Of Poseidon

that I would never, not ever, eat one of them because they move in on me like paparazzi on a celebrity. Some of them are brave enough to brush against me. One of the small red fish zips through my hair. I realize how not-normal it is, especially under these circumstances, for me to laugh. It’s just that it tickles.
    I reach out, my hand splayed open. Fish take turns darting in and out of my fingers. It reminds me of when Chloe and I visited the Gulfarium back in Destin. Chloe ditched me at the hands-on tank in favor of the cute guy working in the gift shop. Every time I put my hand in the water, the stingrays flitted to me, nuzzling against my fingers as if begging for me to pet them. They created a traffic jam in the tank to get to me. Even now, a stingray pushes through the halo and flits past my face, as if to play.
    I shake my head. This is ridiculous. These creatures aren’t here to play with me. They’re just curious. And why shouldn’t they be? I don’t belong here any more than Galen does. Galen.
    It’s the first time I realize I can still … well, feel Galen. Not the goose bumps, or the pure lava running through my veins. No, this is different. An awareness, like when someone turns on a TV in a quiet room—even if it’s on mute, a crackling sensation fills the air. Only, this sensation fills the water, and with Galen, it’s much stronger, like a physical touch pulsating against me. Rayna’s was noticeable, but Galen’s is overwhelming. I knew the minute he stepped foot in the water, as if the pulse concentrated on the space between us. And I’ve felt it before today. This same feeling buzzed around me when I fought to free Chloe from the shark. Was he there? Is he here now?
    I pivot in place, startling my spectators. Some scatter then return. Others keep going, not willing to take their chances with my skittish behavior. The swordfish eyes me, but still saunters at a distance. I check in every direction, pausing with each itty-bitty turn to squint into the underwater horizon. After circling twice, I give up. Maybe this pulse thing works over long distances. Galen could be swimming up to Ellis Island by now for all I know. But just in case, I give it another try.
    “Galen?” I shout. This startles more of my neighbors. Fewer and fewer return. “Galen, can you hear me?”
    “Yep,” he answers, materializing right in front of me.
    I gasp, my pulse spiking. “Ohmysweetgoodness! How did you do that?”
    “It’s called blending.” He tilts his head. “Couldn’t help but notice you’re not dead yet. Kind of nonhuman of you.”
    I nod, a cocktail of relief and anger swirling in my stomach. “Then you will have also noticed that I don’t have a big fin swallowing my butt either.”
    “But you do have violet eyes, like me.”
    “Huh. So … Rayna and Toraf ?”
    He nods.
    “Huh. But what about your mom? She doesn’t have the eyes.”
    “She’s not really my mom. She’s my assistant, Rachel. She’s human.”
    “Of course. Your assistant. Makes perfect sense.” As I try to process why a man-fish would need an assistant, I forget to tread and start sinking. Galen is a good sport and holds me up by the elbow. “But I can’t change into a big blob of water. Blend, I mean.”
    He rolls his eyes. “I don’t turn into water, my skin changes, so I can conceal myself. You’ll eventually be able to, once you can shift into your fin.”
    “What makes you think I can? I don’t look like you. Other than the eyes, I mean.”
    “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
    “And did I mention I don’t have a big fin—”
    “But, you do have everything else.” He crosses his arms.
    “Like what?”
    “Well, you have bad temper.”
    “I do not!” Chloe had the bad temper. I earned the nickname Sugar our sophomore year because only I could sweet-talk her out of a fight. “In fact, they voted me Most Likely to Work for Hallmark in our middle school yearbook,” I tell him as an afterthought.
    “You realize I don’t understand anything you just said.”
    “Basically, everyone thinks— knows —how sweet I am.”
    “Emma, you threw my sister through hurricane-proof glass.”
    “She started it! Did you just say hurricane-proof glass?”
    He nods. “Which also means you have hard bones and thick skin like us. Otherwise, you would have died. Which we need to discuss. You threw yourself—and my sister—through a wall of glass when you thought you were both human. What were you