Ronaldo Fisherman, a heavyset teenage boy with curly blonde hair and spectacles, lived with his father and younger brother Peedee in a small oceanside town called Shore Village. His father, Mr. Fisherman, owned a fishing business. The small family spent most of their days fishing in Mr. Fisherman's rowboat, using everything from cast nets to harpoons. Once they hauled in their catch, it went to the village fish market. Thus everyone in Shore Village was provided with fresh fish.

It was a great life for Mr. Fisherman and Peedee. But not for Ronaldo. The mundane everyday life that his family and the rest of the village led bored him. He had little to no interest in the family business. His interests were literally not of this world. Ronaldo had an unlimited fascination with anything bizarre and unusual. As a young boy, he'd spent hours upon hours in the library, the only place in his dull village that satisfied his desire for fantasy. He'd read countless books on every mystical creature imaginable. His eccentric attitude and beliefs did not endear him to his fellow villagers, however. Most people in the village thought how odd it was that such a practical, sensible man as the fisherman could have such an oddity for a son. Ronaldo knew they felt this way but tried not to care. If anything, he considered the word "oddity" to be a compliment. It did not matter to him if others did not understand his beliefs because he knew, of course, that he was right.

Early one morning, Ronaldo was alone in his bedroom, which in of itself gave one the impression of being in a completely different world. The bed was no made. Unusually colored clothes had been thrown carelessly all over the floor. Every inch of the walls was covered with drawings and illustrations, either torn from books or drawn by Ronaldo himself. They featured some of the most bizarre creatures imaginable; centaurs, werewolves, dragons of every shape and size, and of course, Ronaldo's most recent unusual interest, merpeople.

"To think," he often thought out loud on the topic of these creatures. "There could be an entire species of human-fish hybrids out there and I don't even have to leave my backyard to find them."

And he was intent on doing this, today if possible. He sat at his writing desk, which was cluttered with half a dozen books, art supplies, a map of the area, and his writing journal.

"Okay," he said in a business-like voice. "Here's where I am now." He drew an X on the indicated spot on his map. "Here's the spot where Dad said we'd be casting our nets," he added, drawing another X on a spot in the ocean some two miles offshore.

"Ronaldo!" called his father's voice from downstairs. "Peedee and I are gonna start loading the boat! Do me a favor and grab the harpoon when you come down!"

"Got it!" Ronaldo called back. "Now let's see," he said, still studying the map. "We won't be too far out at sea, but there's plenty of rocks along the shore. If real mermaids are anything like the ones in the books, they probably spend most of their free time lounging on rocks. In which case, I'd say there's no reason I shouldn't see one today," he concluded.

He hurriedly threw his pen, journal, and map into his satchel, swung it over his shoulder, and was out the door in seconds. He ran downstairs, burst through the front door, and ran over to the small dock that contained his father's rowboat.

Mr. Fisherman was already there waiting for him. He was also heavyset, though more so in the chest and shoulders than than around the middle like Ronaldo. He too had blonde hair, though not as curly, and a very slight beard. He was a stern, gruff man and stubborn to boot. For this reason, he and Ronaldo did not usually see eye to eye. If truth be told, Mr. Fisherman did little more than tolerate his oldest son's beliefs and antics. Although Ronaldo took no offense to the rest of the village's view of him, deep down he often wished his father would be a bit more supportive. Mr. Fisherman, likewise, wished Ronaldo would be more supportive of him and concentrate more on his work than his hobby.

And, of course, perched up on their father's shoulders was Peedee, Ronaldo's little brother. Peedee, like his father and brother, had blonde hair, but that was where the resemblance ended. He was a small, skinny preteen with large, sad eyes and a conspicuous hole in his mouth where his front tooth should have been. Peedee was oddly stern and cynical for his age and, unlike his brother, was eternally loyal to both their father and the family business. This perhaps was what made him their father's "undeclared favorite", in Ronaldo's words.

"I'm here!" Ronaldo announced proudly.

Somehow, his father didn't look pleased with this. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ronaldo looked down at his satchel, which he remembered packing with everything he thought he'd need, and shrugged.

"The harpoons?" Mr. Fisherman said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh. Right. Be right back!"

He turned on his heel and darted back into the house. Seconds later, his arms weight down with long, dangerously sharp fishing tools, he came hurrying back to the dock.

"Got the harpoons!"

"Hey! Hey! Be careful!" Mr. Fisherman snapped as Ronaldo came to a screeching stop. "How many times do I gotta tell you not to run with those?"

"Sorry, Dad," said Ronaldo, barely listening. "I'm just really excited to get out on the waves today," he added, a little too optimistically.

"That's a first," said Mr. Fisherman skeptically as Ronaldo loaded the harpoons into the boat.

"I'll bet this is about merpeople," said Peedee quietly.

His father sighed. "Typical. As soon as he's over unicorns, he starts up with some other crazy thing."

"Actually it was centaurs last time," Peedee corrected him.

"Honestly, I lost track years ago," said Mr. Fisherman drearily. "Alright, let's get this show on the road," he announced to both his sons.

"Road. Waves. Whatever," said Ronaldo facetiously.

In a matter of minutes, the boat was loaded, everyone was aboard, and Mr. Fisherman began paddling. Ronaldo kept his eyes peeled as they passed the rocks along the shore. Every book on merpeople he'd ever read had at least one illustration of a mermaid sitting gracefully on a rock. Assuming his father's paddling wouldn't scare them away, he was likely to get at least a glimpse of one in this area. And when that happened, he was going to be ready.

But alas, every rock they passed was completely mermaid-free. Ronaldo did not abandon hope though. The day was still young. There was time yet. He kept his pen and journal at the ready until they reached their intended fishing spot.

"Okay, boys," he vaguely heard his father say. "Ronaldo?" he added, rather impatiently.

"One sec," said Ronaldo, peering out over the port side of the boat.

"Now," said Peedee sternly, shutting Ronaldo's journal.

Ronaldo groaned and reluctantly turned his attention away from the sea.

"Alright," their father said. "Now, if I'm right, there's an entire school of salmon directly beneath us..."

While Peedee hung on every word, Ronaldo could hardly concentrate. His mind, which was never where his father felt it should be, was still on mermaids and the possibility of seeing one. So during the entire minute or so that Mr. Fisherman spoke, Ronaldo only pretended to listen. When he was sure his father was more focused on Peedee than on him, Ronaldo would turn his attention back to the water in hopes of catching a glimpse of something unusual. And when his father did address him, he would force himself back to earth and act as though he had heard every word, even though he hadn't.

"Alright boys, let's make this the best catch Fisherman Bros. has ever seen," said Mr. Fisherman, anxiously clapping his hands together.

Peedee leaped to his feet and hurried forward to help his father with the cast net. This, Ronaldo decided, was a two-man job. So, pen and journal in hand, he scooted himself over to the port side of the boat, watched, and waited.

For a few minutes, there was nothing to be seen save water and sky. Then several yards away, he saw something break the surface. He barely had time to squint his eyes for a better view of it when it was gone. Although it had only been there a second, Ronaldo had the feeling it looked like a fishtail slapping the surface. He looked back to check with his father and brother to see if they'd seen it too, but the sight of them throwing out the cast net on the other side of the boat assured him that they had not. Unconcerned, he looked to see if he could find whatever it was again. And a second later, it was there again. Then it disappeared as quickly as it had before. But Ronaldo had gotten a good look at it this time. It was indeed a fish tail. But he could tell this was no mere fish. No fish he'd ever seen had a tail that size, or that color (a vivid bluish green).

"Haha! Yes!" came his father's voice. Evidently he and Peedee had made a catch, and a big one from the sound of his voice. "Ronaldo, get over here!"

Ronaldo heard him, but did not oblige. Every part of him trembling, he dropped his pen and journal to the floor, took a deep breath, and dunked his entire head below the water. For a moment all he saw was blueness. Then suddenly there was movement ahead of him. And then... Ronaldo nearly fell out of the boat. A shadowy figure was swimming slowly in his direction from about fifty feet away. Heart racing, Ronaldo stared and stared at it as it came nearer. Then, when it was around thirty feet in front of him, he saw what was unmistakably the pale face and flowing brown hair of a girl.

Out of nowhere, a pair of large hands grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, nearly choking him, and hauled him back into the boat.

"RONALDO! GET UP HERE! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING!?" his father asked angrily.

"DAD!"

Peedee, now attending to the net full of fish on his own, was being dragged helplessly overboard by the weight of the catch.

"PEEDEE!" called Mr. Fisherman.

He lunged forward and dove into the water after Peedee.

But rather than help. If he was right, he had just laid eyes on a mermaid. And if this was true, everything else in the world could wait.

Ronaldo dunked his head beneath the water again and came nearly nose to nose with the very same girl. No. Not girl. There was no questioning it. This was undeniably a mermaid! And a very pretty one at that.

Ronaldo stared, unable to breathe (and not just because his entire head was underwater). The mermaid smiled, almost shyly, at him and then swam past him. He couldn't help but notice how, not only amazingly unusual, but beautiful her long sea green tail looked in this light. The sun's rays beating down past the water's surface gave her scales a sort of iridescent quality.

He watched her swim forward to the other side of the boat and towards the net full of salmon. She approached the net slowly so as not to get caught herself. She then produced a sharp tool of sorts (either a sharp rock or a shark's tooth, Ronaldo could not tell) and used it to cut a large gash in the net. Not even a second later, the salmon burst from the net and swam off for freedom. Ronaldo could've sworn he'd heard some of them cheering as they sped past him. Then his eyes fell upon the mermaid again. She gave him the same bashful smile as before, and then swam off. Ronaldo watched her for a moment, wanting to memorize every detail about her.

The same firm hands that had grabbed him a minute before clasped him on the shoulders again and a second later, Ronaldo was face to face with his dripping wet father.

If looks could kill.

"You've got some serious explaining to do," he said in a dangerously low voice.

End of Chapter