“That’s up to you,” he says.
“Well, just stop,” I say as I lean over to catch my breath. “It’s too hot to chase you, and I’m not wearing the right shoes.”
“What are the right shoes?”
“Never mind. Listen, I’d like to be careful so we can avoid the almost one-hundred-percent chance word will spread that we’re wandering the neighborhood.”
He stops and looks at me like I’m crazy. “My disguise is not working?”
“You’re wearing a hoodie and it’s a hundred degrees. Someone is going to notice eventually.”
“Should I take it off?”
“No!”
“I am thirsty,” he says.
I reach into my pocket and find a ten. “Sure, let’s go buy some water. It will get you off the streets.”
We head to the Surf Deli, not far from Sea Gate. Bex and I used to buy loosies at this store from the owner’s son, Pedro. He was our age and had a thing for Bex. Poor guy was here every single night. The whole family worked the shop. I don’t even know if he went to school. I wonder if he’s here now. I’m almost through the door when I notice the no fish heads sign plastered on it. It stops me in my tracks. I’m embarrassed and horrified. Fathom eyes the black mermaid with a slash through it. It’s the Niners’ logo. I don’t think he can read it, but it’s pretty obvious what it means.
“Let’s try somewhere else,” I say.
I steer us across the street to the B&D Grocery, but the same sign is on their front door too. I look up and down the street. It’s everywhere.
“It’s fine,” he says.
“No, I don’t want to give them my money,” I say.
“You have to give it to someone,” he says.
We walk into the B&D. All these places are the same: fluo-rescent bulbs that make the customers into zombies, overstocked shelves filled with canned disgusting, and a pissy cat that follows you through the aisles. B&D is owned by Mohammed, neither a B nor a D. He’s a surly man with an endless collection of newspapers to read. He studies us, and my heart freezes, fearing he’ll recognize Fathom, but all we get is a nod before he goes back to his paper. Hovering at the counter are a couple of Russian locals who are almost as big as my dad but with plump spare tires. They barely notice us. They’re too busy jawing about the problems of the world.
I lead Fathom to the back of the store, where the coolers are, and snatch two big bottles of water. He takes one from my hand, pops off the cap, and downs it. Then he does the same to the other.
“Usually you pay for it first,” I say. “Are you done?”
He nods. I reach in, grab one for myself, and then head back to the front.
“Did you hear they caught one of those freaks?” one of the Russians says.
The other nods. “I did! They say there are more of them. You ever see anybody suspicious in here?” “Suspicious” comes out “suspeeshus.”
Mohammed barely lifts his eyes to meet theirs. “Every day.”
“How did they find him?”
“It was a her,” the other says. “Or an it!” The Russians laugh until they’re coughing.
“She had four children.”
It comes out as “cheeldrin.”
“Four of those things were running around?”
“She was married to a postman.”
Mohammed grunts.
Angela. They got her. Her husband works for the post office.
“This I do not understand,” the Russian continues. “How can a man lie with such a thing? It is an animal. It goes against the laws of nature.” He’s got a head like a melon covered in light-yellow fuzz he’s trying to pass off as hair. It’s such a big head to have nothing in it.
Mohammed only nods. He looks right at Fathom, then goes back to his papers.
“Well, police have her now. Chop her up, put her in tuna-fish salad,” the other one says.
I’ve heard enough. I push past them and toss my money on the counter. Once there, I notice the front page in one of Mohammed’s stack. It confirms their story. The picture shows Angela being dragged away by the police while her husband and four children stand by in handcuffs.
I shudder. We’re the last family.
“Are you ill?” Fathom asks once we’re outside.
“I’m fine,” I lie, and pull out my phone. I send Dad a text with the news.
He responds immediately.
I’LL TEXT YOUR MOTHER. SLOW DOWN!!!!
I turn back to Fathom. His expression matches how I feel. He’s troubled too.
“Did you know the woman they arrested?”
He shakes his head. “She betrayed her oath when we arrived. She chose your world over her own. She is an untouchable.”
“Yet you look worried for her.”
“My father would disagree, but she is still Alpha, and her children have Sirena blood. We should not sit idly by and let her be taken. She will disappear like the others?”
I nod. “Probably.”
I drink some of my water and offer him the rest. He finishes it and thanks me.
“Why does it bother you?” he asks.