“I think my record on the environment speaks for itself,” he said soothingly. “I love the environment! But I’m not a scientist. I don’t think we have enough information to draw any real conclusions on clim—”
Emrys’s dad turned the knob, quickly cutting off the sound.
As far as Emrys was concerned, Mayor Royce was the one downside to living in New Rotterdam. Back in Cape Cod, it seemed like their whole town had been dedicated to fighting climate change. Here …?
Mayor Royce epitomized everything Emrys feared about grown-ups and the world they were leaving behind. He fought efforts to move the city to clean energy, and once even sued the New Rotterdam city council for attempting to regulate local vehicle emissions.
Sometimes, when he thought too much about the climate crisis, Emrys found himself struck by an overwhelming feeling of powerlessness, like a great gray tide was pulling him out to sea. How did a kid fight against something like that? He couldn’t even vote yet.
So they’d created a new family rule: no Mayor Royce in the apartment. It was a Royce-free zone. An island sanctuary amid the churning waves.
Apparently, the family minivan didn’t count.
“Hey, Scoobies,” Emrys’s dad said as the two of them ducked inside. “Good timing—I was about to come get you. Did you catch the monster terrorizing the beach? Was it Old Man Jenkins in a rubber mask?”
“Dad, nobody gets your weird references,” Emrys said, sliding into the front passenger seat. Like his dad, Emrys was white with brown hair. He supposed they looked alike, though Emrys had apparently inherited his mother’s eyes. (“And her good judgment—thank the stars,” his dad liked to joke with a wink.)
“We appreciate you bringing us here, Mr. Houtman,” Hazel said from behind them.
“No problem at all. Who doesn’t love driving into an approaching superstorm? Though I suppose I’ll need the practice, in this town.”
“There are some nice days,” Hazel said. “I think I saw the sun last Wednesday. For a second.”
Emrys caught a flicker of something in his dad’s expression that was gone before it was really there. He smiled, sealing away an unspoken response. Emrys knew his dad tolerated New Rotterdam, but he hadn’t exactly been thrilled when Emrys’s mom got the job offer. Renner Houtman had grown up in California; he liked to joke that his batteries were solar-powered. And while Cape Cod had been bleak in the winter, its bright summers were enough to recharge his depleted reserves.
Emrys’s dad didn’t make that joke so much anymore. If the last few months were any indication, he’d need to find alternative energy sources. Still, he was loyal enough to Emrys’s mom that he held back his complaints. Usually.
“So, what are you two gonna do with your afternoon off?” his dad asked. “Extra credit homework? Pontificate about the meaning of life in the Socratic method?”
“Horror movies!” Hazel cried from the back.
“Horror movies!” Emrys confirmed.
His dad chuckled as the first swollen raindrop splattered against the windshield.
“Don’t know how you can watch those things,” he said, reversing from the parking spot. “Stiff spines must have skipped a generation. Neither your mom nor I can stand the scary stuff. No, all you got from me is great hair and a sparkling sense of sarcasm.”
“Real life is scarier than any movie,” Emrys said, watching the line of water slide toward the car hood. “Climate change is real. If monsters are too, then they’ve done a good job of hiding it. Why be afraid of made-up stuff, when the future is really frightening?”
Emrys felt his dad’s eyes on him as the car lapsed into silence.
Oops.
He’d said something weird again. He hoped it wouldn’t result in another family talk about anxiety. Emrys didn’t want to talk anymore. He wanted to change things, to make the world better. Until that could happen, what use was talking?
A warm hand gripped his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“Monsters are real, Em,” his dad said.
Emrys glanced to his father with surprise.
“They just don’t look how we expect them to,” he continued. “They’re people, like us, who took a wrong step, and then another and another. Until they couldn’t even imagine a better path.” He gave a wan smile. “But since they’re not vampires or werewolves, that also means they’re not invincible. It means other people—smart, compassionate, clear-sighted people like you—can walk those better paths and set the world straight. Right?”
“Right,” Emrys echoed, though he couldn’t quite force himself to believe it.
“I bet a stake through the heart would still work on Mayor Royce, though,” Hazel chimed in from the back.
As they rounded out of the Cold Beach parking lot, Emrys watched the beachfront gift shops roll past. Ceramic mugs crowded the shelves, each apparently meant to be filled with CRYPTID TEARS. T-shirts boasted I FACED THE FACELESS FOUNDER AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS … WAIT, DID YOU HEAR THAT?
Emrys caught sight of a figure in the gloom, shrouded beneath a heavy raincoat. They were holding something—a wooden sign, it looked like—though Emrys couldn’t make out the words.
“Who else would be out here with the storm approaching?” Emrys’s dad asked. “Think they need help?”
But as the minivan drew closer, the words on the sign came into relief. They’d been spray-painted in blocky red letters.
The figure wore a plague mask beneath the hood of their raincoat, with two goggled eyes and a long, eerie beak that resembled a raven’s head.
“Maybe, uh … maybe not,” Emrys’s dad mumbled. He locked the car doors.
Despite the lack of verifiable cryptids, in his short time in New Rotterdam, Emrys had seen all sorts of strange people. The town just seemed to draw them in. He turned back to Hazel, his eyes wide. “Something for the wiki?” he asked.
His friend shrugged eloquently. Living there her whole life, Hazel had probably seen hundreds of oddballs like this—macabre tourists come to bask in New Rotterdam’s eerie glow.
“It’s not really enough for a full entry,” she said, “but I’ll add it to the Uncanny Sightings talk page. ‘The end is hungry’? What does that even mean?”
“Maybe the four horsemen have low blood sugar,” Emrys’s dad cracked.
