Authors: Naomi Fraser
“There were news reports on the
TV about you,” Beth says to me, drying her hair. “They’re doing a report on all
the deaths and are
gonna
blow it up pretty big. I saw
it at Cal’s house.”
“Great.” I run my nails through
my hair and lean my elbows on the table, staring at the old wood.
“Just what I need.
If they find out about me—”
“They won’t,” Lakyn says. “Not as
long as I’m around.”
I lift up my head, surprised at
the vehemence in his tone. Cal meets my gaze across the table, and it’s like
he’s trying to tell me something.
“A few kids were talking about
you at school,” Bethany continues and her eyebrows rise, “looks like you’re
getting popular. And there are heaps of rumours flying around about you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and
laugh.
“Oh, Beth.
I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
The heaviness in my chest can’t be indigestion. “Honestly, how do you tell
someone you’re a mermaid? Hello, I know you think I’m human, but . . .”
Beth smiles and laughs along with
me. Her soft giggles all of a sudden turn louder, until we’re both laughing our
heads off.
“I—” she gasps. “I passed out!”
That makes me laugh even harder
until my stomach twitches in pain. “Oh, stop. Please!”
Her giggles die down. She sighs.
“How are you going to tell your mum?”
I shake my head and frown. “No
idea.”
“Ellie can’t put her family in
any more danger,” Lakyn says. “Then she’d lose both parents.”
Bethany nods in understanding,
but her smile is a little sad.
“About to be sweet sixteen and
a mermaid.”
Lakyn’s gaze jerks from Bethany
to me.
“Sweet sixteen?
What does that mean?”
I shrug, and grin, not about to
tell him it means I haven’t been kissed on the mouth by a boy.
Too embarrassing.
I’m sure it’s on the list of what
not
to bring up in polite conversation. “It’s just this thing we say when we turn
sixteen. My birthday is . . .” I quietly add up the days. “In five days. Wow. I
didn’t think it was that close.”
He smiles and slides one hand
across the table to capture mine. His gaze travels from my face, my hair and
then back to my mouth. “I’d be honoured to celebrate it with you.” He lifts my
hand, cradling it against his cheek. The top of his hair is still wet and hangs
over his forehead. When he lifts his head, his blue eyes gleam with promise.
A light shiver travels all the
way up from my stomach to my heart and my lips burn.
I ROLL ONTO my side, and every muscle protests, especially
my ribs, stomach and shoulder blade muscles. Bright morning sunlight spears
through my window and I rub my eyes, groaning. I squint balefully at the alarm
clock on the side table. 6:56 a.m.
Four more minutes of sleep. Good
luck with that. My eyes feel like three-day-old sandpaper, and the big circle
on the calendar makes me groan again. I hate school.
No.
NO.
Ugh.
Tuesday.
A double period of maths.
Swimming
training for school.
Nerves cramp in my stomach and my breath quickens,
but I concentrate on slowing my pulse and then rub the burning ache in the
centre of my chest. I can’t go swimming at the school pool—everyone will see
I’m a mermaid. I signed up because Lakyn needed to help me, but now that I’ve
changed, I have to get off the team.
I make it to the bathroom, turn
on the shower, get undressed and then stand under the hot water. The spray
eases the deep ache in my back muscles and some of my stress. The echo of a
loud thump rattles the shower screen door. Wynnum consists of houses that have
a lot of character, too much sometimes. I hope whoever it is will go away when
I don’t answer.
Another hard knock thumps on the
front door, echoing down the hallway and into the bathroom.
I turn off the taps, listening.
The next thump on the front door decides it, and I slip out of the bathroom, a
towel twisted around my wet hair and a purple bathrobe over my body. Completely
covered, though not exactly how I wish to appear when I answer the front door,
I walk out of the bathroom and head to the door.
What if it’s reporters asking
questions about Anders Peterson’s death? I stop a few feet from the door and
call out cautiously, “Who is it?”
“Ralph.”
Surprise,
surprise.
I open the door and grin. “Hi.”
He stands at the door, smiling in
his affable way and squishes the peak of his sun-bleached cap. “
Mornin
’, Ellie.
Came by to drop this
off.”
Sunlight lands on his moustache whiskers and picks out the grey
hairs. Deep lines bracket his mouth. The package in his hand is one of those
bags from the dollar store, big and orange.
I peek inside with interest.
“Books?”
“Yup.
Early birthday present,” he says with a glint in his eye that means business.
“Here take it. Don’t tell the boy.”
“Top secret, hey?” I grab the bag
and hug it to me. “Thank you, Ralph. You didn’t have to give me anything for my
birthday.”
“These can help, they’re what he
read and of course the council ordered them out of the king’s library.”
“Oh.” I stare at him, eyes wide.
My knees shake and I lean against the door jamb to steady myself. “You mean
that
kind of help.”
He nods. “At least you stand a
better chance now, though he doesn’t want you to know about how to change
someone, so keep it a secret, all right? I guess he thinks it might get you
into trouble. I know from experience it’s way past that.” A flicker of
apprehension fills his tone and he looks toward the water in the distance.
“Well,” I grin, “it’s too late to
keep me out of trouble anyway, and I’ve never had much luck working out a boy’s
mind. I don’t plan on starting this morning.”
Ralph smiles.
“Righto.
See
ya
later,
Ellie. I’m going out on the water today,” he says, a little too loudly, his
face still pointing in the direction of the bay. “Hopefully catch some big
fish.” He chuckles, stomps down the stairs in his thongs and heads back for the
car, then guns the single cab Ute onto the road.
The words “Be careful,” die on my
lips. Ralph has spent a lifetime in or on the sea. Who am I to tell him to
watch himself? I sigh, trying to get rid of the strange unease inside my chest.
He’d last longer than me against sirens, but maybe my reminder would have made
him be extra careful.
Thankfully, Mum has left for work
so she isn’t around to question me about Ralph. But her being gone means I
can’t get a note to excuse myself from swimming today.
I kick the front door shut, lock
it and work my way back toward the bathroom. The towel unravels around my head
and drops to the floor. I hang it over a rail, and set the books on the
bathroom counter to have a look-see at my present.
Finfolk Lore
& Transformations.
Whoa. Ralph brought the goods. The
second book,
Guardian Training Manual
boasts a slick, weird, waterproof
cover in different shades of ocean blue-green.
I rub my hand over the fabric,
and the texture is smooth and sharp.
So cool.
I smile.
Getting dressed for school takes me longer than I anticipate so I skip
breakfast, and my hair is in a messy topknot when I leave and lock the door
behind me. The books jostle in my shoulder bag. Last thing I want is for Mum to
stumble across them in my room. At the bus stop, I sit on the cold seat and
flip to the middle of the
Guardian Training Manual.
A picture of a mermaid, drawn by
some eccentric artist, rests in the corner of the page. Her arched tail points
to a subheading:
Taking
Humans from Their Homes.
Then another:
Deep Sleep: How to Manipulate
Minds.
Rocks roll around in my stomach,
heavy and knowing. I look to the next heading.
The Art of
Killing Humans.
This is what Lakyn had to
learn—how to kill people? What kind of place does he come from? I turn to the
front page and stop at the inscription:
Lakyn,
Happy 7th Birthday, Son.
We’re so proud of you.
Love Mum and Dad.
My heart pinches. This is Lakyn’s
manual given to him by his parents, and he’s learnt all this since seven years
of age. I blink back tears, thinking of myself at seven. I was probably playing
with dolls. I draw up my knees and hug them. Maybe it is better for him to be a
human? Sweat beads my nape and moistens my collar. My arms hang at my sides.
Why would his parents give him this book at seven and be so proud?
I suppress another shiver but my
toes tingle. I can’t imagine the courage Lakyn must possess to go against
everything he’s been taught—to follow his own path. And they kicked him out for
his perceived sin of showing compassion; from doing what’s right rather than
what’s easy.
Frowning, I slide the unsettling
book back into my bag and rub my sweating hands on my skirt. I reach for the
second book, thumb to the back of
Finfolk Lore & Transformations
and
run my finger down the index, not sure what I’m looking for until my finger
stops.
Changing
Humans.
I must appear like a clown statue
at the bus stop with my mouth open. Well, I’m breathing easily at least.
Little things, little things.
Marks fill the top
corners of the page where dirty fingers have grasped the book. The subject
spans twenty pages with notes in corners and scribbled corrections, pictures,
plus extra dates.
Lakyn’s notes.
His clues.
I continue to read the rest of
the section all the way to school.
≈≈≈
“HAVE YOU SEEN Lakyn?” I ask Bethany at second break,
munching on a muesli bar. “I’m trying to find him, but he’s not answering my
texts.”
“No, I haven’t.” Her head tilts
to the side, and she takes a bite of her salad sandwich. Shredded carrot and
lettuce fall out from two slices of whole wheat bread and land in her lap. She
brushes them off with a growl of frustration. “Maybe he’s sick?” She cuts me a
sly grin. “Not that I blame him after yesterday. I thought about staying home
myself this morning. A dead faint deserves a day off.”
“You?”
My eyebrows rise. “You go to school in your dreams. Have nightmares if you
think about skipping. What—” I dodge a flying crust and laugh, leaning back on
my hands, making sure she doesn’t have any more ammunition. Bethany loves
school, and her enthusiasm makes it easier for me to show up.
She frowns and shifts. “
Ow
.” Then she pulls out a rock from beneath her butt and
tosses it into the trees. We sit on the lawn near the business block inside
school grounds. I much prefer that than sitting on the cold steel seats where a
few students eat lunch nearer the walkways. We’re away from most of the
students here, and it’s quieter.
Even if we do sit on a rock
now and then.
“Well, what’s so important anyway? Other than you know . .
.”
I sneak a glance around us, but
no one’s looking or listening. I hope. “I can’t go swimming today. Can you
imagine? I need Lakyn to help me figure out how to drop the class.”
Silence.
Then Beth laughs. And people look. Boys actually stop their joking around to
turn and stare at us. Her eyes glitter with humour, and she laughs harder.
“Beth,” I grumble. “Honestly.”
“Oh yeah.
OK. Sorry,” she wheezes, “it’s just . . .” She giggles harder, burbles echoing
in her throat and expanding out across the eating area. “That’s funny.
Totally.
It’ll be all over the Internet in a split second.”
The muesli bar snaps in two in my
hands, and the smile drops from Beth’s face.
“You that worried
about it?
Listen, just don’t go. Get your mum to write a letter. I’ll
forge one for you,” she offers. “It’s just everyone is
gonna
die if you get in that pool, and I guess after yesterday, I can understand why.
What happened to me at the beach anyway?”
“You were out cold.” A grimace
pulls at my lips. “It’s not just today. I have to get off the swim team
permanently. Maybe I can say my psychiatrist doesn’t want me in the water and
get a note from her.” Especially considering she’s a finfolk turned human and
has been in on this with Lakyn since the beginning. The idea makes me feel
slightly murderous.
“Good idea.” Bethany nods. “Then
hope you don’t get caught.” She pushes her glasses up her nose. “Get Lakyn to
cover for you. Coach likes him and will do what he asks. He’s totally mad about
you. Lakyn, I mean. Not Coach.”
“You’re imagining things,” I
mutter, but heat steals up my cheeks. I pick at my nails. “I thought he was
only interested because of the . . . you know, the other thing.”
“Oh, come on, El,” she sighs,
“you mean how he fought off weird creatures who steal souls?
That
other thing?
Or how about when he saved your life with a
kiss?
”
She flashes me a wicked grin. “Or how about knowing he’s teaching you to swim
with a . . . oh, never mind. Don’t be blind.” She takes her glasses off and
stares at them, rubbing a dirty spot on her lens with her shirt. “I’ve seen the
way he looks at you.” Her eyes search mine. “You don’t really believe he’s just
interested in you because of . . . ?” Her gaze flicks down to my legs. “Do
you?”
“He heard me singing on the cliff
at the back of my house. He’s a guardian of the sea . . .”
“Stop fishing. If that’s how it
started, it’s not how it’s going to end.”
“He’ll probably get annoyed if I
text him again.” But I pull out my phone and send him a text anyway.
Hey
A minute or two passes.
Nothing.
God, I hate guys sometimes. I hate how he makes me
feel so needy and clingy. Deep inside, I want to cry. Instead I bite my lower
lip, then my fingernails and wonder what he’s doing. I know he’s not familiar
with smartphones, but I’m pretty sure he answers no problem. I worry about him,
but maybe he wants to put some space between us considering I broke the rules
and told Beth and Cal about the sirens? What will I do if he doesn’t reply at
all? My stomach trembles, heart hurts and I tug at my shirt, easing the
tightness of the cotton around my ribs. He must be struggling just as much as I
am with everything that’s happening.
The way his body
changes.
He’s becoming human at the same speed I’m turning into a
mermaid.
I push my sandwich around,
flicking disinterestedly at the plastic wrap and let my hair fall over my
shoulder, hoping Bethany won’t see the tears swelling in my eyes.
She talks about some new tech in
the shops, but all noise seems to fade into the background, and my gaze lands
on the trees, watching the leaves sway in the wind. All too soon the lunch bell
rings, and my stomach rumbles loudly. I stuff the forgotten sandwich into my
bag and dust off my skirt.
“Wish me luck.” I sigh.
Beth grins. “It’ll be all right.
Goood
luuuck
!”
She gives me a hug.
“Thanks, Beth.” I turn and hurry
down the walkway. The pavement reflects the sun, and as I walk along, the
outline of my shadow contrasts against the bright sunlight. My hair hangs in wispy
tendrils around my face.
I open the pool gate and trudge
up the bleachers, grabbing a seat in the shade, trying to stay in the shadows
so no one can see me.
“Mitchell,” the swim coach calls.
Terrific.
I lift my bag over my shoulder and stomp to the bottom of the stairs. “Coach,”
I begin, and then gather my courage, “I need to talk to you about the swim
team. I can’t get back into the water. I’m going to have to quit.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “That’s
not good enough. You signed up for the season. It’s a contract you signed up
for. There’s no way to get out of it.”
He obviously thinks I’ve never
read anything in my life.
Typical.
“I’m pretty sure
they don’t hold you to it if you’re under eighteen and seeing a psychiatrist
for almost drowning and your heart actually stopped for a couple of minutes. My
doctor says it’s a bad idea. She’s going to write a note for me.”