Laura Kirkpatrick - And Then I Turned Into a Mermaid

‘At whose ill-fated wedding did the Judgement of Paris take place?’

The judgement of what now? Molly forced herself to think of a Greek person, any Greek person, who could reasonably have been getting married twenty billion years ago. ‘Achilles?’

‘Not a bad guess.’ Mr Hackney beamed. ‘It was actually his mother, Thetis.’

In that moment, Molly was very grateful for her speedy brain. She’d never tried particularly hard in school – you didn’t need straight As to fulfil a chip-shop destiny – but always managed to pull semi-decent grades out of the bag. This made her extremely bright sister Myla furious. What was the point of having a brain, Myla said, if you weren’t going to use it to cure mumps?

‘Thetis was a legendary sea nymph and goddess of the water,’ Mr Hackney explained with gusto. ‘Now, as you all know, Paris choosing who should receive the apple addressed “to the fairest” sparked the infamous Trojan War . . .’

Bless Mr Hackney. He really tried very hard to make his classes interesting, with tales of myths and nymphs and goddesses and such, but everyone knew those things weren’t real. Why bother pretending?

At morning break, she and Ada hid in their favourite locker nook so they wouldn’t be forced outside by power-hungry prefects. The gap between the lockers and the wall was narrow enough that you couldn’t see it from down the hall, but big enough to fit two medium-sized thirteen-year-olds and four packets of cheese and onion crisps.

Faces inches apart, Ada crunched through three of the four packets while Molly filled her in on the fishy morning she’d had.

‘Honestly, Ades, how are we ever going to infiltrate the popular group when I’m basically one giant fish?’ Molly shoved a fistful of crisps into her gob. ‘And not a cool fish, like a piranha or something. I’m a trout, through and through.’

‘It’s impressive that you’re able to eat so many crisps then. Do fish even have teeth?’

Molly frowned. ‘I feel like I should know, being the daughter of a chip-shop queen.’

Ada snorted. ‘I.e. the worst kind of queen.’

She had always been a bit stuck-up about the chip shop, but Molly just laughed it off – and decided not to tell Margot, who was famous for blowing snot bubbles into the gravy of customers who offended her.

‘Did you get to talk to Fit Steve over half-term?’ Ada asked impatiently, as though that’s all she really wanted to know.

She and Molly had been swooning over Fit Steve and his best mate Penalty Pete (who had once scored the winning goal in a school football match) for months. And since Ada had spent her half-term in a Center Parcs with no phone reception, this was the first chance they’d had for a proper debrief.

Molly puffed out her chest with pride. ‘Yes. Twice.’

‘And? What did he say? Did you remember to do that thing we saw on YouTube? Pressing your tongue against the roof of your mouth so you look all pouty and cool?’

‘Yes,’ Molly said vaguely. ‘Definitely. It went well.’

It had not gone well. The video had not been clear on how to talk while mid-manoeuvre, so Molly’s words had come out in a garbled warble.

Wiping her crumb-coated hands on her blazer and reaching into her pocket, Ada said, ‘Anyway. Want your present now?’

Molly, whose mouth was once again full of crisps, just nodded excitedly and clapped her hands like a performing monkey.

The gift was small and daintily wrapped in navy paper covered with pretty silver stars. Between the stars, Ada had written in metallic Sharpie: ‘These are definitely not starfish, you paranoid loon!’ – but then drawn dangly legs on the stars so they did indeed look like starfish.

Molly chuckled as she tore away the paper to find a fancy lipstick sitting inside. It was so fancy it came in a small cardboard box, which is how you know it’s the real deal. Sure enough, the word MAC was stamped proudly on the black packaging. Molly gasped, pulling out the tube. It was a dusty pink colour with a glossy finish. It was gorgeous.

Ada smirked. ‘Just to make your trout pout a little less fishy.’

‘I love it!’ Molly threw her arms around Ada, which was easier said than done in the tiny nook, and she ended up punching the wall with her elbow.

At lunch, while Molly was queuing for hotdogs, Fit Steve was standing right there, right in front of her, black hair flopping attractively. She was so sure he would turn around and say hi, even though he was in year ten and much too cool for her. After all, they’d had two whole conversations in the chip shop over half-term, both of which had centred around battered sausages. What could possibly be more romantic than that?

And she had done the tongue-roof thing. She was basically an Instagram model. Was it too late to run to the loos and apply a little bit of lipstick?

In any case, Fit Steve was ignoring her. Molly decided to take matters into her own hands, and tried to make it a sausage hat-trick. It was hotdog day, so the perfect opportunity.

Unfortunately, the second she opened her mouth, the word ‘glumph’ plopped out, like a toad falling into a pond.

However, Fit Steve didn’t even notice her sudden transformation into a bullfrog, so that was that.

On Mondays, Ada had orchestra during lunch, so Molly usually ate with Melissa and Margot. Today, though, Melissa had ditched them in favour of the hockey team she’d recently joined, so it was just Margot and Molly. The way Molly liked it.

However, as Margot chattered away about a new prank she was planning – something to do with bird seed, batteries and pipe cleaners – Molly found herself envying her older sister’s ability to make people laugh. Unlike Molly, Margot was always smiling, always teasing people, always cracking jokes.

Molly wished she had that playful streak. Maybe if she was more like Margot, Fit Steve would suddenly realise that she was the girl of his dreams, and immediately kiss her face with his face.

She had no time to dwell on the idea, though, because Margot suddenly looked serious for the first time in her natural-born life. ‘Hey, it’s weird how Myla’s leaving, right?’

Molly shrugged. Myla, who was in her final year of sixth form, had an interview at Cambridge next month. ‘She might not get in.’ Molly knew that wasn’t true. Myla would get into NASA, if they hired seventeen-year-olds.

‘She’ll get in somewhere, though.’ Margot stared at her own hotdog with a strange look on her face. Almost . . . wistful? ‘Kinda sucks that everything’s going to change soon.’

Molly was going to protest, to say that it wouldn’t change that much, but she didn’t have the heart to lie to Margot. Since Minnie was born five years ago, there had always been five Seabrook sisters in Little Marmouth. There’s no way it wouldn’t feel different once Myla left.

Molly vowed there and then to make the most of this birthday, no matter how fishy. After all, it would be the last one they’d all be around for. Things were changing – fast – and soon Molly would look back and wish she’d appreciated her bonkers family while they were all still together. Fish and all.

‘Love you, Margs,’ Molly mumbled, fighting the urge to reach over and squeeze her sister’s hand.

‘That’s disgusting,’ Margot replied, and shoved a pipe cleaner up Molly’s nose.