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

you know about our family?’ she asked, desperate for more information, for anything that would make her feel closer to her mermaid identity.

      ‘To be honest, there are more gaps in my knowledge than I’d care to admit,’ Myla replied. ‘Mum doesn’t talk about it much, about our lives back in Meire, but lately I’ve been feeling like something must’ve happened to us down there. Something bad.’

      ‘Because we left?’

      ‘Not just that. A lot of mermaids left. It’s more . . . well, why is she so strict about us coming down here? She only allows us in the sea when she’s there to supervise. I know it’s a bit polluted, but how dangerous can it really be? Plus she’s accidentally let things slip to me a few times. I think there was a big fight between her and Murielle, and it’s part of the reason we left Meire. I don’t know, Mol . . . I’ve suspected for a while that there’s a bigger reason for her fear. I just can’t figure out what.’

      ‘Maybe the reason Mum never told us about the trapdoor library is because there’s something in the books she wants to hide,’ Molly said, curiosity burning hotter than ever. ‘Something about our past.’

      Myla pressed her lips into a straight line. ‘If there is, I haven’t found it yet.’

      The girls talked for a while longer, until eventually, Myla suggested they head back.

      On the way, Molly spotted a pair of mermaids swimming up ahead. A boy and a girl, both with long, flowing blond hair. The girl had a deep blood-red tail, and the boy’s was inky black. On each of their shoulder blades was a strange, jagged scar that perfectly matched the other.

      They swam playfully together, flicking shells and starfish in each other’s faces. There was something vaguely familiar about them, but it wasn’t until they got closer that Molly realised who they were.

      Finn and Serena Waverley.

      They were mermaids too.

CHAPTER FIVE

       Ice Cream in Winter

      The next day was a Saturday. A cold, gloomy winter Saturday, with the sky dark and ominous, and the sea gunmetal-grey. A wonderful Saturday to dress up as a haddock and hand out leaflets on a wet promenade, Molly was sure everyone would agree. (By everyone, she obviously meant madmen, axe murderers, and Margot, who was somewhere between the two.)

      With very few passers-by to harass into taking menus, Molly kept gazing out at the choppy sea. Not twelve hours earlier, she’d seen the Waverley twins swimming out there in their natural form: as mermaids. She wasn’t entirely sure whether they’d seen her or not. She was equally uncertain whether it would matter if they had. After all, mermaids didn’t need to keep their identities hidden from each other – just from prying humans.

      Either way, the new kids in school had suddenly become a lot more interesting. For the first time in her life, Molly couldn’t wait until Monday, when she’d get to see them again – if only from afar.

      Thankfully, she had an entertaining way of passing the time. Eddie of the Ears was helping out on her shift. At first he had tried to purchase a giant fish costume online, to no avail. When he asked where he could buy one, Molly had advised him that sadly the haddock suit was an old family heirloom and nobody was quite sure where it had come from.

      So, Eddie being Eddie, he had taken to the task with aplomb and made his very own cod suit, using an ingenious combination of grey binbags, duct tape and strips of tinfoil cut into scales. When his mum dropped him off outside the shop and he rustled over to Molly with a dopey grin on his pale, freckly face, Molly thought her appendix might rupture from laughter. He had even donned a tinsel scarf for a festive twist.

      There was nobody quite like Eddie of the Ears. And that is precisely why they’d named a sausage after him.

      ‘You know, you really suit being a cod,’ Molly said without sarcasm, for maybe the first time in her life.

      ‘Thank you,’ Eddie said sincerely. ‘I feel very at home in this binbag. And not at all sticky and disgusting.’

      ‘It is a gruelling experience. But you get used to it.’

      Scratching at his tummy, he grimaced. ‘I have all new respect for you, Molly Seabrook.’

      Molly clutched her hand (well, fin) to her chest in faux-offence. ‘You mean you didn’t respect me before?’

      ‘Not at all. You had a scrambled-egg cake for your birthday, for one thing.’

      Molly burst out laughing. Minnie had forgotten to include the eggs in the batter, and they’d ended up forming an omelette-like crust on top of the cake. Harrowing. ‘Fair point well made.’

      The problem with handing out leaflets in early December was that the promenade was all but abandoned for the year. As a result, Molly and Eddie had to fight to the death for customers. At one point Eddie even rugby-tackled Molly to the ground so that he could give a flyer to a disgruntled old man ahead of her. Despite having the wind knocked out of her, and a not un-heavy cod boy on top of her, Molly’s sides ached from laughing.

      While Eddie was still perched triumphantly on Molly, Ada appeared around the corner, bundled up in her winter coat. Climbing breathlessly to their feet, Molly and Eddie panted as though they’d just run a gauntlet against several Roman gladiators and somehow emerged victorious.

      ‘Hey,’ Molly said, brushing wet dirt off her fishy behind. ‘Where’s Pete?’

      Ada rolled her eyes so hard it caused a small earthquake. ‘Just take a random guess, Molly. Where on earth could Pete be on a Saturday morning?’

      ‘Singing to the homeless? Volunteering at a soup kitchen? Washing graffiti off the town hall?’

      ‘Close.’

      ‘He’s playing football, isn’t he.’ Molly winced in sympathy, although Ada had known what she was getting into when she seduced a guy called Penalty.

      ‘Yep.’ Ada jangled the coins in her trackie bottoms. ‘Although let’s be real, I’d rather be hanging out with you guys anyway. Fish costumes or not. Want to get some ice cream? Steve looks miserable.’

      Little Marmouth had to be the only place in the northern hemisphere where they still sold ice cream in winter. Molly looked over to the kiosk for the first time all day, which was a first. Usually her eyes just wandered over there of their own accord. But with Eddie of the Ears here to distract her, she found herself not caring whether or not Fit Steve was looking at her.

      ‘Excuse me,’ Eddie said indignantly to Ada, flicking the end of his tinsel scarf over his shoulder. ‘We’re working here.’

      Ada frowned at his costume as though only just registering that he was wearing it. ‘Can’t you just ask Molly’s mum for a break? Neither of you is being paid.’

      Eddie folded his fins. ‘It’s a matter of pride, Ada.’

      Ada sniggered. ‘Is that what they call it?’

      ‘You’re just jealous that you’re not dressed as a fish,’ Eddie said.

      ‘Fine, fine, I’m extremely jealous and left out. Literally all I want in my life is to dress as a fish, and you two are a living reminder of this personal failure.’

      Eddie triumphantly held up his pointy fins as though they were pistols. ‘Knew it.’

      ‘But I also want ice cream.’ Another jangle of the coins. ‘Shall we?’

      Two fish and a tracksuit sauntered over to the ice-cream kiosk. (Molly thought this sounded like the beginning of a bad joke. Or a very strange