Oktober Mermaids

Swim Coach

Zero period swim class is cancelled today, so we're sitting in the locker room, half of us still in our bathing suits, in case Coach changes her mind.

Coach tells us to hang out and try to not to make a 7 a.m. ruckus. Once the other ninety percent of the school stumbles onto campus, we can go, but we best not tell anyone we left class early.

Lizzy says, "Bet she's having another migraine."

Sarah rolls her eyes. I quit doing eye-rolls in junior high, in fear of accidental wrath from my mother. Try explaining to a parent that dismissiveness is a habit. But Sarah's not as nervous as I am. She doesn't care if she bothers anyone.

"I had a thought," Sarah says.

"Oh no," Gina murmurs, grinning.

"I swear it's a good one this time!" Sarah replies, dark eyes glimmering and wide. "Why don't we sneak into the pool area? Then we can talk as loudly as we want."

"Coach doesn't want us out there," I tell them.

"Yeah, sure—," and Sarah pauses to roll her hand, like she's weaving schemes mid-air, "but she doesn't have to know, does she?"

So we sneak single-file along the edge of the locker room, half of us not wanting to be there. I guess it's better to participate in antics as a team than risk becoming the nark later.

Everyone on the swim team gasps at once when we see Coach in the pool. Lizzy screams.

"Coach?" Gina croaks.

Maybe because she realizes she's already busted, Coach waves to us before she dives, so her glistening silver mermaid's tail slaps hard against the water.

We gape at the salmon-skin-tone fin, sparkling against the backdrop of the early morning dark, caught between fading moonlight and rising sun.

"My mom always said I swim like a mermaid," I say. "You think I can swim like that?"

♦️

First draft: October 18

Word count: 341

Inspiration: Halloween Vault & Sports contest, "Skeletons in the Locker Room," located here:
https://my.w.tt/kKYzMeo4JQ