Yuan went first. “I don’t care if she’s crazy. I’m with Luce.” She saw Luce’s flash of surprise and grinned at her, though there was something a little ragged in it. “What’s up with that look, Luce? I told you that.”
Luce couldn’t smile back. The choice they were facing weighed on her too much for that. “Imani?”
“Honestly? I think we’ll die if we push the humans that far,” Imani whispered. She still had that faraway look. The glow of streetlamps turned the droplets in her dark hair into clinging pearls. “But Luce? I think we should do it anyway. We need to—go beyond ourselves. It’s like we’ve been living in a sea that’s too small for our hearts.”
“Cat?”
“You know how I feel, Lucette. We’ve had this discussion.”
Luce felt vaguely annoyed. “Does that mean yes?”
“It means I don’t care. Not—” Catarina shrugged. “Not about this. Really, Luce, plankton? Write whatever you like.”
“Cala?”
“Yes. It’s seriously about time we changed everything up! I’m into it.”
They went around the circle. There were some halfhearted objections, and some answers that weren’t exactly agreement. But most of the mermaids there seemed ready to share in Luce’s goal of protecting the ocean. And, while a handful of girls seemed uncertain, nobody actually told her no.
Nobody except . . .”Don’t do it, Miss Luce!”
Seb had been so quiet that she’d almost forgotten he was standing there. Luce turned on him with a look that made him twitch back a little. “Why not?”
“Well, because . . .” Seb hesitated, his gaze flicking to Luce’s face and then down again. “If you’re just telling the power out there that they’ve gotta stop blasting your kind, it’s not going to cost them much more than their pride if they back down. And their pride—whatever kind of front they put up, their pride ain’t actually worth more than—” Seb brushed his fingers across the air, batting away invisible gnats. “But what you’re talking about now, Miss—I mean General Luce? That’ll cost them money. Money to change the way they do things. And as soon as you go messing with their finances, well, they won’t rest until they’ve made sure that you’re the one who pays for that. I just—”
Seb fell into a nervous silence as Catarina suddenly laughed, shrill and harsh. “I can vouch for the truth of what this human is saying, Lucette. Money is what drives those human creatures to distraction. Dearer to them than—”
Luce understood, horribly, what Catarina had stopped herself from saying. Dearer to them than their own daughters. Dearer to them than I was . . . Impulsively Luce caught Cat’s hand and squeezed it.
Seb flicked his eyes, very briefly, toward Catarina, and then broke out nodding. “So that’s all I’m trying to say, general. I want to see you live through this, and I’ll do whatever I can to help make sure that happens.”
“What does that matter?” Luce asked. The words burst out of her almost before she knew what she was saying. “If I can do—what I have to do—who cares if I live through it? I mean, you were watching us on TV. You heard what that reporter said. Even my dad is out there telling people mermaids are just killers, making everyone hate us, when we’re right in the middle of a war!”
Luce’s voice was suddenly veering out of her control, spiking into odd sharp notes of song as she spoke. Luce’s lieutenants looked stunned, and there were a few random cries of concern. Imani swirled rapidly over and flung her arms around Luce, holding her tight and humming softly into her ear, soothing the dreadful, violent music out of Luce’s voice.
For an instant Luce was angry. In the next heartbeat she was grateful. Her voice had almost ripped away from her. In another moment it might have leaped into the death song and then she could have killed Seb without even wanting to.
Luce quickly hugged Imani back. Her voice was still fighting a little inside her, and a mournful thickness gathered in her throat where she held it suppressed.
“Aw, Miss Luce,” Seb said after a moment. “It’s not like you’ve had a chance to check up on what that woman said, right? Maybe your dad didn’t mean anything as bad as she made it out.”
Luce tensed. “I don’t want to hear about it, Seb.” At least the song inside her had quieted; she could speak again without risking its release.
“Maybe if you heard the whole context of what he said, it would seem a little different than—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Luce felt taut, focused, and still a little angry, although she wasn’t sure at what. “We’ve got work to do. Can I please have that paper now?”
They spread it out in a spot where the planks were relatively level. Luce was surprised to see that it was heavy, obviously expensive ivory stationery emblazoned with the logo of what must be a fancy downtown hotel. “How’d you get this, Seb?” Luce’s emotions were still running high, but now she felt close to laughter.
“Oh, you know,” Seb said almost demurely. “I was fast. I figured, writing to the president or whoever, you should have something nice.”
Luce thought about that. There’d been an election coming up when she’d transformed, and it suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea who’d won. “Who is the president now?”
The mermaids around Luce looked blank. “Leopold,” Seb said.
Luce shook the droplets off her hand. Her fingers still left wet prints on the paper. She took up one of Seb’s pens and started writing in her best script, reading aloud as she went: “Dear President Leopold . . .”
“He’s not our president,” Catarina snarled.
Luce looked at her and nodded. “You’re right. Okay, ‘Dear President Leopold of the United States Humans, and All Humans of the World. The mermaids of the Twice Lost Army don’t want to be at war. We want peace with humans as soon as possible, but there are some things we need you to do first.’”
Luce glanced around at the faces pressing in around her. No one said anything, so she kept going. “Um, all right. ‘We already promise not to kill humans unless you force us to defend ourselves. If you agree to our demands, we’ll lower the wave blockading the Golden Gate, and we’ll do it very carefully so we don’t damage anything. We’ll also send messengers out to any mermaid tribes that still attack humans and do our best to persuade them to stop. In exchange, we want you to completely stop attacking mermaids. And we want you to stop killing the ocean. Global warming and the water becoming acidic and all the sea animals getting killed off are going to cause terrible problems for humans, too, so what we’re asking is really for your own good.’”
Luce looked around again. Seb was grimacing, and Catarina had her head tipped back and an aloof, sarcastic look on her face. But Yuan nodded carefully. “I think that sounds pretty good. Just something to finish up. Like they taught me in school, you want to end with something that sticks in the reader’s mind.”
Luce thought again then continued the letter. “‘We’re all kids. The oldest mermaids I know were only seventeen or eighteen years old when they changed form. I was in eighth grade. Why do we have to be the adults here?’”