It's surreal to think that just 3 years ago, when Percy and I were both 14 years old, I didn't have a tail. 3 years ago, I was normal – well, as normal as I could get what with being friends with Percy and all. As I look back, I realize that, somehow, my being a mermaid only made Percy and I grow closer. I depended on him more. After all, I didn't want him telling my secret. That trust only grew, and now we know we can trust each other with anything and everything.
We're almost always together, but the one place I can't take him is the ocean. I can take him to the shore, but he can't swim as deep as I can. Eventually, Percy stopped coming with me altogether since I'd always end up diving deep below and exploring the salty, underwater world I'd come to love so much. I would inevitably lose track of time, resurfacing only to realize the sky was now pitch-black and Percy would be playing games on his iPhone. I apologized every time, but I couldn't resist the urge I always felt.
I don't know how to describe the hold the ocean has on me, but every time I get in the water, it's like it's singing to me. It pulls me gently down, urging me forward. Every time, I'm pulled in the direction of Atlantis. When I see the colorful city shining in the distance, I stop. It's nearly impossible, almost painful, but I manage to stop swimming.
The currents push harder, the ocean's song sings louder, and everything seems to pull me in that direction, but I stay suspended in the water a few dozen miles away, where the city is just a speck in the distance. I know if I swim any closer, I won't be able to resist. That's where I stay, trying to take in the beauty I can see from my spot. Even from miles away, the city is breathtaking.
I drove to my favorite spot with access to the ocean today, my red Chevy Pickup rumbling low and sputtering to a stop on the sand. Before the gears even fully shifted into park, I jumped out and dove into the water, trading my long, tan legs for a shiny, blue tail. Within minutes, I was hovering in the seaweed, trying not to rush towards Atlantis. Today, the pull is stronger. Strangely, I can't hear the ocean's song, but the pull is still there. Maybe just a little closer, I think. I swim a few miles nearer, stopping – with great effort – when I reach a bed of pink seashells. I gaze in awe at the sharper detail. The city is still a blur, but I can make out more of it now. I see shades of silver and gold that I hadn't noticed before.
I bite my lip. Everything in me is screaming to swim closer, to swim in to Atlantis. My tail starts moving and I realize I'm swimming towards the glowing buildings without meaning to. I stop suddenly and shut my mouth as if it will stop the ocean from pulling me.
I take a deep breath. I never should have swam closer, I can't handle this. Composing myself, I barely manage to pull away and swim for the surface.
My eyes meet a pair of mysterious blue ones. The blue eyes travel down, seeing my tail, and widen. I gasp and dive back underwater. The last thing I notice is soft spikes of blond hair nearing the surface as the guy I just ran into leans out of his boat to watch me swim away.
I groan inwardly while I swim. The likelihood of me popping up conveniently near a small fishing boat like that is astronomically small. And yet, I'd managed to reveal my secret to a complete stranger. At least they are a stranger, I remind myself. They'll probably just think they saw a mermaid and leave it at that. There's no reason they'd know I was human too. I sigh, trying to convince myself that everything will be fine. He wouldn't tell anyone, right? After all, no one would believe him…would they?
The next day, I woke up in a sweat, trying to escape from my nightmare. The blonde boy had found me and taken me to a group of evil scientists. He'd sneered in my face, "You freak of nature." The scientists locked me away in some sort of glass cylinder and filled it with water, turning it into a tank to force me to turn into a mermaid. I couldn't breathe. I tried to turn but, for some reason, I couldn't. I started panicking and pounding on the glass, but they wouldn't help me. They just watched me like I was nothing more than an animal, an experiment. That's when I woke up.
Last night, I'd swam straight back to my truck, jumping in after switching back to my legs. I didn't even stare at the dim, blue light like I usually do. I was too panicked. I started the engine, switched the gears, and immediately fishtailed – no pun intended - out of the beach, kicking up an enormous cloud of sand in my wake. I debated whether or not I should tell my father or Percy about what happened. By the time I got home, I'd decided not to tell anyone; after all, it wouldn't matter. Nothing was going to happen. That's what I kept telling myself all night long, over and over again. But my heart kept beating just a bit too fast, betraying my actual thoughts. I was scared.
About a week went by, and I forgot about the blonde boy. I did end up telling Percy about it though. I didn't like keeping things from him. He was a little upset that it took me two days, but he understood. When I started crying without knowing exactly why, Percy calmly wrapped me in his arms and waited for the tears to stop flowing. As soon as they did, he grabbed a jar of pickles and a jar of peanut butter.
Today is Monday; I hate Mondays. Every thing bad seems to happen on a Monday. The day I skinned my knee for the first time: Monday. The day my cat died: Monday. The day I surfaced in front of blonde-boy: Monday. So, every Monday I'm waiting for another shoe to drop, hoping at the same time that I'll get by without anything bad happening.
Mr. Brunner, my homeroom teacher, is shuffling papers awkwardly at the front of the classroom. While the rest of us wait for him to get his act together, I turn to my right and face Percy, who sits right beside me. Homeroom is the only class we have together other than gym. We don't even have the same lunch period.
"Psst," I whisper, "do you know what's for lunch?"
Percy grins, the mention of food is all it takes to make him happy.
"Corn dogs and tater tots," he replies.
I smile and mouth, "Thanks."
Percy nods and we both turn back around. I want to say something else – it's so boring listening to Mr. Brunner spit out the morning announcements like a drone – but there isn't much to say. Whispering in this classroom is unnerving because the air is always stiff and quiet. What you say will eventually echo, and that defeats the purpose of whispering in the first place.
I shuffle my feet and turn to stare out the window on my left. I sit in the very back corner of the classroom with only the window on my left and Percy on my right. The desk in front of me is empty, and the guy who sits in front of Percy always has his ear buds in, and his head hung low. This essentially gives Percy and I our own little corner.
I'm still staring out the window when I feel a shift in the room's atmosphere. It sounds weird, but I could feel someone enter the room. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but it was like every warm spot in the room turned cold and my whole body turned to ice. Goosebumps dot my arms and I slowly turn to face the front of the room. I stiffen, my eyes widening, and feel my stomach drop. Blonde-boy. Mr. Brunner beams at him before clearing his throat.
"Welcome," he says, shaking hands with blonde-boy.
Clearing his throat again, Mr. Brunner turns to face the room.
"Class," he starts, "this is Jason Grace; he's a new student here."
Students previously staring at their desks look up suddenly; a new kid is big news in this small town.
Mr. Brunner continues, glad to have something more interesting than the morning announcements to focus on.
"So, Jason, would you mind telling us a little bit about yourself?"
Blonde-boy – I mean, Jason – grins sheepishly and slides his hands halfway into his jeans pockets.
"Um," he starts, "I moved here a little over a week ago and enrolled during this weekend. I have an older sister named Thalia, she's a grade above me."
Every single girl in the classroom is leaning forward, hanging on to Jason's every word. If this were a different situation I, however, am leaning back, trying desperately to get away from this moment, to escape the inevitable horror of this event.
Jason continues, thankfully looking at the ground for the majority of his self-introduction. I stare at my desk, not daring to look up. Maybe if I keep my head low, he won't notice me. Jason says a couple of things about why they moved here and Mr. Brunner laughs jovially when he's finished, acting like they're old pals. Finally, the scene is over and Mr. Brunner clears his throat for the third time this morning, scanning the room for an empty desk.
"Annabeth."
My head shoots up.
Mr. Brunner smiles, "I trust you'll be delighted to show Jason around?"
He says more, but I don't hear a word after that because when I look up, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, Jason's eyes are locked straight onto mine, recognition dawning in the blue of them.
I hate Mondays.
