So, You Want to be a Mermaid?

The Tale

A/N: Hey guys, so this is an entry I put together for the Wattpad Under the Sea contest for 2018. The prompt was to write a tale about a mermaid or a story set under the sea. I hope you enjoy what I came up with. Total Word Count: 1916 <3 Jenna

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There's an old saying among staff at the Winchester Public Library: What happens in the stacks, stays in the stacks. Mostly it's a running joke due to the randy teens that like to make out somewhere between the shadowed shelves of Foreign Politics and Western Civilization, but today, I'm adopting that slogan as my own.

No, I'm not getting it on with a hot playboy CEO, who also happens to have a heart of gold and a penchant for rescue animals, I'm not delusional. Also, I've worked here three years and can tell you exactly how many times a man like that has stepped foot into the library. 

Zero. 

Literally zero. 

But, I am sneaking down the self-help aisle, my trusty stack of crime thrillers under my arm as cover, in an attempt to research a little life makeover.

I'm almost thirty and spend my day's re-shelving romance novels and non-fiction. And while it's my dream job, pays the bills, and keeps me in air conditioning during county heat waves, I've come to realize hiding away among these stacks is working against me in the You Only Live Once department or YOLO as I heard some skateboarder shout while hopping the curb in the parking lot.

I Googled it.

I am not YOLOing right.

Which is why I'm currently slinking past books written by doctors and fancy Ph.D. holders in the hopes that their combined wisdom will literally leap off the page. I'm also hoping no one catches me because the gossip mill at this library is top-notch. The last thing I need is old Mrs. Whitaker giving me knowing looks while she sorts the new arrivals.

I keep my head low, running my fingers over the plastic spines. A motion light catches me unaware and blinks on, illuminating me like a criminal making a jailbreak. I duck out of habit and find myself eye level with a bright red cover, the words, Finding Love with the Vampire Next Door, typed in a vertical line.

Nope. I like garlic too much and that time I saw blood when I cut my leg shaving almost sent me into a dead faint. I ponder the title...unless they're talking about emotional vampires because those I seem to attract like flies.

I scan to the next book and flatten my lips when I see its condition. The spine appears wet and it has a distinct smell. I squint and dab at it with the sleeve of my shirt, cursing at the damp stain that confirms my suspicion.

Gross.

I pull the book from the shelf, intending to examine it further. Water droplets slide down the front, dripping onto my black clogs.

Double gross.

A faint humming drags me out of my murder fantasy for whoever re-shelved a wet book, and I realize it's Mrs. Whitaker strolling through the stacks. In a panic, I tuck the soaking book under my arm and hurry from the section.

"There you are, Avery." Mrs. Whitaker eyes me from beneath her wire-rimmed spectacles. "I'm just checking the stacks for stragglers before we close for the night. Are those the books you're taking with you?" She points a gnarled finger at the cluster under my arm.

"Yup, just a couple mysteries to tide me over for the holiday weekend. You know I love a good whodunnit." My face flames as I feel water soak into my linen trousers from the still dripping book. It seems getting caught in the self-help section by a nosy gossiper is taking a backseat to looking like I peed my pants.