FINNED (The Merworld Water Wars) (3 page)

Polly grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. There was a stark, albeit invisible, line drawn down the middle of the room: blond students to the left, students with streaked black hair to the right.

“Aw, we have a newbie,” said a grumpy girl, who seemed overly infatuated with her jet-black hair. The glittery red jewels in her necklace, ring, and bracelet provided the only hint of color in her otherwise gloomy ensemble. “You must be the new Normal.”

“Oh, hey, I’m Marina. Nice jewelry. Want to sit with us?”

The girl scrunched up her nose. “Do
I
want to sit with
you
? Absolutely not.”

“What’s going on here?” said a boy with rugged good looks. This must be the long-lost love child of some silver screen bombshell and a dashing archaeologist with a fondness for fedoras and bullwhips. Ooh, hormonal moment on the horizon.

“Troy, this
Normal
invited me to join
them
at
their
table. Tell her the rules,” said the cranky result of a one-night fling between a creepy Goth rocker and a ruthless alien queen.

“Normals have their table. You don’t talk to us, we don’t talk to you,” said Troy. And so passes said hormonal moment.

“And yet, here you are, talking to us right now,” Trey said. “You’re not the brightest bottle blond, are you?”

“Just clarifying how things work for the new Normal,” Troy said, crossing his muscular arms.

“I see manners are still on the endangered species list. I have a name. It’s Marina. Let’s go, guys. People like y’all suck, by the way.”

“Oh, and the red streaks?” said Polly, pointing at the grouchy girl with Troy. “So five years ago. Not even an Arse Hair Demon would find that hairstyle interesting, and they do love to pull hair, though mostly on the buttocks, which may be an option for you. Anyway…’kay, bye!”

As we walked away, Troy stared at me strangely. Perhaps his lordship wasn’t used to a lowly outsider not taking his crap.

Meikle Martinez glanced up at me when I pulled the chair out next to her. She was busily painting her nails her favorite color, Undead Red. “You still look like a poor man’s princess, and I still hate princesses. Did you just look at my bag? Don’t look at my bag! I can have it melt your eyes from your sockets,” she said, snatching the purple sequined bag off the table.

“You’re gonna get lines in your polish,” I said in a singsong voice.

“That’s how I like it…like I’ve clawed through the trenches of hell. Seriously, are you trying to look at my bag?”

“Still not interested in your bag, Meeks,” I said, setting my tray down. Meikle has always had an obsession with her bag. We’ve never fully understood her fixation.

“In that case, missed you.”

“Missed you too, Meeks.”

“Meikle’s last name could be Addams,” said Trey, winking.

“Maybe it is,” said Meikle, not cracking so much as a smirk.

“So, uh, could somebody tell me why we’re called the Normals?” I asked.

Polly leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We are Normals because none of us are from Saxet Shores, and we don’t have blond or streaked black hair.”

“Ironic, considering how non-normal we are,” I said, plowing my face with food.

“Apparently, no one in this town is impressed by our malfunctions.” I swear, Polly sounded exactly like Madame Helena when she said the word
malfunctions
. Must be the whole part-demon-soul thing. “I think it’s a form of mocking. I like that they underestimate us. Makes me all warm and boil-y inside.”

“Don’t forget their royal hierarchy fixation. The blonds call themselves the Fairhairs,” said Meikle.

“They labeled themselves? Who does that?” I snorted.

“I know, right?! Most of the Fairhairs are pretty decent, even though they kowtow to the Ravenflames,” said Meikle, clipping back her chestnut curls.

“Ravenflames…you mean the ones with the black hair and blood-red streaks?” I asked.

“That’s them. They are evil-vicious,” said Polly.

“Same goes for the teachers. If they have black hair, switch classes,” said Trey. “That’s why the two groups sit apart. Ravenflames and Fairhairs loathe each other. You’ll never see them mixed in classrooms.”

“Funny, since Normals never have classes together,” Meikle muttered.

“We won’t have any classes together? Why?”

“Maybe they don’t want us spending too much time around each other,” said Trey.

“Oh, Trey, stop being such a conspiracy theorist! If that were true, why would we have lunch together?” Polly gently smacked Trey on the arm. “There are just so few Normals that the odds of us having classes together are slim. And it’s not like we can’t see each other outside of school. Although, we rarely do, but only because Meeks goes witch-y in her off time, and you wander off on the scent of some gut feeling.”

“Subject change approaching. What’s their story?” I asked, pointing at Troy and the grouchy girl.

Polly straightened the pink sweater around her shoulders. “Troy Tombolo is king of the school. He’s also the leader of the Fairhairs. Katrina Zale heads up the Ravenflames. She’s such a big time bitch.”

“What they say or do is what everyone says and does. Mostly, I just want to set Katrina’s fingernails on fire,” said Meikle.

“Okay, but why are they sitting together if their respective groups hate each other?” I asked, thoroughly confused.

“Aside from them basically being the dictators of our school, they are stupidly in love with each other,” said Trey, flipping off Troy Tombolo.

I carefully studied Troy and Katrina. I’m not sure what love looked like, but if
that
was love…yeah, I’m not impressed.

“So, there are only four so-called Normals at this school?” I asked, indulging in my last bites of chicken fried steak.

“Now there are only four, but there were three more last year,” Meikle clarified, adding some black eye liner to her already cat-like eyes. “They were boring. Claimed to be from Oklahoma’s Walla Panpette Institute for Wicca Ways. Ha! I have more ability in a single nose hair.”

“Did they graduate or something?” I asked, fighting the urge to lick the gravy off my plate.

“Nope. They moved,” supplied Polly. “No warning, nothing. Very bad etiquette. They really should’ve thrown a going away party for us to enjoy. May I use that spoon?”

“Wait, Polls. They can’t just move. This is a designated banishment location. There are barriers,” I said, handing her my spoon. Polly disinfected the spoon with hand sanitizer. “What, do I have germs?”

“Possibly, yes,” she said, rubbing her hands raw. “They moved, end of. We can’t, of course, but they did.”

“That makes zero sense.”

“Tell me about it,” said Trey, leaning back in his chair. “I’m guessing there’s a loophole. I was pissed. Earl, my best buddy, must’ve discovered something. Would’ve been nice if he had told me. His girlfriend, Ophelia, and her twin sister, Odette, took off about two months later.”

“Couldn’t you have just asked Ophelia how Earl managed to escape?” I asked. “I would think he’d tell his girlfriend.”

They looked at each other strangely before Polly answered. “She didn’t know. He left in the middle of the night. She seemed really hurt and incredibly clueless…of course that could have been due to her massive brain cell shortage.”

“The strange thing is,” said Trey, “Ophelia and Odette also took off in the dead of the night. So, either they held out on us, or—”

“Or something happened to them,” I added.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Polly. “They weren’t exactly the friendliest people. Even Earl was a jerk to Trey from time to time, mainly because of Ophelia’s lust for our boy, here. And they hated Meikle.”

“Not my fault they were welterweight witches,” said Meikle. “Marina, read the cards. You could probably find the loophole…maybe even see where they went.”

“Um, yeah, I can’t. I hit a little snag during the hearing.”

“Did you mouth off?” asked Trey, smirking.

“Well, does accusing The Hoodoo Council of practicing their crafts count as mouthing off?”

Polly huffed and stomped her foot. “Really smart, Marina. Do you know how dangerous that was? You could’ve been labeled a rogue! I mean, you were already skating on imp-fractured ice, seeing as it took you five friggin’ appearances before they banished you.” Polly’s blue eyes turned black as oil, and her voice dropped to the kind of growl you never want to hear. “Urrvol ev-indestraff!” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “Ugh, sorry, y’all. Temper flash means demon-takeover moment. Now, I’m guessing the bitch enacted the blocking guard on you?”

I nodded. “At least you guys still have your powers. Me, I have an expiration date. It’s not as bad as milk, but nowhere near as good as a chili cheese corn chip.”

“Wow, can you possibly cryptic that up a little more for me?” said Trey.

“Sorry. Before the hearing, I did one last reading. I was just trying to see the outcome. Instead, it got all death-y again…my death. I’m set to spoil this New Year’s Eve.” For a moment, my friends were quiet.

Finally, Polly slammed her hands flat against the table, breaking the sad silence. “Well, we just won’t let it happen. In the meantime, we’ll throw you a going-to-die party. That’s polite, right?”

“You can’t stop a reading, you know that. I’m okay with this, really. Heck, I couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend my last months—free, with family and friends.”

“Shut up. We’re not losing you. We’ll figure it out. If we have to consult a magic eight ball, wave a wand, or unearth some illusive force, we’ll find a way.” Meikle grabbed my hand, looking at Polly to join.

“Fine,” Polly sighed, adding her hand to ours, “but I’m still pissed at you for losing your power.”

“Kind of beyond that now, Polls,” said Meikle. “Trey?”

Trey wouldn’t add his hand. Instead, he leaned in, looked me in the eye, and said, “You’re still a reader with potent friends. That sure as hell isn’t in death’s handbook.”

Chapter Three

Butt of the Joke

Two dreadfully dull classes later—plus one rather unfortunate mishap with a racquetball in the always useless gym class—and it was finally ninth period. The last class of the day was English, my favorite. Of course, getting there might prove difficult.

Why were there so many twists and turns in this school? And what’s with all the freakin’ fish tanks! Ugh. I’ve had to carry my books around with me all afternoon because my locker was a complete jack-wipe and refused to open. Ew. I just caught a glimpse of my reflection in a fish tank.

After three more wrong turns and two dead ends, I finally stumbled upon the right hallway.

“I’m so sorry I’m late! Took a left at the wrong fish tank,” I said, flying into room three hundred and ninety-four.

“Don’t you worry. This school is tough to maneuver. I’m Mr. Gibbs.” Mr. Gibbs had a reserved laugh. He reminded me of a slightly manlier Charles Bingley from Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice
, my mom’s very favorite novel. “Oh my! Are you okay?” Aw, crud. He spotted my forehead.

I could feel my embarrassingly pale skin burning crimson. “I’m fine. Just a little gym class accident,” I muttered, moving my bangs over the giant red mark of pure idiocy.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve never been a big fan of gym,” whispered Mr. Gibbs. “If you’re sure you feel okay, Marina, then just go take the last desk behind Troy Tombolo.”

Fabulous.

“Have a little surprise for y’all today,” said Mr. Gibbs, rubbing his palms together. “Follow me, and don’t forget your assignments.”

Before we could move, there was a faint knock on the door.

“So sorry for the interruption. I’m hoping you can help me. I’m trying to find room three hundred. Apparently, I took a right at the wrong fish tank.” In walked my mom.

“Of course,” said Mr. Gibbs, his mouth hanging open in a twisted, goofy grin. “Your daughter had the same problem. This is the toughest wing of the school.” Turning back to the class, he added, “Just be a minute.”

Don’t do it, Mom. No. Don’t. Do. It.

“Hello, sweetheart!”

She did it. And—Oh Dear God—she blew me a kiss. The snickering was too loud for me to ignore, so I shrugged, nodded, and laughed with them.

“Was that your Mom?” asked the Fairhair girl sitting next to me.

“Sure was,” I said.

“What does your mom do?” she asked kindly.

“I think she’s getting a job in admissions.”

“Well, she’s just lovely! You have her aqua eyes. I’m Airianna Hail, but everyone calls me Airi,” she said, twirling her silky, platinum blond hair. She must be what angels look like in heaven. “And you’re Marina Valentine. Do you have a nickname?”

Before I could answer, a boy sitting in front of Airianna contributed a nickname.

“Cheese Curl Head,” he said.

“Benjamin, that’s not nice,” said Airianna. “Don’t mind Benji. He’s still upset they discontinued his favorite color depositing shampoo. What was it called, Benji? Honeysuckle blond or some such nonsense?” Benji’s amber eyes filled with humiliation. “So, are you dating the Normal boy?”

“Trey? No, no we aren’t. I’m not much of a dater.”

“Why ever not?”

Because dating triggers my unfortunate gag reflex. “My last date was on the Fourth of July, which was also my sixteenth birthday. So heinous. The guy turned out to be a Snitch Demon, and I wound up getting thrown into solitary for reading. The whole dating-relationship-love thing kinda makes me wanna hurl.” Poor Airianna. By the look on her face, you’d think I just told her Santa Claus wasn’t real. “But I’m sure it’s totally anti-hurl-ish for some very special people who truly believe in it.”

She flashed a gorgeous smile and wistfully said, “Yes, believing makes all the difference. I see myself with a handsome Normal, basking in the sun on an exposed coral reef—”

“Lines. Crossing,” said Troy, glancing over his shoulder.

“Anyway, I bet the love bug will bite you one of these days, and all your doubts will go right out the porthole,” she said, waving her hand in the air.

“Big doubts on that one,” I said truthfully.