A knock sounded at my door.

“Time to get ready for school,” said Mama.

I sat up and looked out the window. The sky was blue already, and I hadn’t gotten a moment of sleep. I pulled on a pair of brown pants from the floor of my closet, ripped a t-shirt from its hanger without looking at which one it was, and marched out of my room.

I didn’t want to lay eyes on Papa, so I bolted out the door with my backpack before Mama had the chance to tell me to put my gumboots on. I stomped there in bare feet and messy hair, planning how I would confront Dani.

“I think you should learn to keep your mouth shut,” I said, practicing.

No, too wimpy. I tried more of a threatening approach.

“You’d better watch who you tattle on, Dani.”

Still not tough enough.

Arms crossed, I waited in the schoolyard, rehearsing different threats in my head that ranged from “keep your pointy nose out of my business,” to “do it again and I’ll push you in the Eriana Trench.”

When Dani arrived, looking smug with her hair clean and glossy, she saw my expression and balked.

“What do you want?” she said, when I kept glaring at her.

“Who did you tell?” To my satisfaction, my voice sounded even more low and challenging than when I’d practiced.

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything.

“Who did you tell about my necklace?” I said, louder.

“I didn’t tell anyone!”

“Liar!”

She huffed. “It’s an ugly piece of junk and it just reminds us of our curse. You can’t wear it.”

“Well, I’m not wearing it, am I? You know why?”

“Did you give it back to a slimy sea rat?”

“No! I’m not wearing it because you’re a snitch!”

She stepped closer so she was looking down on me. “Well, you’re a traitor. You’re a traitor just like your brother. I heard he didn’t want to go on the Massacre. I bet he went willingly into the ocean with a sea dem—”

Abandoning restraint, I slammed the heels of my hands into her shoulders. She gasped, stumbling back.

“I told you,” I said, yelling now, “don’t talk about my brother!”

She made to shove me in the shoulders, but I clamped onto her wrists.

“I hear mermen are hideous,” she said, lip curling. “So your brother will fit right in. I bet they made him king.”

She yanked her wrists away from my hands, but I dug my nails into her skin.

Dani shrieked. Her eyes filled with rage. Then her hands were attacking my face, clawing and scratching and grabbing for my hair. I closed my eyes instinctively as her nails dragged across my cheeks and lunged at her with all my strength. We toppled to the ground and I landed on top of her, flailing my arms and making contact with her neck and shoulders and head. She kicked upwards and we fell sideways. Then she was on top of me, and we still flailed, both of us screaming, no longer forming proper words. When our skin became too slippery with mud, we grabbed each other’s hair.

I opened my eyes. Her face was covered in mud, her teeth clenched in fury. She pulled my head down by a fistful of hair, bending my neck painfully. I roared, letting loose another blow to her neck.

“Meela!”

I didn’t look up to see who was yelling at me, but seconds later, a hand wrapped around my upper arm and hauled me to my feet.

My other fist was still swinging, but a second hand grabbed that one and whipped me around. I found myself staring into the bulging eyes of Miss Paige.

“Go to Principal Ray’s office,” she said, and she looked so angry, I thought her eyes might pop out of her head.

“But she—” I immediately shut up when her expression darkened further.

She let me go and pointed in the direction of the school. I shot one last glare at Dani and was pleased to see her covered in mud. Her normally thick, shiny hair was flat and damp, and she tried to wipe mud off her face with the back of her even-muddier hand.

I stomped to the school, rubbing my hands on my pants, uselessly trying to clean them off. The best I could do was push the hair from my eyes and wipe the snot from my nose. I must have looked as sorry as a stray dog. My bare feet made sticky sounds on the floor of the empty hallway.

I passed empty classrooms and tried not to let the other teachers see me. The artwork on the walls of the hallway mocked me—glued pieces of braided grass and flowers that reminded me of seaweed, and drawings of friends smiling together in a sunny field. I even saw a few hopeful paintings of a docking ship, and complete families holding hands as someone’s older brother returned from the Massacre.

My stomach knotted as Principal Ray’s office drew near. By the time I reached the door in my ever-slowing pace, Miss Paige was only seconds behind me. The principal’s eyes swept over me, then over Miss Paige’s serious expression. His rosy cheeks drained of colour, like I’d just brought a thunderstorm to his perfect day. Miss Paige walked past me and shut the two of them in a small adjoining room.

I sat on the Bad Kid Chair at the far corner of the office—a ratty kitchen stool I’d seen two or three times before. Grey and torn, with an odour like mildew, it possibly hadn’t been replaced since the beginning of time.

By the time Principal Ray and Miss Paige came out, I was shivering from the wet mud.

They didn’t even ask me what happened. The principal just rubbed a hand over his bald head, scanning me up and down once more.

“Go home, Metlaa Gaela,” he said. “You’re suspended. I’m calling your parents so they know you’re coming.”