of tattered bloody clothes.

He’s struggling with the weight of a boy, and when he almost

trips, a hand breaks loose from the pile of clothes and dangles, cold

and blue.

The man’s leg goes weak, but he balances on one knee. I reach

forward to help, but I’m not fast enough, and the boy hits the ground

with a wet thump. The corners of his lips are white and cracked. His

eyes are open, staring at the sky. The smell of copper and salt hit me

like a sucker punch. Down where the boy’s leg used to be is a mess of

sand and bone and loose skin.

The man leans down and uses two fingers to shut those dead, gaping

eyes.

“What happened?”

When he speaks, his voice is a low growl. “I was just sitting.

Reading. Beats me if I’ll find my book in that mess now. Saw the top

of a shark. But it was deformed.” He hovers, his palm over his head to

signal where the dorsal fin might be. “Then the boy-” He breaks off

and stares back down at the dead boy. I realize my hands are shaking

at my sides.

A set of hands comes down on my shoulder. It’s Marty. He leans

close to my face and whispers, “Come on, man. We don’t want to be here

when five-o shows up.” My body is numb as we weave along the Coney

Island boardwalk, away from the mangled body on the ground.

We sit in a straight line, our feet dangling over the edge of the

pier. This is where Coney Island turns into Brighton Beach.

“That was awful,” Layla says, her voice catching in her throat.

“The merrows.” Kurt says what I’ve been thinking but don’t want to

admit to.

I remember when Layla would curl up in bed because she didn’t want

to touch the edges, as if whatever was in the dark would reach up and

snatch her. This is the same, except now we’re all scared and pull our

feet away from the water and set them firmly on the ground.

“Is this all because of the nasty sea witch who’s out to get you?”

Marty has a way of making even the worst things sound harmless.

“Yeah, that one. Apparently she might have an army of mutant

merpeople called merrows.”

I wait for a smart comeback that doesn’t come. Marty tosses the

bottle cap into the water. It skips once, twice, sinks. “Aw, sh iii

t.”

“What?” Layla gets ready to stand and run.

“I forgot the hot wings.”

She sucks her teeth and smacks him for once.

“What? I paid for them.”

“I’m falling behind,” I say. “The other guys are halfway down the

Pacific, and I’m still on land, watching people die around me and not

doing anything about it.” I punch the wood and regret it. The scabs

over my knuckles crack and bleed. I look at Marty. “That’s where you

come in.”

“Me?” Marty tilts his cap from side to side.

“You know everyone.”

“Not every-”

“What do you know of a psychic who teaches at my school? Ms.

Pippen.”

“Wait, wait.” Marty dusts sand off his black jeans. “Olivia

Pippen?”

I stand to face him. “So you know her?”

Marty hesitates like he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But

he can’t take it back.

I repeat, “Dude, do you know where she lives?”

He holds his hands up in the air as if he can conjure up a force

field between us. A few more steps back and he’ll fall off the pier.

“Guys, I’m neutral. I can’t-” He looks to Kurt. “You know I can’t put

anyone in danger that is part of the alliance. Besides, we used to

have a thing.”

“She’s my teacher. I’m not going to hurt her. I’m just going to

ask her if she knows of any oracles and where their locations might

be.”

Marty relaxes but doesn’t look like he’s going to cooperate.

“Hold up. You guys had a thing?” I can’t help it; I sound super

impressed.

He shrugs and smiles at the clouds. “Man, she’s an incredible

woman. But the seeing thing freaked me out. I mean, I’m not a dog or

anything. I wasn’t afraid she’d see me doing something I wasn’t

supposed to do. But check this: I have a lot of friends in dangerous

jobs. Every time I’d introduce her at a party somewhere, she’d run out

crying because she’d see them die . It puts strain on a relationship.”

I give him a well-deserved hand slap and hook. “You’re kind of the

Man.”

“Hello?” Layla knocks at the air. “Murder, mermaids, mayhem? We

can talk about Marty’s sexcapades later.”

Kurt raises his hand. “I vote Not on that last bit. But any

information would be helpful. If not,” he says to Marty, “I hope

you’re a good swimmer.”

I wasn’t about to make the threat, but Kurt’s voice is steady,

borderline deadly. I’m even afraid of him a little bit. Marty twiddles

his thumbs nervously, taking one last look at the rippling water

below. Sure, it’s not exactly making him walk the plank, but after

what we’ve just seen, the water doesn’t look very appetizing.

He deflates and says, “I’m not going to tell you where she lives.

But I will tell you where she’s going to be tonight.” He rubs his

hands. I still don’t know what he is, but I hold up my hands to shield

myself in case he ends up being some kind of wizard who shoots

fireballs when he rubs his hands together. If things like that exist.

Which they probably don’t.

Probably.

Hopefully.

“If it’s another overnight trip, my dad’s going to shit bricks.”

“Actually, it’s a club.” He winks at her.

A club doesn’t seem so bad. “Where is it?”

Marty flicks the beak of his cap. Now that he knows we’re not

going to torture him for an answer, he’s all chummy again. “Let’s just

say, it’s right in the middle of everything.”

The middle of everything is at Bowery and Twelfth Street.

Between Arcade Island and a long stretch of graffiti-covered wall

is a door I’ve never noticed before. There’s a black and red star over

the metal door, which looks like it’s been hit with a hammer too many

times.

“What is it?”

“Like I said, a special club, lounge, bar. Whatever you kids are

calling them these days. We call it Betwixt. Ground rules: try not to

look people directly in the eyes, bump into anyone, spill anyone’s

drink, or make out with a girl who is someone else’s date, Tristan .”

Layla elbows me a little too hard on the side.

“So it’s just like being in the school cafeteria,” I say, and

reach for the handle. Only there isn’t a handle to reach.

“After me.” Marty bangs his fist on the metal once.

Nothing happens.

“Nothing-”

Marty puts his finger to his lips. “Shh.” He makes like he’s going

to reach for a handle that isn’t there. And then his hand goes right

through, followed by the rest of him.

“Ohm-” Layla starts and finishes with a shriek as Marty’s head

pops right back through. “Someone has to hold Layla’s hand because,

well, it’s not her fault she’s all human.”

Layla scowls at him. I reach for her hand, but she grabs Kurt’s

instead. He’s standing closer to her, I guess.

Marty looks to me. “Knock once, wait for the knock back. A

headless monkey could do it.” He disappears.

“Here goes everything.” I knock. The wait seems even longer than

when Marty did it. Or maybe it’s because I’m afraid it’s not going to

work for me. What if half of me gets stuck because I’m half human? And

if so, which parts-

Then I hear it. The knock back. Only I can’t seem to make myself

move. I feel someone’s hands push me forward at the same time I take a

step in. For a moment, I feel weightless and cold. Two heartbeats

later, the warmth rushes back. I stumble and trip down the steps. At

least I land on my back and not my face.