the New Jersey side of the river. The other three are still out there. Coach reminds us to be safe this summer and to come back stronger next year.

Layla squeezes my knee. “I can’t go up, either.”

“Can you believe it?” I say. “Angelo with a gun.”

“Hey, everyone has a calling.” She turns to me and kisses my cheek.

Angelo hops right off the stage and lands in front of us. He flicks an accusing finger between our faces. “Layla, did you hit your head or something?”

I get up and pull him into a fake headlock, our way of greeting each other every swim practice. The gathering is breaking up. School is over but open to those returning books and studying for state tests. Not me, though, because, in my heart, I know I can’t come back here.

“I got a surprise.” Angelo pulls off his tie and hooks it around my neck. “Quinn’s leaving for some board meeting. Bellini gave me the keys to the field. As long as we don’t do anything crazy.”

“Define ‘crazy,’” I counter.

“All I’m saying is, it wouldn’t be a proper good-bye without some fireworks.”





The sun is a white disk behind the gray overcast sky.

Angelo sets off a line of firecrackers right in the middle of the football field.

I sit in a circle closer to the track with Layla, Kurt, and some of the boys from the team. Some of the guys remember Kurt’s speed during a practice session a few days ago and grill him on how he does it.

I down a water bottle in a second and take a moment to enjoy this. Layla sitting between my legs with her head against my chest. My hand is over hers, fingers crossing. I lean forward and kiss the back of her head.

And then she asks, “How was your date with Sarabell?” I stutter.

“Did she take you down to where all the fish is happy?”

“No. How can you even—” I may as well be choking on my tongue. “You know that I’m not—I wouldn’t—”

Jerry runs past us, screaming at the top of his lungs. He and Angelo have matching red welts all over their arms from throwing snap pops at each other.

“She didn’t tell me anything. Then I tried to stop her from eating a couple, and she bit me.” I hold out my arm for her to see.

“That’s from the fox boy!”

I hold my arms side by side. “I told you about the juiced-up water.”

“You’re right.” She pats my knee and gets up. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

I get up to follow her, but Kurt grabs my wrist. “About what you said this morning. You were right.”

“I was?” I should ask for that in writing.

“We’ve had different lives, you and I.” He glances around the field at the chaos my friends are bringing to the summer day. “Perhaps that’s why it’s easier for you to see the things I cannot.”

“I think that you’re trying to say you agree with me about Eternity being a location.”

“In your manner of speaking, yes.”

“Good.” I pat him on the back.

“We’ll need Princess Gwenivere for the next part.”

Then Bertie plops down beside us. “Yo, T, where’ve you been?”

Angelo and Jerry stop running and join us.

“Family stuff,” I say, trying my best to act cool, but I think I’ve forgotten how.

Angelo smacks my back extra hard. “What I want to know is how the hell did you get Layla to go out with you?”

“You’re the man, Tristan,” Jerry says. “Total upgrade.” Bertie goes, “Yeah, T, you’re so cool now.”

“Too bad it’s a downgrade for her,” Angelo presses his hand to his chest, and the guys bust out laughing. Even Kurt McTraitor.

They look at me like puppies wagging their tails. “Well?”

I dump the rest of my water bottle on them. “I’m not talking about that.”

“Ohhhhhhhh.”

“Not even PG details?”

“I think he’s serious this time..”

“Don’t listen to them.” Angelo pats my shoulder, even though he’s the one who wants at least PG details. “I don’t blame you. That’s a serious girl. If you hurt her, I will mess you up with a capital MESS.”

“Word,” they chime in.

I hold my hands up defensively. “Aren’t you the one who bought a ‘Bros Before Hoes’ T-shirt for my birthday last year?”

“That was just a joke!” Angelo takes out his lighter and starts flicking it. He’s already itching to light those fireworks and then run for the hills.

Surprisingly, Kurt adds, “I’m sure Layla and Tristan are well aware of what they’re doing.”

“Hold up. What’s your deal, man?” Angelo leans forward, staring intently at Kurt. “You look like the kind of guy that should have a different girl on each appendage.”

It’s my turn to sound incredulous. “You don’t even know what appendage means!”

And I duck for his punch on my arm.

“I do so. Half the girls in school who aren’t faithful to me—no offense, T—are fiending after Kurt, but every time I see him, he’s like, alone. If it’s not your thing, I get it.”

Kurt shakes his head. There’s something about being with my friends that makes him more open. I don’t exactly see him pouring his heart out to the other stoic members of the Sea Guard. It might be his secret, but he likes humans more than he’ll ever admit. “There was someone, once.”

“He? She?” The guys press.

“She.” He picks up the empty beer can and plays with the tab until it breaks. “She was more than—she was everything. Then we were separated.”

Truth, I’m a little jealous Kurt tells my friends this. Where was all of this when we were on Arion’s ship together, duking it out? For the first time, I wonder if Kurt sees me as a friend at all.

“I guess it happens when you move around so much,” Bertie says.

“You don’t know shit,” Angelo says. “Don’t worry, Bertie, we’ll find you a girlfriend. Tristan’s cousins are still in town. That Sarabell was giving me the eye the other day.”

“She’s—don’t go there, dude. I’m so serious. She’s bad news.” And I’ve got her denture marks to prove it.

“Like juvie bad news?” Jerry’s eyes peel back. “Like she’ll steal my wallet or something?”

Kurt and I exchange smirks. “Let’s just say you wouldn’t be able to bring her home to mom and dad.”

“Ohhh,” Angelo nods. “You mean she’s not a Catholic. Yeah, my mom would be pissed. Still—I’m an open-minded guy.”

I’m not feeding my friend to Sarabell for dessert. “So, Kurt is always alone? Let’s talk about that.”

“Was she hot?” Jerry asks. “I bet she was hot.”

Jerry has had one kiss in his entire life, and that’s because we paid a freshman to do it. He was pretty mad when he found out, but then he got over it when he realized it was better than having no kiss at all.

A flush creeps across Kurt’s face. “Her hair was long, like rich copper running down her back. Skin white, soft. She made me feel as if I was the only person in the world for her, like I was important. Special.” Then he sits up straight. His wall of reserve is starting to come back and the spell of the day is dissipating. Fat gray clouds are covering the afternoon sun. “Then I had to go. I had to leave her.”

“Why don’t you go back for her?” Bertie asks.

“I don’t know where she is,” Kurt says.

“That sucks,” all of the guys admit.

Kurt tries to put on his best smile, and that’s when I realize Layla’s been in the bathroom for a long time.

“I’ll be right back,” I say.

I run down the stairs to the basement. It’s deserted except for a few stragglers petting each other in the dark corners of the stairwell. The closest bathroom is in the girls’ locker room. I can smell the pine-scented floor cleaner, the stale residue from the dirty gray mops. Beneath that I pick up Layla’s scent, all frazzled energy, burning sugar. It coats my tongue and I swallow against that pull I feel in the pit of my stomach.

When I push the door open, she’s standing at the sinks, staring at herself in the mirror. She jumps, hand flying to her chest. “You scared me.”

“What’s going on?” I stand behind her. Place my hands on either side of the sink to stop her from running away. I lower my face into her hair and inhale deeply.

She closes her eyes and I can feel her heart hammering right against my chest. Her hair is soft against my skin. I can feel the tension leaving her body. She lets herself fall into me.

“This is so screwed up,” she sighs.

I bring my lips right over her ear, kissing the tender skin of her lobe. “What is?”

She turns around, slowly, so I feel every inch of her graze against me.

She grabs my face.

I don’t have time to catch my breath before her mouth finds mine and I lose my balance, falling backward and backward until I hit the lockers. The doors rattle, louder than the surprised gasps that come from both of us.

She bites on my bottom lip lightly, then pulls back and keeps kissing me harder and harder. She’s overpowering me, stronger than me somehow, and I let her. I’ve forgotten what to do with my hands because all I can think is how much I need her, all of her. I kiss her neck, the length of her collarbone to the dip of her clavicles and down. Warm fingers trace up and down my chest. She undoes my top button and my knees go weak. I press my hands on the hard metal of the locker for support.

Laughter fills the locker room.

We spring away from each other.

“What the hell, Angelo?”

“I didn’t realize the room was taken,” says the freshman girl clinging to Angelo’s arm.

I turn on the cold water and let it fill my hands. I splash it on my face.

“You need an ice bath, bro,” Angelo says.

Layla doesn’t say anything. She walks around them and runs up the steps. I call her name, but when I get back out to the football field, she’s gone.

Instead, Kurt’s standing there waiting for me and I know we have to go. Jerry and Bertie set off a blast of fireworks. The sky is still so light that the bursts are barely visible, and yet everyone cheers just the same. I turn toward the street, away from the field, and Kurt follows silently behind me. Even when we reach the train station, I can still hear them—laughter and life and fireworks.