Teenage Mermaid (4 page)

A
t home later that day, I couldn't concentrate on my Surf Slam 3000 video game. I gazed at my
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit poster, then tore it from my wall. Who needed a supermodel to pine over? That was kid stuff! After all, magazine girls required hours of professional makeup and pea-sized dinners. I had something real, even if it had only lasted a moment, a magical kiss from a dream girl I'd probably never see again. I switched off my desk lamp and lay on my bed, wondering if she'd ever find the ad, ever show up at the football field, if I'd ever see her again. I reflected on her pink lips, her sparkling smile, and caressed the necklace in my hand, wishing it were her.

I
lay awake in bed that night, despite being exhausted from the day's events. My round mattress hung by red vines from the ceiling, which was plastered with glow-in-the-dark suction-cupped starfish, while real sea horses swam on top of my flashy red dresser, grabbing onto the marble cone drawer handles when they wanted to rest. Banned books were stashed under my clothes in a drawer. Beneath my bed, Bubbles slept restlessly as if she'd swallowed the potion, too.

I lay awake wondering about Earth life. We knew that Earthees had legs, and we had fins. Similar, but different. But how different could they be, really, on the inside?

Above my bedroom, above Pacific Reefs, far above the surface of the water, the crescent moon shone two hundred thousand miles away in the starry sky. But I still had fins, just like all my friends who'd drunk Shark Attacks or frog juice tonight—and not a rancid-tasting potion that cost a crystal fortune. But maybe it was best it hadn't worked. Maybe Earth was too dangerous, as Waverly and everybody else believed.

I closed my eyes, waiting for sleep, thankful that Madame Pearl was an impostor after all, and wondered how I was going to tell my mother I'd lost great-grandfather's silver necklace.

A
t 7:30
A.M
. I stood by the south goalpost. This was one event I didn't want to be late for. Not that my life was any big deal. Since my mom left my father and me when I was a kid, our house ceased being a home. I found peace only when riding the waves. I changed my hair color with my changing moods—to lift me out of a funk or cover up the fact I was in one.

But today I sported blue spikes for a different reason, this time in celebration—in honor of the sea where we met. Because this morning was different. I awoke with a swelling of my being, that went beyond my usual swellings! It was a swelling of emotion, a connection to life I'd never felt before. I noticed the
magnificence of the clouds as they rolled in from the ocean, the chirping of seagulls, the smell of the sea air. I felt a joy that went way beyond a hundred-thousand score on a Surf Slam 3000 video game, a DVD copy of
Star Wars
, or a year's subscription to
Wipeout
.

But most of all, I felt a connection to her, even though I didn't know her name, and had never heard her voice. Was I obsessed or possessed? If Chainsaw caught wind of my innermost thoughts and feelings, he'd punch me out for sure. I wanted to give her flowers, buy her candy, serenade her underneath a balcony, write her poetry, carve her initials in a tree. It isn't every day that someone breathes life into you. And her breath seemed purer than any I'd ever known.

Eight-fifteen. I mashed my sweaty palms against my jeans. Eight thirty-two. I unraveled a stick of Wrigley's. Eight forty-five. I kicked an empty Coke can. Nine o'clock. I leaned pessimistically against the goalpost.

The bell rang, beckoning me to arrive on time for U.S. history. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and looked at the desolate field. Maybe my personal lifeguard was a late sleeper. Maybe my ad should have read 3:30
P.M
. Maybe I was just a complete idiot.

I waited until nine-fifteen, then I waited until nine-thirty. Gym class began running its way around the track. I sauntered up to the fifty-yard line and, dejected, made my way inside the building, late for first bell.

I
woke up on the shore, lying on my back facing the burning sun. I had to squint, the sun was so bright. I could tell by its position it was just after nine-thirty. Why wasn't I in the water? Why wasn't I in bed? Where was Bubbles? I felt parched to the bone, extremely thirsty. My palms were wet with water that seemed to come from my own hands. My hair was sticky with sand. I could smell the fishy sea air, and hear the sound of seagulls. I panicked. I couldn't breathe. I must get back to the ocean! I felt like I was moving in slow motion, as if I were in a dream—this must just be a dream.

And then I remembered Madame Pearl. I sat up and got the shock of my life, for dangling from the
bottom of my hips were legs! My fin was gone. Gone! What had I done?

“Madame Pearl!” I screamed in an Earthee voice. “Madame!”

I wigged out—wildly wiggling two skinny legs and ten tiny toes! I'd sold my crystal sea horse collection for these legs, but the reality was terrifying. I was cold, naked, and alone. Why hadn't Madame Pearl told me I'd need Earthee clothes? Suddenly the sun seemed to pulsate, the sky started to spin back and forth and day turned to night.

“This isn't a nude beach!” a woman's voice called.

“Madame Pearl?” I whispered, opening my eyes and gasping in crisp air.

“Put your clothes on!” yelled a wrinkled Earthlady wearing a bright purple hat.

Flustered and confused, I spied a yellow beach towel lying a few inches from me. I grabbed it, and wrapped it around my body. Not satisfied, Earthlady pointed to a pile of clothes lying next to a backpack.

“Get dressed, young lady!”

“But this isn't—” I began.

“You're lucky I found you and not the police!”

The police? I had no choice. I couldn't spend my first day on Earth in jail. I picked up a pink top and a pair of matching shorts. I had seen Earthees before, of course, and I knew how they dressed, but
Earthlady's critical stare made me so nervous I couldn't think straight. The next thing I knew I was putting my arms through the shorts. Flustered, I untangled myself and tried to put them on where they belonged. But in my panic, I shoved both legs into one leg hole. I stumbled, fumbled, and tumbled around on the sand.

Finally I stuck my new two legs into different holes and struggled to pull the shorts up. I tried to fasten the button but the shorts were too tight. So I let it go and reached for the shirt.

I tried inserting my head. Choking, I realized I had an arm hole. I rearranged the top and managed to pull it down, but it was much too big and hung off my shoulders like seaweed clinging to the edge of a rock. The shirt came down to my knees, so I tied it around my waist.

I knew I must have been completely dressed when Earthlady grinned with relief.

“You kids are always breaking the rules!” she chided, like a grandma.

An Earthee! Speaking to me, as if I were one of her own kind. Fascinated, I forgot my fear. In any case, she seemed as harmless as a starfish. I stared at her crinkly beige skin and her purple straw hat, her fiery attitude hunching her over more than her aging years.

“You're too pale to lay out without clothes,” she
scolded, but in a softer voice. “And you should wear a hat like mine. The sun'll ruin that color job!”

I nodded respectfully, and shoved white open-toed shoes on my two new feet. My two new feet! I was a real Earthee!

Earthlady continued to observe me. I tried to stand up, but I immediately fell over.

“I just bought these legs,” I joked, choking the words out.

“You must have gotten up too quickly,” she said, extending her hand.

“Blood rushed to my head.”

She guided me straight up and held me steady as we began to walk—I for the first time in my life!

“You forgot your backpack,” Earthlady said.

“But that's not—” I began, but she had already left me to kindly retrieve the bag.

I teetered on one leg, then the other. I clung to the lifeguard stand. I didn't have water for support, and the air was so thin. Okay, Lills, I said to myself. Either walk to Seaside High or swim all the way to the freezing Atlantic!

“You're dehydrated!” the woman said, pulling a bottle of water from her huge canvas purse.

I pressed my lips around the opening and sucked the contents down in one gulp.

“Oh, my. You are thirsty!”

She helped steady me. I coughed on the smoke from her cigarette. It was hard enough breathing pure air without having to breathe smoke.

“Which way to Seaside High?” I asked, choking, as she helped me put on the backpack.

She pointed past the beach to the hill, where a large school overlooked the Pacific Ocean.

“Well, in that case, you're late, kid,” she said sternly. “You'd better get moving!”

“I'm walking as fast as I can,” I said, starting to balance on my own.

 

I stepped on shells, cigarette butts, and empty soda cans. But I quickly recovered and marched up to the top of the beach, where I walked on deep, green grass. It bent easily and felt cushiony, even tickling my toes. A paved hilly road lined with palm trees led to Seaside High School. I was exhausted when I arrived at the entrance. An actual Earthee school! It was much bigger than Pacific Reefs High.

I was breathing and walking pretty well by now. I once read it takes a whole year for an Earth child to stand, much less walk, and I'd done it in less than an hour! Maybe mermaids are a higher life form after all.

Earthdudes and dudettes were leaning against palm trees, walking briskly up stairs, and sitting on the lawn. Tall ones, short ones, skinny and fat, red-
haired and yellow-haired. Girls, boys, and some kids whose gender I couldn't tell.

Would they know I was a mermaid? Would they pounce on me? Harpoon me? I sucked in a deep breath of air and slowly walked up the front stairs, with the help of the railing, but a girl making out with her boyfriend blocked the way. I carefully stepped around them and opened a huge wooden door. I entered a corridor filled with tall cabinets, smooth to my touch, not rusted like the metal at home. One minute it smelled like water lilies, then the next it smelled like an old finball. I read the signs hanging on the walls: M
ATH
C
LUB
M
EETING
C
ANCELED
. C
ONGRATULATIONS
, S
HARKS
,
ON A
W
INNING
Y
EAR
! FESTIVAL OF FIREWORKS—F
RIDAY NIGHT
.

I was mesmerized by all the Earthly activity—laughing, shouting, running, kissing. Some Earthteens dressed as if they'd come straight from the Underworld—tattoos, pierced ears, noses, eyebrows, and tongues. Others dressed as if they'd come from a finball game. Many looked at me as I walked by. Could they tell I was a mermaid? I felt dizzy and leaned against a cabinet to catch my breath.

A guy in a G
O
S
HARKS
! shirt approached me, leaned in, and reached his hand to my side. I jumped away.

“That's my locker, chick.”

Shocked, I raced away and was thrust into the
middle of a crowd of briskly walking teens. I scanned their faces but none was my Earthdude.

I noticed a wall clock. Nine fifty-five. I was way late for our stadium meeting. And where was the stadium, anyway? Where was he? I peered into a laboratory classroom. Then I looked into an office where a flustered woman was sorting papers at a cluttered wooden desk. Apparently I looked lost.

“May I help you?” the round Earthwoman asked. She seemed to be helpful and trusting.

“I'm looking for—”

“You must be Candy Hartman!” she exclaimed. “I'm Mrs. Linwood, the school secretary. We've been expecting you! I have all your paperwork here.” She reached among the papers scattered on her desk. “Welcome to Seaside!”

“But I'm not—”

“Prepared? I know. It's hard joining school at the end of the year. But with your father being with the government, I'm sure you're used to it! Quite exciting, really. But mum's the word!” she said, strangely motioning her hand over her lips.

“We've assigned you to Mr. Costello's class. I'll show you the way,” she said, taking me by the arm. “You'll fit right in!”

Fit right in? But I just learned to walk an hour ago!

I was supposed to be in predators and prey class
right now. My out-of-water tardiness was turning into a full-day's absence.

My cherub-faced escort stopped at a crowded classroom. Is this where Earthdude studied? A thousand wide-eyed sharks were staring at me! All I wanted to do was get my locket and leave. But suddenly I not only had legs, but new clothes, and now a new name.

“Good morning, Ms. Hartman, take a seat, please,” the teacher said to me. He looked like Mr. Dorsal in cheap pants.

The room was fascinating. Everyone sat on wooden seats with small tables attached, in neat rows. Lights hung from the ceiling, and the walls were plastered with pictures and maps.

I folded my new legs together under my chair and quickly became stuck. Students stared at me as my legs banged against the desk. I noticed their legs dangled, their feet touching the floor.

“This isn't yoga class!” said the leering girl who sat next to me.

The clock read ten-thirty! I was stuck here, trapped from moving forward on my mission. But suddenly my new surroundings engaged me, tantalized me with the reality of all I'd ever dreamed of. I, Waterlilly, was suddenly an Earthdudette myself! I immediately became engrossed with my Earth-school environment.

I finally untangled my legs and peered around the room, making mental notes. A map of Earth, pictures of a pasty man with fluffy white-coral hair, and a thin man with a huge black hat and beard. Another darker man with a mustache and the words, “I have a dream.” If Mrs. Current could see me now!

I had learned a lot in Earth history, but a lifetime of study couldn't have prepared me for a real Earthee class. And the Earthees themselves were interesting—blonde girls with blue makeup on their eyelids, shorts, short skirts, dresses, chunky canvas shoes with string ties, or open-toed shoes. And each girl had different colored toenails—pink, purple, green. I wondered if it was cosmetic paint or if they were born that way.

I glanced out the window, which gave a thrilling view of the sea in the distance. I watched the waves crashing against the shore. It was an incredible perspective, breathtakingly beautiful. I'd never seen the ocean from such a height.

“Candy…Candy?” Mr. Costello shouted, just as Mrs. Current always shouted at me. At least some things on Earth were the same. “Can you name the four men sculpted in rock on Mount Rushmore?”

Rock group? I thought. “Of course!” I answered confidently. “John, Paul, George, and Ringo!”

The class burst into laughter. A cute guy sitting next
to me—who looked like Beach, only instead of white hair, he had sandy blond hair—nudged me in the legs. Everyone stared and giggled. I slunk back, feeling stupid.

“Miss Hartman, this is social studies, not MTV one-oh-one.”

The class laughed even more.

“Do you even know where Mount Rushmore is?”

The cute guy leaned toward me. “Tennessee,” he whispered.

“Tennessee!” I shouted.

The class laughed even louder.

I stared at him with contempt. “I thought it was,” he whispered, shrugging his shoulders.

“Settle down, class,” Mr. Costello said. “Now let's review the presidential elections.”

I was fascinated with the rest of his lecture and forgot about the necklace and the time. Presidents, the electoral college, voting. I had never been interested in school in my whole life! But I seemed to be the only one listening. One boy had his head resting on his desk. The girl in front of me was scribbling hearts in a pink journal. Another boy was watching moving pictures on a small screen in his lap. In the sea all students were attentive, like merpuppets.

Suddenly the bell rang.

Mr. Tennessee picked up my social studies text
while the other students left the classroom.

“My name's Calvin.”

“My name's…”

“I know your name. It's cool to meet you, Candy.”

“Yeah…totally glacial,” I said, distracted. “Hey Calvin,” I said inching close. “I need help. Can you help me find—”

“Your next class?” he interrupted.

What if Earthdude was sitting in my next class? I held out the slip of paper with my class schedule.

“Cool, you have geography. Same as me! This is your lucky day. I'll show you the way.”

“Just hurry,” I said.

The moon was ticking.