Page 38 of Anchored to the Storm

The worst part? I had already eaten half of it! “But… I don’t like stinky fish!”

A grin grew across Styx’s face. “Don’t set me up like that if you don’t want me to hit one over the net.” A burst of his laughter echoed in the pool as he realized he’d just tumbled into another pun. “Fish net!” He held his stomach, which bounced with more laughter. “Ya can’t make this shit up!”

You are so annoying! “If you are referring to my girlfriend being caught in a net—” My mouth began to ache. My hunger grew. “—I’ll be tempted to shove this pizza box straight up your ass.”

“The whole box?” He shuddered. “Sounds painful.”

Glaring at him, I nodded slowly, then stopped when I realized I was chewing again. No. I looked down at my now-empty hand. Ew. I swallowed down the fish with an audible, grossed-out gulp.

Gramps motioned to my mouth. “You’re, uh, little, uh, fangs grew, er, a bit.”

In a rush, my finger slid across my upper row of teeth. My fangs had indeed reappeared, but were already retreating, yet again. Another talent I was going to have to learn to control.

Overwhelmed, my body sulked. “What am I?”

“A young man on a hell of a journey.” Styx crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap, intertwining his tattooed and ringed fingers. “You won’t ever be bored. You won’t die wondering if you ever lived. You will love with depths most will never come close to. You will breathe air because you know what it’s like not to. You will understand the world is only one layer of a wondrous Universe. You will come to realize that you are a gift.”

I audibly sucked in air because on the middle finger of his right hand, the tat read, Gifts…

Motioning to the tat, my silent question hung in the air.

He sighed, running a tip of a finger down his message. “Yup. When someone tries to lecture me, claiming their opinion or knowledge is better than mine, I give ‘em the ol’ finger because they have never had gifts as I have.” He winked at me. “So, fuck ’em.”

In a way, at that moment, I felt him place a scared young man on a pedestal. However, it altered me. While the earlier silence gave me space to adjust, him lifting me up helped me raise my chin. Helped me comprehend I was, and always would be, different. Instead of regretting the difference, I now had the space to be… proud of it.

I took a deep breath as that pride grew in my chest and through my whole body.

When a high-pitched sound found my now sensitive ears, my chest grew for another reason. I felt older, wiser, and stronger. “How long before I can have her in here?” A dominant side of me was taking root. “In here, I feel I have a chance to protect her like I want to.”

Styx stared at me with an expression I struggled to read. He rubbed down his goatee before finally saying, “You look just like him.” Dad. Styx exhaled. “Right after Noma stole away the love of his life.” He swallowed. “I’m doing all I can not to let that happen again.”

He meant every word.

East Six

Deepest Lagoons

She is life. . . for me. . .

Styx read his phone, then gave me a look. I was starting to recognize it easily now. He was contemplating. The lagoon pool was closed, and I was throwing away the pizza box. After an exhale, I asked, “Going to tell me why you keep studying your phone?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I promised I would.”

My mouth gaped as my air was robbed from me. I barely had enough to say, “Misfits.”

He appeared to hate being the bearer of bad news. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Baby Boy. They are showing signs.” He attempted to explain, “Even though Sea-Dude is gone, my vow still remains⁠—”

Fear rocketed through me like a fire consuming a forest of nature’s animals. My animals. My fellow fosters. My… chosen family. I roared to the high ceiling, “But what is this damn vow?”

Like a bull sure to keep a testosterone-riddled elephant in check, this man roared back, “To protect the gates!”

“What gates?”

“Yours!”

Only our heavy breaths made a peep in the huge room. Everything else was still, quiet, waiting for me to start to comprehend his meaning. So far, I had been consumed with worry and selfish needs. I had realized there was a much bigger universe out there but failed to recognize how much it had to do with me, or what I actually was.

Thinking back to the book, and how the mythical River Styx helps souls cross over after they die, I asked, “I’m the underworld?” not wanting to sound as scared as I suddenly was with such a possibility. Not that I had a clue what it even meant. I just imagined… Hell.