The Golden Mermaid

𝒐𝒏𝒆

My hand hangs limply out the window, wind whipping against my palm. I watch as trees flash by, and beach houses begin to line the side streets.

"Put that window up. My hair is ruined!" Claire's hand reaches for the driver controls before I can even put the window up myself. I pull my hand into my lap before it gets crushed. "Sorry, sorry," she says, "it's just I'm a little nervous. JW says there's already, like, ten people there."

"It's okay to be fashionably late." I pull my sunglasses over my eyes, giving her a goofy grin.

Claire sighs and flips up her turn signal. "Yeah, but not to your own party." Her plump lips perch into a slight frown. Then she smiles and looks down at my feet, crowded by paper bags. "But at least I know I'll be the sexiest girl there, huh?"

"You mean the skimpiest, right?" I laugh, remembering her walking out of the dressing room only an hour ago in a black bikini showing just a little too much skin. "Are you sure JW won't—"

"JW doesn't have a say over what I wear." She pulls into her spacious driveway, parking her bright red mustang beside her mom's BMW. She reaches for the bag, then narrows her icy blue eyes. "If I want to dress like a slut, I can. And if my boyfriend wants to criticize me for being confident in my body, then he can leave."

"Okay. You do you," I wave my hands in the air, surrendering. By now I know that getting a point across with Claire is like outrunning a cheetah: it's nearly impossible. I carefully shut the door, knowing Claire will have something to say if I slam it. The sun beats down on me, making me long to be in the water sloshing just behind us.

"I will, thank you." She says sassily. Claire trots across her sidewalk, her platinum ponytail bobbing behind her. She opens the door and the McAllister family scent—something of high dollar perfumes, cinnamon, and new furniture fills the air.

When we step into the house, Mrs. McAllister immediately greets me. "Sydney!" Her eyeliner is perfectly applied—just as Claire's always is—and a huge spoon waves in her hand. "Come look, come look." She says excitedly. I follow her into the kitchen, and watch as she pulls a pan out of the oven. "I'm just waiting for them to cool off, but..."

Steam climbs away from a batch of cinnamon buns and stare greedily. "I think I'll take the risk," I say while grabbing for the smallest one. I take a small bite, and in only moments the thing is demolished. I smile up at her. "Literal perfection. I don't know how you do it." She replies with a bashful smile and thanks.

"What's that, Claire?" Mrs. McAllister points her spoon at Claire's bag before carefully placing it in their dishwasher.

"A bathing suit."

She furrows her brows. "Don't you have enough?"

"Enough?" Claire spits, "I could never have enough."

Mrs. McAllister laughs, showcasing her pearly white teeth. "Oh, of course. I forgot you were my daughter."

"Come on, Syd. We're already late as it is, don't want to make it worse." Claire nudges me and begins walking up the main staircase.

Mrs. McAllister looks between the two of us, her grey eyes questioning. "I didn't know you two were heading out."

Claire waves a hand at her, bubblegum nail polish shining in the fluorescent lights. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm having a little hangout—you know, because I'm heading off to college in the fall. Kind of like a celebration? Nothing big. I just invited a few close friends  like Sydney, JW, Olivia... just a few close friends, you know?" She smiles up at her mom innocently. The way Claire is able to lie without hesitation has always amazed me.