Mermaids And The Vampires Who Love Them

3. WHY ARE THE SHARKS SO STUPID?

I'm swimming alone toward West Marin Heights for my first day. Dad left our new (much smaller) cave earlier to get his classroom prepared. I think he wanted me to go with him and hold his hand, but I told him he'd do fine on his own; then I went back to sleep.

The fog is so dense, it's like I'm propelling myself through a cloud. My head is above water, and I'm navigating by smell—Dad told me to follow the smoke, which is ironic, because my whole life has gone up in smoke. As I near the shore, the scent of sage and oysters and the tell-tale wood smoke from the school chimneys intensifies. Apparently, the school compound is 'off the grid,' meaning there's no human electricity or phone service or cable television.

My long green hair floats around me while I swim. I've worn it loose today, so when it dries, it'll conceal my neck. That's just smart when you're going to hang out with vampires. Don't add to the temptation.

When I left the cave this morning, I could tell Mom wasn't totally on board with the vampire-school idea. She packed a wooden stake in my waterproof pack. I hope I don't have to use it. And not just because I despise the sight of blood—I'm just pretty sure that if I stake a classmate on day one, I will ruin whatever minuscule chance I have at a social life. I wish I knew more about vampires. Here's the sum total of everything I've learned about the species: they enjoy mermaid blood. They turn into bats on the full moon. They run on land as fast as merfolk can turboswim. They avoid direct sunlight and hate saltwater. I hope they don't hate all water, because if they don't shower, I can only imagine what a mess there would be after a 'feeding.'

I plan to emerge on the shore a short distance from the school and change into the clothes in my pack because the shell bikini top I'm wearing now won't be enough once I sprout legs. Merfolk are pretty shy. We're not used to having 'parts,' so, like humans, we like to cover up when we're tailless. Luckily, I don't have to wear a wig and contacts because the kids at my new school already know all about merfolk. I'm just hoping they think of us as more than a delicacy.

I'm probably already late, and I'm only about two-thirds of the way. The fog is burning off. I've just gone into turboswim when I catch a glimpse of great white shark fins gliding toward me. I speak enough Shark that I'm not too worried. We have agreements with most of the sharks back in Pacifica. I send them a telepathic message in what is probably garbled Shark saying, "Hey, I'm new here. Nice to meet y'all."

My Shark must be rustier than I thought because they keep coming. Maybe there's a different dialect up here. I don't have time for this right now, but with bullies, you have to establish your position on the food chain right away, or they'll never leave you in peace.

I stop swimming. The sharks do their little threatening shark circle around me, only their fins sticking out of the water. I don't know if you've ever gotten a good look at a shark's face, but when their mouths are closed, they look like old humans who've lost their teeth.

"Come on, guys. I mean you no harm, and I'm late for school. Move off," I say out loud. Even if they can't understand the words, hopefully, they'll hear how serious I am. The one closest to me opens his maw, and it becomes very obvious these folks haven't left their teeth at home in some jar. They smell terrible—like blood, rot, death. "Go away! I mean it!" I shriek, but they keep circling.

These are the dumbest sharks I've ever encountered. I wonder if there's some kind of pollutant in the water that's taking them down a significant number of IQ points. I splash at the sharks, but they arch their backs and point their fins downward. Well, I can get aggressive too, you know. But I don't. I don't want to hurt them. And I don't want to take a chance to hurt myself, even though I know I could handle myself if it comes to a fight.

A flick of my tail, and I'm under the sharks, ready to make as quick a getaway as possible. But before I can move, something heavy hits my back. Whatever it is, it wraps itself around me, and together we plummet to the bottom of the bay. My tail hits the seafloor with a shudder. It accordions, sending an astonishing shock of pain through my body. With my tail in agony and my arms pinned to my sides, I'm unable to move.