“Not a very good attitude for an ambassador,” I tell him. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell Dr. Milligan. Or Rachel.”

Galen grins. “Anyway, the human king sent something like half his army to collect his ‘belongings.’ He gained support from other human kingdoms by telling stories of enslavement and unnatural breeding of humans. When the armies arrived, they killed everyone in sight, even some of Poseidon’s own half-human children. To stop the carnage, Poseidon appealed to Triton for help against the humans. Triton agreed to help, with one stipulation: Poseidon had to abandon his city and promise to live as Syrena from then on. He agreed. Triton used his gift to create great waves that destroyed the city, the half-breeds, and the human armies. There were no survivors. After that, the generals agreed to help each other against the humans. Breeding with them became outlawed, the offspring of such a union viewed as an abomination.” Galen hesitates on the last word, probably because he knows it’s a direct insult to me, assuming I’m really a Half-Breed. Somehow, though, I’m not insulted. The way he told the story was more a formal recital than telling it in his own words. It makes me think he doesn’t believe it or, at least, doesn’t believe parts of it. Also, the way he’s looking at me right now hardly makes me feel like an “abomination.”

“I thought the war was between the kingdoms,” I tell him. “Not against the humans.”

Galen shakes his head. “We’ve never warred against each other. Not physically anyway.” An unfamiliar emotion flickers across his face, then disappears like the flash of a camera.

“So, that’s Triton’s Gift? To control the sea?” I ask.

“No,” Galen says, scratching his neck. “At least, not exactly. We don’t know how he did it. Some say strength, that he cracked the earth and that caused the waves. Some say he did it with speed. We don’t know. It’s been a long time since a Royal inherited the Gift of Triton. So long that the Archives disagree on what that Gift is.”

For a few moments we sit in silence, engrossed in the ghost of Galen’s story, of everything said and of things unsaid. And the more I think about it, the angrier I get. “So, I don’t belong anywhere?” I say, jolting them from wakeful slumber.

“What’s that?” Dr. Milligan says, his eyes still glazed with the past.

“Basically, we’re all in agreement that I’m a freak. Is that right?”

“You’re not a freak,” Galen says.

“I’m not Syrena and I’m not human. The Syrena think I’m an abomination. Humans will treat me like a science experiment if they find out. Which still leaves that big question wide open, Dr. Milligan. How has no one found out?”

Dr. Milligan sighs. He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and cleans imaginary fog from his glasses’ lens. His movements are so deliberate, so meticulous, that even I recognize he’s trying to calm me. “Emma, my dear, you haven’t known me for a long time, as Galen has. Yet I consider you my friend and hope you consider me yours. So if we’re friends, then I can be honest with you, right?”

I nod, chewing my lip as if it’s filled with cheesecake.

Dr. Milligan smiles in a generic, obligatory way. “Good. Now then, I believe that your father knew of your condition all along.”

The tears well up instantly, and I don’t know why. Galen looks away.

“That’s not possible,” I whisper. “It’s just not. My mom could tell if he was hiding something. She’s the bloodhound of lies.”

“I’m sure she knew about it, too,” Dr. Milligan sighs. “Like you said, you’re a medical anomaly,” he says, even as I mouth the word “freak” at him. “I don’t have any children myself, but if I did, I wouldn’t want to publicize it either. Scientists from all over the world would be stalking your family, begging for the chance to run a few tests. Your life would be chaos. Your father knew that.”

I take a deep breath. “I guess that could be true. But the thing is, if they’re not my parents, then where did I come from?”

“Could you ask your mother directly?” Dr. Milligan says.

“She’d commit me to a nuthouse. No, wait. She’d laugh in my face, then commit me to a nuthouse.” Memories of the day I almost drowned make the words taste rancid in my mouth. The way I crawled into her lap, so trusting and confident, to tell her about the catfish. The way she laughed so hard she could hardly catch her breath. It was the first time I realized I couldn’t trust my mother with myself. Not my whole self, anyway.

Dr. Milligan nods. “But you don’t have to mention anything about being Syrena do you? She may not even know that part. She may just know you’re different.”

“I guess,” I say doubtfully. If she knew about me, about my Gift, she wouldn’t have laughed at me all those years ago. She would have comforted me and told me what I was then and there. Wouldn’t she? Suddenly, I’m too overwhelmed to think. My world keeps shattering and putting itself back together, but every time it does I’m presented with a different mosaic of reality. Maybe I do belong in a nuthouse.

I hop from the exam table, the linoleum slapping my bare feet. “I’m ready to go home,” I say to neither of them. I almost choke on the word “home.” It sounds foreign on my tongue, like I’ve just made it up. As if it doesn’t exist. “You’re done with your tests, right Dr. Milligan?”