𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭, charlie conway

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

Prologue
Lake Minnetonka

I have always believed in mermaids. Coming from a place like Mermaid Beach, that wasn't all that unusual. At the shell shack where I worked, we had old locals come in telling tales from their childhood about spotting a glimpse of one in the harbor. Green and blue glittering scales, brown hair, brown eyes—a face that could express as much as a human's, but eyes that didn't match, that lent no authenticity, the same as the old siren legends.

My mother believed too. She'd always tell tourist kids who came in to the shop to look around for them swimming beside boats, on distant rocks, lingering at the edge of the harbor. When I was a child she entertained my imagination and woke me up at sunrise all summer—we'd walk the block to the beach and watch the horizon for overly glittery splashes. I saw at least six mermaids that summer, though from great distance. And every time I went to the beach, I'd find signs that they had been there. I always saw conch shells or a gathering of plastics in fishing nets—protecting the sea life.

The most jarring thing about visiting beaches and lakes in America was the lack of mermaids. Whether my father took me to the east coast or the west, Florida or California; the great lakes or a smaller local one, I never saw a single sign of mermaids. When my dad took me to the shore at dawn, there were no distant splashes, no conch shells? no nets, nothing. I even tried to bring mermaid dust one year, something tourist kids would buy in hopes of seeing mermaids up close— a combination of dried deep-sea plankton and kelp. I must've tried it for a week but it didn't work. I loved going to the beach and I loved swimming, but I loved it a lot less in America.

"Missing the mermaids, Bluebell?" My dad asked from the driver's seat—I was in the back with the window down.
"It's just strange that you don't have them here."
we were on our way to Lake Minnetonka for the day to get a taste of sun and fun before the days of summer we're gone here. Dad's fiancé, Steph, was with us too in her usual good spirits.

When I came to visit my dad, I was the center of his universe for those three months. He never wanted to waste a moment with me. We would do something fun every day.

At the lake, we settled close to the water under the umbrella. My dad was always as pale as a ghost, so he lathered up in sunscreen. I had always refused—it wasn't a thing in Australia to wear it. Still, I didn't let myself bake too hard. I went to the water to swim right away. I love to get my head, underwater, especially freshwater. It was fun to open your eyes under there, to see the wildlife and shells for myself. I always gathered some to take back home so mum could sell them as US imports. They always sold within a week.

I liked coming to the US, especially since I've been able to come on my own. For the first 10 years of my life, my mother used to close up shop and come visit with me. We'd all stay at my dad's house. What always got me was they got along so well, always stayed in love, but would never make the plunge to live together. Things were as awesome as they could be, considering they lived on opposite ends of the globe. before I could come on my own, dad would come visit us for Christmas. He would play Father Christmas and eat the cookies and drink the milk.

I stood up, getting my head out of the water and looking on up the beach. The sun was growing higher in the sky and more people had come. I walked up shore, not taking a towel, but finding my thongs to go up to the food house. My dad gave me a couple US dollars and on my way over there I studied the different bills so I wouldn't embarrass myself when it came time to pay up.

Studying the menu, I was struck by all the different choices. At home, I usually got fish and chips on a beach day, but that wasn't an option here. Instead, I got a hotdog and chips—careful to call them "french fries," which has to be the dumbest name I had ever heard of for something made of potatoes. I was also careful not to confuse barbecue sauce for ketchup in the condiment area, as I had done that once and was highly disappointed because I didn't realize there'd be such a difference.