“That bad?”
“I’ve been told I sound like a dying cat.”
“Ouch.”
“Mhmm,” he agrees. “Not what you want to hear when trying out for the high school play.”
“Wow, even worse,” I say with another chuckle.
“It was probably the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. Especially because this guy I had a crush on was watching from the front row. He… maybe was the reason I joined.”
I laugh harder. “I didn’t think it could get worse.”
“Thankfully, it doesn’t get worse thanthat,” he says. “I quit theater immediately after, and the next day was told there wasan opening in the marching band since a few kids dropped out. Figured it was better than nothing. I’d been playing music since I was a kid, and after destroying my reputation on the stage, I didn’t think I could make it worse by doing it on the field.”
“And did you?”
“Fuck no.” He laughs, his eyes bright. “I was careful as all hell.”
“I didn’t peg you as a marching band kid,” I say thoughtfully.
“It’s not as bad as people think. Especially in high school. The uniforms were pretty basic, and we worked closely with the color guard and did some pretty cool sets since our director was hardcore into 90s rock. He taught me a lot of what I know today.”
A pang hits my chest, wishing I had stories like this to tell him. I have no fun memories of my childhood—of anything prior to almost two years ago, when I started coming on land.
“How about you? How’d you get into music?” he asks.
“You haven’t read the articles?”
He makes a dismissive sound. “I don’t believe that shit. I know they always change things to make them sell. I want the truth.”
The truth? Easier said than done. I hate getting into it all, but I’ll give him some. Because he’s not wrong. They did take my story and twist it to sound better—to makememore appealing to the fans.
“This is going to sound really crazy,” I begin.
He huffs a low laugh. “Yeah, I bet it is, but I’m curious. I mean… I work with you guys. We talk often. But I don’t really know much about you.”
“And you want to?” I ask carefully, my stomach heating. It could be the alcohol… or it could be something else. Maybe both.
“Hell yeah. We work together. I’d like to know more than what the fans know. I don’t know if it’s weird for you, but I don’t know many other monsters, and it’s cool to get to know you that way.You know, more personally. If you don’t want that, just say it, but I like you, Aliko. You’re cool.”
I can tell he’s trying not to offend me, like I may think he wants information for the wrong reasons, but I don’t think that. I couldn’t think that about him. He’s been nothing but kind to me since I met him.
He just wants to know more about monsters. What’s wrong with that? And what better way to get that information than from a monster’s mouth?
There is no other way, yet some of these monsters out here act like it’s the worst thing you could do. I’m sure some of them have had less than stellar experiences with humans, but I haven’t.
“You’re just trying to understand,” I say.
“Yes. Exactly.” He points at me. “That’s exactly what I want to do. I don’t know why I couldn’t think of that word.” He laughs, sliding over his empty bottle.
“Alcohol could have something to do with it.” I take a swig from my bottle, swallow, and clear my throat. “Well, there isn’t much to say about kraken. We’re pretty simple creatures. Just living to survive. It’s important to them that our existence stays a secret though, so all of this—the fame, being out in the open,all of it—it isn’t accepted, and my love for music is… frowned upon.”
“How did you discover music, then? Being in the ocean and having to stay a secret… how did you find it?”
“Boats, at first. People on yachts blasting it. Cruise ships. I didn’t think too much of it until I came up here and really felt it, though. Humans love music, and I love exploring. Learning. It’s, uh… what my family thinks I’m doing right now.”
“They don’t know you’re here?”
