Vicious Deep by Zoraida Cordova Page A

“I’m sorry. You’ve got to be a transfer. I would’ve remembered seeing your face.”
    Kurt and I look at each other, and as quick as a snap, we race up the second half of the steps.
    â€œTristan! Where the hell have you been, man?” Ryan says. “You missed yesterday’s practice. Coach is scared we’re not going to have you for the championship.” We slap hands side to side, fists up and down, then knuckle to knuckle in a hello. “Who’s your friend, man? Don’t be rude.”
    â€œMy cousins,” I correct. “Thalia and Kurt.”
    Even Ryan stares at Kurt in a way that’s uncool for dudes to look at other dudes. What if this is the worst idea in the history of mankind, including the time I entered the Nathan’s hot-dog-eating contest and the time I let Layla give me highlights combined?
    â€œCousins from where?” Ryan goes. No one has ever heard me mention any family.
    â€œItaly.”
    â€œFlorida.”
    â€œIreland.”
    Part of me is kicking myself for not having planned this out smoother. The other part is mentally kicking Kurt just because doing it for real would make me feel better.
    â€œThey travel a lot.”
    Ryan nods with this face that screams, OMG! I’m so interested as long as I can talk to the new girl some more. “Are you guys going to, like, go here?” If he had a tail, it’d be wagging right now.
    â€œNo, we’re just visiting,” Kurt says.
    â€œOh. Well, you should bring them to the after-school practices. I’m the best archer in this city,” he says, tapping Kurt on the shoulder. “Could teach you a thing or two.”
    â€œArchery?” Kurt’s voice softens to something similar to a sound Layla might make if she found a CD she’d been looking for on sale. “I’m pretty good with a bow and arrow.”
    â€œHe’s more than good !” Thalia chimes in. “He’s the best on the gua—”
    â€œTeam,” I say quickly. “He’s the best on his team.”
    â€œGood. Great. Awesome-possum.” I don’t think even he believes he just said that. And there goes Wonder Ryan running into the building, because no matter how cool and interesting we are, he has never been late to class.
    I stare at the ancient clock above the angels. The Roman numerals are rusty. The arms are getting closer to 8 a.m. when the bell will ring. Layla usually waits for me inside by my locker, even though hers is on the other end of the hall.
    â€œAre we waiting for another one of your comrades?”
    â€œKurt, do me a favor,” I go. “Chill. Relax. Take it easy. You’re in Brooklyn, not at the bottom of the sea.”
    He shakes his head a bit, all I don’t know what you want me to do.
    â€œYou’re standing like you’re ready to whip out your sword and go all Revenge of the Merman on them.”
    â€œRyan is handsome,” Thalia says with a smirk.
    â€œAnd you, missy. Calm the siren allure. I don’t want any of my teammates following you off the pier.”
    â€œSirens aren’t mermaids,” Thalia laughs. “They’re bird women.”
    â€œWhatever. I’m just saying.”
    â€œCome now, Tristan. Maybe you and Kurt should, how is it you said? Chill. ” The bells chime long and hard. Pigeons fly. Kids run up the steps holding on to their pants and hats.
    â€œAre we waiting for someone?” Kurt asks again.
    I shake my head. She should be gone by now. “Follow me.”
    I turn around once and see the stark happiness on Thalia’s face. Her big yellow-green eyes take in every part of the school. The linoleum floors, the crackling fluorescent lights, the archaic mahogany trim along the doors, and the random stained-glass windows that clash with the new water fountains and rows of lockers. The stickers on the lockers. The murals on the walls.
    We stop in front of Room 311. Mr.