Of Poseidon

I hold my hand down to Rayna, who just got comfortable on a towel. “Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s go inside and I’ll give you a pedicure.”
    She peers up at me, the moonlight catching the violet in her eyes. “That’s not a good idea,” she says, even though she takes my hand. “They said they’ll be right back.”
    I sigh. “Rayna, you know the routine. They scurry to my house, don’t find anyone, then spend an hour swimming the shore to see if they sense him again. We both know Galen won’t let me get in the water for the rest of the night. And anyway, since when did you start taking orders?”
    She nods. “But I want you to do it the French way, with the white stuff on the tips.” I smile at the back of her head as she passes me on the beach and jogs to the house. She’s no Chloe, but she’s not Mom either. She’s bonafide female companionship.
    Rachel greets me at the sliding glass door. “Hiya, cutie. Your mom called. She’s home and would like to know why you’re not.”
    I lift my chin, ready to fire off a few different reasons, beginning with the fact that I’m eighteen years old and ending with the fact that even if I weren’t of legal age, I’m still within my curfew. Then I realize Mom’s home early—which means she came home about the same time Toraf and Galen sensed the Syrena stalker. Whether it’s just a coincidence or a mother’s intuition working in overdrive is a toss-up. I didn’t believe in either until just now—but this is the third time it’s happened this week. Trying not to snatch her cell when Rachel hands it to me, I press the EMMA’S MOM icon on the touch screen.
    “Hello?” she says, her voice tight.
    “Mom, it’s me. You called?” Sounding casual is difficult when it feels like your heart’s river-dancing in your rib cage.
    “Yes, I just wondered where you were. You didn’t answer your cell. Is everything okay?” She sighs, but I can’t tell if it’s in relief or parental aggravation.
    “Everything’s fine. My battery is dead, but Galen bought me a charger to keep over here, so it’s charging.”
    “How sweet of him,” she says, knowing good and well she instructed him to do so. “Well, just wanted to check in. Should I wait up for you? I don’t appreciate you missing curfew the last few nights. Technically, staying over there until four in the morning is a coed sleepover, which I don’t allow, or had you forgotten? Your trip to Florida with Galen’s family was a special circumstance.”
    “I stayed the night at Chloe’s all the time with JJ there.” JJ is Chloe’s eight-year-old brother. Not a great comeback, but it will have to do.
    “You know what I mean, Emma,” she snaps.
    “Why are you so grouchy? And why are you home early again?”
    “I don’t know. I’m tired, I guess. Listen, I noticed you haven’t brought your swimsuit home yet. I hope you’re not still getting in the water. It’s too cold for swimming, Emma.”
    I do my own laundry. Digging around in my drawers is the only way she could have “noticed” anything missing. Does she also look for condoms or other incriminating evidence moms usually scavenge for? Does she come home to scavenge? The thought tickles my temper. Making a mental note to buy a new bathing suit strictly for Galen’s house, I say, “You’re telling me this? You know how cold-natured I am.” My laugh is loud enough to be suspicious, but Mom doesn’t seem to notice. Rachel smirks though.
    “Don’t try to tell me you and Galen haven’t figured out how to stay warm in the water.”
    “Mom!”
    “Just promise you won’t get in the water,” she says, her voice tight again. “I don’t need you getting sick.”
    “Fine. I promise.”
    “And be home before dawn this time. I dare you to bring home anything less than an A on your report card after this. I double dog dare you.”
    I mouth the words into the phone as she says them; you’d think she’d at least change the wording after all these years. It’s her go-to threat for just about everything. But somehow, it doesn’t work this time. There’s no bluster behind it. She’s getting soft lately, and I think it has to do with the night I accused her of adopting me. “Okay. Before dawn.”
    “Good night, sweetie. I love you.”
    “Loveyoutoo, good night.”
    I hang up the phone and hand it back to Rachel, who exchanges it for a mug of hot chocolate with three gargantuan marshmallows floating on top. “Thanks,” I tell