Mutante: Chapter 1

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Frerichs

Rosie’s tail twitched as she tried vainly to remain perfectly still and upright as her mother began complaining (for the hundredth time) about how she had been cursed with such a troublesome child. Although Rosie had just had her sixteenth birthday, her mother insisted that she was a mere babe.

The moment Rosie had mentioned Mrs. Sourfish’s inquiry, her mother had begun bemoaning her fate and swimming back and forth across their large sitting room, weaving around the artfully placed stone perches and elegant bric-à-brac with the ease of long practice. Everyone hated her grandmother and her Aunt Rina, but Mrs. Sourfish was the most persistent in requesting regular updates, and Rosie couldn’t exactly blend in, no matter how much she wished she could.

“And now everyone will think I am neglecting my own mother!” her mother finished, wringing her hands. “All because of you and your wretched tail!”

Rosie suppressed a sigh, knowing that nothing she could say would lessen the tirade. Unlike the other mermaids, who had sensible tails in beautiful shades of jellyfish-green, aqua, deep blue, and everything in between, she had been born with a ruby red tail.

“Someone will just have to go check on Mother,” Mariya Stonefish said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I can go,” Rosie offered, trying to keep the longing out of her voice. In the kelp forest, no one stared at her or whispered about her or required her to behave like a proper mermaid. And, if she left tomorrow morning, she would have an entire day free of her mother’s laments and stress over the upcoming elections.

Mariya didn’t even glance her way. “Lady Platt has asked me to assist her with the annual charity ball, and I really don’t have time to spare right now. And of course it has to be election season—why did Mother choose now to miss her regular check-in?” she wailed.

Rosie’s father, Councilor Jonah Stonefish, had been on the city council for two terms now and was hoping to sit for a third. Most likely, he truly enjoyed advising the king and untangling the many issues citizens in the capital city faced. Why else would he sign up for another ten years of doing so? Then again . . . . On days like today, Rosie wondered if the city council was his escape.

Her mother sighed gustily. “There is nothing for it. I hate to send you, but you have made it there and back safely before, and you’re the only one who can be spared right now. I only hope that the feud between Mother and Rina hasn’t flared up.” Mariya fixed her with a firm stare. “You can leave in the morning. The decorations committee is meeting tonight and Patricia Platt is so in love with the sound of her voice that I doubt I will return until late, so I will not be able to see you off. However, you are only to go to your grandmother’s and nowhere else. Is that clear?”

Rosie nodded. Her mother would never listen if she explained that she never planned to go anywhere else. Things just happened around her. Like the time an angelfish had asked her for help. She had never even known that fish could talk, and no fish had spoken to her since. But this one had a sister who had gotten stuck in an old trunk and had needed help. Or the time when strange harp music had compelled her to follow it. Or the time when the currents had suddenly shifted, and she had gotten lost, and it had taken her nearly an extra hour to return home.

Her mother never believed her “excuses,” blaming her “overactive imagination” for any number of ills. Not that she would have been thrilled to have Rosie for a daughter, even without her healthy imagination. Rosie knew her faults. She was easily distracted and often clumsy. Her tail sometimes seemed to have a mind of its own. And it was ruby red in a sea of blues and greens.

To parents whose goals and dreams depended upon presenting a front of perfection, she was a trial indeed.

“Heaven knows we need time to prepare you for Mr. Wobbegong’s party.” Her eyes slid over Rosie’s tail and she grimaced. “Even three weeks may not be long enough; if you’re going to catch him, we’ll have to use every trick in the book.”

“Mother! Not Alan Wobbegong again!” She shot forward, then caught herself, folded her hands demurely, trying to maintain an attitude of respect no matter how much she raged on the inside, and began again. “He is—”

“Handsome? Rich? Well-connected?” her mother interjected firmly. “Single?” she finished triumphantly.

“Not what I was thinking about,” Rosie muttered. Alan Wobbegong lived down the street from them (in the largest house in their district), and her mother was determined that he would make an excellent match. She could see why, and yet . . . . The man was more abrasive than knife coral; his impatience was legendary. Not to mention that he was looking for a trophy wife. Even if he could be fooled into thinking that Rosie qualified, he would never tolerate her abnormalities. And marriage to him would be a death sentence to her spirit. Something that her mother refused to see.

“Well, you should be thinking about it,” her mother said, looking her up and down pointedly. “Very few men will overlook that tail of yours, and if you don’t take one of them soon, you will end up a miserable old hag like your aunt.”

Rosie suppressed another sigh. There was no point in reminding her mother that Rina was a miserable old hag because of the curse, not because of any choices she had willingly made. “Yes, Mother.”

“Now, I don’t want to hear about any adventures on your part, and if Mother requires something, you can spend the rest of the day helping her, but I want you home by nightfall tomorrow. Is that clear?”

Rosie nodded helplessly. She always intended to be home on time.

“Hopefully, Mother has just gotten busy with something and forgotten to check in.”

Mariya went over to the cabinet where they kept the enchanted communication shell Grandma had given them many years ago (before the curse had taken effect). It remained dark, despite the numerous times Mariya had attempted to contact her mother over the past three weeks. Regardless of Grandma’s feelings on the matter, Rosie’s mother called weekly, determined to retain the label of “attentive daughter,” curse or no curse. Plus, Rosie suspected that her mother enjoyed adding fuel to the veritable firestorm of gossip surrounding Grandma Essie and Aunt Rina. Publicity was publicity—and even if the only thing people knew about Councilor Stonefish was that his mother-in-law and sister-in-law were notoriously nasty witches, they still knew his name.

“Do you want me to bring next quarter’s supplies with me?” Rosie asked her mother.

Mariya glanced over at the chest they kept for Grandma Essie’s occasional requests. “Will they arrive in one piece?”

Rosie flushed. “I’ll bring the enchanted bag.” Years ago, before her grandmother and her aunt had fallen prey to an old curse, Grandma Essie had enchanted a travel bag as small as a purse that could hold as much as ten trunks and weighed almost nothing. Anything you put in there remained exactly as you had placed it, no matter how much shaking up the bag suffered. Her tail could fling her in a hundred directions and she wouldn’t so much as bruise one reef apple.

“Very well,” Mariya said sourly. “I still do not understand why you cannot simply be satisfied with the life your father and I have provided for you, but if you must go out adventuring, I suppose this is an adequate way to harness that drive.”

“Do you have anything extra you would like me to bring with me for Grandma?”

Her mother harrumphed. “Sending anything is more than that old harpy deserves.” She paused, momentarily lost in thought. “Although . . . . if I send some of Mrs. Pritchet’s pickled sea cucumbers, not only would we not have to eat them, but Mrs. Pritchet would owe me a favor . . . .”

Rosie nodded and promised once more to bring whatever her mother desired. With a wave of her hand, Mariya dismissed her. Rosie tried to exit the room gracefully, as her mother so frequently requested. Unfortunately, her tail refused to cooperate and propelled her into a doorway and then got twisted up in a curtain.

Cheeks burning, Rosie slunk back to her room. Why, oh why, had she been stuck with this tail? Trapped inside her own body! And it wasn’t like she could go unnoticed—no matter what she tried. Crimson as coral and awkward as a baby whale.

Before the curse, Grandma Essie had been one of Rosie’s staunchest supporters. With a sigh, Rosie sank onto the large rock perch Grandma had spelled red, comfortable, and sized to Rosie no matter how much she grew. She twisted a lock of her boring brown hair around one finger, wishing her grandmother was curse-free and here. She chuckled, imagining telling Grandma that she was as awkward as a baby whale. She would have railed at anyone who ventured to say such a thing, even Rosie.

Now though—there was a reason everyone still talked about Grandma Essie and Aunt Rina and asked after news of them regularly. Rosie had never met anyone as nasty. Rina had cut herself off from everyone, moving away from Atlantia and into an old sea monster skeleton a day’s journey into the Expanse. After Grandma moved to the kelp forest, Mariya still maintained contact with her and sent supplies on a quarterly basis—trips that Rosie always went on. She tried to remind herself that it was the curse talking (and most of the time, she could keep that in mind), but sometimes . . . sometimes Grandma’s words about what a “nincompoop” she was and how she had failed utterly to live up to the family name cut deeply.

Grandma Essie’s family—the Kingfishers—had been prominent for generations. Before Grandpa Gal had died, he had been next in line for the throne. Then King Poseidoros had had a son late in life, and now there were many other heirs between the throne and the Kingfishers. Still, they had maintained close ties with the throne.

Her father’s family—the Stonefish’s—had also been prominent for a long time. Not quite as long as the Kingfishers, but even Mother had been content to marry Father. Everyone said it was a good match. Mother adored politics and parties, and so did Father.

Rosie was the only one who didn’t fit into their idyllic life. Sometimes she wondered if she had been cursed at birth.

Either way, she was stuck in this family, and it would be a relief to escape the round of social events and the many eyes upon her for at least a day.

A/N: Thanks for reading and engaging with this story! I’m so glad you guys are coming along for this! I plan to post on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays until I’ve got a few weeks of chapters edited.

I really need betas for this story, so if you’re up for beta-ing, please PM me. If there’s anything that can be strengthened, please pass it along. I’m always looking for ways to make my stories better 🙂

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