Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

dump a dab of dish soap into my empty oatmeal bowl to soak. Behind me, I hear Ranya huff as I pick up my backpack. “Why can’t I go to school?” she rasps. “Galen went to school. If he could fit in, I could fit in.”
    Oh, there are so many things I could say to that but Rachel silences me with a look. She walks over to Rayna and squeezes her shoulders. “Oh, sweet pea, you don’t want to hang out with those silly humans.”
    “Yes, I do. Especially because they’re silly. It’s so boring here without—” She straightens up. “It’s just boring sitting here watching television all day. I want to do something. I can’t even get in the water. Toraf will know as soon as I put my toe in.”
    This surprises me. “I’m not allowed in the water. They never said you couldn’t get in.”
    “Toraf told me not to. He said it was dangerous for me to get in the water, too. He made me promise on our sealing that I wouldn’t.”
    I put my backpack down and sit on the bar stool next to her. “Dangerous how?”
    She shrugs. “He didn’t say. But I could tell he was serious.”
    I don’t like this. This new explanation doesn’t make sense. In the beginning it made sense to leave Rayna behind because of her fat mouth. It made sense for Galen to ask me to stay out of the water. I’m a Half-Breed. The danger to me is obvious. But Rayna is a Royal. If anything, Royals are the most protected of all Syrena. Theoretically, the safest place for Rayna is the water. Or so I’d thought. No wonder she was so listless when they’d left. I wish she had told me this sooner.
    I feel my throat closing up. If Toraf thinks Rayna is in danger, does that mean Galen is in danger, too? And what about my mom? Would Galen—would Grom —lead my mom into danger?
    The biggest obstacle was supposed to be getting Paca and Grom unsealed. Danger was never a factor in all this.
    Rachel hands me my backpack, her expression full of meaning. “I’m sure everything is fine. You have the luxury of going to school to keep your mind off things for a while. Be glad. In the meantime, I’ll take sweet pea here shopping or something. And I’ll try to find you both a distraction for after school.”
    “I’d rather go shopping than to school,” I offer, but she pushes me toward the door and hands me the keys to Galen’s SUV. Arguing with her is like arguing with Mom. She wins, I lose, and it’s usually for the best anyway. I take the keys and go.
    * * *
    I don’t know how I ever survived school before Galen. Then I realize exactly how—Chloe. There was never an uninteresting day of school with Chloe around. I pass the locker we shared our junior year. The grimy outline of the stickers we slapped all over it still mar it in places. Our initials are still carved in the corner. I wonder if the school decided to leave it that way out of respect because of what happened over the summer. I wonder if after I graduate, they’ll clean it up and repaint it. Right now Chloe would be texting me, or walking beside me, or waiting for me at that locker.
    But last summer changed all of that. When a shark plucked her from our surfboard and pulled her into the Gulf of Mexico by the leg. Her life ended soon after that. And my life changed. That day marked the first time I used my Gift since I was a small child, though I didn’t realize it then—and I certainly didn’t realize it while flailing for my life in Granny’s pond. It was also the day I met Galen. The first time I sensed him. Really, it was the summer of many firsts.
    And now I feel guilty. Have I allowed Galen to replace Chloe? Or worse, have I used Galen as a replacement for Chloe? Did I grieve long enough for her? Did I cry hard enough? What if she never died? What if she were still alive? Would there have been room for Galen and Chloe in my life? Would they have liked each other, or would I have had to choose between them? And who would I choose? And why do I feel guilty even thinking about who I would choose?
    I feel like the person who takes her mind off a headache by stomping on her own toe. I’ve just exchanged one anxiety for another. Worry about Galen and Mom, or worry about what-ifs over Chloe. It’s all the same. It’s all worry. I look around the school hall and begrudgingly watch all the kids whose problems amount to homework, getting grounded, or what to wear to prom. Even now, a group of them has gathered around a prom poster, probably discussing how they’ll get there, who