And Then I Turned Into a Mermaid

by Laura Kirkpatrick

  ‘That’s wild,’ Penalty Pete said. ‘My dad’s in prison too.’

  ‘Wow!’ Ada replied. ‘We have so much in common.’

  ‘Wait, your friend . . .’ Felicity popped her bubble gum. ‘Is that one of the Seabrook sisters? They always smell like chip grease in PE.’

  Molly froze, ice-cold hatred pulsing through her veins.

  But it only got worse when Ada just giggled and said, ‘Yup.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Blow-Up

  At the end of the day, Ada waited for Molly at the school gates, where they usually met to walk home together. Today Molly simply barged past her, shoulders tensed huffily, and strode off in the direction of the lighthouse. The pace was quite hard to maintain on account of her lack of physical fitness, but her stubbornness prevailed. She tried to disguise the panting as best she could, yet still ended up sounding like a cocker spaniel who’d run the London Marathon.

  Ada took off after her, jogging to keep up. ‘Mol? What’s wrong?’

  Molly struggled to keep the hurt out of her voice. ‘I heard you talking to Felicity Davison.’

  Ada fell silent for a moment, her cheeks tinged pink. ‘When?’

  ‘You’ve spoken to her more than once?’

  Chewing her bottom lip, Ada said defensively, ‘She’s not as bad as you think, Mol.’

  ‘Well, she didn’t seem to think much of my family.’

  ‘She was just joking.’ Ada tilted her head to one side in a concerned way. ‘You always take everything so seriously.’

  Molly stopped in her tracks, swinging on her heel to face Ada. Anger bubbled in her belly, then started rising in her throat like vomit. ‘How could you gossip about my mum like that? You made us look even weirder than we already are.’

  Ada held up her palms in mock defence. ‘Chill out! It’s just a funny story.’

  ‘To you it’s just a funny story, maybe, but to me it’s my life.’ Molly threw her bag to the ground, and Ada jumped backwards in shock. ‘How would you like it if I went around telling “funny stories” about your parents getting divorced?’

  ‘That’s hardly the same –’

  Molly put on a fake, giggly, popular-girl voice. “Hey, Felicity, did you hear about my friend’s mum? She had an affair with a wrinkly seventy-year-old and left her family for him! Sooooo funny, right?”

  Ada’s bottom lip quivered. ‘Stop, Mol—’

  ‘Not very nice, is it?’ Molly picked up her bag and started walking again.

  ‘You’re not very nice,’ Ada shouted after her. ‘You’re a horrible person. And you think you’re so much better than Felicity Davison, but you’re not.’

  ‘Fine! Go and share your prawn cocktail crisps with her, then!’ This wasn’t quite the searing insult Molly had intended, but she rolled with it. ‘Since she’s so great.’ Much better.

  ‘Maybe I will.’

  Ada stormed off in the other direction, back towards school, and Molly stalked the rest of the way home in furious silence. She hoped there was an oxygen tank waiting for her when she got through the door, because her lungs were about to explode from all the yelling and power walking.

  However, she arrived back at Kittiwake Keep to find Minnie hurtling around the living room and kitchen in a figure of eight. Her chocolate-stained face was frantic, her eyes wide, and she was chanting. ‘Bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog bad dog –’

  ‘She ate a box of seashell truffles,’ Mum explained, calmly looking at tax returns from the chip shop.

  Molly rolled her eyes. ‘For God’s sake.’

  ‘FOR DOG’S SAKE!’ Minnie skidded into a door frame, but looked completely unfazed, beginning her hurtling once again. ‘I’m a bad dog bad dog bad dog –’

  Ditching her bag by the table and beelining for the fridge, Molly said, ‘Shouldn’t we get her stomach pumped or something?’

  ‘Nah. She’ll vomit it up in due course.’

  Myla was also sitting at the kitchen table poring over some impossible-looking physics homework. She looked up. ‘Remember when Minnie had her appendix out, and when she came round from the anaesthesia she looked down at her catheter and said, “Goodbye, appendix. Hello, willy-winky”?’

  Right at that moment, Minnie threw up all over the living-room floor. Unfortunately, she didn’t stop running, so she sprinted straight into the waterfall of sick. Then she farted with the stress of it all.

  Molly swore under her breath. Earnestly, Minnie glared at Molly and said, ‘Bad dog.’

  The stench of puke stung at Molly’s nostrils, and she felt her temper rising once again. Breathing deeply, she attempted to control it as she peered into the fridge, willing some white chocolate to materialise.

  The puke-soaked Minnie continued with her mad dash around the house, with neither Mum nor Myla making any attempt to stop her and give her a good hosing down.

  Minnie tripped and stumbled over a chair leg, and went crashing to the ground. Instead of wailing in pain, however, she just looked up with her big, round eyes and said, ‘That wasn’t supposed to happen. Mummy, can I rip your eyelashes out?’

  Mum frowned over the tax return, clearly unhappy at some of the numbers. ‘Maybe later, darling.’

  Minnie grinned manically. ‘I like eyelashes. They’re delicious.’

  Slamming the fridge door shut, Molly felt herself lose the battle with her temper. It exploded from her mouth like Minnie’s sick.

  ‘Arrrghhhhhhhhh! Why is this family so weird? Why can’t we just be normal? Every other family in this stupid town is just . . . they’re normal, but we’re not, and it drives me crazy! No wonder Ada’s embarrassed to be friends with me. I wish . . .’ She was about to say something awful, but Minnie’s doleful red eyes forced the words back down. The lump in her throat bobbed like an ice cube. ‘Argh, forget it.’

  Despite Molly’s outburst, Myla didn’t even bother looking up from her homework.

  Mum just nodded non-committally. ‘Mmmm, I know, yes. Can you go and shower Minnie?’

  Strangely, washing her disgusting little sister was actually quite therapeutic. The sugar high had worn off by the time Molly had stripped away Minnie’s manky clothes and pushed her into the shower. Minnie stood there motionless, like a particularly gross statue, while Molly rinsed her hair with lukewarm water and soft vanilla shampoo. Thankfully showers didn’t seem to produce enough water to cause a transformation, because Molly didn’t think she had the energy to deal with a tail right now.

  Molly was just fishing a chunk of boiled carrot out of Minnie’s armpit when her little sister looked up at her, eyes gleaming, and said, ‘It was worth it.’

  Eventually the water ran clear, so Molly gently towelled Minnie off and got her into the comfiest pyjamas she could find. Throughout this process, Minnie only farted eight more times, which was actually a little on the light side.

  Once Minnie was safely curled up by the fire, stroking her own hair and whispering, ‘Good dog,’ Molly retreated to her empty room. Melissa was out at a hockey tournament, so Molly lay down on her bed with the lights still off and closed her eyes. Her blood thudded lightly in her ears – a hangover from the rage outburst.

  Then, sure enough, the guilt began to grow.

  This always happened after Molly lashed out at someone. At the time it felt good and right, and she believed wholeheartedly in what she was saying. Immediately afterwards, she was filled with triumphant self-righteousness. But eventually, once the adrenaline had worn off and she had time to think about what she’d done, invariably she was filled with regret.

  Had she overreacted about the Ada thing?

  OK, so Ada had used Molly’s mum’s skinny-dipping as joke fodder, and yes, she’d just giggled and agreed when Felicity Davison was mean about Molly’s chip-shop smell. Plus it was infuriating when Ada used that patronising tone, which made Molly feel two inches tall.

  Yet snapping back about Ada’s parents’ divorce w
as uncalled for. Ada had been devastated over the summer when it all came out, and Molly had just thrown that back in her face during a stupid argument.

  How could she have done that?

  Looking back, Molly knew she should’ve kept the moral high ground. She should have explained to Ada why she was hurt without stooping to insults.

  Her eyes pricked with tears. She wished she wasn’t like this. She lashed out so quickly and easily and then hated herself for it.

  It felt so much better to be gentle and kind, like when she’d showered Minnie just now. So why couldn’t she be like that all the time? It was like she wasn’t in control of her own words and actions, much like the sea had no control over its tides.

  The mood swings ruled her life, and she couldn’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

  CHAPTER NINE

  What’s Your Trout?

  Later that evening, Molly had finished a very slow chippy shift and was changing into her jammies when Melissa and Margot barged into the bedroom. Molly yelped and attempted to cover herself with a Seabrook’s menu, which was nowhere near extensive enough to shield her newly blossoming chest. Her sisters didn’t even have the common decency to look embarrassed.

  ‘Dude, what’s your trout?’ Margot asked.

  The Seabrook sisters had always said this instead of ‘what’s your beef ?’ because it was important to promote brand awareness at every opportunity.

  ‘What?’ Molly said, utterly fed up at this point.

  ‘You’re stomping around like you’re in a very angry music video.’

  Molly sighed. ‘Me and Ada fell out.’

  ‘What? How come?’ Melissa said, blinking as her fringe flopped into her eyes.

  Molly hastily filled them in on the drama, followed by the awful things she said. ‘I feel pretty bad about it.’

  ‘Why?’ Margot shrugged. ‘Sounds like Ada was a patronising turd.’

  ‘How exactly would a turd be patronising?’ asked Molly.

  ‘Listening to you two talk is like watching chimpanzees argue about bananas,’ Melissa interjected. ‘Molly, you really shouldn’t go off at people like that. It’s going to get you in serious trouble one day, you know. What if it was a police officer you lost your temper with?’

  ‘You know it’s not illegal to get angry, right, Melissa?’ Margot said.

  ‘Still, it’s not very wise to mouth off to a copper, is it?’

  Molly rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, well, thankfully Ada is thirteen and thus not a law enforcement official.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Margot said, shooting a bored look at Melissa and flopping on to the bed covered in stuffed penguins. ‘We’re playing mermaids tonight. In the actual sea and everything. And you’re coming with us.’

  Molly started to protest. ‘But I –’

  ‘I cannot emphasise enough how little I care about your excuses. You’re coming. End of story. Finito.’

  Turning her back and quickly tugging a grubby oversized T-shirt over her head, Molly muttered, ‘I don’t want to. End of story. Finito. And besides, didn’t Mum say we shouldn’t go in the deep sea? Isn’t it dangerous or something? Because of the poop?’

  ‘Only the really deep parts,’ Margot said, twiddling the tassel on Molly’s bedspread. ‘I’ve been in loads and I’m absolutely fine. No damage done.’

  ‘Debatable,’ Molly retorted, then turned to Melissa. ‘Hey, how come you’re so up for this? Going against Mum’s word and all.’

  Melissa chewed her lip, as though she was worried about this deep down. ‘I don’t think it’s as dangerous as she says it is. We don’t go that far. And I like spending time as a mermaid. With . . . you guys.’ She flushed bright red as she said this, as if admitting to liking her sisters’ company was of great embarrassment.

  Molly shoved her feet into her slippers. ‘Still no.’

  ‘Why not?’ Margot pouted, which did not suit her in the slightest.

  ‘Because I don’t want to be a freak. I just want to be normal, OK?’

  Margot scoffed and rolled her eyes. ‘And popular.’

  Cheeks burning, Molly fought the urge to stamp her foot. ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Rubbish. You think we don’t notice when you spend your entire lunch break staring at Steve Cox and the giggling girls who follow him around like ducklings chasing their mother? We have to clean up your drool with a mop.’

  Molly hated how obvious she was, and she hated Margot for making her feel even worse about it. With an air of finality, she said, ‘I’m not coming.’

  ‘Please, Molly,’ Melissa pleaded. ‘It’s an important day for Margot.’

  ‘Why?’ Molly muttered. ‘Is she marrying a squid? Starting her first day of work over in Loony Town?’

  ‘She has a derby match.’

  ‘The derby match.’ Margot had a smug look on her face.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Marmouth Marlins versus Tweedtown Trevallies.’

  Molly rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, when you say it like that it makes total sense.’

  ‘Clamdunk,’ Margot said simply.

  Melissa nodded enthusiastically. ‘The mermaid sport.’

  Molly scoffed. ‘I suppose the sea’s a bit wet for football.’

  ‘Margot’s the youngest player ever to make it to the premier league.’

  ‘Is she striker for Man United?’

  Melissa shook her head, as though Molly’s suggestion had been genuine. ‘Chalker for Marmouth Marlins.’

  Molly shook her head. ‘Obviously. Does Mum know about this?’

  ‘God, you sound like Melissa,’ Margot muttered. Melissa shot her a death stare. ‘No, she doesn’t know. So keep your lips sealed, all right? Snitches get stitches.’

  ‘Are we gangsters now?’ Molly asked, wondering vaguely what a gang of mermaids might look like.

  ‘Please come, Molly.’ Melissa wrung her hands. ‘Margot’s nervous.’

  Margot glared, clearly offended. ‘Am not.’

  ‘She wants you there.’

  ‘Do not.’

  But Melissa was right, Molly thought. Margot did look nervous. She clenched her fists tightly, as though to stop her fingers trembling, and her face was pale and clammy.

  ‘Fine, but I don’t want to risk anyone seeing us,’ Molly mumbled. ‘Even when it’s dark you can still see down to the beach from the prom.’ This, at least, was the truth.

  ‘Firstly, cute that you think this takes place on the beach, like volleyball or some other basic human sport.’ Margot folded her arms. ‘Secondly, cute that you don’t think I have at least half a dozen secret ways out of this lighthouse.’

  Molly must’ve still looked unconvinced, because then Margot smiled gently, which Molly did not think she was capable of doing. Her usual expression was a troublemaking smirk.

  ‘Look, Mol. This happens. It does. Your body wants to be a mermaid. It’s what feels most natural to it. So when you deprive your body of its natural state for too long, the frustration starts to build up inside you. Eventually, it bubbles over. We’ve all learned that lesson the hard way.’ A pointed look at Melissa. ‘All of us.’

  Could this be true? Could her angry outbursts really not entirely be her fault?

  ‘But I’ve been like this for years,’ Molly whispered. ‘It can’t just be the mermaid thing. Can it?’

  ‘No,’ Margot admitted. ‘You are also a grumpy goat. But the mermaid thing doesn’t help. I promise you’ll feel more calm and level once you’ve spent some time in the sea.’

  Molly wanted so badly for this to be true. All right, so it wouldn’t make what happened with Ada any better. The damage was already done. But if there was something she could do to prevent it from happening again, it had to be worth a try.

  She took a deep breath. ‘OK. I believe you. Which is probably a mistake, because last time I believed you, I ate a dead housefly thinking it was a raisin.’

  Margot beamed. ‘Good times.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Trapdoor
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br />   When it came to hidden passageways out of the lighthouse, Margot was as good as her word.

  Once Mum had gone to bed, Molly, Margot and Melissa snuck down the creaky spiral staircase and slipped through the living room into the semicircular kitchen. Margot made a beeline to the broken dishwasher, and promptly began tugging it away from the wall.

  ‘I’m not sure a broken dishwasher is going to make us transform,’ Molly whispered.

  ‘Oh do shut up for once in your life,’ Margot muttered, huffing and puffing as she finally hoisted the dishwasher into the centre of the room. Molly remembered what she’d said about how her superhuman strength was only accessible when she was a mermaid. If she had a tail right now, she’d probably be able to perform a conga with the dishwasher, the Aga and the kitchen table.

  To Molly’s astonishment, there was a trapdoor beneath the spot where the broken dishwasher had always sat. Working as silently as possible, Margot opened the trapdoor to reveal an old rope ladder leading down to . . . somewhere.

  Molly’s chest pounded with excitement. As a kid living in an abandoned lighthouse, this was the kind of thing she’d always dreamed about. Trick stairs, hidden treasure, ghosts and ghouls haunting the creepy attic, pulling a book off a bookcase to watch the whole thing swing open and reveal dusty old rooms nobody knew about but her.

  And now there was a trapdoor in the kitchen! Molly could hardly contain her squeals of anticipation. Margot descended first, followed by Melissa. Molly practically flew down after them, nearly misplacing her foot on one rung – she was so desperate to see what was in this secret cellar that she couldn’t help her haste.

  At first, Molly was a little disappointed. The circular room was lit by small lights studded around the walls, but as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, all she could make out were bookshelves. Lots and lots of bookshelves – each and every one full to bursting with old leather-bound books.

  Reading Molly’s expression, Margot said, ‘Take a closer look.’

  Running her forefinger over the nearest antique volume, Molly peered at its title: Aquata: A Complete Biography of Meire’s Iconic Founder. A jaunt along the rest of the row revealed more mermish books: Mythical Merfolk and their Astounding Ancestry, A Beginner’s Guide to Subaquatic Astrology, A Short History of the Great Meire-Syreni War. Dozens upon dozens of books dedicated to her very own heritage. Were these the ancient aquatic texts Myla studied with her merpower?