Real Mermaids Don't Need High Heels (3 page)

Getting to homeroom took
forever
because Serena held me hostage at the bulletin board outside the school office well after everyone had scattered for their classes. She kept pulling notices off the board and handing them to me, wanting to know what they meant.

“That's to sign up for senior band and the other one is about cyber-bullying, but Serena—you can't keep pulling these things off!” I said in exasperation as I tried to find a thumbtack to reattach a neon orange flyer advertising the upcoming school elections. Serena took the paper from me again and pointed to the picture of a ballot marked with an X on the “Please Vote” option.

“It's for a school election or something,” I said, layering it over a flyer beside it so I could use the same thumbtack.

“Elec-shun?” Serena sounded out the word.

“Yeah, where everybody votes for people to represent them on School Council.” I made a lot of motions with my hands to try to explain but I wasn't quite sure she understood.

“Sh-chool Counshill? Like Mermish Counshill?”

“Sorta kinda—but not really. Come on.” I pulled on her arm to go. “We're already late.”

Mrs. Thorne's classroom was at the other end of the glassed-in hallway that cut through the courtyard separating junior from senior high. Going there felt like being traded back down to the minor leagues in baseball. I rushed down the hallway hoping we wouldn't get in trouble for being late on our first day.

We finally got to homeroom at about 9:12, with only eight minutes left before our first class. Luckily for us, Mrs. Thorne was also having a rough start to her first day and was busy mopping up a mug of coffee that had spilled over a few papers on her desk. A bunch of eighth-grade boys were gathered by the window making rude noises, while a few of the girls kept undoing and redoing these weird, stacked half-ponytails on top of their heads, which they held back with skinny headbands.

They looked up at Serena and me like we were some kind of teenage aliens from another dimension. Hello? Probably because ninth graders weren't
supposed
to be in junior high! In fact, I only recognized four other poor saps from my grade, two guys and two girls. One of the girls looked even more miserable than I was.

“Lainey.” I smiled as pleasant a smile as I could muster. “How are you?”

Lainey Chamberlain is the daughter of Martin Chamberlain of Chamberlain Construction—the same construction company I'd exposed in a shady political scheme at the end of the summer, which stopped their multimillion-dollar construction project at Port Toulouse Mall.

That
Lainey Chamberlain.

Being stuck with eighth graders was probably the worst thing anyone could ever do to her, but Lainey looked even more unhappy that she'd been put in the same homeroom as me. Especially since we had never been in the same homeroom since her family moved to Port Toulouse back in fifth grade. What were the chances?

“Jade Baxter,” Lainey sneered and glanced over at Serena. “And your cousin, right? Salina or something?”

“Laineesh!” Serena remembered Lainey from when they met at the boat canal a few weeks before. Serena had fallen in love with Lainey's teacup-sized dog, Cedric, and kind of dognapped him. “Chedrich?”

Before I could stop her, Serena was leaning over Lainey and digging into her oversized handbag, looking for Cedric.

“What the heck?” Lainey shrieked. “Get off me, you freak!”

“I'm sorry!” I stifled a laugh and pulled Serena away. “Serena, dogs aren't allowed in school.” I tried to whisper so no one could hear me, forgetting that I could have just ringed to her in my mer voice. But it was too late. Lainey had heard me.

“Are dogs allowed in the school where
she
comes from?” Lainey zipped up her handbag and scowled.

By then, a dozen set of eyes were turned in our direction. One of the eighth-grade girls blew a curl from her forehead, and a guy by the window stopped mid-armpit fart. I gulped.

“Actually…” I looked around at all the expectant faces. Despite Lainey's wisecrack, I could tell most of the people staring at us hadn't made their minds up about Serena just yet. It was up to me to make sure I got her school cred on the right track.

I took a page out of Gran's book and got my imagination going.

“Every student at Tonganesia High brings a dog to school,” I continued. “Dogs are very sensitive to seismic shifts in the earth's crust. Since Serena's village was at the base of an active volcano, the dogs act as alarms during the students' mile-long walk to school. Not to mention, protecting everyone from Komodo dragon attacks through the dangerous rain forest.”

I had no idea if any of that actually made any sense, but a few of the eighth-grade girls gasped.

“In fact…” I paused for effect, trying to catch a few people's eyes. “Serena's dog rescued her when her town was buried by a volcanic eruption this summer. It's a miracle she's still alive.”

“Whoa.” One boy whacked his friend across the chest and raised an eyebrow.

Lainey Chamberlain gripped her oversized handbag closer and scanned the class, scowling when she saw everyone looking my way.

“Well, whatever,” Lainey muttered. She shrugged her bag over her shoulder and took a seat at one of the desks at the back of the class. “Just keep that freak away from me.”

Serena slipped into a seat next to some of the eighth-grade girls. I dragged another desk over from a nearby row to keep an eye on her. Serena put a hand to her hair and motioned to the girls' ponytails.

“Pretteesh,” she exclaimed.

A girl with a fuchsia headband smiled and pulled a few hair elastics from her pencil case. She asked Serena if she wanted her hair done, too.

“Yesh!” Serena exclaimed.

I smiled. I didn't really need to worry about Serena after all. The boys all stared at her like she was some kind of Greek goddess, and the girls were spellbound by her long, never-ever-been-cut, golden brown hair. She had the whole class (except for Lainey, of course) wrapped around her little finger just by being…Serena.

With Serena occupied, I grabbed my chance and walked up to Mrs. Thorne's desk to give her Serena's homeroom registration form like Gran had asked me.

“Great to see you back, Jade,” Mrs. Thorne said in her usual cheery tone. “Your father called me to see if you could be in my homeroom again this year.”

So
he
was the one to blame. Dad had obviously never been a fourteen-year-old girl desperate to start high school.

“He worried about your performance at the end of last year,” Mrs. Thorne continued. “I assured him we'd keep on top of things to make sure you don't fall behind again. Sound like a plan?”

“Sure.” Though it didn't sound like I had much of a choice in the matter.

“Excellent.” She threw the last of the coffee-stained paper towels into the garbage can, then held out her hand for the paper I'd offered her. “I see you have a friend with you.” She glanced at the name at the top of the paper. “Serena…Finora, is it?”

“Yeah, Serena's my, um, cousin.” It was weird to have to keep remembering that. “She's new.”

“That's great.” Mrs. Thorne looked up from the paper and waved to Serena as I returned to my desk. “Welcome!”

Serena smiled and raised her hand awkwardly in a wave.

“Okay, everyone. Take your seats so I can get attendance,” Mrs. Thorne addressed the rest of the class. “And welcome back for another fun-filled year.”

Everyone groaned as she ticked off names on her attendance list.

“Now for a couple of morning announcements,” Mrs. Thorne continued. “Eighth graders will meet at recess in the band room to discuss fundraising ideas for this year's field trip. Ninth graders, be sure to sign up for one of the many extramural sports teams added to this year's roster.”

I zoned out at the mention of physical activity. One thing I'd been looking forward to with high school? No more scheduled Physical Education. Mrs. Thorne must have seen my eyes glaze over because she seemed to speak directly to me next.

“As part of Port Toulouse Regional High's new Healthy Schools Initiative, every high-schooler is required to perform four hours of scheduled physical activity per week. The school has added several new teams to accommodate everyone's interests.”

Team? Me? She couldn't be serious. Other than the punishment of elementary and junior high's twice-weekly gym class, I'd done my best to avoid any kind of organized sports since dodge ball had etched its painful memory on me in third grade. Now they were forcing me to sweat? To possibly run?

What
is
she
saying?
Serena rang to me in her mer voice.

We
need
to
join
a
sports
team,
I rang back, sagging in my desk chair.

Sports?
Serena rang.

Several students around us checked their phones or looked up at the fluorescent lights, trying to figure out the source of the buzzing noise.

I lowered my mer voice to a faint ring.
Yeah, like soccer or basketball or swimming—

Swimming?
Serena's eyes lit up.

I shouldn't have said that. “Forget I said that,” I muttered.

“Also,” Mrs. Thorne held up the same neon orange flyer Serena had pulled off the bulletin board earlier, “we'll be looking for a ninth-grade representative for School Council. Let me know if you're interested, and I'll register your name for next week's elections.”

Since we only had thirty-five or so students per grade, we only had one grade representative instead of one for each individual class.

“Mrs. Thorne?” Lainey Chamberlain asked sweetly from her desk at the back of the class. “It has been my pleasure representing my fellow students for the past three consecutive years, so I would be happy to continue the tradition into high school and put my name forward again this year.” She tucked a strand of her perfectly straightened hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, Lainey. Your dedication is…admirable.” Mrs. Thorne wrote Lainey's name in her notes. She looked up and scanned the rest of the classroom. “Anyone else?”

Serena's hand shot up as her new friend was putting the finishing touches on her ponytail.

“Oh!” I pulled Serena's hand down with an embarrassed smile. “Serena's still really new. She doesn't quite get the whole ‘election' thing.”

“Skull Counshell?” Serena asked.

“P-shh, as if…” Lainey smacked her lips together and snapped the top of her lip gloss closed. “She can't even say it right.”

I had a sudden urge to snatch the lip gloss from Lainey's grip and crack it in two. Instead, I turned to Mrs. Thorne and managed my sweetest voice.

“But I'd be more than happy to show Serena the ropes. It would be a great way to introduce her to our way of life, improve her English, and possibly get some new talent on this year's School Council.”

“Marvelous idea, Jade. I'll put her name down,” Mrs. Thorne said just as the bell rang.

“Counshell?” Serena grasped my arm as we gathered up our bags to head to our first class.

“Yes, Serena. You can run for School Council.”

She jumped and gave me a big hug. I had to hand it to the girl; Serena was definitely taking to this high-school thing well, though I doubted a brand-new student who could barely speak English had much of a chance against Lainey Chamberlain's three-year class president monopoly.

“Let's get one thing straight, Baxter,” Lainey whispered as she brushed by me and headed out the door. “Chamberlains always come out on top. Remember that.”

Okay, so maybe Serena didn't have a chance at winning, but as I watched Lainey Chamberlain flounce out into the corridor like a blond Kardashian, I figured the hissy fits alone would be worth the effort.

By the end of the school day, Serena wasn't just running for class president; she'd joined the Chess Club, the Junior Environmentalists Club, and the female underwater hockey team. Her newfound enthusiasm for high school was becoming exhausting.

Thankfully, Cori volunteered to chaperone Serena at the Junior Environmentalists Club during Monday lunch—and Luke was going to pick up the slack with Wednesday Chess Club— but I was stuck joining underwater hockey with her on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, despite the fact that I hated swimming and had an unhealthy aversion to bathing suits. (I know! A mermaid who hates the water, but what can I say?)

I tried to convince Serena that joining a “swimming” sport wasn't such a good idea for a teenage girl with a mermaid secret, but she caught a glimpse of the glistening water of the rec center's indoor pool on the way to the cafeteria at lunchtime, and there was no talking her out of it.

Okay, okay,
I said to her in Mermish rings as we waited for the pool director, Coach Laurena, to return from answering the phone in her office.
But
it
doesn't matter if it's salt, fresh, or chlorine, you can never, ever, ever inhale any of the water in the pool, or you could turn back into a mermaid.

It was okay for us mers to swim, but we had to be careful. Breathing water for more than a few seconds tripped our “mermaid switch” and then it was tail city. Breathing air did the reverse for me, forcing the change back from mermaid to human, but that change was a little more complicated for full-fledged mers like Serena, Luke, and Mom.

Serena looked up from a
Safe
2 Swim
pamphlet and stared at me blankly.

And
turning
back
into
a
mermaid
half
a
mile
from
an
open
body
of
water
would
be
bad,
I emphasized.

“Ba-ahhd,” Serena repeated in English just as Coach Laurena came back to her desk with the sign-up sheet.

“Oh, don't worry if you don't play very well,” Coach Laurena said, apparently misunderstanding the gist of our conversation. Her arm bangles jingled as she tucked her chestnut hair behind her ear. She had cut her bangs since the last time I'd seen her at Bridget's Diner, where I had worked during the summer. Her fiancé, Daniel, was the diner's head cook. “The underwater hockey team is only a year old so most of our girls are at a beginner level. I think our main focus will be developing our swimming endurance. That tended to be our weakness last year.”

“Good plan,” I agreed with a laugh, thinking that with Serena's participation, the Port Toulouse Regional High underwater hockey team's overall swimming level was about to improve significantly. On the other hand, I would probably even things out. But with the school's new Healthy Schools Initiative, my choice was either underwater hockey or something that involved running.

Shudder.

So, after a day of sign-ups, mix-ups, and slip-ups, the final bell couldn't come soon enough. Plus, our Social Studies teacher had already assigned a huge project due by next Friday, and Serena and I had been made partners so I'd obviously have to do most of the work. And yes—my final grades had taken kind of a nosedive at the end of eighth grade, thanks to all the mer drama unraveling smack dab in the middle of final exams. Mrs. Thorne, Dad, and Mom were watching my every move to make sure I didn't screw up again this year.

No pressure.

By the time Cori, Trey, Luke, Serena, and I had made the mile-long trek to Bridget's Diner after school, I collapsed into a corner booth, exhausted from my first day of mer-sitting. And, since Serena had held me captive in the pool office through lunch, I hadn't had a chance to eat all day.

The delicious smells of waffle fries and burgers wafting from the kitchen kicked my appetite into high gear.

“Bridget Burger with the works and as many waffle fries as you can legally fit onto my plate, please,” I said to Bridget when she came by our booth to take our orders.

“You got it.” Bridget winked and filled our water glasses as everyone else placed their orders. Her face broke into a huge smile once she noticed Serena. “Hey, you're back!”

Serena smiled, too. “Hi, Bridg-shet.”

“Yeah,” I piped up. “Serena and her mom are living with us for now. She gets to see her dad on the weekends, though.” That would sound pretty normal if Serena were just another one of my friends from school. A few kids I knew had parents who were separated, and they went to a dad's or mom's on the weekend, but I doubted any of them spent their weekends at the bottom of Talisman Lake.

“Well, it's wonderful to have you back.” Bridget nodded in understanding. “And perfect timing, too. Our cook, Daniel, has a clam recipe he's been dying to try.”

Bridget had no idea about our secret mer identities, but I'd managed to convince her that Serena's picky eating habits were because she was from a remote island in the South Pacific. Daniel had made Serena steamed mussels last time and they'd been a big hit.

Clam?
Serena rang and looked at me, confused.

I leaned over and rang quietly in her ear.
They're like the mussels you had last time.

“Kind of like the mussels you had last time,” Bridget said as she continued writing our orders on her notepad. “You're gonna love them.”

I looked up, shocked. How could Bridget know what I'd ringed to Serena in my mer voice? Had I actually said it out loud? I glanced at Luke but he gave me a quick shake of the head as if to say not to worry. I looked back at Bridget but she gave no indication that she'd heard me either.

“Thank shoe,” Serena said to Bridget.

“You are very welcome. In fact, it's so nice to see you
all
back,” Bridget said as she walked back to the counter to attach our orders to the revolving carousel at the order window. She was limping slightly and looked tired. “Things have been quiet since we closed up the ice cream parlor after tourist season.”

“Yeah,” I said. Cori and I had worked at the ice cream parlor all summer. “I miss coming in here every day, too. The ice cream perks were kinda sweet.”

“You were two of my best scoopers,” Bridget called from the counter. “No offense to Chelse, of course.”

I smiled, remembering how clueless Chelse Becker had been about running an ice cream parlor but she more than made up for it with her texting superiority.

“Chelse?” Serena asked. She and Chelse had been secret friends since they were kids, getting together when Chelse vacationed at her family's summer cottage in Dundee.

“She's only here in the summertime,” Cori piped up, “but I have her cell number. We can text her if you want.”

Serena had no clue what “texting” was, but we swapped seats so Cori could show her.

Bridget spun the order carousel and rang the bell for Daniel. “Okay. Your orders should be ready in a few minutes.”

“Good, because I am starving,” I said.

“Me, too,” Luke agreed. “That cafeteria food is nothing to write home about.”

“As least you got lunch,” I complained.

We sat around for the next ten minutes or so, comparing school schedules and talking about the upcoming school events.

“So, Serena is all signed up to run for ninth-grade rep,” I said casually.

“Counshell,” Serena said, looking up from Cori's phone.

“That's so cool,” Cori said. “Good for you, Serena.”

“Against Lainey Chamberlain,” I continued.

“Oh, ouch,” Trey said. “How did that go over?”

“Yeah,” Luke added. “Is Lainey still angry about the fact we basically ruined her father's company with that whole mall-construction thing?”

“Oh, I don't think Chamberlain Construction is ruined,” Trey said. “The mall extension is still being built, just away from the tidal pool like we fought for. And Chamberlain Construction got the contract.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked. We'd basically exposed Chamberlain Construction's history of bribes and shoddy business practices, and they
still
kept their construction contract? I guess what Lainey said was true: Chamberlains always
did
come out on top.

“In fact, last time I was at the mall, Chamberlain Construction had a big display at Sport Mart, giving out free bathing caps,” Trey continued. “Some kind of
Safe
2 Swim
promotion or something.”

“That's that swim program they've had at the pool for the past few years,” Cori said.

“So now what? Chamberlain Construction is giving away freebies all of a sudden?” I muttered. “They're just trying to get in everyone's good books after scamming us with that fake environmental assessment.”

“I dunno, Jade,” Luke said. “Maybe it's for real. They just installed new lifeguard towers at the beach last week. I'm pretty sure Chamberlain Construction sponsored those, too.”

“Yeah, so they could put their signs all over them, probably,” I muttered.

Just then, Luke and Trey's grandfather, Shaky Eddie, entered the diner. Eddie used to be a professor at a university in Florida until he was laughed off the faculty for publishing a scientific paper about a mer discovery. He was still the best mer expert I knew, but now he preferred to keep his knowledge a secret and encouraged us all to do the same.

“Hey, Grandpa,” Luke called over. “Taking a break?”

Eddie was the canal's lock master. He controlled the metal gates that let boats travel back and forth from Talisman Lake to the Atlantic Ocean. Eddie smiled and strolled over to our table.

“Yeah, things have been a little slow. Haven't had a boat go through all week. You young people start school already?” Eddie pointed at our backpacks but seemed distracted as he glanced at the front door, then to Bridget, who'd returned to the counter. She waved and poured him a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, back to the grind,” Trey said.

“They're waiting for you in the back office,” Bridget whispered as she walked by. She nodded to the hallway leading to the office and handed Eddie the cup of coffee. “I'll be there in a sec.”

“That was weird,” Trey said as he watched his grandfather retreat to the back office with his mug while Bridget cleared off the table by the door and brought the dirty dishes back to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Luke agreed. “I wonder what's going on back there.”

After a few more minutes, my stomach grumbled and I looked at my watch, wondering why our food was taking so long.

“I'm going to go check on our orders before I gnaw off my arm,” I said as I slid out of the booth.

“Good plan,” Cori agreed, joining me.

The orders were all lined up at the order window when we got there, but there was no sign of Bridget. We'd worked at the diner's ice cream parlor long enough to know that Bridget prided herself on getting the food to the table piping hot.

“Do you think she would mind?” Cori asked, reading my mind.

I picked up a few of the plates and headed back to our booth.

“Wouldn't hurt to move things along,” I replied, imagining biting into a thick, juicy burger. “It's like we're doing her a favor.”

Cori followed me back to the booth with the other plates, but by the time we'd placed them on the table, it was obvious we were missing my Bridget Burger and extra waffle fries.

Luke shook salt all over his french fries, then took the top off his bun and shook even more salt onto it.

“Not salty enough for you?” I asked.

“I don't know what it is, but food just doesn't have any taste these days.” He placed the shaker back on the table and looked over to my spot. “Where's your order?”

“They were one short. It'll probably be up in a minute.” I glanced toward the order window, but there was still no one in sight.

“Here, take mine,” Luke offered and pushed his plate toward me. Give up his food for me? He really was the perfect guy. But secretly, I really wanted those extra waffle fries, and a quarter of Luke's plate was taken up by a perfectly useless dish of coleslaw.

Plus, all that salt! What was up with that?

“Naw, thanks anyway.” I stole a fry from the outer edge of his plate, hoping it had escaped most of the salt shaker's wrath. “I'll just go check and see what's happening with mine.”

I popped my head through the order window into the kitchen, but Daniel and Bridget were nowhere to be found, so I headed to the back office.

“Hey, Bridget?” I asked, knocking lightly and pushing the office door open a smidge so she'd hear me.

“Is that Jade?” I heard my mother say.