Vicious Deep by Zoraida Cordova

something you say just because you’ve got that polite British thing going, is it?”
    Kurt looks pleased with himself. “The Sea King is your grandfather. Because Lady Maia, the king’s eldest, has been stripped of her tail and the king has no sons, this makes you the rightful heir—”
    Before he can finish, I run out to the boardwalk, jump the metal bars, and land on the sand. My gills itch with expectancy. If the tattoo weren’t binding them, they’d open right now so that I could jump into the waves.
    And just like that, everything inside me changes. Just like the mist rising, the tide pulling in and out, the easy shuffle of my bare feet on the sand. The hard surf crashes around my ankles—hugging, embracing, welcoming me back—and I swear it whispers my name.

Teach me to hear the mermaids singing,
    Or to keep off envy’s stinging.
    â€”John Donne

So this is the famed Thorne Hill Academy,” Kurt says.
    â€œIt’s a high school, bro, not an academy. We don’t have any famous students. Unless you count the athletics department. Lots of Triborough champs. If we win the next swim meet, my team will be too.”
    Thorne Hill High School is not your average high school. They make you take a specialized test to get in if you don’t live in the proper zoning. In the 1800s, the building was a church. The tall Gothic kind with gargoyles and sharp pillars that would make anyone think twice before going on the roof for a smoke break. The stones have faded over the years from what must’ve been white to a dirty gray.
    The tall wooden doors that lead into the school are crowned by two angel statues. I’m not talking typical angels praying and glowing with light. These guys are tilted toward each other, like they were frozen in the middle of their fight. Their carved swords form the peak of the archway into the school.
    â€œWhat I mean is I’ve heard of it,” Kurt says. “And remember, you cannot tell anyone about us. At a time like this it would be extremely dangerous for anyone in our court to get caught. Your parents are safe. But anyone else could get killed.”
    I nod and lead the way up to the entrance. The steps themselves are too high for sea level. My first day here, I felt like a less glorious Rocky climbing the museum steps. Now it’s not much different. It’s only been a few days of not working out, and I’m already out of shape.
    â€œWhy couldn’t Mom just let us stay home?” I grunt.
    Kurt glances around, bored at the way girls trip on account of staring at him. “She wants you to resume something familiar. Once we’re at Toliss, you’ll never see things the same way.”
    â€œHow many days did you say before we have to go to the island?”
    â€œTwo. Until the wall is completely down.” Kurt stops halfway up the steps. First, I hope he doesn’t get into another rant about how real mermaids don’t wear shell bras. Second, I think he’s just attracting too much attention. His skin is still too slick and tan, his eyes too violet. Third, he’s staring at the angel archway like he doesn’t know whether he’s remembering something he forgot. Then I realize he’s actually staring at Thalia, who reached the top steps before us.
    She looks at the other kids with a kind of wonder I’ve only shown to the roller coasters at Cedar Point. The kids let themselves linger for too long, because they just can’t help it. They’ve never seen someone like her. Full peach lips, sharp cheekbones, and eyes so bright green they teeter on yellow. Her hair falls long and dark over her shoulders. And there, finally, you notice her ears. Still a bit too pointy.
    Shit, it’s already started.
    Wonder Ryan walks up to her. His hands are in his pockets. He lifts his chin at her in hello. I can practically hear this conversation. I’ve taught him this conversation.