The Siren's Song

Chapter Six- Jellyfish And Porch Swings

So, it's official.

Now, instead of turning into a mermaid when I touch salt water, it also happens with:

Tap water, rain water, hose water, chlorinated water, purified water, sprinkler water, bottled water, melted ice cube water, pond water and tears (don't ask about that last one).

Oh zippity doo dah. I now can't cry without turning into a fish. I can't wash my hands in front of people. I can't go outside in the rain without an umbrella. I can't swim in a swimming pool when anyone is there. I can't do anything without getting a tail, for god's sake.

Well, at least I can touch other liquids without turning into a mermaid. I found out I can drink orange juice, milk and wine (but don't tell dad) so far without any fishy transformations. The type of water that turns me the quickest is salt water, and the slowest is bottled water.

I figured out that I have about ten seconds before I turn if only a bit of water spills on me, fifteen if I'm lucky. Five if I'm fully submerged in water. One time, a singular drop of water fell onto my hand, and I had a full twenty seconds.

I was allowed to experiment with all of these materials because Johnny and Bri went out to explore the neighbourhood, so I wouldn't have to worry about them walking in on me while I had a tail. But I think I'm done now, thankfully, so I can go out and explore the area with my younger siblings and forget about this whole thing for a while.

Kicking on my flip flops, I push open the door and run onto the deck. My feet make heavy thudding sounds on the hollow wood, and I jump up and land on the deck. An even bigger thud follows my descent.

I slow down my child-esque jumping and running when I almost jump onto the hot tub cover. Now that wouldn't have been good. Even though there isn't any water in the hot tub yet, I would've fallen in and that wouldn't be very fun.

Dashing off the deck, I nearly slide down the little dirt slope that leads me to the rocky beach. I pause when my text tone beeps and check my phone. It's a message from dad.

Dad: hey Cory, I'm going to be a few hours longer than I originally planned. Your mother called, and told me to take Mr. Mistoffelees from the ferry boat. Apparently she wants us to keep him. Eva's coming home early, will you make dinner when she comes back? Thanks.

I read the text over, my face falling.

"Crap," I say aloud, clicking my phone off and stowing it in the pocket of my green cargo shorts.

Mr. Mistoffelees is—was—our cat, until mom kicked us out. He was mom's, so I'm not really sure why she's giving him to us. Well, technically he was the family's, but mom was the most attached to him. The reason why I'm acting so disappointed over inheriting a cat is because, I swear to god, this cat is the actual devil. He hates me, despises me, loathes me, resents me, abhors me, detests me, and any other word that I'm too lazy to look up on Thesaurus. Mr. Mistoffelees' favourite activity is biting, scratching, attacking, drawing blood, all that cute stuff. He's a freaking teddy bear.

I've tried to become friends with that little monster before, but every time I extend the olive branch, he snaps it. That cat has no mercy. He is Satan, I swear it.

And now I'll have to live with him.

Again.

Sighing over-dramatically even though no one is here, I start to jog down to the beach. I clamber up the rocks, jumping from one to the other. The wind feels good on my face, tugging my hair and my clothes gently, and cooling my skin while the sun warms it. I like the feeling of being part of the whole scene, with the green-blue waves roaring and the wind whistling and the birds calling. The sense of being a part of the world lifts my spirits.