And Then I Turned Into a Mermaid

by Laura Kirkpatrick

  Trying to shake away the anger at Felicity, Molly flashed an eye-roll at Margot, like she usually did whenever Melissa mounted her high horse. To her surprise, though, Margot looked sheepish.

  ‘Melissa’s actually right, Mol.’ Margot chewed her lip. ‘We could get in real trouble with the government if this secret gets out.’

  ‘Mmm, yes, I’m sure this exactly the kind of thing the prime minister gets involved in,’ Molly replied drily, taking a bite of jacket potato.

  Margot snorted. ‘Not the human government, you idiot.’

  ‘Ah. The schmermaid government, then.’

  Margot raised an eyebrow. ‘Schmermaid?’

  ‘Just in case anyone overhears us.’

  ‘Oh yes. Your code is quite brilliant. Truly impossible to decipher. They could really use you over at MI5. And yes, the schmermaid government.’

  Molly laughed so hard she spat cheese everywhere. ‘They have a government? Where’s parliament? Rock pool thirty-six in never-never land?

  Margot looked genuinely hurt. ‘Democracy isn’t just for legged species, you know.’

  Holding up her hands, Molly sighed. ‘Fine. You win. No schmermaid talk at school.’

  However, it was only a matter of hours before Margot broke her own rule. She passed Molly in the corridor as they were both coming from fifth period, and nodded towards the giant bottle of Ribena in Molly’s hands.

  ‘Better be careful with that,’ Margot whispered darkly.

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Anything over a litre is a transformation risk.’

  ‘Are you having me on?’ Molly muttered.

  Margot shrugged. ‘Go on, then. Find out the hard way.’

  Molly hastily shoved the Ribena back in her satchel, ignoring Ada’s quizzical looks.

  Later, though, she realised Margot must have been joking. Just last week, she’d walked in on Melissa having a bath, and even though it was pretty shallow, it was certainly more than a litre full. Melissa had shrieked for Molly to get out while she slathered hair removal cream all over her legs, and, more entertainingly, her moustache area. Molly had told Margot this, her older sister made an effort to always have some kind of moustache on her own face when Melissa entered the room. Her favourite props were string cheese, chocolate mousse and pepperami.

  Foolishly, Molly seemed to think that she had managed to avoid catastrophe for today, so she was not on guard as she nipped to the loo before she walked home. As such, she ignored the yellow ‘CAUTION: WET’ sign propped in front of the door, and pushed her way into the girls’ toilets without a second thought.

  Right into an enormous pool of flooded toilet water.

  Slipping on a wad of mushy bog roll, Molly tumbled to the ground.

  Almost at once the tingling started, and she felt her legs clamping together.

  NO!

  Panic set in as she tried to struggle to her feet, but she just ended up flailing madly and coating the walls and ceiling in manky toilet water.

  Maybe if I make it back into the corridor before I fully transform . . .

  But she wasn’t moving fast enough. Her uniform disappeared, and her pale skin turned into even paler white scales. Her blazer made way for the shimmery white top. Fighting the urge to scream and yell, Molly grabbed her phone from her school bag and texted Margot.

  Schmermaid emergency! First-floor loos! HELP OR YOU ARE NO LONGER MY SISTER!!

  Thrashing around so violently it was like she was being electrocuted, Molly tried to control her panic, but it was no use. The mere sight of her ghostly white tail was enough to send shivers up her spine.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. What if the caretaker finds me here at midnight? What if I’ve become so desperate she finds me sawing my own tail off with a plastic ruler?

  Praying that Margot didn’t take too long with her marine rescue, Molly decided to take matters into her own hands. She tried to turn over, but her tail just flapped uselessly from side to side. When she attempted to drag herself to the door, she found that the flooded floor was too slippery for her hands, and she just ended up face planting the linoleum.

  Why had the tail seemed so much easier to control on the beach? Maybe she was getting too worked up. Breathe, Molly.

  Time for plan B.

  Rubbing her nose, which had now been bruised twice in the space of one school day, she gripped the lip of a sink and tried to haul herself up out of the shallow water.

  Unfortunately, her upper body strength was almost nil, and she collapsed to the ground with an oomph. The impact caused her to burp very loudly.

  Again and again she tried to lift herself up from the floor using the sink, hoping a dry tail might become legs once more, and again and again she flopped back down and burped involuntarily.

  Right, I need a new tactic, she thought, gritting her teeth.

  Molly’s next idea was to invent some sort of pulley system. Her school bag was saturated with water, and now very heavy. Plus the straps were quite long. Maybe if she could toss the heavy part over the top of the toilet booth while clinging on to the strap, it would act like one of those spiky things on a long rope that cartoon spies use to get into high buildings.

  Gathering all the strength she had – and wishing she had paid more attention when Mr Hopkins had tried to teach them javelin – Molly launched the bag with all her might. Unfortunately, she overdid it somewhat . . . and forgot to hold on to the straps. The bag landed directly in the toilet with a plop.

  Despairingly, Molly wondered why she couldn’t throw half that well during netball. Because she was taller than average, she was always being put in goal attack, where she proceeded to make a total and utter idiot of herself.

  There was still no sign of Margot. With desperation now mounting, Molly tried one more time to haul herself out of the gross mini-lake using the sink.

  With an enormous crack, the sink severed itself from the wall in a dusty splintering of plaster. Molly fell backwards, still holding on to the sink, and was almost immediately crushed beneath it.

  Well, crushed was an exaggeration. Molly’s body was stuck in the crook of the sink, where the bowl met the stem, so she was not actually in any physical danger. But still, she was wedged in there pretty tightly, and at the complete mercy of whoever walked in next.

  What if Ada came looking for her? Or even worse, Felicity Davison and her popular squad? What would they find? A beached whale trapped beneath a manky sink, suffering the world’s worst shower from a burst pipe.

  In a long overdue piece of good fortune, Margot was the next person through the door. Phone in hand, she took one look at Molly and erupted into the deepest belly laugh of all time.

  On and on and on the laughing went. Honking like a startled goose, Margot clutched the one remaining upright sink.

  ‘How?’ she asked, completing her own transformation into a schmermaid. ‘Just . . . oh my actual God, Molly! How?’

  Molly would have folded her arms indignantly, had she not been pinned to the ground by a giant chunk of porcelain. ‘Just help me up, would you? Maybe if you drag me out from one side . . .’

  Once she’d finally caught her breath and wiped away the tears of laughter streaming down her freckly face, Margot grabbed the sink with one hand and effortlessly lifted it off the ground, and Molly.

  Molly gaped at her as Margot propped it back against the wall. ‘Mind explaining how you’re some kind of powerlifter?’

  Margot shrugged, as though she’d done nothing more impressive than pick up a pencil. ‘It’s my merpower.’

  ‘Merp-what? What’s a merp hour? I have never heard of the verb “to merp”.’

  ‘Merpower. Every mermaid has one.’ Margot stuck her head into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, then effortlessly pulled Molly through the toilet lake until they were back on dry floor. ‘Mine is super-strength.’

  ‘Margot, I watched you struggle to open the tumble dryer the other day.’

  Margot wiggled her postbox-red tail. �
��Only when I have this thing. Otherwise I’d be all over those weird TV shows where people have to pull trucks for no reason.’

  Relief flooded through Molly as her legs – and somehow her tights and skirt – reappeared. Then came her blazer and shirt. She rested her soaking back against the corridor wall and sighed. ‘What’s mine, then? When do you find out? Is there some kind of welcome-to-mermaidhood ceremony I need to attend?’

  Margot busied herself with retrieving Molly’s bag from the loo. Calling back out into the corridor, she said, ‘Mmm, yes, they push you out into the Atlantic on a wooden raft, and if you make it all the way to Nantucket, you’re officially a mermaid. That is where the verb ‘to merp’ comes from.’

  ‘Margot . . .’

  Margot dumped the sodden bag next to Molly and wiped her hands on her blazer as her own legs returned. ‘You just kind of . . . find out. Mine didn’t take long, obviously. Soon as I picked up a speedboat with my left thumb I thought something was a bit off. And Melissa can tell when people are lying. That didn’t take long either, since I lie to her roughly seventeen times per day.’

  What will my merpower be? Molly found herself wondering, although part of her was scared of the answer. What if it was something as rubbish as her white tail?

  ‘What about Myla?’ she asked.

  ‘Hers took ages to discover. She can speak every sea language without having to study them. Well, with the exception of Kelpish, but that’s only spoken in rivers and streams.’

  ‘Oh, well, of course not Kelpish!’ Molly snorted. ‘That would be absurd!’

  Margot pulled a Dairylea triangle out of her blazer pocket and shoved the entire thing in her mouth at once. Molly wished she had a bit of white chocolate to gnaw on. ‘Bit of a pointless merpower, since we no longer live in the sea. Myla being Myla, she uses it to study ancient aquatic texts.’

  Molly thought she wouldn’t know an ancient aquatic text if it kicked her in the head, but good for her sister.

  In any case, she couldn’t wait for the day this all felt normal to her too.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Embarrassing Friend

  The toilet lake was just the beginning.

  The next week there were a lot of new-found problems to contend with. During their swimming lesson, Molly not only had to make her excuses as to why she had to sit this one out – she was surprised Mr Hopkins bought the tuberculosis explanation – but she also had to make sure she was far enough away from the water that she wouldn’t spontaneously transform into a mermaid. The second she felt scales forming on her hips as they walked to the pool, she knew she was in danger of transforming, and set herself up in the canteen with a raspberry-ice slushie – that well-known cure for late-stage tuberculosis.

  The one plus side of wearing a haddock suit to work was that if Molly didn’t notice the tide had come in and was lapping at the foot of the promenade, her sudden and severe transformation was disguised by the layers of cheap polyester.

  The downside was that she couldn’t stretch out her arms in the suit’s tiny fins, so every time the tail sent her tumbling to the ground, she had no way of breaking her fall. She had been to A&E no fewer than four times in the space of a week, once with a sprained wrist and three times with suspected concussion. The doctor gravely advised her to give up contact sports.

  Molly wished it were that simple. Being a part-time mermaid was, frankly, a bit inconvenient.

  However, she and Ada were making slight progress on their mission to infiltrate the Populars and convince Fit Steve and Penalty Pete to marry them.

  They were hiding in their locker nook one day, chowing down on prawn cocktail crisps, when Ada excitedly whispered, ‘You’ll never guess what!’

  ‘Mermaids are real and walk among us?’ Molly suggested.

  Ada snorted. ‘Yeah, like mermaids can walk.’

  Molly nodded sagely. ‘Good point.’

  ‘So, Penalty Pete spoke to me!’

  ‘Oh my God, really?’ Molly felt genuinely excited for her friend, who had loved Pete since long before his penalty-shootout fame. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘I stopped by the football pitch after orchestra, just to watch him play for a bit. Build up the face recognition, you know?’

  Molly nodded again, dipping her finger into the crisp crumbs at the bottom of the packet and sucking off the last smidge of flavour. She then delved into her pocket for her packet of Milky Bar buttons. ‘Playing the long game. Smart.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Ada screwed her face up. ‘Ugh, Felicity Davison was there too, though, waving flirtily at Fit Steve.’

  Molly’s stomach sank. ‘Did you kick her in the shins?’

  Ada was not at all shocked or concerned by this question. ‘Yep. Twice on each leg.’

  ‘Atta girl.’

  ‘Then someone hoofed the ball out of bounds, and it landed near me, so I picked it up.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Penalty Pete jogged over, so I passed it back to him, and he said, “Thanks.” Then he looked at my tuba, and said, “What’s that?” and I said, “It’s a tuba, Pete.” And he said, “Cool,” and ran away again.’ Ada’s face was practically luminous at this point. It was like looking at a UV light. ‘Can you believe it? He now knows about my tuba!’

  To Molly, this didn’t sound anywhere near as romantic as the conversation she and Fit Steve had held about battered sausages, but she didn’t want to dash Ada’s dreams. ‘Ada, do you know what I think? I think you’ve basically been to first base.’

  This was only accurate if there were six thousand bases after that one, but still. Tuba banter had to mean something.

  Turns out it did. Over the following few weeks, Ada managed to manufacture several more inane conversations with the football star turned tuba fan. The brief chats were going better and better, to the point where Penalty Pete actually learned Ada’s name, and actively smiled whenever he saw her.

  For some reason, though, Molly noticed Ada didn’t want her around during these wooing attempts. She kept making half-hearted excuses about choir and orchestra and headaches and family emergencies, and would only later tell Molly about another instance of Pete communication.

  One day, Molly waited in the locker nook for twenty minutes at morning break, but Ada never showed up. While this was positive in that Molly got to eat four packets of Quavers herself, it was still irritating.

  They didn’t have the next lesson together, since Ada was in the top set for English, and by the time lunch rolled around without an apology text, Molly was beginning to feel a bit annoyed and abandoned.

  When Ada dumped her packed lunch on the table and plonked down next to Molly, Molly barely looked up.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Ada said immediately.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Why aren’t you looking at me?’

  ‘I don’t know. Do I normally look at you?’

  ‘Yes, Molly. You’re like a googly-eyed bat.’

  ‘Bats are blind. Honestly, aren’t you meant to be in the top set?’

  Ada looked affronted. ‘Seriously, what’s got into you?’

  Molly’s cheeks burned red like they always did when she was frustrated. She stabbed at her baked beans with a knife. ‘You just keep pieing me off to spend time with Penalty Pete. I don’t understand why I can’t come with you when you speak to him. Doesn’t he think it’s weird that you’re always by yourself ?’

  Shrugging, Ada bit into her peanut butter and jam sandwich, which Molly knew she only ate because she thought it was something cool American kids did. ‘I think he thinks I’m really independent. Mysterious, you know? I need to seem mature enough for him – he is two years older, after all.’

  Molly lowered her voice, not wanting to sound petulant. ‘And you don’t care that you’re leaving me by myself ?’

  ‘You’re not by yourself !’ Ada replied, overly enthusiastically. ‘You have your sisters, don’t you?’

  Molly knew Ada was deliberately missing the point, so s
he said nothing.

  ‘Come on, Mol.’ Ada licked rogue jam from the side of her mouth. Molly noticed it was painted with nude lipstick. ‘This was always our game plan! We infiltrate the Populars, start going out with Pete and Steve, and then when we’re grown up we buy houses next door to each other so all our kids can be friends. Have you changed your mind?’

  Thinking of Fit Steve’s floppy hair – and also the idea of him as a centaur – Molly muttered, ‘No,’ even if half-mermaid, half-centaur babies did seem impossible.

  ‘So there’s no problem,’ Ada announced with an air of finality. ‘We’re right on track.’

  That’s when Molly started to feel a little relieved that she couldn’t tell Ada about the mermaid thing – not even if she wanted to. Knowing the truth would probably make her ever more embarrassed to be seen with Molly, especially if she started going out with Penalty Pete properly.

  However, despite all Molly’s best efforts to behave as normally as possible, Ada turned out to be ashamed of her anyway.

  A few days later, Molly was walking to history after morning break when she overheard Ada talking to Penalty Pete and Felicity Davison by the water fountain. Ada had hiked her skirt up shorter than usual, and had styled her glossy black hair in the same way all the popular girls wore it at the moment – half up, half down, with thin plaits wrapping around the side.

  ‘. . . this one time, I had to rescue my friend’s mum from jail,’ Ada was saying.

  Molly stopped in her tracks, the sinking feeling in her stomach telling her exactly where this was going.

  Felicity, the queen bee of year nine, coiled a lock of smooth blond hair around her index finger. ‘No way. What happened?’

  Ada’s voice was overly relaxed, like she was trying desperately hard to seem chill. ‘She went skinny-dipping in the sea . . .’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘In the middle of the day! So cringe. I nearly died, like, literally.’

  Molly wanted to cry. Ada was massively exaggerating, just to make the Populars like her. Molly’s mum hadn’t been taken to jail – just given a bit of a telling-off by a haughty police officer. She clenched her fist around her Tudors book.