Of the Twisted and the Lost

Chapter 47:

"Now we know for a fact that she's a raving lunatic," gasps Sam, as he goggles at the piece of paper. "Merpeople? Fictional things that belong in books or movies? Wow." 

Junjie is inclined to side with Sam on this one. 

Merpeople being real are as likely as cats speaking English. 

"You know what?" Sam scorns. "I think we're done here. Let's just bring this to the police and title it: Girl Goes Crazy And Starts Ranting About Mermaids." 

"Wait," Junjie says, as he flips open another folder. "There's something else in here." 

A picture falls out. Junjie picks it up. 

The blood drains out of his face, as he gazes at the picture in disbelief. 

Bronze hair, green eyes, a smug smirk plastered across his expression. 

Junjie instantly despises him at sight. 

Find clues about him, Junjie thinks, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Focus, Junjie. Focus. 

Nothing. 

Junjie cannot find a single thing on this boy, except— 

His eyes move downwards. 

A tail. 

"What's that?" Sam asks, snatching the paper away. "Oh, good photoshopping, I'm guessing?" 

Junjie frowns. 

"What if this is the merman Sera was talking about?" he murmurs. 

"Or it's good photoshopping," pipes up Sam. 

"Or it's actually the merman she was talking about," Junjie fires back. 

"Or not." 

A glare is directed towards Sam. 

"Your commentary is not wanted," Junjie says icily, before straightening. "We need to go to the harbor. Now." 

"What?" Sam blurts. "But—" 

"No buts. We have to go there. Right now." 

It's like anticipation is swirling through Junjie's stomach, dread pecking at every part of bare skin. 

"Uh," Sam says. "We don't have a car. Do we walk?" 

* * * * 

Sam is squished next to Junjie's body, mouth pressed in a sour line. 

"We're almost here," Nyleve says from the driver's wheel. "So why are you boys going to the harbor again?" 

Junjie shifts uncomfortably. 

"Research," he replies vaguely. 

Nyleve nods slowly, before hitting the gas pedal. "Sammie, didn't you drive up to my house?" she asks. "Where'd you park it?" 

Sam freezes. 

"I lost it," he mumbles. "Somewhere." 

Nyleve lets out a soft sigh. "Sammie, what did I tell you about losing cars? That's right. Cars nowadays are very expensive." 

"Yeah, Mom. I know." 

Silence floods the car again, awkward tension hanging through the air. 

"So. . ." Nyleve coughs. "What's your favorite color, Bob?" 

It's even more awkward when Junjie answers with, "I don't know." 

"Oh. Well." 

It especially does not help when Sam starts humming the Sherlock Holmes theme song, trying to lessen the tension. 

Junjie cringes, when his partner hits the high note, shuffling happily to the music. 

"You should stop," Junjie tells Sam. "Before you embarrass yourself farther. You're singing completely out of tune." 

Instead of looking offended, Sam just smiles. "Wait, you've watched Sherlock Holmes before?" he asks. 

Junjie ignores him. 

"Oh," Nyleve laughs. "I remember when Sammie was younger and always begged me to watch Sherlock with him! He was always scared by the blood, you know." 

"I was not," Sam says, though he clearly is lying. 

"He always sang the theme song, whenever it was on." 

Junjie looks up, intrigued. "What else did he do?" Junjie presses. 

Nyleve looks thoughtful, as she stops at the red light. "He always played those little games — Detective, he would call it. All the kids on the block never wanted to play, but he always threatened to place his buttocks on their faces, so they always had to comply." 

"Sounds like Sam alright," Junjie says dryly. "How old was he?" 

"I think about fifteen?" Nyleve guesses. 

"I was fourteen," grumps Sam. "There's a difference." 

"This happened three years ago," Junjie marvels, before glancing at Sam again. "You know, I actually can't imagine you wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat." 

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Nyleve beams, clasping her hands together. 

"You'd better not, Mom. . ." 

"Do tell," urges Junjie. 

"Have you heard of Detective Conan?" Nyleve asks. "It's this anime manga, as well as a TV show. Sam's two idols were Sherlock Holmes and Detective Conan." 

"Sam likes detectives?" 

Junjie stares at the blond-haired boy. 

"That's unexpected," says Junjie. "But sure, why not." 

"Shut up," Sam grumbles, slouching deeper into the car seat. 

"Sammie, that's not a very nice word to say," chides Nyleve. "I think I taught you better than to swear." 

An aggravated huff escapes Sam. 

"I hate you both," says Sam. "Especially Junjie. But I also hate you too, Mom, for telling him all my dark secrets." 

Nyleve smiles, before glancing in the rearview mirror. 

"So are you two. . ." She stops at another red light, nodding at them both. "You know?" 

Junjie raises an eyebrow. 

"Together?" she asks. 

"Well, we are working on a project together, yes," Junjie responds. 

"That's not what I meant," laughs Nyleve. "I meant, are you two seeing each other?" 

"We see each other every day, I believe, so yes — we are seeing each other." 

"Oh!" Nyleve beams happily. "Sam's never brought over home a girl, so I always assumed it was because he was lonely or something. But I suppose I had it all wrong! So how'd you two meet? Was it Sam that asked Bob on the date, or Bob that asked Sam?" 

Junjie chokes in shock, while Sam gapes, aghast. 

"Mom," Sam says in a strained voice. "We're not dating each other." 

Nyleve now looks confused, as her eyebrows furrow together. "You're not? But he just said—" 

Sam glares at Junjie. "He has a hard time grasping the present's way of speaking," he says through gritted teeth. 

"Oh," Nyleve says. "But you two were flirting the whole time on the car ride!" 

Sam facepalms himself. 

"I already like someone else," Junjie intervenes helpfully. 

Nyleve's lips tilt up, though she looks slightly embarrassed. "I hope you get them," she says kindly, before pulling over. "We're finally here! I hope you two don't get into too much trouble." 

It sounds a little bit like a warning: I hope you don't get into too much trouble. . .