When I was fifteen, I loved cleaning tanks. Anything to be worth Delmara’s notice—to help with her research. If she said scrub, I made sure there wasn’t a speck of algae left. If she said test, I studied my kit for pH, salinity, and nitrogen levels. If she said cut . . . I would open a Mer at her feet, the gurgling noises from their gills a bloody sacrifice to science. To understanding.
To proving my father right.
Now, we have more proof than we could ever need, and I wipe half-heartedly at the purple coralline algae in the twins’ former tank. Honestly, I’m letting Jen do most of the work. Cleaning the tanks is our version of hazing, and no one will respect her until she’s finished.
She’s bent over, scrubbing a particularly tough spot of coralline algae with her tub brush—while I’m enjoying the view—when Sergio walks in.
“They’re letting the new boy in with K. Wanna see the destruction? Get your money ready.”
Sergio bet that K would kill the new boy within ten minutes. Maddy said it’d take at least half an hour. Nat guessed lunch break, when no one was around to stop her. Jen looked at us like we were all horrible people and didn’t put money on the table. And I know K’s smart enough to let him live until lights-out, when none of us will be around to see and shock her. My twenty bucks is riding on the fact that he’ll be foam by morning.
“I hope you brought your wallet.” I grin. “Come on, Jen. Let’s go watch Serge and Maddy lose twenty bucks. It beats cleaning tanks.”
Jen drops the brush and stretches, shoulders popping. “I won’t argue with that.”
We climb from the tank on a removable ladder, wipe our hands dry, and follow Serge to K’s tanks. There’s already a small crowd of trainers and interns—everyone except Maddy, who was put on concessions for the week, a fate even worse than cleaning tanks. Mia stands near the tube connecting the two tanks, while Laz is on the platform, electroshocker in hand. K stares at it, ignoring the new boy completely.
The new male paces, gaze darting between all the new faces in the room. Mia grabs the top of the glass door that separates his tank from the tube and looks at Laz. “Ready?”
He sticks the electroshocker in the water. “Ready.”
Mia lifts the glass door, and the Mer stops pacing to glance at this new development. She opens the door on the opposite side of the tube, and K sinks to look through it at the blue boy.
“All right, Argon,” Mia says. “Come on through.” She waves at him, as if he’ll know what that means. But he does inch closer to look through the tube.
I wouldn’t exactly say Ray and K look threatening, but they aren’t opening their arms wide to greet him, either. The new boy—Argon—visibly relaxes, fins drooping and eyes closing for just a moment. Then he glances around the room once more and cautiously swims through.
Argon makes a noise—if I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s asking a question—and Laz shocks them. The buzz of the electricity is clear from here, and Jen gasps a little. Argon looks around wildly, probably wondering what the fuck that was, but Ray and K just glare at the electroshocker.
Potassium swims a menacing circle around the new boy, not touching him—which is also not allowed, especially for her murderous claws—but close enough to strike. She makes a tiny noise, almost like she’s shushing him, and glares at the loop of the electroshocker.
The shock Laz sends through the water is so brief, K doesn’t even seem to feel it, but Argon winces.
“See?” I say to Jen. “She’s showing him that a quiet sound gets a small shock. And a louder sound—”
Right on schedule, Argon makes a noise, just like they all do when they’re learning this lesson. He’s louder than K, and the shock is long enough to spread their limbs, but not to float them at the surface.
“Gets a longer shock,” I finish.
“But . . .” Jen stares at the tank with wide, disturbed eyes. “He’s probably just confused. Why do they have to be silent?”
Serge answers before I can. “Look at them—if they started making noise during a show, people would freak out. You haven’t even heard some of the noises they can make.”
“What if he’s just asking her what’s happening?”
I snort. “They’re fish. They may make noise like a hogfish, but they don’t have a language.”
“How do you know, if you never let them speak?”
A sigh huffs out of both Serge and me. Usually, the new employees are too excited about the idea of working with mermaids to ask so many inane questions. “You’re still seeing them as Ariel. They’re not human.”
“They look pretty human to me.”
“Which part?” Serge asks. “The gills, the green scales, or the giant tail?”
Trying to be a bit more tactful, I take over. “Just because two animals have similar characteristics doesn’t mean they’re anything alike. Spiders and octopuses both have eight legs, sharp beaks or fangs, and a bulbous body, but no one would consider them cousins. And everyone’s going to be more scared of a spider.”
“Except for the Pacific blue ring octopus,” Mia says with a laugh.
“I’d take the blue ring over a black widow any day,” I call back.
“Finn,” Laz says, laughing from the platform, never taking his gaze from the Mer in the tank. “I swear, something pretty is going to be the end of you someday.”
“Guess it won’t be you, then!”
He guffaws, and in that split second, K slams the new boy into the glass, baring her teeth in a display of dominance. Everyone yells, and Laz hits the button on the electroshocker until the three Mer float belly-up at the surface.
Mia is halfway up the ramp by then. “Everyone out. This isn’t a tour.”
I take a deep breath as my heartbeat settles and my muscles relax. My puncture wounds ache from the sudden tension.
“See?” My voice shakes a little as I speak softly to Jen. “They will always find your weakness.” I grab her elbow and lead her back to the empty tanks to finish cleaning.