Page 6

Ilurked by the hot chocolate urns, assessing the situation like an army general plotting out the best course for socializing. It paid to know your enemy, though thinking of them as the enemy probably wasn’t the best mentality for striking up friendly chat. The banquet hall filled with a steady stream of students and graduates, all branching off into their own ranks and gunning for the best seats: first years, second years, yada yada. The long wooden tables had bowls of snacks in the center, ready for mid-movie munching. A few folks were wrangling with a projector to get the movie going, arguing over the mechanics.

Man, I should’ve dragged Persie along. She called me the social butterfly of our outfit, but it was looking more like I was the mangy moth that nobody wanted fluttering around them. My classmates had rebuffed all my previous charm offensives over the last five days, but I hoped tonight would mark a shift in dynamics. I’d never really felt out of place before. I knew everyone at the SDC, and they knew me. More to the point, they liked me. Still, I wouldn’t be beaten. No siree. This moth was determined to get some flames to at least give me a friendly smile.

Sipping my hot chocolate as if it were high-dollar champagne, I unfurled my social butterfly wings and drifted over to a table with a few familiar faces, about ten classmates in all. They didn’t even look up at me. And, judging by the oh-so-stony silence, I’d just interrupted a volley of banter.

“Anyone know what the movie is tonight?” I hid my nerves, smooth as anything.

Mr. Bike-Pump Biceps shrugged. “No.”

I really need to learn their real names. I tried to sift through my brain for them: Brian? No, that wasn’t it. Xerxes? Definitely not. I knew I should’ve pleaded for name tags at orientation, not that I had that kind of say. The best way to get someone on your side was to call them by their name; every psychologist worth their salt knew that. First rule of negotiations—keep saying someone’s name to get a rapport going.

“Can I get anyone a refill on the hot chocolate?” I powered on. “It’s good, right? Usually, you get that powdered stuff that tastes like diluted mud, but this might actually have some real chocolate in it.”

Ponytail #1 took a pointed sip from her mug. “We’re fine.”

“Sorry, I’m not very good with names. I’m Genie.” I sat on an empty part of the bench. They looked at me as if I’d just suggested we go and drown some kittens.

“We know,” Ponytail #2 snarked.

“Right, but I’m saying I don’t know your names.” I resisted the urge to give her the evil eye. “They go in one ear and out the other, so why don’t you tell me, and I’ll remember for next time?” I glanced at a round-faced girl with equally round glasses. Her name came back to me like a boomerang. “You’re Colette, right? Any French ancestry, or did your parents just like it?”

She puckered her lips until they looked like… well, it wouldn’t be polite to say. “French-Canadian.”

“Ah, les Quebecois. Do you follow ice hockey, or is that a stereotype?” I smiled to show I meant no harm. Only chimps grinned when they meant to do some damage. A warning first, a bite later. And I’d promised Victoria I’d sheathe these gnashers, not that I’d ever actually bitten anyone. Not since I was a kid, anyway.

“What do you think?” she replied coolly.

A long-haired guy, who might’ve been called Adrian, snorted. “Yeah, it’d be like her asking if you ride seahorses.”

“Have you seen a seahorse? They’re tiny. What, you think Atlanteans have massive seahorses hidden away? Unless you’re talking about Kelpies, but they’re not the same thing. Sea horses, with a space, not seahorses.” I kept my tone breezy, despite the cold front blasting off these guys. Discomfort wriggled into my stomach, destroying all the cozy work the hot chocolate had done.

A girl with a severe blonde bob blew hair out of her eyes. “Who knows what goes on in Atlantis.”

“It’s not like they let people in to see,” said the guy beside her, a stunningly good-looking dude with ebony skin who was putting on the most aggressive chip-chewing display I’d ever seen. He was probably picturing those fried slices of potato as Atlantean necks. Charming. “Right, Ayperi?” He looked at another classmate, an overeager, shaky kind of girl who needed to ease off on the energy drinks. She had buzzed hair, a Middle Eastern complexion, and big dark eyes highlighted by winged eyeliner—super beautiful and edgy.

She managed a jittery nod. “I hear they’re building weapons.”

I laughed it off. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read online. Propaganda is alive and well, unfortunately. King Apollo is a decent guy, and he doesn’t go in for the whole weaponry thing. He’s more likely to bore people into submission by holding endless summits about trade deals.”

“Says you.” Ponytail #1 smoothed a palm over her plasticky hair. So lacquered, you could probably bounce a penny off it.

I’d have felt more welcome at an anti-Atlantean rally— I’d never seen one, but I’d heard they happened now and again. At least those protestors didn’t use sarcasm and sourness to sugarcoat the way they felt about my people. They just spewed outright hatred. Worse, sure, but more honest. This awkward jelly-feeling in my chest—no, that didn’t suit me at all. I wasn’t one for bottling things up in the face of underhanded nastiness.

I set down my mug, cool as a cucumber. “So, is someone going to come out and tell me what the smacked-ass faces are about, or are you just hoping I’ll give up and run away with my tail between my legs? If it’s the latter, you’ll be waiting until after graduation.” Possibly not the best approach to making pals, but I wouldn’t grovel or kiss ass or whimper like a puppy for the sake of integrating. If I stayed silent, they got to chalk up another win against “people like me.” Not just Atlanteans, but people like Kes, whose differences rubbed folks the wrong way. Society’s targets, magical and otherwise. No way was I about to let them do that.

Colette stared down into her hot chocolate, all talk until it came to confrontation. “We didn’t invite you to our table.”

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t see names carved into the wood. Now, why don’t you give me the real reason? You’ve clearly got beef with me, and I’d like to know what it is. So far as I know, I personally haven’t done anything to piss you off.”

Bike-Pump Biceps piped up, their fearless, meathead leader. “We don’t want you at our table. We’re not interested in having an Atlantean hanging around us at all, right now or any other day.”

“Nice to see that you’ve all picked up some deep-rooted discrimination along the way.” I held my ground, wrapping my hands around my mug on the table until my knuckles whitened. “Let me guess, your parents told you that we’re all sly devils who should be avoided at all costs? Or did you learn it at your covens, maybe? Oh, I’d love to have a word with your Magical History teachers—everyone loves a clear-cut, black and white enemy, don’t they? But, tell me, have any of you or your parents or your history teachers actually met an Atlantean?”

I should’ve lowered my voice. A crowd had started to gather, beady eyes watching and waiting for the Atlantean girl to lose her cool and explode in a shower of Chaos sparks. They were forgetting how long I’d been alive. They couldn’t rile me up or get me to throw a punch just by being nasty to me. Their words hurt, and it sucked, but I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of seeing me throw a fit.

This was the catalyst, I realized, as I waited for the clammed-up crew to respond. My dad had been so happy about our transition into the wider magical world. That happiness had cracked and faded over the years because of people like this. People who sneered and jeered at him. People who made him feel less than he was. People who battered his pride and his heritage, until the world we’d left no longer seemed like the worst place we could be. He’d dealt with this for nearly twenty years. I was just getting my first proper mouthful of it, out in the open, instead of snide, under-the-breath comments.

“Atlanteans are backward and dangerous.” Ponytail #1 glowered over a half-eaten candy. “They nearly destroyed the magical world, thanks to Princess Kaya and that maniac Davin Doncaster! We wouldn’t be sitting here if our people hadn’t stopped yours.”

I glowered right back, taking a shaky breath to steady my voice. “That ended twenty years ago, and it wasn’t just ‘your’ people who helped prevent outright war. My father nearly got killed fighting back. King Apollo helped stop Kaya, and his best friend, Thebian, gave his life to get the jump on Davin Doncaster. You wouldn’t be sitting here if they hadn’t gone against their own queen. I’m not saying we don’t have our bad eggs, but so do you. Davin wasn’t Atlantean, was he? Neither was Katherine Shipton—a way worse scenario, which you’re conveniently ignoring. Or am I getting my histories crossed?”

“Katherine Shipton and Davin Doncaster were two individuals. Your whole race is messed up,” the ebony-skinned guy shot back.

“How did you work that one out?” I tightened my grip on the mug. “I came from the SDC, where the heroes who saved your mostly unborn asses from Kaya and Davin all live. They don’t have a problem with me, so what makes you think you have the right to? Did you fight Kaya and Davin? No, you didn’t. You don’t know anything except what you’ve been spoon-fed by your bigoted parents who, by the way, didn’t fight either!”

Our argument was attracting attention, and classmates had begun to crowd around us like bloodthirsty spectators at a boxing ring—the kind who wanted to smell the sweat of the boxers and feel the splash of blood on their faces.

“Typical of an Atlantean to start with low blows. Who says this has anything to do with our parents, and who do you think you are, branding us as bigots?” This attack came from a young woman with a sleek dark braid and smug blue eyes, someone I knew to be a part of Charlotte’s hunter clique, although Charlotte herself was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, this had turned into a free-for-all. Hurl an insult at the outsider for two dollars a pop. Unleash your anger at an Atlantean, five for the price of three. Win a stuffed seahorse every time.

“Uh, are you listening to yourselves? Would you like me to whip out a dictionary and show you the definition of ‘bigotry?’” I retorted. “You don’t know anything about me. You see these tattoos on my face and you judge me without having ever interacted with anyone of my race! I’ve tried talking to so many of you in the hallways, and you’ve run away or turned up your noses like I’m covered in frigging scales. Which I’m not, by the way, contrary to popular belief.”

Okay, maybe I’d been wrong. It really hurt now. They were hitting with the low blows, not me. I liked to think I could keep my cool in almost any situation, but I was getting a serious lesson in self-control today. I hadn’t realized just how much venom the wider world had stored up for my kind. And the acid of it burned me, deep in my heart. I might not have considered myself a “proud” Atlantean, but they were prodding at a defensive streak of patriotism I hadn’t known existed. How dare they? How could they spew such hatred as though it were nothing?

Bike-Pump Biceps snorted. “And who cares if you came from the SDC? They’re a bunch of saps for letting you people in in the first place. They might be happy to integrate with your kind, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is. As for your ‘hero’ friends, they cause more trouble than they prevent. Funny you mentioned Katherine Shipton—she’s got family at that beloved commune of yours, so who’s to say they can be trusted? Maybe they saved us from Atlantis because they saw an opportunity. I hear the SDC has secret technology they got from your people, so it’s not hard to believe.”

“Are you out of your tiny mind?” I hissed back, my anger rising uncontrollably. “Their lives were ruined by Katherine, just as much as everyone else’s. They killed her, you freaking idiot. And they stopped Davin. And they’ve saved the magical world more times than you’ll ever know, and they don’t ask for anything in return. As for the SDC having secret technology—how about you take a long walk off a short pier? You’re clearly a few sandwiches short of a picnic.”

“What did you say to me?” He leaned across the table and slammed his palms down, hunching over so he could get right in my face.

I didn’t even flinch. “You heard me.”

For a moment, everything was dead silent, punctuated only by the sound of the door swinging open as Charlotte Basani walked in, joining the dark-haired friend who’d attacked me. She looked around, sizing up the situation. “What’s going on? she asked.

“Oh, just some run-of-the-mill discrimination. Specifically, your friends attacking me for being Atlantean.” At this I made eye contact, briefly, with Charlotte, and I knew we were wondering the same thing: would she side with her friends or speak up? Would she, with her family name over the entrance of the school, come to my defense in the face of discrimination?

No. She dropped her eyes to the ground, looking guilty and conflicted. I was on my own.

But then she seemed to find her courage and turned to Bike-Pump Biceps. “Is that true, Teddy?”

“It’s not discrimination,” Bike-Pump Teddy said. “It’s fact.”

Charlotte’s friend chimed in again, saying, “The truth is, you don’t belong here. Frankly, I don’t give a crap what you say your people did or didn’t do, or who your friends are. I just know you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got, what, six abilities, judging by those grubby marks on your face? That’s like using a talisman to cheat the exam system, while the rest of us have actually worked to get here. We studied, we slogged, and we earned our places. You make a mockery of that just by sitting in this room.”

“Hey, that’s stepping well over the line,” Charlotte said, looking around the room like a disappointed mother who’d discovered crayon all over the walls. I saw, for a moment, the kind of hunter she was—she radiated something electric and potent. Even if she had a terrible choice in who she considered friends. “I think I speak for my mother and my aunt when I say that Genie—or any other Atlantean—is welcome here.”

Her best pal didn’t look convinced. “I’m just voicing an opinion, Char.”

“Would you tell Harley or Finch Merlin that they don’t belong here?” I spat at the friend. “They’re as powerful as I am, but I bet you wouldn’t say a damn word because they look like you.” I willed myself not to cry. I wouldn’t show weakness, no matter how hard they beat me down, but my heart ached. It didn’t just hurt—it stung in the very essence of my being.

The friend shrugged, casting a cautious glance at Charlotte. “If the Merlins came here—you know, aside from that dud you strolled in with—I would say the same thing to them. You shouldn’t be tested the same way we are. There could be someone sitting here, right now, who deserved a place more than you, but because they weren’t pumped full of serums and spells since birth, they missed out.”

“Hear, hear,” said Bike-Pump Teddy.

“That’s enough!” Charlotte shouted. But she hadn’t interjected in time. A few minutes earlier, I could’ve kept my cool. Not now. Now, that friend of hers had crossed my line.

“Don’t you dare bring Persie into this,” I said. My breath hitched, and I saw red.

Charlotte’s friend opened her mouth like she wanted to chip in again, but Charlotte’s nostrils flared in anger, a clear warning signal, and the girl fell silent.

“Why not?” Bike-Pump Teddy asked, oblivious to Charlotte’s demeanor. “She definitely doesn’t deserve a place here. She’s the exact thing that we put in glass boxes.”

I lost it. They could call me what they liked and I’d take it, but not Persie. They feared what they didn’t understand. Fine. But they needed to educate themselves. And they’d pushed a big red button that they really shouldn’t have pushed.

Blue waves of pure Chaos surged out of me, scattering the crowd. Yelps and cries went up, but they hadn’t seen anything yet. My Water ability spread over the entire banquet hall. Hot chocolate rose up from mugs. Water erupted from bottles and urns and faucets. I even dragged in some water from the decorative fountain in the garden outside. It crashed against the windows, making them swing open. More screams and shouts echoed through the room, a few people diving for cover. Of course, they thought I was going to attack. That was all they thought an Atlantean was good for.

Instead, I drew all the liquid together into a swirling vortex in the center of the room. I only had to feel the atoms of it to get it to do what I wanted: the beauty of being a sentient. If they envied my skills, they could stuff it where the sun didn’t shine. I would never be ashamed of my abilities. I transformed the vortex into a huge sea serpent, which chased several students around the room. Next, I made it morph into a moving mass of watery women riding gigantic seahorses—a joke, to cool things off a bit. The riders dispersed to pursue my insulters, wielding frothing spears and slicing with wet swords. Nothing that could hurt anyone, just frighten them.

For my last trick, I brought the water back into the center of the room and transformed it into a giant middle finger. Everyone froze in fear, bracing for another chasing serpent, or something worse.

“Genie.” Charlotte stepped closer, her voice measured like she was trying to talk me back from a ledge. I ignored her, Basani or not. I was going to say my piece while I had their attention.

“Yes, I’m an Atlantean.” My voice echoed through the hall. “I believe in unity and kindness and peace. I hoped the wider magical world felt the same, because I want to be part of it. If I wanted to follow the Atlantean way, that’s where I’d be. But I’m here, getting abuse thrown at me for something I had no part in.” I unraveled the flowing middle finger and stretched the water out over the heads of my peers until the liquid formed a second ceiling of sorts. “Maybe if you got your judgmental heads out of your asses for a second, you’d see that getting to know me and Persie is a way better prospect than being the bad guys, hurling hatred for no reason. Make an opinion based on fact, not fiction.”

I let the water drop. Gallons of it collapsed, drenching everyone. I put up an umbrella of Air to stop me from getting wet. But the others… they deserved it. Not just for me, but for Persie.

Every expletive known to man exploded from the soggy, peeved gathering. Those who’d stayed sitting jumped up, and they didn’t look happy. Charlotte and her clique had taken a hefty bucketload of water. The one who’d insulted me squawked, whining about her hair. But Charlotte just stood there, dripping and quiet, as inscrutable as ever.

“What the hell?” Bike-Pump Teddy shouted, waving a waterlogged vintage watch in my face. “You wrecked my dad’s watch! You’re going to pay for this.”

“Nope, that’d be you.” A few sparks of red flared out of my body, a warning of Fire, which I whipped around me in a spiral.

He reeled back, spitting out a petulant, “You’ll see.”

A snarl of agreement ran through the crowd. Apparently, they hadn’t listened to a word I’d said. Now, they wanted to take out the irritation of their unexpected shower on me. Well, they could bring it. Either they heeded me or they didn’t. Whatever. I didn’t want to fight, but I’d defend myself if I had to.

“What is the meaning of this?!” A stern bark made everyone jump.

I turned to find a livid Tarif Hosseini at the door. Standing at an imposing height and built like an Ifrit, he had Arabian features and curly dark hair flecked with gray at the sides. He’d looked like a gentle giant at our general assembly, but now his strong features were hardened into a stern expression.

Everyone fell silent.

“Well? An explanation, NOW!” I knew the others would start pointing fingers soon, so I jumped in first.

“I soaked them, Mr. Hosseini. Apparently, I don’t deserve to be here because of what I am.” Some might’ve called it snitching, but I wouldn’t let these people put the blame entirely on me. “They’ve been saying all the things they’ve been wanting to say to an Atlantean, and they threw in a few comments about Persie while they were at it.”

Hosseini’s eyes narrowed. “Is this true, Charlotte?”

What, you don’t believe me? I sat back and wondered whether Charlotte would back up her friends or tell the truth.

Charlotte sighed. “Yes, Hosseini.” I looked at her in surprise, thinking that when push came to shove, she would have sided with her friends, not me. But she looked… disappointed. Her mouth was serious, her eyebrows pinched. Perhaps she didn’t want to carry her mantle any more than I wanted to carry mine. “There are some”—her eyes fell on Bike-Pump Teddy—“who’ve gone out of their way to make Genie feel unwelcome here.”

“This is disgusting behavior!” Hosseini cast a piercing stare at everyone in the hall. “Discrimination is not tolerated under any circumstances. You all should know that. You’re not children, or perhaps you all need re-educating on how we treat people?”

A grumble of apologies echoed around the room.

“Atlanteans are amongst the most powerful beings on Earth, and we’ve come to rely on much of their technology. Our puzzle boxes, our glass orbs, our training methods, and our healing methods. Their blood is the blood of our ancestors, and they existed in a world without war for centuries. Can you say the same about ours? No.” A lilt of the Middle East came through in his commanding voice, though it was less of an accent and more of a musical note. “You should be honored to have an Atlantean here. She is descended from lauded hunters, who saw and caught creatures that even our most decorated hunters have never seen. You could learn a great deal from Genie.”

A wave of surprised whispers rolled through the crowd. I guessed that showed just how little they knew about my homeland. Did they think we didn’t have hunters?

That’s right. You didn’t know that, did you? My mom’s career made me prouder than anything. If they’d wanted to hear stories, I’d have happily regaled them. But they’d only just described me as a powerful upstart who hadn’t earned her spot. And now, Hosseini had delivered a few home truths. That made him my new favorite, usurping Nathan from the top spot.

“Get out, all of you, and take this evening to reconsider your actions here. If I so much as hear a hint of this sort of thing happening again, there will be far greater consequences. Consider this a first, and last, warning.” Hosseini dismissed everyone, and they all went running. He turned back to Charlotte. “Charlotte, you’ll help clean this up?”

Resentment passed over her face, but it was quickly replaced by her usual armor. “Yes, Hosseini.”

He noticed and visibly returned to that gentle giant I’d seen on stage, touching Charlotte’s shoulder in a friendly fashion. “People look to you as a leader.” He gestured to the room-turned-aquarium. “We want to set a good example for those who are… ignorant. When people in authority stand back in the face of discrimination, it gives validation to the act itself. We must always fight that battle.”

Charlotte bowed her head. “I know, I could have—no, I should have intervened more firmly…”

I wondered if she was sincere, or if she was thinking about her mom. Shailene wouldn’t be happy to hear about this. Places like the Institute received integration grants from the UCA. She’d be irked if she found out the bigotry of some of her hunters, and I was sure neither she nor Charlotte wanted their surname tied up in it in any way.

Hosseini looked at me. “Genie, I’m sorry you had to go through that. I hope you can forgive the idiocy of mob mentality.”

“I’ll give Charlotte a hand,” I replied. “In the spirit of peace. It was my mess, after all.”

“Very honorable of you.” He dipped his head. “For my part, I’m looking forward to training you and turning your talents toward less chaotic ends. If you have Water abilities that can cause this, then your future as a hunter is very promising, indeed.”

I grinned, though my insides felt hollow. A futile victory. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Hosseini walked out, leaving me with a sullen Charlotte. She hadn’t argued against the punishment, but I could see she wasn’t jazzed about cleaning up. I couldn’t blame her. If anyone should have been mopping up, it was Bike-Pump Teddy and his fan club.

I stalked over to the counter, where one of the banquet hall workers was gathering mops. He handed two to me, complete with rusty buckets. I carried them back over and set one down beside Charlotte.

“Thanks,” I said, “for speaking up.”

She merely nodded, remaining cool to me as we cleaned, extinguishing any notions I had of a budding friendship between the two of us. Maybe the others would have a change of heart, maybe they wouldn’t. I couldn’t control anyone but myself. What hurt most was knowing my dad had faced this for years and had shielded me from it. But he’d hung on, thanks to the few who’d made him feel he belonged. That was enough to help me cling to my faith in the magical world. There was room for me in it. And I’d find my nook, sooner or later.

I was stubborn as a mule. It would take more than this for me to give up.