I swim to the side of the enclosure closest to Niku and hold up the necklace. “Look, Neek—sea glass!” I’d be the envy of all my sisters if I was home right now.
The landfolk girl screamed, of course, but it was worth it to get the sea glass. It reminds me of home. The water doesn’t feel right here. There’s a dissonant hum rather than the normal sounds of waves and shrimp, and instead of a current pulling me toward home, a hole in the wall pushes out water, constantly bubbling. No tides, just bubbles. I pop them at night when I’m bored.
Something breaks the surface and I spin—it’s a loop, but not the same painful loop as before. This one has a small net attached, where the other was open. Are they trying to take the necklace back? I press it to my chest, unwilling to return it.
Instead of coming near me, the net scoops up the dead fish. Thank the Tides—the water was beginning to taste of rot. I turn my back on it and speak to Niku. I don’t know if he can hear me, but it’s the only thing keeping me sane.
My hands animate the story of stealing the necklace, and I don’t notice the landfolk man until he steps into the gap between us. I gasp and kick back to the middle of the enclosure, clutching the necklace to my chest so he can’t take it from me.
He tips a container full of dead fish toward me. “You need to eat, Iodine.”
I have no idea what the air words mean, but he keeps using two of them, specifically: “eat,” and “Iodine.” “Eat” must have something to do with the dead fish, although I’m not sure what. He uses “Iodine,” or “Io,” all the time. It makes me feel as if I’m a pet seahorse, trying to learn my new name. Have I been brought here as a pet? Was Clair? Huron?
When he says the name again, my fingers wrap around the sea glass. “Erie,” I snap at him.
He frowns, his gaze shifting to the platform where the painful loop waits.
“Er-ie,” I draw out the syllables. “I’m a princess, not your pet. Take me home.”
The man sighs and shakes his head as he begins walking to the platform, dead fish forgotten. “I’m sorry, Io. Time to learn the first lesson.”
I swim in front of him and slam my fists on the glass. “Erie! Not Iodine.” I jab my finger into my chest. “Erie!”
He stops, eyebrows pulling together as he frowns and points at me. “Iodine.”
I jab my finger into my chest again. “Erie!”
He cocks his head to the side and points at me. “Erie?”
“Yes!” I exclaim, throwing my head back in relief. When I look at him, he steps back, hands splayed like he’s trying to find something to hold on to, eyes widening like a squirrelfish. “Erie?” He says a few more air words, then repeats, “Erie?”
I touch my chest again. “Erie. My name is Erie.”
His jaw goes slack, and he turns away from me, running his hands through his hair. When he turns back around, his tiny, dark eyes blaze with stunned excitement. He steps forward, points to himself, and says, “Finn.”
His name is Finn. I press my hands against the cold barrier, which makes him jump back—is he scared of me, too? What could I possibly do to him, stuck in the water like this?
I look past him. “Neek! I know his name—it’s Finn.” I still don’t know if Niku can hear me, but Finn obviously can. He glances between us, brow furrowed.
I point to the other enclosure. “Niku.”
“Niku?”
I nod, and Finn turns to study him. Neek has a murderous expression, and I wonder if Finn can tell, or if dolphin body language is another he cannot speak.
If only I could speak the air, I could find out what the landfolk want with us. I used to wonder what happened to the merfolk who were caught, but now that I’m living the nightmare, I’m more confused than ever. I’m sure the landfolk aren’t going to eat us, but so far, the only thing Finn and the girl have done is watch us, speak air words, and throw dead fish in the water. I really want to ask what the dead fish are for.
The landfolk girl returns, a bag in her hand, and Finn lights up. He grabs her in a hug and says something. The girl raises her eyebrow, incredulous, as he pulls her to the barrier. He points to her and says, “Jen.”
“Jen,” I try, rolling it around my mouth. It’s a strange name, short and hard, like coral. I point to myself. “Erie.” Then to Neek. “Niku.” Then to the man. “Finn.” I like his name. It feels like a fish swimming around my tongue.
Jen’s jaw drops, and I smirk. The landfolk speak to each other; Jen shakes her head, while Finn’s tiny eyes are nearly as wide as a merfolk’s. He pulls a brown package out of the bag. When he opens it, I can see there’s a fish inside. For the Tides, not another dead fish.
He holds it out like he’s giving me a present. I cross my arms. He mimes biting it, and I shake my head. He wants me to eat a dead fish? Gross.
My stomach grumbles, betraying me. I haven’t had a proper meal in days. The fish’s scales are bright, and its eyes clear—it hasn’t been dead long. Still, the thought of eating a fish that was caught in a net, like me, makes my stomach turn. I shake my head again and back away.
Instead of getting mad, Finn reaches into the bag and holds something up—sea glass! It’s a single pendant on a chain, a pretty green color that reminds me of a button polyp. Will he give me the sea glass for eating the fish? He raises his eyebrows, questioning. My stomach rumbles again, and I bob my head reluctantly. He grins. His teeth are strangely flat.
I follow him to the platform. When he doesn’t throw the fish in, I crest until my eyes are just out of the water. The air burns—I have to squint them halfway closed.
“Hello, Erie.”
I don’t know what the first word means, so I wait, silent. He says something else and holds the fish out. When I don’t move, he crouches down and holds it right in front of me. I glance at his other hand, where the sea glass is hiding, sigh, and take the fish. He jumps back as if I was going to pull him in. If I eat this fish, and he doesn’t give me the sea glass, I will.
I sink below the surface and sniff the fish, but it smells fine. Better than fine—it smells like the ocean. I close my eyes and sniff again—a big, deep breath of open ocean, and sunlight, and a school of fish to hunt. My stomach rumbles, and I bite into the flesh. It might be dead, but I tear into it, barely taking the time to chew before I swallow, bones and all. The head is last, and I suck the eyeballs out, closing my own to savor the taste before popping the rest into my mouth.
With a content hum, I float in the middle of the enclosure. That wasn’t nearly as disgusting as I expected. I could eat another.
A smug smirk graces Finn’s face when I surface. He holds the chain with the sea glass pendant dangling over the water, but I don’t want that yet. I want another fish. The bag is by his feet, and I snatch that instead.
“Hey!” he yells.
I dive to the bottom and open the bag—it’s full of jewelry. Pretty necklaces sparkle back at me, and I dig through them, finding one that’s the same color as my hair and fins. I put it on, then swim to the surface. Jen makes a sound so similar to merfolk laughter, it takes me by surprise. Finn’s snail-skin face flushes, and his mouth once again hangs open.
They didn’t try to hurt me, and I don’t know what that means. I need to learn to speak the air so I can find out why we’re here.