Flock

  Spending the morning ball-and-chained to a new kid was not my idea of a good kickoff to our senior year.

  “Can’t you find someone else?” I asked, hoofing it up the front steps to Norse Falls High.

  “There’s no time,” Penny said. “I didn’t expect two of them, and they have different schedules, so we need two welcome guides.” I could hear the slap-slap of her clogs as she struggled to keep up.

  As much as I admired everything about Penny — including her sis-boom-bah school spirit — I didn’t think I was the right gal for the job. For starters, I still felt new to the place myself. Moreover, I was hardly ambassador material.

  “I’m not feeling very welcome-ish.” Reluctant to enter, I paused. It was crazy to think that one year ago I was the new arrival. Twelve short months later and I not only had a best friend but had also inherited a magical ability as a deliverer of souls, a human Stork. Oh, and I had a special someone, too. Standing there on the stone landing, I was already wondering how I’d get through a whole day without Jack, my now-college-enrolled boyfriend and superpower, weather-wielding sidekick. I wasn’t even inside yet and the place felt fundamentally altered: empty, lifeless, and lacking.

  “Please,” Penny pleaded. “It won’t take very long. Besides, it’s a privilege and an honor. Come on.” If she batted her lashes at me any harder, we’d need a home base and an umpire.

  I sighed. This would be the third time she roped me into one of her extracurriculars. Already last year, I’d been shanghaied as the fashion editor of the school paper and pressed into singing and dancing for the musical production of The Snow Queen. No wonder I was a little wary around the girl.

  “How long will it take?”

  “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Penny hopped up and down and was through the front doors and bounding down the hallway without even answering me.

  I scowled and pulled on the massive wooden door. Happy flippin’ first day of school.

  I found Penny in the front office. She had her back to me and was filling out some kind of paperwork. I made a quick note-to-self not to sign anything. She’d have us shipped out with Doctors Without Borders by lunchtime. Triage unit. War zone. Front line. And she’d claim it a privilege and an honor, no doubt.

  Ever the what-would-I-wear type, I was mentally tricking out bulletproof scrubs when I caught sight of a guy sitting in one of the waiting-area chairs.

  Holy crap. I almost dropped for cover. And now, by comparison, foreign service didn’t sound half bad. Here in Norse Falls, not ten feet from me, sat none other than Marik.

  Marik as in the messenger from Vatnheim.

  Vatnheim as in the otherworldly realm where mermaids, mermen, and split-tailed sirens are healthy, happy, and in pursuit of an heir to Queen Safira.

  Safira as in the queen who believes — because of my impulsive Stork prophecy — that an heir exists here on our earthly Midgard and is none other than Leira.

  Leira as in my born-too-soon, still-frail, five-month-old sister, whose name — pre-chosen by our long-dead grandmother — is one from a selkie legend and an anagram of Ariel, like in The Little Mermaid. Not to mention she was born with webbed fingers and toes.

  Yeah. That Leira. That Safira. That Vatnheim. That Marik.

  I wanted to hurl.

  Penny, turning, must have noticed my greenish hue.

  “Kat, are you all right?” she asked.

  “Sorry.” I put a hand to my tummy. “My mom put a shot of wheatgrass in my smoothie this morning.” She had. It was nasty. “I think it and the acai just started a turf war.” It really had left an aftertaste, one that had, if nothing else, provided a tip-of-the-tongue alibi for my puckered cheeks.

  “Should you go to the nurse?” Penny asked, hugging the clipboard to her chest.

  And leave Marik unattended? No way. “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  Like I had a choice. Like I intended to let Marik, who was eyeing me playfully, out of my sight for a second. Unsuspecting Norse Falls had more than its share of the para-abled pounding its streets. Besides my own clan of soul-delivering Storks and my Jack Frost–descended boyfriend, we’d come up against Wade, an evil Raven, and Brigid, the power-hungry Snow Queen from land o’ snow Niflheim. The last thing we needed was —

  “Jinky?” I said, steadying myself against the front-office counter.

  Jinky, the second of our new kids, arrived and now stood just a few steps inside the office waiting area. Jinky was the tough-chick, rune-reading gypsy girl (Roma, if we’re being PC) who swiped my runes last spring in Iceland. With the help of her Laplander (Sami, if we’re still being PC) grandmother, she launched me onto some kind of sweat-lodge-induced vision quest, the one where I met Marik and wrested Jack out of Brigid’s frigid fingers. Uh-huh. That Jinky. And as back-to-schools went, this one was sizing up to be epic in all the worst ways.

  “Do you two know each other?” Penny asked, confused. She thumbed through the papers of her welcome packet as if she were out of the loop.

  I knew the feeling. Except it wasn’t so much that I felt out of the loop. Rather that it was cinching around me — my neck, to be specific.

  “We met in Iceland,” Jinky said, “at the festival. Kat told me such great things about Norse Falls that I was intrigued. So intrigued I talked my cousin, Marik here, into joining me for a study-abroad program.”

  OK. So that was the story. It didn’t seem like I had much choice but to go along with it. “What a surprise,” I said, taking a step toward Jinky. “You should have let me know you were coming.”

  Penny, still baffled, watched us. By now, she knew me better than anyone around here. And if Jinky had come halfway across the world to see Norse Falls at my — albeit inadvertent — recommendation, I’d be pretty stoked. So stoked I’d — ugh — hug the girl. Wouldn’t I? I took the final step separating us and threw my arms around Jinky. Judging by the way she stiffened, she wasn’t the PDA type.

  Marik rushed forward, too, extending his hand, thank God. “So nice to see you again, Katla.” We shook. At least he didn’t try to embrace me. Penny was still looking at me like I was big-time holding out on her.

  “Wow,” I said, shaking the hair out of my face. “This is turning into one wild morning,” said the human Stork to the merman and the rune-reading gypsy. Not knowing what to do with either of these unwelcome visitors, I was stalling for time.

  Penny pulled two sheets of paper from the clipboard. “Here are their schedules. We should split up and —”

  “I’ll take Marik,” I said, fast. Too fast. It earned me another odd once-over from Penny, though this one had a tinge of disappointment to it.

  Taking a moment to breathe and survey the situation, I could understand her letdown. To the not-dating-anyone Penny, Marik would be the preference. He wasn’t pretty-boy handsome, but — just like I’d intuited that first time we’d met — there was something appealing about him. His nutmeg-brown hair was shaggy chic with the odd stray swatch tumbling over his broad forehead. His kelp-green eyes were mischievous, his lips were pouty, and, despite his height and muscular frame, he gave off a light-and-nimble vibe. And he was dressed like he stepped right out of an Abercrombie ad, with a distressed sweater over a tails-pulled-out crew shirt, jeans, and sockless loafers.

  Jinky, on the other hand, was still into the all-hell-no-angel look with heavy motorcycle boots, leather jacket, teased black hair, and heavily lined eyes. She was, as always, a little scary. Who could blame Penny for the droop in her shoulders?

  “I mean, I figured you’d like to tell Jinky about the school paper,” I said to Penny, scrambling. “Jinky’s into photography.”

  Jinky chopped me a look, one that could roll a head, and mine was first on the block, judging by the glint in her eye.

  “Oh. We are l
ooking for another photographer,” Penny said. “Our best one just graduated.”

  “If only I had brought my camera,” Jinky said, still staring at me.

  “My dad has one,” I said. “A good one.” I was asking for it, I knew. Jinky did not look like the capture-the-moment type. She probably hadn’t snapped a photo in her life. Necks, on the other hand . . .

  Penny handed one of the schedules to me. “Marik has biology first period. Mr. Serra.”

  “Got it,” I said. Wasting no time, I signaled for Marik to follow me, leaving Penny with the paper’s new photojournalist.

  There were still a few minutes before the final bell. The hall was a zoo. I headed in the direction of the science wing but took the first detour — and private space — I came upon. Marik and I ended up at the back of the auditorium. The room was being prepped for a school-wide assembly later that day. A lone janitor was onstage setting up the PA system.

  “What are you doing here?” Arms crossed, I rounded on Marik.

  “As you may well guess, I’ve been sent to ensure you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

  The bargain. The damn bargain: Leira to whom the waters are home must be returned to the sea. It haunted me day and night and was a low-down double cross.

  “It’s not fair. I was tricked into the deal. I thought Leira was the redheaded selkie who lent me her skin. And, of course, there’d be no harm in returning her to Vatnheim. I had no idea that Leira would be the name of my unborn sister. I’d never have made the pact if —”

  “Ah, but you did,” Marik interrupted. “You made the pact.” His eyes focused on the ground, not me. “And Queen Safira brooks no disobedience.”

  Feedback from the microphone filled the room.

  “She’s too weak, anyway. She’s only been home from the hospital for a few weeks. She’d never survive any sort of ordeal —”

  “I have been instructed to be patient,” Marik said, cutting me off again.

  I bit my lip. There was, I was still certain, a way out of this. All I needed was more time to devise a plan. All summer, fear had gnawed at my insides, but I was still determined. Marik’s presence, despite his mention of patience, was a setback. And it started the clock.

  “Katla, it is good that we take a moment here to talk. I must remind you that the agreement is secret. We know that you have . . . friends, many who would be willing to aid you in protecting the child. Be forewarned that this would only endanger you and those you seek to involve. Moreover, the pact is charmed with powerful magic. A potent spell connects the essentials of the agreement. Do you understand?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I think so.”

  “Testing. Testing,” the going-about-his-business janitor called out.

  “Unlike the one who would jeopardize everything for revenge, Queen Safira is your ally and a voice of reason among the other realms.”

  No need to specify who he meant by “the one.” Having foiled Brigid’s domination plans, I had left her purpling with rage.

  “And Jinky’s presence here —”

  “About that.” It was my turn to interrupt. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

  “Jinky and her grandmother, perceptive individuals, proved useful in my transition between the two worlds. Instrumental, you might say.”

  It occurred to me that Marik had first appeared during last spring’s vision quest, my spiritual journey presided over by Jinky and her shaman grandmother.

  “Jinky coming into her own intermediary skills has since been my envoy to all things earthly,” Marik continued. “In seeking to understand her calling, she has agreed to continue in this capacity, understanding only as much as I deem necessary. Again, I remind you that the essentials of our pact are protected by powerful magic. Jinky’s role falls outside of the spell binding your powers to my task and Leira’s future.” He paused, staring at me for an intensity-soaked moment. “I must ask you again if you understand the solemnity of our agreement. Of the the secrecy concerning its true nature. To enlighten anyone is to endanger that individual. Queen Safira will not hesitate in the face of interference.”

  While Marik’s words were steeped in threats, his delivery was even-keeled and smooth. I understood immediately that he embodied the worst kind of danger, beguiling at the surface but with a nasty undertow.

  “Yes, I understand.” I modulated my own tone in harmony with his because Marik wasn’t the only one who could pour it on.

  “Good,” he said, cupping my shoulder with his hand.

  So Jinky was some kind of shaman apprentice. So Marik was a messenger-turned-collector. So Leira was currency. And I was on my own. The one-minute warning bell sounded, marking the beginning of more than another school year.

  Even knowing that Marik and I had the same second-period class, I was nervous to leave him at the science lab. I still didn’t know who or even what he was at heart. Nor did I understand what he was capable of. Complicating these fears were my memories of being the new kid just one short year ago. No one had cut me any slack. They’d walked all over me and then just scraped their boots at the door. How would Marik, new to the planet, handle the looks and whispers and outright rudeness? Was he prepared for teen culture, a brand of human interaction that explained our ancestral need for clubs and extra-thick skulls? Had he ever been to school? Would he know to sit down, shut up, and let the teacher do the talking? Marik had described Jinky as “useful in the transition between the two worlds.” Would that include basic societal norms and etiquette? And it was not lost on me that learning social skills from Jinky was like getting sensitivity training from Sue Sylvester. I was distracted by such worries all hour, as if, on its own, AP Econ wasn’t enough of a brain fry.

  Second period was Design, a class I was looking forward to. I was one of the first to arrive and grabbed a seat in the middle of the room, saving the two on either side of me with my satchel and a notebook. Penny walked in, and I called her over. She took the chair to my right. Marik entered next, flanked on one side by an all-smiles, blushing Abby Mills and on the other by the chatty, also flushed Shauna Jones. Huh? These two girls had given me the full-body shutout this time last year. And now that they were seniors — top o’ the mountain as I’d seen it referred to on Facebook — it was clear that certain groups were scrambling for first-flag bragging rights. At any rate, the way Abby, class president, and Shauna, a track star, were pink-cheeked and giddy indicated some kind of thin air.

  Marik paused just inside the doorway, pulling his schedule out as if checking whether he was in the right place. Both Abby and Shauna peered over his shoulder, pointing at the paper and nodding with big hair-plumping, you-belong-here-with-us shakes of their heads. What the heck?

  I flared my eyes. It was, I knew, a gender thing. The girls were eyeing him as fresh meat. The guys, on the other hand, were sure to put him — the outsider elbowing in at what was already a small drinking hole — in his place.

  John Gilbert walked in and braked, taking in the two girls panting over Marik. Uh-oh. John was a state-champion wrestler: big, brawny, and packing attitude. He rolled his head in their direction. I held my breath.

  “Dude,” John said, lifting his fist.

  Marik turned, readying his own. And then they fist-bumped like best buds. I almost fell out of my chair. Marik knew those two stuck-up girls? Marik knew John Gilbert? Marik knew how to fist-bump? All by second period?

  Their small party yukked it up to a cozy four-square of desks at the back of the room. I dropped my book bag onto the floor, catching a glimpse of Penny as I did so. Judging by her glum expression, I wasn’t the only one who had expected Marik to join us.

  Just as the bell rang, none other than Jinky came clomping into the room. She breezily surveyed the open spots, eyes fixing on the one next to me. Her graceless collapse into the seat was loud, and she reeked of cigarettes. A smoker; I should have known. Luckily, the arrival of Ms. Bryant spared me the chore of conversing with her. Ms. Bryant was my favorite teacher
ever, because she was young and smart and hip. It didn’t hurt that she was into art and design and could rock a belted sweaterdress and a pair of boots like nobody’s business.

  “If I could have your attention.” Holding a single sheet of paper in front of her, Ms. Bryant took a seat at her desk. “Good morning, everyone. To begin, I’d like to welcome two exchange students from Iceland to Norse Falls High.” She stabbed at the paper with her index finger. “Jinky Birksdottir and Marik Galdursson, welcome. Would you introduce yourselves and maybe tell us what you hope to take home from your study-abroad experience?”

  Jinky folded her arms over her chest, while Marik popped to a stand.

  “I am Marik. I’m from Hafmeyjafjörður in Iceland. My cousin Jinky and I are very happy for the opportunity to study here in America.”

  It wasn’t so much that he spoke slowly, it was, rather, that his voice pitched at unexpected words and syllables. My classmates surely attributed it to an accent. I, however, felt something more physical at work. I was aware of my shoulders rocking from side to side, and my hands grasped the sides of the desk for balance.

  “And I’m hoping,” Marik continued, “that my time here will reward me with much more than just language and culture.”

  That last remark was meant for me, and I dug my nails into the underside of the desk in reaction. The girls in the room, on the other hand, purred their approval of the handsome foreigner. Even Ms. Bryant’s reaction was strong. While Marik was speaking, she pulled her hand to her throat and her eyes widened. She seemed to stammer, even, when next calling on Jinky.

  Jinky, for her part, kept it short and to the point. Like the way her choppy black bangs came to a sharp V at the center of her forehead.

  “My name is Jinky. I’m looking forward to studying here at your school.” Her still-crossed arms didn’t sell the message, nor did her scowl.

  Next, Ms. Bryant, lover of all things collaborative, explained our first project. Working in pairs, we were to prepare a design package for an imaginary start-up business, including company name, logo, a website landing page, and promotional materials. The rub was it had to be a business for which we saw a need in either Norse Falls or Pinewood. That last detail got a few “Huhs” and “Why them?”s from the class.