A Fishy Business

Chapter 4: Orleano

            “Wake up, imposter!”  I heard a young man’s voice bellow at me.  I woke up sharply.  “Who are you?  What are you doing in my room?” 

            “Who are you?”  I said sleepily.

            “I’m Orleano and you’re in my room, in my bed…more to the point!”  I sat up and stared at the boy.  He looked about fifteen, with thick dark hair and one eye blue, one eye green.  In one ear he had a golden hoop earring.  I was desperately embarrassed for him to have seen me asleep.  Mum always says I sleep with one eye open.

            “I’m sorry, I’m Marina.  I’m just a guest here.  Your mother said I could sleep in this room.  The East Wing.”  He sighed.

            “This isn’t the East Wing, fool!”  I got up out of bed and stood up.

            “Excuse me, kind sir, but can you please stop being so very rude.  The jelly fish, Timmy, Timmo, whatever it’s called led me here.”  Orleano looked round, and I noticed the same jelly fish sulking in the corner. 

            “Timmins!  What did we tell you about lying to innocent guests?  Bad Timmins!  Go away.”  Timmins quickly ran out the room with one of his tentacles lodged in his mouth.  Now Orleano looked embarrassed.

            “I’m sorry,” he said.  “It’s just, I didn’t know who you were.  Pleased to meet you anyway,” he bowed.  “Have you had a good rest?”  I laughed.

            “Yes,” thank you.  “Your bed is incredibly comfortable.”  There was an awkward silence between us.  “I don’t really like that shark though.” 

            “You don’t?  Most mer-girls are mighty impressed by that.  I slayed it.”  I gasped.

            “What?!  Why did you do that?” 

            “Well, why not?”

            “Because that’s mean!”

            “Who cares about sharks.  They don’t care about you,  and besides…it makes me a tough warrior.”  I shrugged at him.  “You mean to say, you don’t find that impressive?” 

            “No!”  I said.  “A mer-boy shouldn’t have to do that to impress mer-girls.”

            “For your information, I’m a merman, not a merboy!”  He looked even crosser than before now.

            “How old are you?”  I asked.

            “Fifteen.  How old are you?”

            “Eleven,” I said in a grumpy voice.  Our conversation stopped for a second.  “What time is it, Orleano?”  I asked.

            “Morning.”

            “Can you be more specific?” 

            “The seahorses have just arisen.”  This place is weird, I thought.  I would have to get used to these weird ways of telling the time.  “What outfit is that?”  Orleano said.  I was still wearing my school uniform, and even in the human-world it wasn’t the most flattering of outfits.  “You’re strange looking for a mer-girl.” 

            “You’re pretty straight-to-the-point!” I said.  He was looking at me suspiciously.

            “Where are you from?”  I desperately tried to remember the place Washy had said.