FINNED (The Merworld Water Wars) Read Free Page B

some incurable disease. “Did a bottle of bleach explode in here or something? Are we the only non-blonds?”
    Polly grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. There was a stark, albeit invisible, line drawn down the middle of the room: blond students to the left, students with streaked black hair to the right.
    “Aw, we have a newbie,” said a grumpy girl, who seemed overly infatuated with her jet-black hair. The glittery red jewels in her necklace, ring, and bracelet provided the only hint of color in her otherwise gloomy ensemble. “You must be the new Normal.”
    “Oh, hey, I’m Marina. Nice jewelry. Want to sit with us?”
    The girl scrunched up her nose. “Do I want to sit with you ? Absolutely not.”
    “What’s going on here?” said a boy with rugged good looks. This must be the long-lost love child of some silver screen bombshell and a dashing archaeologist with a fondness for fedoras and bullwhips. Ooh, hormonal moment on the horizon.
    “Troy, this Normal invited me to join them at their table. Tell her the rules,” said the cranky result of a one-night fling between a creepy Goth rocker and a ruthless alien queen.
    “Normals have their table. You don’t talk to us, we don’t talk to you,” said Troy. And so passes said hormonal moment.
    “And yet, here you are, talking to us right now,” Trey said. “You’re not the brightest bottle blond, are you?”
    “Just clarifying how things work for the new Normal,” Troy said, crossing his muscular arms.
    “I see manners are still on the endangered species list. I have a name. It’s Marina. Let’s go, guys. People like y’all suck, by the way.”
    “Oh, and the red streaks?” said Polly, pointing at the grouchy girl with Troy. “So five years ago. Not even an Arse Hair Demon would find that hairstyle interesting, and they do love to pull hair, though mostly on the buttocks, which may be an option for you. Anyway…’kay, bye!”
    As we walked away, Troy stared at me strangely. Perhaps his lordship wasn’t used to a lowly outsider not taking his crap.
    Meikle Martinez glanced up at me when I pulled the chair out next to her. She was busily painting her nails her favorite color, Undead Red. “You still look like a poor man’s princess, and I still hate princesses. Did you just look at my bag? Don’t look at my bag! I can have it melt your eyes from your sockets,” she said, snatching the purple sequined bag off the table.
    “You’re gonna get lines in your polish,” I said in a singsong voice.
    “That’s how I like it…like I’ve clawed through the trenches of hell. Seriously, are you trying to look at my bag?”
    “Still not interested in your bag, Meeks,” I said, setting my tray down. Meikle has always had an obsession with her bag. We’ve never fully understood her fixation.
    “In that case, missed you.”
    “Missed you too, Meeks.”
    “Meikle’s last name could be Addams,” said Trey, winking.
    “Maybe it is,” said Meikle, not cracking so much as a smirk.
    “So, uh, could somebody tell me why we’re called the Normals?” I asked.
    Polly leaned forward and lowered her voice. “We are Normals because none of us are from Saxet Shores, and we don’t have blond or streaked black hair.”
    “Ironic, considering how non-normal we are,” I said, plowing my face with food.
    “Apparently, no one in this town is impressed by our malfunctions.” I swear, Polly sounded exactly like Madame Helena when she said the word malfunctions . Must be the whole part-demon-soul thing. “I think it’s a form of mocking. I like that they underestimate us. Makes me all warm and boil-y inside.”
    “Don’t forget their royal hierarchy fixation. The blonds call themselves the Fairhairs,” said Meikle.
    “They labeled themselves? Who does that?” I snorted.
    “I know, right?! Most of the Fairhairs are pretty decent, even though they kowtow to the Ravenflames,” said Meikle, clipping back her chestnut curls.
    “Ravenflames…you mean