Mom was home by the time I returned from the beach. I could smell the kimchi-fried rice cooking, the bacon sizzling, as soon as I walked through the door. She smiled when she saw me.

“Back from the beach, sweetie?”

“Yeah.” I managed a smile. “Nothing like a good swim on the first day of summer.”

“I bet.” Mom’s smile was wistful—I wondered if she was thinking of where she grew up, near Honolulu. “I might have to take a dip myself after dinner.”

She stirred the rice in the frying pan with a small spatula. “I’m glad that you weren’t hurt in your fall overboard. It’s a good thing you’ve always been such a strong swimmer.”

I took a seat on one of the bar-stools on the other side of the kitchen island. I hung my beach bag by the strap over the back of the neighboring stool. “How old was I, when you first taught me to swim?”

Mom chuckled. “We didn’t really teach you. You just took to it, the first time we brought you into the ocean. Like a duck, as they say.”

I wondered if maybe there was more truth to what Kei and Jewel had said. What if I was part-mermaid, a tide-dweller, as they’d called me?

“How old was I?”

“Hmm.” Mom tilted her head, sending a cascade of black curls over her shoulders. “Not even a year old. Probably around nine months or so. Same age we introduced Lena.”

“Did you have to teach Lena?”

Mom laughed again. “We did, she didn’t want to get into the water at first, hated getting wet—but eventually she loved it. And now she’s off with her friends at the beach all the time.”

Some things never changed. Lena did still hate getting her hair wet because it could frizz up in the heat without the proper conditioner and styling gel. And it wasn’t like she was in the water all that often when she was at the beach. But I wasn’t going to tell Mom that, since that was Lena’s business. After all, I had some secrets of my own now. 

“You were so cute,” Mom continued as she sprinkled some salt over the top. “We bought this little pink and orange bikini, with a flower print that reminded me of home. We just dropped you in the water, and I couldn’t hold on even though I wanted to—you were just determined to explore the ocean!”

She paused as she switched over to the pan where the bacon was cooking. “What’s with the questions, kamalii?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, just guess I was feeling nostalgic or something. Just curious.”

Mom nodded sagely. “Sixteen is a good age to be nostalgic. You’re growing up—you can’t know where you’re going until you know where you’ve been.”
She turned the bacon over in the pan, then removed a set of tongs from the kitchen drawer. “You’ve been making changes a lot lately. I’m proud of you.”

“Why?” I was taken aback by that. All I’d done was cut my hair a little and bought new clothes. I still felt like the same old Mika. 

“Realizing that you aren’t happy with the way things are going and making the change can be hard for adults to do.” Mom scooped up the bacon and set it on the cutting board. “Even if it is for boys to notice you, I’m still proud that you’re taking initiative and making your life the way you want it.”

My face went hot. “Mom!”

“It’s only natural, at your age.” She smiled mischievously as she picked up a chef’s knife and lined up the bacon. “And don’t forget, I am your mother—I notice everything.”

I decided not to correct her.

“And it’s cute, to see you wanting a little boyfriend.” She used the knife to push all of the chopped bacon bits into the rice. “I just hope you’ll bring him over so he can meet your old mother.”

“You’re not old,” I scoffed. I pulled my phone out of my swim bag. 

“Just good genes at work, thanks to your grandmother.” Mom winked. “Text your sister, let her know that dinner’s almost ready.”

I did as I was told, and almost immediately got a reply back. “She’s out at dinner with Tess.”

Probably more people than Tess, but again, I wasn’t about to be a snitch.

Mom shrugged. “I’ll box up some for her. Or for when your father gets up and wants a midnight snack.”

I scrolled through my texts—Max had sent a message. “Is it okay if Max comes over after dinner?”

“What does he want?”

“I just wanted to hang out with him.” 

Mom narrowed her eyes and was quiet for a long minute. “Your door needs to be open, or you need to be on the back porch, where I can see you.”

“Come on, it’s Max, we’ve been friends forever, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend or anything,” I protested. 

After all, Max knew the old me. So why on Earth would he have any interest in the new me?

“That’s what you think,” Mom snorted. “Does he know that?”

“Mom!”

“You can go on the porch, I won’t listen in, I promise!” Mom lifted her hands in presumed surrender, although her holding the chef’s knife negated that somewhat. “Just no kissing or anything else—I worry enough when it comes to your sister.”

“Oh.” I could feel my face going redder. “Mom, no, it’s nothing like that!”

“As long as it stays that way,” Mom said primly as she dropped the chef’s knife into the sink. “I don’t care what the two of you want to talk about otherwise.”

Thank God for that.

It was an hour or two later, when the sunset painted the sky rose-gold and a soft tangerine that Max came over. He trailed through our neighboring backyards, to where I was waiting on our back porch area. 

He didn’t hesitate to get started. As soon as he sat down, he pulled the journal from his backpack. “It was slow today, so I did a little Google-jitzu on my phone and—“

“I saw them.” I couldn’t stop myself.

“What?” He blinked.

“I went to the beach today, and I was swimming and I saw them.” I was rambling now. “I didn’t tell you, but there was this light when I went underwater and I could suddenly breathe underwater and it happened again today but I had a tail and I met some mermaids—“

“You’re kidding.” He closed his journal, the snapping sound of it drawing me out of my word-vomit. He leaned in, hazel eyes wide. “You really saw them, the mermaids?”

“Four of them.” I paused. “And I think I am one, somehow.”

“No kidding!” He leaned back in the chair. “I can’t believe it—I was actually right, I was rescued by a mermaid. I’m not crazy.”

“No.”

I’m not sure he heard me, because he continued on. 

“We need to find an underwater camera or something, and take pictures.” He picked up his phone. “You can take them, and then everyone will know that I’m not crazy—“

I snatched his wrist. “Max, we can’t tell anyone.”

He frowned, looking like a lost puppy. “What do you mean?”

I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “I spoke to the mermaids, and they were scared. They knew I was human, that I’m not supposed to be a mermaid. They were worried I’d tell people on the surface. I guess that they’re forbidden from coming on land, from people knowing about them. They made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“You told me,” he pointed out.

“Because I came to you for help, and I thought you might want to know that you were right.” My stomach lurched all the same. Already I was beginning to regret telling him. “Isn’t that enough, to know that it wasn’t made-up?”

The reluctance on his face made his answer obvious. But he switched tactics. “Why don’t they want humans to know about them?”

“I don’t know, probably the usual urban fantasy reasons?” I shrugged. “Something about not wanting to be exploited by humans, probably. And I mean, have you seen how we treat their oceans?”
“You have a point,” he admitted. “Still, this is an incredible discovery!”

The fact that he was still using words like discovery told me that he didn’t understand.

“You really can’t tell anyone,” I said. “After all, what if some government scientists at the aquarium take me away to do experiments on me or something?”
“I won’t let that happen.” He placed my hands in his. “I’ll keep your secret, Mika, I promise.”
I could breathe a little easier—with the intensity in his hazel eyes, I believed him. 

“I still want to know everything.” He let go. “Are you going back out tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” I glanced over my shoulder, and saw Mom peering at us through the window over one of her magazines with Jason Momoa on the cover. “Earlier in the day, so I have more time.”

“We should still make a record of it, for science.” He picked up his journal again and pulled out his pen. “Don’t worry—no one will believe anything in here. It’s for personal use, anyway, and everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

I recognized the bitter note at the end, and felt a little guilty. “Thank you, Max.”

“Of course.” He avoided my eyes. “Now tell me everything.”

Max left about half an hour later. He told me he still had some research to do on the sea monster I’d seen, but he’d tell me more as I figured it out. I promised him I’d see him again tomorrow, after I swam with the mermaids again. 

The nightly June thunderstorms rolled overhead, so I put on my headphones with my favorite summer mix and opened up my diary, as I was terribly behind on all the interesting things that had been happening! A part of me wondered if writing all of this down was a bad idea. But I figured if anyone came across it, they’d think it a particularly indulgent piece of creative writing. 

As I faithfully recorded what had taken place over the past two days, a new thought occurred to me. With a new world of mermaids and magical mysteries, there was also a new avenue for a summer romance. Kei was cute, after all—who was to say that maybe I couldn’t fall in love with a mer-man?

Lena’s parties weren’t going to work, after all. They sounded fun, like a great idea. Meet lots of people having a good time, what could go wrong? The problem was that I was all wrong. In the face of so many people, I found myself feeling more alone than ever, even more invisible. Maybe there would be less pressure at a beach bonfire than at a yacht party—but I was much more hesitant to find out.

That’s why you’ve never had a summer romance—you’re just too afraid to try.

No, it was more than that.

A part of me would always feel alien amongst other people. Everyone else would be on the inside, and I would always somehow find myself on the outside looking in.

Well, this was getting depressing. I closed my diary—I would not have any of this negativity corrupting what was supposed to be the diary chronicling how my life would change for the better!

I instead got out my laptop and instead of opening my writing application or AO3, I clicked to Google and started searching for stories about mermaids. Of course The Little Mermaid came up, along with older stories like the Melusine, Ondina, and so many others. But very quickly, a pattern emerged. 

A love between a human and a mermaid was doomed. Death, destruction, and cycles of bloody vengeance followed these water spirits and their princely lovers across the web-pages. And hadn’t Kei said something about relationships between humans and mermaids being forbidden?

I wasn’t sure I liked that ending. Then again, there was something romantic about a tragedy, wasn’t there?

Uneasy, I clicked away and opened up my word processor. I wasn’t sure yet if the summer romance I’d dreamed of was in the cards for me. So instead I’d turn to my treasured OTPs and start a new saga that could not suppress the heartache of longing for the real thing.