Atlantean. E.N. J.D. Watkins

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      Without another word, she flung the crystals into the sea. Of course, they flew a good hundred yards before landing in the surf.

      She looked at me again, her expression pleasant once more.

      “Tears come easily for you, don’t they?”

      “It’s a defense mechanism,” I said defensively, “You know—against the pain. The pain stops when the tears come.”

      Why was I telling her this?

      It wasn’t like she had any idea what I was talking about.

      I buried my hands in my pockets and strolled out into the surf, not even bothering to take off my shoes.

      Now, I’d been expecting both my shoes and socks to be instantly saturated with sea water, but I was startled to find that they were, somehow, completely dry.

      Curious, I waded farther into the water, allowing it to rise to my knees. When the water was at my waist I plunged my head beneath the waves. The sensation was far beyond anything I had ever experienced. The ocean felt warm, as though I had just plunged into a hot bath. I felt the ribbon holding my hair fall off, and that took me by surprise. I felt my clothes again: they were completely dry! I felt my hair: it was acting as hair normally does underwater, floating this way and that. But it, too, was completely dry. Stranger still was the fact that my eyes were penetrating the murk and gloom of the water and I could see everything around me quite clearly. But my vision was lavender as though I was staring through a colored lens. Weirdest of all was the fact that I was breathing.

      I was actually breathing underwater!

      I was baffled. This phenomenon never occurred when I took showers or swam in pools.

      I stood up again, letting my hair drape over my shoulders. My lavender vision vanished. It seemed my sight was only colored underwater.

      I put my hands back in my pockets and walked back onto the shore completely lost in thought.

      I hadn’t realized before how windy it was. The wind ruffled my hair as it blew out behind me.

      Victoria stared at me with a distasteful expression as though she knew my real reasons for entering the ocean.

      I strode past her not meeting her gaze wondering how I was going to explain my being completely dry.

      I continued walking and didn’t stop until I reached the white-picket fence. I then sat down and brought my knees to my chest. Wrapping my arms around them, I stared out at the ocean.

      Victoria sat down on my right side. It was nice having her so close. She leaned her shoulder against mine and began to absentmindedly play with my hands as though she wanted to see them.

      Once again even though she hadn’t said anything I somehow knew what she wanted—almost like we shared some sort of weird bond.

      Victoria was curious about my palm lines, and truth be told, I was curious about them too. I mean, it was more than a little strange to have palm lines that were knotted together. And why were both my palms that way?

      I sighed and showed Victoria the palms of my hands. I suppose I could’ve lied and told her that the knot was really a tattoo, but as much as this girl seemed to know about me, that was probably a bad idea.

      After staring at the knot for a moment, Victoria interlaced her fingers in mine and held my hand. She looked as though she wanted to tell me something but was struggling to find the words.

      Just as she was about to open her mouth to speak, a black cat cantered past staring directly at us. I didn’t give the animal a second thought, but Victoria looked at it in horror.

      She yanked her hand out of mine and jumped to her feet.

      I looked up at her with a quizzical expression.

      “What?”

      Victoria didn’t answer; she simply hopped over the fence without a backward glance and disappeared.

      I pursed my lips.

      I’d often wondered what it would feel like to be blown off by a girl. Now I knew: it hurt. But I’d long since grown accustomed to pain.

      So, letting my mind wander, I stared out into the sea and was surprised that I was thinking about my false parents. I wondered what was going to happen to them; they seemed to be in some sort of trouble.

      Serves them right.

      But what was going to happen to me? And what was that about the Fallen doing as they please?

      The sound of someone clearing their throat brought me out of from my brooding.

      “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but your presence is requested.”

      I didn’t have to look up to know it was a servant speaking; they all spoke in the same manner.

      I sighed and got to my feet. I didn’t bother jumping over the fence this time; there was no one around to impress. I simply walked through the open gate.

      Victoria was waiting for me with a stern expression.

      “You will need to change before you meet my father,” she said in a hard voice.

      I guess she wasn’t into me. Huh . . . I wonder why that bothers me?

      I nodded. Victoria turned away from me stiffly and walked inside. I followed her without saying a word.

      The interior of the house was just as impressive as the exterior. It was bright, spacious, and luxurious. Several oil paintings ornamented the white walls. The floor was completely covered in ivory-colored marble. The ceiling was high and inlaid with wood of the finest quality. It was also dotted with several large chandeliers. The staircase was wide and intimidating. It stood proudly in the entryway. From what I could tell, the majority of the rooms were on the upper floors.

      Victoria didn’t look at me once as we walked. Staring at her back, I couldn’t help notice how much more rigid her movements had become. In fact, she was walking a lot like my paren—no, that’s not right—she was walking like my false parents.

      I had to remember that Catherine and William weren’t my parents.

      Victoria didn’t stop walking until we reached the base of the staircase where another servant was waiting for us.

      How many servants did she have?

      “Take this boy to the room we have prepared,” Victoria said in a lordly tone.

      This boy, huh? So I was this boy now.

      “Make sure he’s ready in a timely manner; we haven’t got all day.”

      She seemed to be trying really hard to convince everyone that she didn’t care for me. Though it hurt, I was hardly surprised. No one ever really cared for me. So it shouldn’t have stung so much that this girl didn’t either—but it did. Despite how I felt, I was able to keep my face composed. Victoria departed without a second glance, and I didn’t bother looking at her.

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