Aria's POV

The lunchroom hummed with the energy of high school life at Oceanview Academy, a vibrant tapestry of laughter and chatter that enveloped me. I settled into my corner table, my oversized glasses perched on my nose, magnifying my wide, dark eyes. I opened my well-worn paperback, but my attention drifted to the far end of the room, where Jack Carter reigned like a king. His brown shaggy hair danced in the air as he threw his head back in laughter, an easy smile lighting up his face, effortlessly drawing people into his orbit.

Beside him, Brent Calloway stood sentinel, his blond buzzcut giving him an air of authority. It was no secret that Jack valued Brent's opinion above all else, even when it came to matters of the heart. Whenever a new girl approached, Brent would shoot a judgmental glance, his expression scrutinizing, weighing whether she was worthy of Jack's attention. If a girl dared to get too close, I knew Jack would pull away, his fear of intimacy like a fortress around him, breaking hearts without a second thought. He thrived on the thrill of romance but recoiled when someone ventured too deep. It was a pattern I had watched unfold too many times, and each heartbreak felt like a dagger through my own heart.

I sat in the shadows, invisible, a quiet observer of this vibrant world. I had memorized the details of Jack's life: how he liked his coffee black, his habit of tapping his foot when he was anxious, and the way he ran a hand through his hair when he was deep in thought. I watched him float from one relationship to the next, always surrounded by blonde, athletic girls who lit up the cafeteria. They were the perfect matches for his star quarterback persona, and I couldn't help but wonder how he could be so close yet so distant. No one truly knew him, and that was the cruel irony of it all.

My heart ached as I watched him today, flirting with a new girl—her laughter ringing like a bell as she tossed her hair back. Jack's smile was wide, but I could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He might indulge her charm for a while, but if she dared to lean in, to reach for something deeper, I knew he would retreat, breaking her heart before she had a chance to truly connect with him. His relationship with Brent was symbiotic; they were like a well-oiled machine on the football field and off, but beneath their camaraderie lay an unspoken agreement—no one was allowed too close.

As I turned my gaze back to my book, my thoughts wandered to my own secrets. While I yearned for the courage to engage with the world around me, I had created a hidden life of my own—one that existed in the ethereal depths of the ocean. It had been nearly a decade since I stumbled upon that underground cave during a family trip. The water had called to me, an irresistible allure. When I jumped in, I transformed, a shimmering tail emerging from my legs. I had learned to control this magic—how to return to my human form when the water dried, how to navigate the fine line between my two identities. This secret was mine alone, hidden even from my parents, who were often too absorbed in their business trips to notice the flickers of my other life.

But I had another secret that felt just as crucial: my vlogs. Each entry was a window into a confident version of me that I could never show in person. I documented everything—from my makeup routines to my aesthetic clothing hauls, capturing the essence of a girl who loved to shop and transform herself. I recorded GRWM videos and acted as though I was a typical high school student, even though I couldn't bring myself to share them with anyone. They were stored away on a thumb drive, for my eyes only, a refuge where I could express the vibrant personality hiding behind my bookish exterior.

But in the lunchroom, I was still that shy bookworm, lost in a world of graphic tees and faded jeans, with my nose buried in a novel. I had no interactions with anyone, no friends to lean on, and no one to understand the whirlpool of emotions swirling within me. All I could do was admire Jack from afar, a silent guardian of his secrets and heartbreaks, longing for a connection that felt impossibly out of reach.

The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the halls, signaling the end of lunch. I snapped my novel shut, tucking it carefully into my worn backpack. The familiar weight of the school day pressed down on me as I slipped out of the cafeteria, my steps quiet and purposeful as I made my way to my locker.

The hallway was bustling with life—students chatting, lockers slamming, the hum of excitement carrying the momentum of another passing period. I moved through it like a shadow, unnoticed, a quiet observer in a sea of noise. As I opened my locker, the clatter of metal against metal briefly pulled my attention back to reality. I grabbed my textbooks and closed the door, but not before my eyes drifted to the far end of the hallway.

Jack was there, as he always was, standing at the center of everything. His hand was wrapped around the new girl's, fingers intertwined as they walked together. She was tall, blonde, with that effortless athletic grace he always seemed to gravitate toward. Her laugh was loud, bright, as though it belonged to someone who knew what it was like to be seen. And beside them, as always, stood Brent, his eyes cool and watchful. His judgmental gaze flickered between the girl and Jack, weighing and assessing, though Jack seemed oblivious, caught up in the moment.

I stole a glance, my gaze lingering on Jack's profile—the way his brown shaggy hair fell over his forehead, the way his lips curled slightly when he wasn't fully smiling. But as always, he didn't notice me. He never did. They were oblivious to the quiet girl standing by her locker, content to be invisible. It didn't sting like it used to. I had long since accepted that Jack existed in a different world, one I could admire from afar but would never belong to.

This crush—it wasn't a burden anymore, just a harmless daydream I held close. Jack would date girl after girl, holding their hands, sharing fleeting moments, but never letting anyone truly close. I knew the pattern well. He wasn't the type for deep relationships; when a girl started to reach too far, wanting more than the surface-level charm, Jack would pull back, leaving her heartbroken. And Brent, with his quiet disapproval, would always be there, as though protecting Jack from letting anyone in. It was an endless cycle; one I could watch from the sidelines without feeling the sting of jealousy. I knew my place—outside of it all.

Besides, I was under no illusions. Jack was out of my league in every conceivable way. He belonged in that orbit of popularity, surrounded by laughter and attention, while I was content in my quiet, solitary world. My crush would fade eventually. It was a temporary fantasy, a way to pass the time while I counted down the days until the school year ended.

I didn't need friends. I didn't want them. The idea of trying to connect with anyone felt like an added complication I couldn't afford. I was content with my loner life, with the simplicity of going unnoticed. My vlogs, hidden away on my thumb drive, were enough. In those videos, I was everything I couldn't be in the real world—confident, vibrant, with a love for makeup and clothes and the perfect life of a high school girl. I was dating myself, really. No one else could fill that space.

And then there was my secret life—the one that existed beneath the surface of everything. The mermaid inside me, the one I had discovered when I was only ten years old, still lived quietly in the back of my mind. The power that surged through me when I touched water, the way my legs transformed into a shimmering tail, was something I guarded fiercely. If anyone knew about it, if they saw what I became, I'd end up as nothing more than a science experiment. No one would see me as a person anymore, only as something to study, something to control. I couldn't risk it.

I couldn't risk any of it. My three personas—the shy bookworm with the big glasses, the confident vlogger, and the secret mermaid—were already hard enough to juggle. I didn't need more. I didn't need friends, or crushes that went beyond harmless admiration. All I needed was to survive high school, get through the days unnoticed, and keep my secrets locked away, safe from anyone who might try to pull me out of my carefully constructed world.

As I glanced back at Jack one more time, I allowed myself a small smile. He might have been the center of everyone's attention, but in my own way, I was content with being invisible. No expectations, no disappointments. Just me, my secrets, and the world I had built for myself.

The hallway bustled with life as students streamed toward their next class, but I moved through it like a ghost, unnoticed and untouched. I passed by Jack again, his fingers laced with the blonde girl's, his easy smile lighting up his face. As always, he didn't see me. No one did. It didn't bother me the way it might have once. There were too many parts of me no one would ever understand—parts of me I had hidden away, even from myself at times. Especially the part of me that wasn't entirely human.

I was ten years old the first time it happened. I hadn't thought much of the cave I stumbled across on a family trip. We were in the middle of nowhere, a place my parents had taken us so they could attend another one of their endless business meetings. I was bored, so I wandered off, drawn to the sound of water echoing inside a rocky cavern. I remember the way the light shimmered on the surface of the underground pool, how it seemed to call to me, pulling me closer.

I didn't think twice when I jumped in. But the next morning, everything changed.

When I stepped into the shower, water ran over my legs—and my skin rippled, shimmered. I watched in shock as my legs fused together, the skin turning smooth and iridescent, until there it was: a light purple tail, glowing faintly under the water.

I remember my scream echoing in the bathroom, the panic that clawed at my chest. I was terrified, scrambling out of the tub and watching in horror as the scales disappeared and my legs returned, trembling beneath me. I spent hours in the mirror that day, waiting for the tail to come back, but it only ever happened when I touched water. It took me days to stop crying about being a freak. 

I learned to avoid water at all costs. At ten, I was too young to understand what was happening to me, but I knew enough to be afraid. I couldn't tell anyone. If anyone found out, I'd be a freak, a science experiment. So, I stayed away from pools, from beaches, from anything that might expose what I had become.

But the tail wasn't the only thing that came with the water.

It started small—little things I couldn't explain. I'd be upset, and the water in a glass would ripple. I'd concentrate, and the room would feel colder or warmer. And then there was the day I waved my hand in frustration, and suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the room, knocking papers off my desk. It scared me at first, but as time went on, I began to experiment with these strange new abilities.

Hydrokinesis. The ability to move water with just a thought. I remember the first time I realized I could do it—watching a drop of water float in midair, hovering between my fingers, before splashing back into the sink. But that wasn't all. With time, I learned to manipulate the temperature of the water—making it freeze or boil at will. And then there was air, fire, even ice. It was like discovering a hidden part of myself, a part I couldn't control at first, but slowly, bit by bit, I learned.

Atmokinesis, the power to control the weather, came later, when I'd get angry and the sky outside would darken with clouds. Cryokinesis and pyrokinesis were the hardest to master—summoning flames with a thought, or creating a sharp, icy chill in the air.

And then there was telekinesis. It started small—objects sliding across the table when I was frustrated, books falling off shelves without me touching them. Now, with a flick of my wrist, I could make things move through sheer willpower.

But perhaps the most important skill I'd learned over the years was invisibility. I discovered it by accident, clenching my fist in anger one day, moving my hand in a half-circle motion. I had watched in shock as my body seemed to blur, shimmering out of existence. It felt like encasing myself in a bubble, stepping outside of reality. That, too, had taken practice—learning how to control when I wanted to be seen and when I didn't.

Even now, as I walked the hallways, I was still learning, still perfecting. My ten-year-old self had been terrified of the water; of the powers I didn't understand. But now, years later, I had grown used to hiding my abilities, even if I hadn't fully mastered them. It was a part of me, but one I kept locked away from everyone else. No one could know. If they did, I'd be more than just invisible—I'd be a target. An experiment.

That's why I was content to stay in the shadows, why I didn't bother with friendships or trying to be seen. There was too much at stake. I didn't trust anyone with my secrets, because I didn't know what they might do with them. The only person I trusted was myself—and even that was a delicate balance. Between the shy bookworm everyone saw, the confident vlogger I became when no one was watching, and the mermaid who controlled the elements, I had enough to manage without letting anyone else in.

I stole one more glance at Jack, laughing with his girlfriend, his fingers laced through hers. They lived in a world of fleeting romances and popularity, of surface-level connections that never ran deep. A world I would never be part of. And that was fine. I had enough of my own secrets to carry.

I turned away, heading to my next class, my mind already drifting to the quiet of my room later, where I could slip into the safety of my vlogs, my powers, and my own hidden world.

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A/N: Dang, this took me a while to write, and this was on my mind for quite a while too. Damn, I have so many books that I still haven't completed and here I am again. Sighhh!