Page 51 of Crashing Tides

INTERVIEWER: Do you feel like you’re among good company?

CORBIN: [laughs] Not exactly. You know, there’s plenty of phoenixes and wolves, but not many merfolk. It’s, uh, kinda isolating sometimes. You know, nobody to go swimming with, nobody who can really relate. But I have to say that the community here is really good. People try, you know, even if they don’t really understand. I think that counts for a lot.

INTERVIEWER: Oh, definitely. So what do you think about the discontinued shifter programs?

CORBIN: I mean, obviously it’s a travesty. There was nowhere in the world like Halea. And now… there’s nowhere offering those kinds of programs. You know, being a shifter—it’s unique. It’s an unusual experience. Having classes geared toward us was kind of special. I think shutting them down is really doing students a disservice. I understand the dangers of the drowned levels, but there’s gotta be a way around that.

INTERVIEWER: Did you ever participate in any of these programs?

CORBIN: Hell, yeah. I took an Underwater Magic class last semester. The most amazing thing I’ve ever done in my life. It’s really depressing to know that at least for right now, nobody else will ever experience anything like that. Budget cuts suck, but there should be funds in place to keep shifter-specific programs operating.

INTERVIEWER: Underwater Magic sounds magnificent. Tell me a little more about how you find community at Halea now that the shifter programs have been cut.

CORBIN: Well, you know, I still have friends, my girlfriend. We meet up once a week in a sort of “shifter-support” group. It’s not ideal, but it gives us something to focus on. One step at a time, and all that.

INTERVIEWER: How do you feel about Halea’s missing merfolk scandal?

CORBIN: Not great. But that was thirty years ago. Halea has done a lot to atone for their lack of judgment. It would be nice if they kept the shifter programs in place as an act of reparations, but I get that shifter support is fading. I, uh, should probably clarify that I don’t approve of any of this. I think they can and should do better. But I’m also a realist.

INTERVIEWER: It’s a bummer, isn’t it?

CORBIN: I guess you could say that.

INTERVIEWER: Well, we’re out of time for today, but I wanted to thank you for meeting with me. I’ve never met one of the mer in the flesh. Are you all so pretty?

CORBIN: Nice try, flatterer.

So there you have it. Halea University may be a haven for shifters, but merfolk are so few and far between that even a stud like Corbin barely knows any.

Until next time!

Jane and I exchange confused glances. “This is… a fluff piece,” I mutter, betrayed. “I… What was the point of that? They didn’t even ask him anything!”

“I think it had a lot of good information,” Jane argues, tapping the end of her ballpoint against the tabletop. “Look, there’s all kinds of jumping off points we could use for future research. I’m going to email this to you, OK?”

“OK,” I grouse. I hate this article. I hate that such serious topics are treated almost playfully. I hate the journalist for his nonchalance. I hate Corbin for his toxic positivity.

My phone rings. I groan when I see the name on the screen. “It’s my ex,” I tell Jane, climbing to my feet. “Can you watch my stuff?”

She nods slowly. I don’t miss the worry in her expression, but I do ignore it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Great. I’ll be back soon.”

I answer the call just before it drops.

“Hey,” says Jeremy.

The sound of his voice is warm and familiar, rich like chocolate. I miss him instantly. Then I remember how he betrayed me, and something cold washes over me. “Hey, yourself,” I say, because this is how I always answered the phone when we were together. I can’t seem to shake the habit. “What’s up?”

“Yeah,” says Jeremy in a tone that I recognize instantly. My hackles raise. He knows I’m not going to like whatever he has to say next and he isn’t going to soften the blow for the sake of my sanity. “So I need to update you on a few things, and I need you to be mature, OK?”

I stalk through the library doors and down the front steps into the quad, my free hand balled into a fist. Jeremy is four years older than me and often defaults to treating me like a kid. I hate it. Whenever I’m upset about something he doesn’t want to deal with, he just accuses me of being immature.

I grit my teeth. “What’s up?” I repeat.

“I didn’t want you to find out on social media, and Marc has very graciously agreed to refrain from posting for a few days, but I thought I should let you know that he and I are engaged now. And we bought a house. And since we’re moving, I found a few of your things. I thought maybe you’d want them back.”

My heart stutters. All sensation flees my body. I am numb. Horrified. Somewhere in the back of my head, I am screaming.