Jake was fascinated with coffee. That first week on Bainbridge, he drank coffee and drank coffee and drank—and didn’t sleep. On Saturday morning—it was just 10 am, a balmy late summer morning, just three days after school had started—he walked into his third coffee shop of the day.
A girl turned from the cash register and smiled. “What can I get started for you?”
Dark, straight bangs swung slightly, just brushing the dark eyebrows, while a long pony tail swung across her back. Dark brown eyes twinkled, catching Jake’s breath. And then she smiled, a siren’s smile meant just for him. Jake knew, without a doubt, that his life had just changed.
He managed to say, “Triple-shot venti.”
The girl turned away to the espresso machine, and got it started. She slipped her phone from her back pocket and glanced at it, then looked over at him, as if curious.
This was Jake’s fourth triple-shot since 8 am, when he set out to try every place in town that served coffee. His senses were tingling, and he watched her hands move as if in slow-motion.
“You want an Earth muffin to go with that?”
“What’s an Earth muffin?” Jake asked.
The girl handed him a brochure and pointed to a listing. The Earth muffins had carrots, zucchini, pumpkin seeds, flax and other stuff that Jake was pretty sure didn’t usually go into a muffin, which was just a piece of bread. But he wasn’t sure why it would be called an Earth mifflin.
“We’ve got special coffee mugs on sale, too, if you’re interested.” She pointed to a line of mugs on top of the counter. They were works of art, each hand-painted with a skyline of Seattle.
“Who did these? They’re interesting.” Maybe he’d buy one for his Mom sometime.
“It’s my side-business,” she said with a grin. “If I’m not selling coffee, I’m selling coffee mugs.”
“Just the coffee. Thanks,” Jake said.
She set a cup with his drink on the counter, and put her phone beside the cash register. “You new in town?” she said.
Jake could barely nod, he was so intent on watching her pink-painted fingernails tap the cash register.
“I’m Em. Emmeline Isabella Tullis. And don’t you dare call me Bella like that silly girl in the vampire book.” She glanced at her phone, frowned, tapped something—pink flashing up and down—then looked up again.
Em. He liked that name. “Jake,” he squeaked.
“You new in town?” she repeated.
“Living with my grandparents.”
She raised an eyebrow.
So he continued, “Sir and Easter Rose.”
“He’s the dentist in Seattle?”
Jake nodded, then paid for his coffee. When Em took his money, their hands brushed; Jake jerked his eyes up, surprised by—what? Something. Her touch—well, it reached inside him inside somehow. Her eyes widened slightly, too, he was sure of it.
He backed away and sat in a booth where he had a good view of the counter and Em. He sipped his coffee, not even tasting it, just watching her with other customers. She glanced at him once, twice—but it was a casual glance, sweeping the shop to see if any customers needed anything. When there was a lull, she went around collecting coffee cups and offering refills. And always, she was fiddling with her phone. Addicted to it, he thought. It was a Earth habit that he hadn’t picked up yet. Maybe he should.
The string of bells on the door jangled, and Jake glanced over. Startled, he realized the man who had just walked in was that soldier, the Captain, from Gulf Shores. Jake twisted away from the door so his back was toward the man.
What was the Captain doing here on Bainbridge Island? Was he tracking Jake? An older man beside him had the same walk and swagger; it was Jake’s science and civics teacher. From their resemblance, Jake guessed it might be the Captain’s father.
Jake shrank further into the depths of his booth.
“Morning, Coach,” Em said from behind the counter. “The usual?”
Mr. Blevins taught science and history. Why was she calling him Coach? So far in science, they had only been given seat assignments, lectures on Blevins’s grading system, received textbooks, and talked about lab safety. In civics, it was the same, except instead of lab safety, they had a long lecture about their major project of the first semester, a research paper. Jake knew almost nothing about this particular teacher.
“Sure,” Coach Blevins said. “But my son here—have you ever met Cy? He’s Homeland Security Special Forces.” Blevins paused to let Em fully appreciate the comment. “He’s just been posted in the area for a special assignment. He likes triple-shot ventis.” This man was proud of his son. “And throw in a couple of those Earth muffins, too.”
“Got it,” Em said. “We’ve got special coffee mugs on sale, too, if you’re interested.”
Coach Blevins smiled and said, “You’re great at sales. I’ll get mugs for Christmas presents, I promise.
She nodded and turned to the espresso machine.
Jake gulped. The Homeland Security Special Forces had some assignment for this captain here in the Seattle area? Did Homeland know who Jake was?
While at the beach house, Mom and Dad had drilled it into Jake: “No one must know you are the son of the Risonian ambassador. No one must know that you’re half-human and half-Risonian. No one knows that’s even possible.” Mom’s voice had been the most passionate in the discussion. “I am working day and night to win a refuge for Rison here. And back home, Swann is working to calm down the Risonians who just want to attack Earth. We don’t want a war; we just need a place to evacuate our people before the Rison’s core implodes.”
“How long before that happens? What’s the current prediction?” Dad asked.
“Two or three years. Maybe less. Time is short,” Mom warned. Dad laid an arm protectively over her shoulder and they turned as one to glare at Jake. “You must be invisible.”
And now, the Captain who led the search for mom at the beach was here on Bainbridge Island. Surely it wasn’t an accident.
Jake sat immobile, trying to be invisible.
The two men of them sat at the table next to Jake, but thankfully, with their backs to him.
And Jake shamelessly eavesdropped.
“How was Gulf Shores?” the father asked.
“Fine.”
“Did your assignment go well?”
“No. We missed our target.”
Silence. They must be eating their Earth muffins and drinking their coffee.
Then: “ Dad, you know I’m here on a special assignment?”
“Yes.”
“I need to go through our old photos.”
“For what?”
Silence.
The old man cleared his throat. “Look, I know you’re working on something about Rison, and you think bringing that up will upset me, will bring back old memories. It’s OK. Just ask. What do you need?”
“OK. I’m looking for photos of the Ambassador’s son,” said the Captain. “The Quad-de’s have kept him out of the news, and the most recent picture we have is five years old. You know they have software now that will age up a person, and I just wondered if you had anything better than the fuzzy photos I can find online.”
Jake’s mind swirled. They were looking for pictures of HIM. But why would Coach Blevins have pictures of Jake? Old pictures. This was crazy.
The Coach answered, “All the pictures are in the garage. After your mother died, I almost threw them away. Instead, I just put them in the garage, that storage room in the back. You’re welcome to look.”
“OK. I hope we get lucky. Homeland convinced the National Enquirer and other newspapers like that to put out the word to its paparazzi, offering $10,000 for a photo of the kid. Maybe we’ll get it.”
“He was a nice kid—”
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden crash.
Spinning around, Jake took in the scene. Em’s phone was in one hand, and the empty tray in another. She’d apparently come around to gather empty cups, and either stumbled or was concentrating on her phone too much, and the whole tray of dirty cups had spilled into the Captain’s lap.
Maybe she shouldn’t text and work at the same time, he thought.
Dark coffee ran down the Captain’s jeans and one thick white mug lay at Em’s feet with the handle broken off.
“Oh!” Em cried. “I am so sorry.” She jammed the phone into her back pocket and—
The Captain surged to his feet, shoving the coffee cups and napkins from his pants and knocking Em backward. He glared at her.
He reminded Jake of a tightly wound coil that could release with considerable force. Without thinking, Jake rose and shoved the Captain’s back. “Leave her alone. She didn’t mean to do it.”
The Captain whirled around, fists ready to strike. Coach Blevins grabbed his arm, stopping the swing.
The Captain froze anyway and hissed, “You!”
Now, Jake wanted to back away, but Em was saying, “It’s OK, Jake.”
The other cashier, an older man who must be the store owner, was there, too, saying, “Everyone calm down, now. Just a clumsy waiter. No need to fight.”
Jake sat heavily, but the Captain was in his face. “What are you doing here on Bainbridge Island?”
“My grandparents live here. The Roses.”
The Coach tugged at his son. “The Roses have lived on Bainbridge for twenty years or more. He’s a dentist. Leave the boy alone.”
“Where’s your Dad?” the Captain demanded.
“On assignment.”
“Where?”
Jake shrugged. By now, he was regaining some of his composure and certainly wasn’t going to answer this jerk’s questions. “No idea. Dad doesn’t exactly tell me all about his assignments.”
Anger blazed across the Captain’s face. He jabbed a finger at Jake’s face, almost yelling now. “He’s negotiating with that SHARK ambassador, isn’t he? Where are they?”
The Coach jerked his son’s arm, forcing him to turn. “Leave it.”
Father and son stared at each other for a moment, before the Captain squared his jaw and nodded. Through clenched teeth, he told Jake, “Don’t worry, we’re looking for the ambassador’s son. When we find him, we’ll find her.”
The Captain straightened ram-rod straight, like he was at attention. He ran a hand through his curly hair, and backed up a step. “OK. OK.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a five-dollar bill, and threw it on the table. To the store owner, he said, “No problems here. We’re leaving.” He glared at Em, but said nothing more to her. He stalked out. His father shrugged a quick apology at Em and the owner, then followed the Captain.
Jake sat stunned. The Homeland Captain who had tried to capture his mom was here on Bainbridge. And Homeland was trying to get a current photograph of Jake. It couldn’t be a coincidence. But what did it mean? Why would his science teacher have old photographs of Jake? Had he been on Rison? When? Why? And why would Homeland send the Captain here? What was his assignment?
Em touched his shoulder, and he startled.
“Sorry,” Em said. “I just wanted to say thanks for sticking up for me.”
She held out another cup of coffee. “Free.” She waved a thumb toward the owner. “Everyone got scared and tried to leave, so he’s giving out a round of free coffee. Sorry, it’s not a triple-shot.”
Jake took the cup of coffee from the girl and sipped; it was so hot it almost burned his tongue.
Even now, with the almost-fight and his new worries, Em’s casual grace, her easy way of moving, took his breath away. “Um. When do you get off work?”
She pulled out her phone. Of course, he thought, she was glued to that phone. “Thirty minutes,” she said.
Jake needed information. “Do you have time to visit? I’m still new on the island and have so many questions.”
Em smiled. “Sure. If you can wait.”
“I’ll wait,” Jake said.
While he waited, Jake tried to think what to do. Mom had forbidden him to call her unless it was a matter of life and death. Phone calls were too easily traced, so he had to do it through encrypted websites, which meant he had to have a computer. Besides, she was so busy with her Ambassador duties. It made Jake’s head hurt just to think about the possible scandals and repercussions if anyone found out about his parents.
Dad was out of touch, as well, on some assignment. Since he’d been promoted to Commander a few months ago, his duties had doubled. It was one of the reasons he’d brought Jake to live with Sir and Easter on Bainbridge. Jake could get a message to him in an emergency, but was this an emergency?
Sir and Easter. Jake’s Earth grandparents were kind, polite and tried to be helpful in getting his settled into school and life on an island. Sir was a slightly taller version of Dad, athletic and tanned. Easter ran a neat, efficient home, making Jake think of a great librarians who kept all her bookshelves alphabetized and dusted. But he didn’t know them well yet, didn’t trust them. When they asked about life on Rison, he barely answered because it was so different, they wouldn’t understand. Life on the Obama Moon Base was easier to answer, because that was an Earth Navy base. Anything to do with intergalactic politics, Jake strictly avoided for now.
He had no one to turn to. It didn’t seem wise, though, to ignore all of this with Captain Blevins.
When Em finally took off her apron and came to his table, Jake was ready to get away from his own thoughts. He remembered the manners that Dad had been trying to teach him and pulled open the door to the coffee shop for Em. He motioned for her to go ahead of him. She flashed him a smile and went outside.
“I only live a mile away,” Em said. “On nice days, I just walk.”
“I’ll walk you home,” Jake said. “Is that OK?”
When she nodded, he tingled in anticipation. He’d never had a long conversation with an Earth girl before. Well, not with a Risonian girl, either. He’d left Rison about the time he was figuring out that girls were something different and exciting. The Obama Moon Base had no girls his age. For a moment, he worried that he’d latched onto the first girl he ran across. But no. He’d been around enough to recognize that Em was special.
One thing about the Moon Base—there was plenty of time to read. Jake had read everything he could about Earth, especially its oceans, since Rison was asking Earth to allow it to colonize just the oceans. Risonians could breathe easily on land or on air. They reasoned that Earth was 80% water, but Earthlings all lived on land. Surely, they could share their oceans and save a race of people. On paper, it sounded reasonable, but of course, it was more complicated than that. So, Jake had read everything about Earth’s oceans that he could. Even folklore.
One old story came back to him now: mermaids sitting on rocks combing their long hair and singing songs to entice unwary sailors to their death. A siren’s song.
For the last three days, the new Earthling high school had overwhelmed Jake. He had seen other girls, heard other girls. But Em was different: she was his siren, he thought in a daze. She called to him like no other girl had ever done. He would have waited eight hours for her to get off work. He would have walked her home, even it was all the way across the Island. He just wanted to be near her, to get to know her better.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
“That was Mr. Blevins, the science and civics teacher, right? But you called him Coach?”
Em nodded. “Coach Blevins. He’s been here about five years,” Em said. “Teaches biology and civics. And coaches the swim team.”
“Do you swim?”
“Sure. I do backstroke and the IM.”
“IM?” Jake asked.
“Individual medley. That means I swim one or two laps with each of the strokes.”
“Are you fast?”
She checked something on her phone. “3rd in the district in back, and I’m fighting for first in IM.”
Jake nodded, afraid to ask more lest he seem like a total idiot. He knew that his father had been on the Bainbridge Island swim team, but he didn’t know much more than that. He wasn’t even quite sure what a “district” meant. These were things he could ask Easter and Sir about; in fact, it would actually give them a topic for conversation.
Em smiled, a flash of white teeth. “Before Coach Blevins, the Bainbridge swim team was a joke. But since he’s come, we took the state meet last year. He drives us hard, but we win. I think everyone on Bainbridge likes him.”
“Where did he come from? Was he always a swim coach and teacher?”
Em frowned, “No idea. I think he’s Canadian. He knows his science, though.”
Jake decided that he’s have to do some research on the Blevins family. They were investigating his family, it only seemed fair.
Em stopped and turned to look him up and down. “Say, are you a swimmer? We sure need more guys. What stroke are you best at?”
“Oh, I don’t swim,” Jake said, but without conviction. “I do a little freestyle, but I’m not very fast.”
“That’s OK,” Em said. “Swim team speeds you up. You work on your form and your times and before you know it—”
“No.” Jake had to stop her. He desperately wanted to be on the swim team, to be in the water all the time. Or rather, to have the freedom to come and go, in or out of the water, as he liked. He wanted to go home to Rison. But Rison was dying, and he had his orders. More was at stake than just what he wanted.
“Okay, okay. I get it,” Em said. Her face was bright red, and she started walking again, this time at a fast pace as if to get away from his refusal to consider swim team. “I just love the swim team and I get overly excited about it. I want every else to be as excited as I am. I’ll back off.”
“No, no.” Jake almost trotted to keep up. “I mean—oh, I just get teased a lot because I can’t swim. But really, I just can’t.”
“Oh.”
There was a world of uncertainty in that “Oh.” Jake wanted to please her, to say that he’d give swim team a try. No, he had to convince her. “I’m too scared of the water.”
“That’s all?” She gave a nervous laugh. “We can help with that.”
“No,” Jake tried again. “I’m scared of the water because I don’t have the right lungs for it.” That part was true at least. His lungs weren’t good Earthling lungs; they were good Risonian lungs that could breath air on land, while his underarm gills breathed in the sea.
“That’s just technique. Coach Blevins can help you with your breathing—”
“No.”
They stopped at a street corner. Em looked over his head, obviously embarrassed now.
“Oh. Well, if you ever want to come and watch, we practice early mornings.” Em avoided his eyes and waved toward the left. “Well, thanks for walking with me a while. I live down that way and I’m sure it’s too far for you. You have better things to do.” She turned on her phone and concentrated on the screen.
She was giving him the brush-off.
Jake bit back the words he wanted to say: You’re beautiful. I would walk—or swim—anywhere with you.
She didn’t want him to walk her home now, though.
Em turned, and with a half-wave, she strode away. He let her go.
He stood there watching until she turned another corner. Then he turned to trudge back toward his grandparent’s house on Yeomalt Point. It wasn’t home, not yet, maybe not ever. His thoughts turned back to Captain Cy Blevins and his father Coach Blevins. They were investigating him. Maybe his grandmother, Easter, could help him investigate the Blevins. But when he got home, Easter asked about the coffee shops and Jake forgot about the Blevins. Instead, he told Easter about Earth muffins, and they found a recipe, went to the store, and came home to bake. Earth muffins, he decided later, were delicious.