Me and Ethan went outside to the playground. The sun was sitting high, all golden and sharp, pressing down on our heads. The sky stretched wide and cloudless, the kind of blue that should have meant freedom. It should have meant laughter, fun, water games, maybe even sprinklers.
But this was school. Rules. Rules everywhere. No splashing, no soaking, no water. Just hot boring pavement, a small field and a little playground.
I could see an old man passing by and looking at the kids through the fences, was he a monster? You don't know. Could be anyone. My mom said that people are the true monsters, not those fictional creatures you see on the TV. Ever since then I started to compare people with water creatures, be it monsters or not.
Some people were simple and nice – like dolphins.
Others were super scary, more than sharks – my mom once told me a story about a man on the news – I compared him to the Kraken, his hands were tentacles that could break ships and drown them forever. He was in jail, my mom said he hurt a lot of big girls and I need to be smarter than them if I don't want to end up missing.
I wonder how many monsters those school fences protect us from.
I scanned the yard like I always did, searching for someone else—anyone else—I could maybe be friends with. But the blonde girl was watching. Her sharp little eyes followed me and Ethan from across the playground. Snake eyes. They didn't blink, just stared. A shiver climbed up my spine. I didn't like her. I didn't trust her either.
The boys didn't care. They had already spilled into the open field, shouting and kicking a ball. Do they know they can get kidnapped at any moment?
Their laughter carried across the yard like they'd never had nightmares, like they didn't have monsters waiting for them in the dark. The girls had split too, separating into neat, pink groups. Some giggled in circles, whispering secrets; others chased each other with quick feet, playing tag or hide-and-seek.
I wanted to join, but Ethan stayed behind. I couldn't — wouldn't — let the snake kidnap him.
"Hey… do you want to play hide and seek?" I asked, fidgeting with my hands.
He shook his head.
I paused. "Why do you always look angry… and sad?"
His eyes met mine, and he looked like he had a big secret, something like mine. "I just… don't want to play." He shrugged.
"Okay… I will stay with you then."
We moved to the far wall, settling in the strip of shade it gave us. The air felt cooler there, but only barely. Ethan sat close enough that I could hear the slow drag of his breathing, see the way his eyes tracked the chaos of the playground without ever softening.
He was quiet for a long time, so long I thought maybe he wouldn't speak again. Then his voice broke the air, low and sudden. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"What?" I snapped.
"You're so pale," he said, watching me like I was some puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "And your eyes… they're always scared. Light blue doesn't make it better. Makes it worse."
Ouch.
"Well… you look like a crab!"
He arched an eyebrow. "A crab?"
"Yeah - you're always angry looking, you hooked into my chair and you have tickles!"
"Crabs don't have tickles" He frowned hard.
"You catch crabs by their soft belly" I explained. "So obviously… that's your weak spot."
He looked at me for a long moment. Then he pinched my arm.
"OUCH! HEY!"
"Crabs pinch, too!" He chuckled. I didn't think. I just jabbed my finger into his stomach.
"Stop!" He laughed. "You get annoyed too easily. Just because I said you look like you seen a ghost!"
"Because it was rude!" I snapped, though the corner of my mouth twitched.
He leaned back against the wall, catching his breath, but still smirking. "I would actually like to see a ghost one day."
"I never saw a ghost…"
Ethan's smile faded, replaced by something sharper. "Well, you've seen things." His tone shifted—sudden, blunt, heavy. "Things kids shouldn't see."
I froze. Can he read minds? Ethan, if you can read my mind, say burger!
He didn't say burger. He just kept staring at me like I was crazy.
Oh. Right. I'm staring at him too.
"What are things that kids shouldn't see?" I tried to sound casual.
He looked at the ground, twisting his fingers. "Like… scary things. Real things. Big fights… accidents… people getting hurt."
I nodded slowly "Monsters?"
Ethan frowned at me. "No! Like real things!"
"Real people can be monsters too." The words slipped out quieter than I meant. "Sometimes I compare people with water animals - scary people are scary animals, and very mean people are water monsters."
His head lifted then, eyes searching mine. He scoffed with a smirk. "What animal are you, then?"
"I'm a mermaid, of course!" Isn't it obvious?
"Of course you're a mermaid…" he echoed, rolling his eyes, though a ghost of a smile played at his lips. "And I'm a crab." He shook his head in disbelief.
"And the blonde girl in class is a water snake. You better watch your back on her!" I warn him with a serious tone.
Ethan arches an eyebrow. "You're crazier than I thought."
I frowned. "No, I'm not. It makes total sense!"
"Well, I don't think you look like a mermaid at all." He pauses, a small smirk starts to form. "Your ginger hair and craziness makes you look like a clown-fish."
My jaw dropped. HOW. DARE. YOU?!
"I'M NOT A CLOWN-FISH!" I snap. The audacity!
Ethan flinched at my outburst, then broke into laughter, clutching his sides.
Ethan's laughter faded slowly, like a candle sputtering out. His smirk hung around, but I could see something else tugging at the corners of his face. A thought. A memory, maybe. Something he wasn't sure if he should say out loud.
I followed his gaze to the same old man on the other side of the fence, walking slowly all across the school.
He knows.
"Have you ever seen a sea monster?" he asked suddenly, his voice softer now, careful.
"Maybe…" I whisper. "Have you?" He nods.
My stomach tightens. "Did they hurt you?" I ask.
"Everyday." He whispers back and I swallow hard. "Did your monsters hurt you too?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
I hesitated. My mind flashed through dark halls, slammed doors, fists flying not always at me but close enough. Shouts so loud they rattled my bones. "Sometimes they hurt me." I admitted. "Other times they just hurt each other, and I just… watch."
The playground felt miles away now. The laughter of the other kids was faint, like it belonged to another world. A safer one.
I looked at the other kids, I was jealous of their unbothered concern for safety, and genuine happiness. Meanwhile with Ethan, I noticed more than that, not only jealousy, but some type of deeper anger and disbelief at their ignorance.
"What animals are your parents?" he asked, as if naming them might make the monsters easier to understand. And it does for me.
"My dad's a shark," I said quickly, certain. "He bites hard. Very hard. Scary, but… if you know how to swim with sharks, and their weak spots then it gets easier to deal with. My mom shouts a lot. She's a sea lion. Loud, always barking at someone. Cursing and sending everyone away."
Ethan looks to the floor, thoughtful. "My dad is a piranha," he said after a pause. "Always biting, small but never stops. My mom… she's not around for me to tell."
The way his voice dipped on mom made my chest ache. "Where is your mom?"
His jaw worked, like the words were sharp in his mouth. "She's dea—" He cut himself off, flicking his eyes toward me. His lips pressed tight. Then he tried again, softer. "She's in the sky."
Why didn't he say the word? Is it because it's too strong for him to say it out loud, or because he thinks it might scare me away?
"That must hurt a lot."
He gave the smallest nod. He didn't say anything else.
My hand moved before my mind caught up. I placed it on his knee, gentle. That's what my sister does when our parents fight - she doesn't hug, doesn't say sorry, she just lays a comforting hand. Quiet, steady, letting me know I'm not alone.
But this time it felt different. Like, a weird feeling inside my belly. And my heart was beating fast again. It was nothing like sharing straws, it was strange, but I couldn't tell why.
When I glanced up, Ethan's cheeks were tinted pink. He was staring at my hand like it was a glowing thing. His lips parted, then pressed together again, as if he didn't trust them to behave. I think he was feeling it too.
He swallowed hard. I heard it. Then his voice, quiet but steady, broke the silence. "If I'm a crab, then I can try and pinch the scary creatures away from you."
My lips curved, just barely. "You're gonna pinch sharks away?"
"I can try…" he said, puffing his chest a little. The hint of a smile tugged at his mouth too. "But that comes with a price."
I copied his eyebrow arch, narrowing my eyes. "What price?"
His smirk grew. "If you're a mermaid, how do I know you won't drown me? That's what mermaids do, right? They sing and pull men into the water."
The thought had never crossed my mind, but now it slithered into my head and curled there. I shook it off quickly. "No. I'm a good mermaid."
"Then you have to prove it," Ethan said. His tone was suddenly more serious, more real than I'd ever heard it. His eyes locked on mine, unblinking. "Promise you won't ever drown me. Promise you won't betray me. Promise you won't leave."
My throat tightened. Promises are heavy. My sister says never make them unless you mean them.
But this one… this one felt important.
I nodded slowly. "I promise."
Something lit in his face, like sunlight breaking through clouds. He lifted his hand, raising his pinky finger between us.
I stared at it. Then I lifted mine, hooking it to his.
A pinky promise. The strongest kind. The kind that can't be broken.
His hand was warm against mine. Our fingers held for a beat too long.
Ethan finally let go, but the ghost of the touch stayed on my skin. He smiled - soft, different from before. "Just don't start singing. That would be weird."