The cheers from the game still echo faintly in the background, but they feel distant—like they're coming from another world. One I'm not a part of. I watch the field for a moment longer, catching a glimpse of Jack with his teammates, his face hard, his jaw clenched. He hasn't looked at me once since I got here.

I should feel something—guilt, frustration, maybe even anger—but all I feel is empty.

Without a word, I turn and walk off, my steps heavy as I make my way through the parking lot. My car is parked under the shadows of the stadium lights, far enough away from the crowd that I won't have to see anyone. That's what I need right now—space. Distance from everything that's happening. From Jack. From myself.

As I reach my car, I slide into the driver's seat, my hands trembling as I grip the steering wheel. I stare at the dashboard, my mind swirling with everything that went wrong tonight. The way Jack wouldn't even look at me, the way I could feel the disappointment radiating off him. The way I failed—again.

With a deep breath, I start the engine and pull out of the lot, heading toward home. But I don't want to go home. Not yet.

Instead, I drive toward the gated community, my private beach calling to me like a siren's song. It's the one place where I can be alone, where I don't have to pretend. I pass the familiar streets, the tall gates looming ahead, and within minutes, I'm at the private beach, the soft glow of the moon reflecting off the water.

I park the car and step out, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I make my way to the shore. The sound of the waves crashing against the sand is the only thing that keeps me grounded, keeps me from falling apart completely. I drop my bag near the dunes and take off my shoes, my bare feet sinking into the sand as I run toward the water.

The moment I dive into the ocean, the familiar rush of transformation takes over. My legs fuse together, purple scales shimmering under the moonlight, and my tail flicks out behind me. I don't stop—I can't. Not when everything inside me is boiling over, threatening to drown me in emotions I don't want to feel.

I push forward, my body encased in a bubble of air as I use one of the most natural abilities I have: Speed-Swimming. My tail flicks, and I surge forward, cutting through the water like a jet. The speed is exhilarating, the bubbles wrapping around me, creating a trail of light in the dark ocean as I race through the waves.

300 kilometers per hour. Maybe more. It doesn't matter. All I know is that I need to get away. I need to move, to feel the water rushing past me, the pressure in my chest easing as the ocean becomes my escape.

The beach vanishes behind me as I head toward Eclipse Bay, the moon pool calling to me from the depths. I swim faster, my tail flicking in a steady rhythm, the bubbles surrounding me like a protective barrier. This ability—Speed-Swimming—has always been a part of me, but tonight, it feels like more than just a way to move faster. It feels like freedom. Like the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

I reach Eclipse Bay in minutes, the underwater entrance to the moon pool appearing ahead of me. I slow down, slipping through the narrow entrance, the cool water swirling around me as I make my way inside. The moonlight filters through the cracks in the rocks, illuminating the hidden pool with a soft glow.

As I break through the surface, my heart still pounding from the swim, I float in the water, letting the silence of the pool wash over me. The tension in my chest should be easing, but instead, it lingers, tightening with every breath I take.

Just when I thought things with Jack were getting better... I pulled away. Again.

I close my eyes, sinking deeper into the water until only my face remains above the surface. The cold water chills my skin, but it does nothing to ease the ache inside me. I should be happy. My invisible barrier is slowly coming down, piece by piece, and I'm starting to let people in.

But it doesn't feel like enough. It feels like I'm losing control—like every step I take forward, something else pulls me back.

Just like my parents.

The thought hits me harder than I expect, and I blink back the sting of tears. It feels like when my parents started being too busy for me, forgetting the small things, then the big things. They used to be there. They used to care. But slowly, as the years passed, I became an afterthought.

And now, it feels like the same thing is happening with Jack. The one person I thought I could let in, the one person I thought might understand. But even when I try, it's like I can't stop myself from pulling away. And now he's angry.

Just like everyone else.

I sink deeper into the water, my tail flicking gently beneath the surface as the moon pool cradles me in its stillness. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to stop ruining everything.

But maybe... maybe it's too late.

<>

The next morning, the sun streams through the windows of the school hallways, but it does nothing to warm the cold pit in my stomach. The echoes of the previous night—my thoughts in the moon pool, the swim, and Jack's angry face—still cling to me like an uncomfortable second skin. I hoped things would feel different today, but as I walk through the doors, the tension hits me like a wall.

I spot Jack down the hall, leaning against his locker, his face unreadable. For a moment, I hesitate. I want to walk over, say something, anything that might fix this, but my feet feel rooted to the ground. He glances in my direction, just barely, before turning back to his friends.

He's still mad. I can feel it.

Eli stands nearby, talking to someone else, but when his eyes catch mine, there's no smile today. Just a nod. He's giving me space, like he always does when things get complicated.

Don't shut Jack out. Give him time.

Brent's words from last night echo in my head, but they do little to calm the growing knot in my chest. I start walking again, heading toward class, when Brent appears beside me, his familiar grin easing a little of the weight pressing down on me.

"Hey, you doing okay?" Brent asks, his voice warm but cautious, like he's treading lightly.

I force a smile, hoping it looks convincing. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Brent raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Remember what I said after the game. Don't shut Jack out. He just needs time to cool off."

"I know," I say, my voice quieter. "I just don't know how to fix this."

Brent sighs, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Give him space for now. But don't let him drift too far."

Before I can respond, the warning bell rings, and Brent gives me a quick wink before jogging off to class. I watch him go, feeling both grateful and more unsettled than before.

<>

The cafeteria buzzes with chatter and laughter, but I can barely focus on anything other than the knot of tension tightening in my chest. I sit alone at one of the tables, poking at my lunch, the dull hum of conversations around me only making me feel more isolated. I glance around, half-hoping to see Brent or Eli, but it's Jack's table that draws my attention.

There he is. Jack.

He's sitting at his usual spot, surrounded by his teammates and the cheerleaders, and just seeing him makes something ache inside me. He's not looking at me, of course. He hasn't looked at me all day, not since the game. The distance between us feels like miles, even though we're just a few tables apart.

And then I see them.

The two cheerleaders from yesterday—the ones who dragged me to the storage closet and left me there, laughing at my expense. They're sitting near Jack, one of them—her—with her long, perfectly styled blonde hair flipping over her shoulder as she leans in closer to him, a playful smile on her lips. She laughs loudly, her voice carrying across the room as she tries to capture Jack's attention.

She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, giving him a look that's too flirtatious to ignore. My stomach twists, a sick feeling rising in my throat. She's doing it on purpose, I can tell. She knows I'm watching. She wants me to see this—her, flirting with Jack, getting his attention like it's the easiest thing in the world.

But Jack's not even really paying attention to her. He nods absentmindedly, his expression blank, like he's just going through the motions. He doesn't seem interested in her at all, but the fact that she's trying so hard gets under my skin.

Why does it bother me so much?

My hands tighten into fists under the table, frustration bubbling up inside me. It's not just the cheerleaders. It's everything—the way Jack won't even look at me, the way I feel like I'm slipping further and further away from the only person I wanted to let in. The way she thinks she can swoop in and get his attention so easily.

I glance at the cheerleader's cup sitting on the table, filled to the brim with water, the condensation dripping down the sides. My heart starts to race, a pulse of energy stirring deep inside me. Without thinking, I focus on the cup, my powers swirling in the pit of my stomach, begging to be let out.

Hydrokinesis.

I barely move my hand, just a subtle shift beneath the table, but I feel the water respond instantly. The liquid inside the cup ripples, a soft vibration that no one notices. My heart pounds in my chest as I channel the energy into the water, concentrating on making it tip—just enough to spill but not enough for anyone to suspect me.

The cup tilts slightly, then wobbles before finally tipping over. The water gushes out, soaking the cheerleader's lap and spreading across the table.

She lets out a high-pitched shriek, jumping to her feet as she stares down at her wet clothes in horror.

"Oh my god!" she yells, her voice cutting through the cafeteria noise. "Look at my clothes!"

Her hands flail uselessly as she tries to pat the water away, but it's already soaked through her cheerleader uniform. Her face turns red with embarrassment, and for a moment, she looks completely ridiculous—like she's been taken down a peg from her perfect pedestal.

I can't help it—a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Karma is a bitch, right?

No one notices me. No one saw me do it. To everyone else, it's just an accident, just a clumsy moment of spilled water. But I know the truth, and for the first time today, I feel a small spark of satisfaction.

The other cheerleaders try to console her, handing her napkins and fussing over her ruined outfit, but she's too busy fuming to care.

"Ugh! I can't believe this! My clothes are ruined!" she whines, stomping her foot like a child throwing a tantrum.

Jack glances at the commotion, his eyebrows lifting slightly, but he doesn't say a word. He just watches for a second before turning back to Brent, his expression as unreadable as ever.

He didn't even care.

I bite my lip, trying to keep my satisfaction in check, but inside, I feel lighter. Maybe it's petty—okay, it's definitely petty—but seeing her humiliated, even for just a moment, feels like a small victory in a day that's been anything but easy.

I tuck my hands into my lap, my fingers still tingling with the leftover energy from using my powers. The thrill of it buzzes through me, the power still humming just beneath the surface. It's dangerous, I know, to use my abilities like this, even in small ways. But right now, I don't care.

For once, I had control.

And it feels good.

<>

The hallways are quiet now, the chatter of students fading as they head home. As I walk toward my locker, I feel a sense of dread growing with each step. When I turn the corner, I see Eli already there, leaning against the metal door, his arms crossed. His usual easy smile is absent, replaced by something more guarded—something that makes my stomach twist.

I hesitate, wondering if I can just walk away without him noticing, but then his eyes lock onto mine, and it's too late. I can feel my pulse quicken as I approach him, a heavy weight settling in my chest. What's he going to say?

"Hey," Eli greets me, his voice casual, but there's an edge to it I haven't heard before. He's trying to hide it, but I can feel the disappointment radiating off him. "Missed you at the game last night."

I force a smile, but it feels shaky. "Yeah, I... something came up."

Eli's gaze sharpens slightly, and I feel my skin prickle under his scrutiny. He doesn't believe me.

"Something came up?" He repeats, his voice a little too calm. "Brent said you'd show, so I kept an eye out, but... nothing." He lets the words hang in the air, and suddenly I feel like I'm under a microscope.

Guilt gnaws at me, and I glance down at my feet, trying to avoid his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry," I mumble, but even to my ears, the apology feels weak. Empty.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken questions. Eli shifts, uncrossing his arms, but his eyes are still on me, searching for something—an explanation, maybe. Does he suspect something?

"You've been... different lately," Eli says, his tone careful but laced with concern. "Not just last night. It's like you're pulling away, avoiding people. Avoiding me."

His words hit harder than I expected, and for a second, I can't breathe. I'm pulling away because I have to. Because the closer I get to people, the harder it becomes to hide the truth. But how can I tell him that? How can I tell him anything without unraveling the entire lie?

"I've just had a lot on my plate," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers grip the strap of my backpack, and I feel my pulse hammering in my ears. Why do I feel like I'm lying to him about more than just last night?

Eli doesn't say anything for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he's trying to piece together something I'm not saying. I feel his gaze lingering on me, like he's waiting for me to crack, to tell him what's really going on.

But I can't.

"I get that," he finally says, but there's still that edge of doubt in his voice. "It's just... you're different. Distant. And I don't know if I did something wrong or if you're going through something, but... I don't want things to get weird between us."

The weight of his words presses down on me, and I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall. I don't want to lose him as a friend. But I can't let him in. Not like that.

"We're still good," I manage, forcing another smile. "I'm just... dealing with stuff."

Eli watches me for another beat, then sighs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Alright," he says, though I can still see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. "But if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

I nod, feeling the tension in my chest tighten, and he gives me a small smile before turning and walking away. As I watch him leave, I feel the guilt settle deeper, weighing me down. What if I really am pushing him away?

But then the thought flickers in the back of my mind: What if he's starting to figure it out?

<>

The bell chimes softly as I step into the bookstore, the scent of aged paper and leather-bound spines washing over me. It's the kind of place that feels forgotten by time, its dim lighting and towering shelves making it seem more like a library than a shop. The warmth inside is a welcome contrast to the cool evening air outside, and I feel a sense of calm settle over me as I take it all in.

Behind the counter, a woman in her 40s, with dark, loosely curled hair speckled with silver, looks up from a worn paperback in her hands. She offers me a small, easy smile, but there's something in her eyes—something watchful, like she's waiting for me to say something.

"Good evening," she says, her voice carrying the faintest hint of nostalgia, as though she's spent too many hours in the company of old books and quiet conversations. "What can I help you with today?"

I hesitate, feeling a little ridiculous for what I'm about to ask. But I've come this far—there's no turning back now. "I'm looking for books on... mermaids," I say, trying to sound casual, but the word hangs awkwardly in the air between us.

The woman raises an eyebrow, her smile growing just a fraction wider. "Mermaids?" she repeats, and I notice the way her fingers linger on the edges of the book she was reading, like she's stalling. "Interesting choice."

There's a weight to her words that makes my skin prickle. It's just a casual comment, but something about the way she says it—like she's heard this question before, like the subject isn't as foreign to her as it should be—makes me pause.

"Yeah," I say, shrugging a little too casually. "Just doing some research."

"Research," she echoes, nodding slowly. She sets her book down gently, her gaze still fixed on me. "I suppose there's a lot to learn about mermaids. More than people think, anyway."

Her words catch me off guard, and for a second, I'm not sure if I heard her right. More than people think? The way she says it, like there's an entire world hidden beneath the surface, makes my heart skip a beat.

"You'll want the second floor," she continues, her tone steady but thoughtful. "Far back, near the myths and legends. You'll find plenty of stories—some fantastical, some rooted in... truth."

She lets the last word hang in the air, and I blink, unsure how to respond. Truth?

"Thanks," I say, feeling a bit unsettled, but not wanting to dwell on it. I turn toward the staircase, but before I can take a step, her voice stops me.

"Mermaids are more than just fairytales, you know," she says, her tone casual, but there's something deeper in it. "The old stories—some of them have... meaning. If you know where to look."

My pulse quickens as I nod, unsure how else to respond. Meaning. The word lodges itself in my mind as I climb the stairs, her voice echoing in my ears.

The second floor is quieter, more secluded, with narrow aisles and shelves packed with ancient-looking books. I scan the spines, looking for anything that might hold the answers I need. The myths and legends section is tucked away in the far corner, just like she said. The books here look older, more worn—like they've been collecting dust for centuries.

I find a few titles about mermaids and pull them off the shelf, settling into a small, cozy chair in the corner of the room. As I flip through the pages, the words blur together for a moment, my mind still stuck on the woman downstairs.

More than fairytales. Some rooted in truth. What did she mean by that?

The first book is filled with colorful illustrations—mermaids with shimmering tails, sailors lost at sea, their fates sealed by the haunting songs of the ocean's creatures. It's beautiful, but it feels like just another story. Fairytales.

I set the book aside and pick up another, thicker one. This one is more detailed, its pages yellowed and brittle. As I scan the text, something catches my eye: full moons.

The words describe how the full moon can affect mermaids—heightening their powers, making them unpredictable, even dangerous. It talks about how the pull of the moon can bring out their true nature, sometimes in ways they can't control.

I swallow hard. Unpredictable.

My fingers trace the words on the page, and I feel a strange sense of recognition. I haven't experienced anything like that yet, but the next full moon is approaching soon. What if it changes something in me? What if I lose control?

I flip the page, my pulse quickening. The next section talks about potions—magical elixirs made by mermaids to enhance their abilities, to heal, to protect. The idea of mermaid magic—potions, spells, abilities tied to the ocean—it feels both fantastical and... possible.

But there's nothing here about moon pools. Nothing about humans transforming into mermaids. Nothing that explains what happened to me.

Frustration bubbles up inside me. What if this is all I'll ever know? Stories and myths? What if there's no real explanation?

I lean back in the chair, my thoughts spinning. Could the woman downstairs know more than she's letting on? The way she talked about mermaids—it wasn't just idle curiosity. It was like she knew something. Like she understood what it meant to live with this secret.

But how could she?

I close the book, my mind buzzing with more questions than answers. I'll have to keep searching, but I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this bookstore—and to the woman who runs it—than meets the eye.

<>

A/N: Hmmm, what goes on here? Please comment, vote, and feedback greatly appreciated.