This story is rated G.
Disclaimer: Bill Holbrook owns Safe Havens.
If you like this little fic, let me know in a review. I may decide to write other Safe Havens stories.
They were called the Other Clique, because their eccentricities excluded them from the established cliques at Havens High School. Among their number was Thomas, the perpetually upside-down boy; tall, plus-sized Bambi; vain redhead Jenny; wheelchair-bound hunk Luis; and Roger, who was almost never seen outside of his Fighting PDA school mascot costume.
Their unofficial leader was Samantha Argus, an African-American girl who had served as Havens student president for the past year. Samantha's father Donald was a safety inspector at the high-tech company Fastrack, Inc., while her mother Jeanine was a state senator. As a consequence, she had developed interests in science and politics from an early age.
The last day of school had come and gone, and the Other Clique had assembled at Samantha's house to enjoy snacks and talk about their college plans. Also present were Samantha's boyfriend Dave Hamper, a basketball fanatic who seldom appeared without his visor shades and stereo headphones; and Ming, an Asian goth girl whom Dave had befriended at Sprawling Acres High School.
"Thanks for setting up this trapeze in your living room, Samantha," said Thomas, who was, as usual, suspended from his knees.
Samantha didn't respond for a few seconds; she was glancing at the wall clock with concern. It was a quarter to seven. Where's Remora? she wondered. She's never been this late before.
"Er, you're welcome," she said as Thomas' words registered in her mind. "I was so happy to hear that you were accepted to Barnum & Bailey Circus College, I had to do something to celebrate."
Jenny stepped in from the kitchen, holding a half-dozen oranges in her slender hands. "Let's see you juggle these, Thomas," she challenged the hanging boy.
One by one she tossed the oranges in his direction. From his perspective, he was catching them and throwing them downward toward the ceiling. He managed to keep them spinning in the air for a short while, then gravity got the best of him, and they tumbled to the floor. "Oh, well, I'll have seven years to practice," he said with a shrug.
"I'm not picking those up," said Jenny haughtily.
"What courses do you have to take as an engineering major?" Ming asked Luis.
"Nothing special," replied the wheelchair lad. "Chemistry, physics, calculus."
"Yikes," Ming winced. "What are you planning to become, an alien?"
"My class schedule is much simpler," Jenny boasted. "Marketing, advanced marketing, history of marketing, gender perspectives in marketing…"
"In addition to my journalism course, I'm signed up for music theory, philosophy, and computer programming," said Bambi. "I like to keep myself well-rounded."
YOU'RE DOING A GOOD JOB OF IT, appeared on Roger's digital display.
"One more crack like that," Bambi warned him, "and you'll be wearing that costume inside your body."
Dave leaned over and scooped up a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table. "So, Samantha," he said while flicking a kernel into his mouth, "you think you can handle having four roommates?"
"I should have no trouble," the girl answered. It can't be any worse than sharing a room with a mermaid, a talking cat, and my dead grandmother.
"Speaking of which," said Jenny, "where's Remora?"
"She told me she would be here," Bambi added.
Samantha looked at the clock again. It was ten minutes to seven. She swallowed nervously.
Out of her friends, only Thomas and Luis knew the incredible truth—Remora was a 415-year-old mermaid. In exchange for the ability to walk on land and pass as a regular human, she had to spend twelve hours of each day in the guise of a fish. Every day at exactly 7:00 p.m. she reverted to aquatic form and dove into Samantha's aquarium, there to spend the night swimming in circles.
Where could she be? Samantha thought. If she doesn't get back soon, she'll have to turn into a fish in some strange, inhospitable body of water. What if she ends up in the sewer again? Thomas and Luis rescued her from there once. If they save her life two more times, they'll turn into merfolk, like I once did…
"Excuse me," she said, abruptly standing up.
Worried and impatient, she stepped into her bedroom. Tiny air bubbles streamed up through the empty fish tank. Her cat Palmtop, aroused by her sudden entrance, stretched out her paws and yawned.
"Have you seen Remora?" Samantha inquired of her.
"Don't give me that look," replied the cat woundedly. "You know I'd never eat her."
Ignoring the peevish remark, Samantha threw open the top drawer of her bureau and pulled out a gold band. As she placed it on her finger, the reflection in the mirror changed into the image of an ancient, white-haired woman clad in Samantha's blouse and skirt.
"Well?" said Grandma eagerly. "Did you try skydiving like I suggested?"
"Remora's not back yet," said Samantha with urgency in her voice. "Have you seen her?"
"I can't spend all my time watching her," Grandma gently scolded her. "I have an afterlife, you know."
Seeing that her grandmother was no help, Samantha removed the ring, and the face in the mirror morphed into her own. I'll just have to hope she's all right. She's four hundred years old. What can happen to her?
Upon returning to the living room, she was startled to observe that Sophie, her prematurely pubescent younger sister, was welcoming a visitor into the house—none other than Dr. Brenda Scrim, the school guidance counselor. No one besides herself was aware that Dr. Scrim was really Laptop, the Argus family's border collie, transformed into a human by a genetic serum of Samantha's own formulation. The helpful dog had brought the change upon herself in order to aid Jeanine's senatorial campaign, and had remained a woman ever since, except during the last few dying weeks of her husband, Clive the poodle.
"Hi, Lap…er, Dr. Scrim," said Samantha with surprise. "What brings you here?"
The black-haired woman smiled. "I just wanted to wish you all the best of luck in your college careers," she answered sweetly. "And I have a message for you from Remora."
Dr. Scrim drew from her inside vest pocket an envelope sealed with a heart sticker. On the front side was written the name Samantha in ornate cursive letters.
The girl hastily ripped open the envelope, hoping it contained an explanation of Remora's delay and an assurance of her safety. It contained neither.
Samantha, please come to Lobster Cove tonight. I'll be watching for you. Don't bring your friends. Sincerely, Remora Fontinalia.
The paper seemed to turn icy cold in her fingers. The purpose of Remora's request was clear.
"What does it say?" Sophie asked her.
"Nothing important," said Samantha, her voice quivering.
Bidding farewell to Dr. Scrim, Sophie, and the other clique members, she rushed down the sidewalk to the nearest bus stop, still clutching the letter tightly. She hoped and prayed that her mermaid friend merely wanted to share an embarrassing secret with her, or show her another spectacle of the undersea world. She fondly recalled the occasion when Remora had held her hand and briefly bestowed upon her the power to breathe sea water. Plunging deep below the surface, she had beheld with amazement the diverse life forms inhabiting a coral reef. Many of them Remora had called by name…
Please, God, not today. Yet she had always known the day would come.
It was nearly dark when she arrived at the rocky shore on which the Lobster Cove Lighthouse stood. Wringing her hands anxiously, she wandered back and forth along a stretch of sand and smooth gravel, expecting her sea-dwelling friend to appear at any moment.
A blond, soggy head poked through the shallow waves, with a pair of eyes that gazed at Samantha with delight and infinite sorrow. It rose higher, revealing Remora's somber visage and the pair of clamshells obscuring her bosom. She swam gradually toward the beach, her forked tail thrashing the water behind her. The sand stopped her approach, and she exchanged profound looks with Samantha.
"You're leaving, aren't you?" said her human friend.
Remora nodded sadly.
A tear formed in the base of Samantha's left eye.
"Life among humans is complicated," said Remora. "Sixty years from now you and your friends will be old, but I'll look the same as I do today. It's best for all of us if I leave now."
Samantha tried not to cry, but the salty water poured down her cheeks in spite of her. "But I don't want you to leave," she pleaded. "You're my best friend. I need you."
"You'll still have three other roommates at Havens University," Remora pointed out.
Samantha took a handkerchief from her blouse and wiped her cheeks. "Give college life a chance," she urged the mermaid. "I think you'll like it."
"I hate having to tell you this," said Remora seriously, "but you're not my first human friend. I met a girl named Lina on the coast of Norway back in the 1950's. We went to high school together for three years, then we left for college. I couldn't cope with the lifestyle change—waking up early in the morning to study, then turning into a fish just as all the other students have finished their homework and are ready to have fun. I had to leave. It was painful." Her voice began to crack. "It's painful now."
By this time Samantha had started to sob quietly.
"I'll never forget you," Remora promised. "Even if I live another thousand years, and I probably will."
As she wriggled her tail to propel herself back into the sea, Samantha extended her arms and stepped forward. "Wait! You don't have to go. I can make you human. I know how."
"I'm happy as a mermaid, thank you," said Remora, continuing to slide into the waves.
"Please stay!" Samantha begged desperately. "There's a creature at my dad's company that can change shape. If I can get my hands on some of its DNA…"
Remora only shook her head as the water climbed to her waist.
"Come back!" shouted Samantha as she succumbed to tears.
"I love you," said the sea maiden quietly, as salt water filled her lips and nostrils. Strands of her curly blond hair clung to the surface for an instant, then disappeared.
Samantha dropped to her knees and wept. A part of her, a chunk of her heart, was gone.