Weremermaid - Tales From Beneath

Chapter 1 - First Encounter

Amanda woke up in cold sweat. The haunting visions, which have stopped three spring ago, have come back. She could see faces, hear conversations, and arguments all as though through a veil. As though something menacing was obstructing her view, preventing her to see clearly. She could never remember the pictures, but she always remembered the feeling. The uneasy pit in her stomach. Somehow she just knew that something out there was looking for her. Or maybe it was just that slushy she had before she went to bed last night. She shrugged these thoughts away, as she lazily crawled out of bed. The numerals on her phone were staring at her in disapproval. Amanda was late to school, again.

A loud yawn filled the air as she walked down the stairs. She could already hear the annoying music that her mom has put on, it was Queen's "Barcelona!". Amanda felt that it was how her mom punished her for being late to school every day. Amanda just couldn’t help it, she loved to sleep in. On her way to the kitchen she yelled “I am up, mum!”. The blasted music was muted down just a little bit. Her mom had mercy, after all. Amanda gulped down her breakfast, smeared on some chapstick, and was ready to head out the door just when a sight of something out of place caught her eye. It was a blue striped scarf, with intricate silver thread woven into it. It was probably something new that her mom bought on her impulse mall trip. A grin spread across Amanda’s face, she snatched the scarf and hurried out the door and onto her bicycle.

Smell of autumn engulfed the streets, where everyone seemed to hurry to one place or another. Even the neighbour’s dog was on its morning run, focused and too busy to notice the neighbour's cat that was happily clawing at the dog’s blanket. Ripe ruby apples decorated the trees, and some of the leafs were already painted auburn and orange. All seemed well in San Pierre.

Amanda took off her scarf. Yes, now it was hers. And stuffed it into her locker, right beside a battered copy of History textbook and some unfinished art projects. Crap! It was art class and she completely forgot about the art supplies. Oh well, she sighed, she’ll borrow some from Jimmy. Amanda shut the door and was ready to dart through the hallway and to the art class, as the anthem started to play. Anthem wasn’t much of a problem, but Mrs. Sharpe who stood in the hallway, piecing Amanda through the rims of her eyeglasses was. Amanda obediently stood still, muttering the words under her breath and staring at her shoes. Her ked’s were splattered with dirt specks, covering some of her pen doodles.

Sneaking into the art class so that Mrs. Turnbull didn’t notice wasn’t a problem at all. Amanda was greeted gingerly by that weird girl in class no one ever talks to,

“Hey!”, she whispered, “Jimmy is not here today, so I will be your art buddy for today.”

Amanda sighed, the whole idea of buddies irritated her. She never liked team work and just preferred to do things by herself.

“Great, thanks.” Amanda smiled politely. That odd girl smiled back, displaying all of her teeth. Amanda tried to remember the girl’s name. They were introduced to each other just when she joined the school. What was her name again? Meagan, Margo, Marla. Amanda went on guessing. Moira stared back at Amanda, adoring her. Amanda was everything she ever wanted to be: tall, blonde, and just enough socially adept to have a handful of friends. Amanda continued staring at Moira, trying to remember her name. Her gaze wondered to the girl’s shirt, a bedazzled pink tee that read in all caps “WE ARE ALL MERMAIDS ON THE INSIDE”. Amanda shuddered at the sight.

Where was Jimmy? Amanda wondered to herself. If he’s not here it means that she will also be missing a history buddy. She grinned at the thought, there were only ten kids in her history class and Mr. Brom wasn’t a fan of the school’s buddy system. He also did not like disorder or change, so he probably will just let Amanda be, sitting by herself. Amanda turned to look at the clock, it was round, boring, and hung slanted on the wall alongside Mrs. Turnbull’s favourite students’ projects. Amanda’s drawings did not decorate this wall. Why is it that mom had to enrol her into this special art program, this was beyond her. The clock went on ticking and the time dragging.