TEN MINUTES later, Rowan is standing thigh-deep in the sea, with a long, silvery fish flopping violently in one arm the way you’d hold a baby. His other hand keeps a tight grip on its tail. “Gabe!”
Gabriel splashes out to meet him with the bucket. I’d thought maybe they were blowing off their chores, but actually they’re probably doing their job right now. Rowan flings the fish into the bucket, and it thumps wildly against the orange plastic. Rowan’s wet fur gleams, sleek and slippery.
“What would you say that guy weighs?” Rowan asks, and Gabriel hefts the bucket experimentally.
“Six pounds? Maybe seven. So if you can get five more this size, we’ll have plenty for everyone.”
“I’ll try,” Rowan says, and slides away again. It’s amazing how smoothly he dives, like a needle vanishing in silk.
And then Gabriel glances at me, his face taut and self-conscious. That fish is obviously way too big to have squirmed through the links in the fence. “So, they swim in here when they’re still tiny and then get stuck inside when they grow. Rowan doesn’t catch them until they’re older. We have to conserve.”
I nod, blank and bland. It’s depressing how easily I’ve gone back to pretending. “That makes sense.”
Maybe I’m overdoing it a little. I get the impression that there’s something suspicious in the sparkle of Ophelia’s eyes.
“I’m going to head back,” I tell her. I stand up, and sand cascades down my legs. My hair is clumpy from the salt. “I try to practice my violin for at least two hours every day. I hope you won’t mind.”
“Go ahead. But on a normal day when we have chores, you won’t have that much time.” She’s still mad at me, but not like she was before. “Hey, Ada? I’m sorry we were fighting.”
“Me too,” I say. “It’s something I’m really sensitive about, people telling me that what I see is weird and I shouldn’t talk about it. But you didn’t know that. I’m sorry I got so mad.”
She glances around. Gabriel is still twenty feet from shore, waves bursting around his waist as he waits with the bucket. Her voice falls to a whisper. “You can tell me whatever you want. Just, don’t tell everybody. I mean, if it isn’t already too late.” Her head gives a tiny jerk in Gabriel’s direction. “Please?”
“Who’s everybody?” I bet I already know the answer. It’s strange, though, because she seems so kind. I thought all the kids here completely loved her.
Ophelia’s biting her lip. She lifts a hand to hide her eyes, I think as a substitute for the way a normal person would lower their eyelids. Then she beckons me closer and I bend down.
“Anyone who might tell Ms. Stuart. But you just got here, so you won’t know who that is. I’m safe, though. So stick to me.”
Safe again. She has no idea how sick I am of safe, and anyway it never works. But I nod. I’ll try to get more information from her later, when we’re alone. “I’ll be more careful.” Ophelia gives me a thank-you smile.
I scramble over the lip where the meadow drops down to the beach and weave a little until I find the path again. The whole time I’m climbing the hill, the mystery of it drums in my head. Why is Ophelia so worried? What does she think Ms. Stuart would do if she found out what I’ve seen? And does that mean Ms. Stuart knows about the blue, even though she can’t see it? Does everyone?
I kind of had the impression that Ophelia is in love with Gabriel. If she’s ready to work against him, the situation must be pretty serious. But why?
Once I reach the top, I turn to look back at them. Gabriel’s still out in the ocean, jumping to ride the bigger swells as they roll in. His wet back shines silvery white, and the orange bucket bobs beside him. Ophelia’s gone back to reading, lying face-down so her wings can spread out on the breeze.
And way out past the fence I spot Rowan, a tiny reddish brushstroke on the water’s silver peaks. I turn and walk three more steps, then stop again. Was there something out there in the water with him?
I look. I have no idea what it is, but right beside him a rippling shadow hangs just below the surface. It’s enormous, maybe fifty feet long, snaking with an impossible complexity. There’s no hint of red: that thing is as cold as death. I nearly scream out to warn him, though at this distance there’s no chance he would hear me.
But the longer I look, the less it seems like that twisty shape is attacking him. They’re close enough to touch. I can see Rowan’s red brightening as he rises up and rests on the water’s skin, then slides playfully over what might be the creature’s head.
I can’t make out what’s happening at this distance, but I could almost swear they’re friends.
∗ ∗ ∗
Say it with your violin, Ada. Whatever you see, describe it in music. Never words. Music is safe.
What I see is that everyone here is lying to me, even after I almost got killed trying to protect them. They’re playing some messed-up game I can’t begin to figure out. And they’re getting twitchy about the possibility that I can see things they’re trying to keep secret. Like that hole in the fence. Like the way that Rowan is hanging out with some kind of sea serpent, or whatever that thing was. It definitely didn’t look like anything that should be a real animal—more like something that escaped from an old myth. And I bet Gabe and Ophelia know all about it.
I can’t describe that with music by doing vibrato exercises or even whirling my way through Mendelssohn. I grab my violin and bow, and at first my hands are so tight with anger that my tone is horribly off and screeching. Then I start to focus on the sound, and I let myself go, improvising a moaning pulse in A-minor that starts out slow and then gets faster, fiercer, higher. It’s not like I’ll ever get to play onstage again or enter a competition. I’m stuck here forever, so I might as well play whatever I feel like.
I play rows of jagged teeth flashing in the water. I play those teeth until they’re mirror-bright and stretched to the size of skyscrapers. I play a hungry mouth that erupts from the ocean like a city, ready to devour everyone here. I disappear in notes that pound and wail, jump and bite. Because I’ve lost my family, and the people who were supposed to accept me for what I am have turned out to be liars, liars, liars.
“Ada?” Ophelia’s standing in the doorway. Her eyes have the same incomprehensible shimmer as ever, but her mouth is wide and shocked. It’s almost like she could hear the accusation sawed out by my bow. “Um, wow. That was intense. I’m sorry to interrupt, but Ms. Stuart wants to talk to you.”