Don't Tell Him I'm a Mermaid. Laura Steven

      At lunch, Molly plonked herself down on her usual table beside Margot. The dinner lads and ladies had decided to branch out with today’s menu, and Molly prodded what she’d been assured was a ‘vol-au-vent’ with her fork. It was the least appetising hunk of dry pastry Molly had ever seen. She supposed you could use it to plug a hole in a broken dishwasher.

      ‘Hello, dearest sister,’ Margot said, crunching through her own vol-au-vent in such a violent manner that it sprayed all over her face. ‘How doth you be today?’

      ‘What?’

      Margot rolled her eyes. ‘We’ve been doing Shakespeare. It has been physically painful. Why can’t he just speak English?’

      ‘Mmmmm,’ Molly mumbled.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ Margot asked. She was assembling a prank involving a catapult and a fake dead bird. At least, Molly hoped it was fake. You never quite knew with Margot.

      ‘We can’t talk about it here. It’s schmermaidy.’ Schmermaidy was their super-secret and completely impenetrable code word.

      ‘Did someone see your tail?’ Margot asked, weirdly serious all of a sudden.

      ‘No,’ Molly said hastily. ‘The secret is still safe. I’m just . . . I’ve been thinking a lot about Meire. What was it like? Back in the day?’

      Margot pulled a red lipstick out of her bag and started applying it to the dead bird’s beak. ‘Pooey.’

      ‘No, like . . . at its prime. Before the poo.’

      ‘Oh. Less pooey.’

      ‘Margot! Please.’

      ‘I don’t know, all right?’ She held up the bird to admire her handiwork, looking satisfied. ‘You’re better off asking Myla. She can probably recite the first nineteen empresses backwards while hanging upside down by her tail.’

      Ada ambled over to their table, swinging her designer lunch box in her hand. ‘Hey. Wanna go and eat with the Populars?’

      Molly prodded at her vol-au-vent. ‘Yeah, sure.’

      Ada’s sleek fringe dropped into her eyes as she frowned. ‘You don’t sound too thrilled. This was always the aim, right? Infiltrating their masses? Becoming at one with the Popularinos?’

      For years, Molly and Ada had wanted to get into the Popular group at school, and had concocted increasingly elaborate and absurd schemes in order to get there. Molly had never really believed that they’d succeed, but now that Ada was dating Penalty Pete, they spent more time with the whole group than hanging out with each other.

      And in reality, the Populars were quite boring. Molly sort of missed her and Ada’s time as a duo, scarfing down crisps in their tiny locker nook.

      Molly didn’t tell Ada any of this, though. Due to aforementioned stubbornness, she had to keep up the pretence that being with the Populars was still hugely exciting. ‘No, it’s cool. Let’s go.’

      Margot glared at her in astonishment. ‘Rude.’

      ‘Right,’ Molly said, rising to her feet. ‘Let’s do this. Let’s be bona fide Popularinos.’

      Ada did a funny little salsa dance, stamping her heels for effect. Molly laughed and copied.

      Laughing with Ada so effortlessly again felt nice. They’d had their first epic fall-out a few months ago, and didn’t speak for ages. That was a particularly dark time for Molly, and it made her swear she’d never take her best friendship with Ada for granted again. She also swore she’d try to keep her hot temper under control, but that wasn’t going so well. Just ask the lamppost she kicked this morning.

      ‘Popularinooooooo,’ Ada crooned in a weird, high-pitched voice, making Molly laugh even harder.

      Margot flexed her catapult menacingly. ‘For god’s sake. The rudeness is unimaginable.’

      ‘Why don’t you come too, Margot?’ Ada asked, breathless from performing the impromptu Popularino dance, though Molly could tell she was just being polite.

      Margot snorted. ‘I would rather eat my own face, thanks.’

      ‘Margot,’ Molly interrupted. ‘Do you mind if I go?’

      There was a split second where Molly thought her older sister might actually ask her to stick around, and if that happened, Molly absolutely would. She’d been pieing Margot off for weeks now, after all, and she was starting to feel a bit bad about it. Most of Margot’s friends were from Clamdunk, so she didn’t really have many people to eat lunch with at school.

      But Margot swallowed her pride and said, ‘Whatever. Just don’t expect your bed to be entirely free of seaweed later.’

      Molly followed Ada to the table where the Populars were eating lunch. Penalty Pete was dribbling a piece of sweetcorn around his tray with his finger. Felicity’s arm was draped possessively over Fit Steve’s shoulders, which made eating her couscous very difficult indeed. Jenna and Briony, Felicity’s cronies, were gossiping between themselves, giggling and whispering at something on Briony’s phone.

      ‘Hey, guys,’ Ada said cheerily, still a bit out of breath from the Popularino dance. As she sat down, the slight gleam of sweat did nothing to prevent Penalty Pete from snogging her face off by means of saying hello.

      For a split second, Molly hovered awkwardly. The only spare seat was on the other side of Fit Steve.

      ‘Pull up a pew,’ Fit Steve said pleasantly, and Molly had to fight the urge to gaze adoringly at him like he was a tall cone of glistening mint choc chip.

      While Molly often had to help out at the family fish ’n’ chip shop, dressing up as a giant haddock to hand out leaflets, Fit Steve had a job at the ice-cream kiosk next door. He was very tall and very dark and very, very fit. Molly had been in love with him since the day Minnie first learned to walk, which was not as long ago as you might have thought, and had involved a pair of dodgy rollerblades. But still.

      Unfortunately, Fit Steve was going out with Molly’s nemesis: Felicity Davison.

      Today, Felicity pointedly did not make eye contact with Molly, which was just as well. Every time Molly was around Felicity, she felt a kind of emotional aftershock from the bizarre moment they had shared at the zoo.

      It was right after Molly had abducted a penguin, and Felicity had made a horrible dig at Molly’s chip-grease smell. A surge of world-ending anger and shame had triggered Molly’s merpower for the first time, and she felt Felicity’s emotions as strongly as if they were her own.

      She’d relived the arguments, embarrassments and fears that Felicity had experienced that day, including the knowledge that Felicity’s mum had cancer. And Felicity knew it.

      Although now, in the school cafeteria, Molly couldn’t read Felicity’s emotions like that – merpowers only worked while you were a mermaid – there was still a rippling wave of residual empathy. Still a connection that hadn’t been there before.

      It was the only time Molly had managed to use her merpower, and it had happened at exactly the right moment. She couldn’t help wondering when she would next be able to tap into her mysterious gift.

      As Molly sat down, Fit Steve shovelled a giant spoonful of baked beans into his divine mouth. Then he asked, ‘So how’s it going at the chippy?’

      ‘Good.’ Molly nodded, realising how impossible it was to eat a vol-au-vent in a seductive manner, and deciding just to sip her apple juice instead. ‘We have a new sausage.’

      Fit Steve nodded his approval. ‘Nice.’

      ‘It’s called the Edward,’ Molly added, a grin spreading across her face. ‘After my friend Eddie.’

      Fit Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘Of the Ears?’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘Good