When I Became a Mermaid

Chapter 2

"Algebra. Get your textbooks out and flip to page 482," spat Mr. Patrickson, Thomas's monotonous math teacher. He wore a plain black suit, tie and dress pants. The combination always made it look like he worked in a high-up office job or something, rather than a tenth-grade math teacher, which Thomas found a little funny. "Questions 1 to 4 need to be completed by the end of the lesson or you'll have to do them for homework."

Thomas's school life was rather boring. He had Bs or Cs in almost every class. He paid attention and never goofed off, but he never did anything for extra credit, and he never had to drive to do any studying or work at home. He performed mediocrely on his tests, never performing exceptionally well but never doing poorly, either. His mom wasn't the kind of person who wanted her child to ace every subject and become an honor student — she was fine with how he was doing now.

A new girl sat at his pod, but he didn't feel like introducing himself to her. Saying his name aloud made him feel strange. The girl had long, straight, blonde hair, tied up neatly in an orange hair tie. Thomas could only wish to have hair as neat as hers.

He stopped himself from thinking like that.

Thomas sat down, took his algebra textbook out of his backpack and flicked through the pages before landing on page 482. Sometimes he wondered why there was a need for so many pages, considering how he'd had that book since the start of ninth grade and had used only about fifty pages or so.

Today's work was on quadratic equations. Each question had at least ten mini-questions, each beginning with "a". Letting out a tiny sigh, he opened his workbook and reluctantly began the work. Thomas noticed how the new girl, who was sitting next to him, seemed to breeze through her work, answering the questions like they were addition sums.

The girl turned to Thomas and smiled. "Need help?"

"Oh, n-no, I'm fine," he replied. "Hey, are you new here?"

"Yep, moved here on Saturday." She gave a small chuckle. "Ten-hour drive from Portland."

"Oh, wow," he coughed. "You tryna get out of city life or something?"

"For sure," she replied. "I feel like I can breathe here after being crowded by all those people for all those years."

"Being able to breathe is nice and all, but that comes with the side effect of there not really being much to do."

"Really? I heard from someone that this town has some of the most pristine beaches in all of the Pacific Coast."

"Hmm?" Thomas looked a little confused. "I've never heard anyone say that before."

The girl giggled. "I guess you're used to it."

"I guess? Is... is that why you moved here?"

"Oh, no, no, not at all," she said, tapping her chin. "My mom and I have family here."

"Ah."

She glanced at the almost-empty page in his workbook. "The answer to 1c is x²+12x-9, by the way."

"Oh, uh, thank you." Thomas quickly did some sums, copying them from her book, before jotting down the answer. "D-do you mind telling me a bit more about yourself?"

She smiled. "There's a lot to say. For starters, I like going to the beach, watching movies, playing volleyball and swimming."

She's athletic, thought Thomas. I wonder how eager she is to do the triathlon.

"So, yeah. How about you? What do you like doing?" she asked him.

That question struck Thomas off-guard, and he had to think about it for a second. "I... uh... play video games?"

"Ooh. What games do you like?"

"I dunno, Minecraft? I don't play it that much."

"Oh, I love Minecraft," she smiled. "Do you play it vanilla or modded?"

Thomas shrugged. "It's really an on-and-off game for me."

"Well, okay. If you ever wanna, I'd love to play it with you."

She'd love to? Love to play with him? Thomas was awkward. Thomas didn't talk to anyone. Thomas didn't like interactions. Why him?

But... he'd been talking to her, and he'd been talking a lot. Unlike other interactions he'd had, even with his mom, he didn't stutter much, he didn't sweat, he didn't sigh or anything — how come?

"T-thanks for the offer, I'll think about it."

Thomas turned back to his work, and so did the girl, but the thought kept lingering in his head.

---------------

Thomas was barely halfway through his questions when the girl put her hand up.

"Yes?" asked Mr. Patrickson.

"Finished," she smiled.

"Well done."

The girl gave a subtle grin.

"Could you remind me of your name?"

"Bridgette."

"Bridgette..."

"Davis. Bridgette Davis."

It took a second to process, but soon, Thomas gasped loudly and began to choke. His eyes watered, splashing everywhere, including all over his book. Soon enough the coughing spree ended, and his eyes cleared. Everyone was looking at him.

"Y-you okay?" Bridgette asked. Thomas gave a rueful smile and nodded.

Bridgette?! She was Bridgette?!

Memories began flooding into his mind. Why had she moved back?

Thomas remembered. She had moved to Portland nine years ago. How had he not realized sooner?

He remembered the day she moved. The memory was cloudy; regardless, he could recall it all.

Bridgette and her parents had driven to their house. Their minivan was filled with bags, toys and devices — Thomas had initially assumed that they were going on a road trip.

The two had played mermaids together, pretending to swim, hugging fish plushies and singing songs. They had drawn pictures of themselves as mermaids, too.

About an hour later, their parents called them down and Bridgette's said she had to go.

"Have a nice vacation," Thomas had smiled.

"What? I-I'm not going on vacation," Bridgette had said.

"You aren't?"

"No, I'm moving house."

"Oh..." His eyes had started to fill up with tears, which he tried to wipe away to little avail. "You're not moving far, are you?"

Bridgette had started crying too. "I'm moving to Portland..."

"In Oregon?"

Bridgette had nodded. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't! You're my best friend, if you move away I won't have someone to play with after school! I won't have someone to go to the beach with in the summer! I—"

"Thomas..." Bridgette had walked over and hugged him. "It's not the end of the world. Besides, you'll always have something to remember me by."

"I-I will?"

She had handed him a little plastic ring covered in pink fish scales, as well as their drawings.

"Remember, I'll always be here for you."

From there, the memory grew cloudier and cloudier.

"Thomas Brooks," said Mr. Patrickson, "are you okay?"

Thomas blushed a little and nodded. He must've zoned out. "Yes."

Bridgette looked at him and, under her breath, said, "Thomas Brooks?".