This is the story of the sidekick. People usually read about a person who is special, who has wonderful powers, who’s the most important person of the century. That’s not me. The only special thing about me is that I have a knack for singing. But there are five other sirens with the same talent as me.
The day I met the person who changed my life, not for the better, nor the worse, I was sitting on a rock, a half mile out from the small town of Cape June. This is what I usually did. I sat on the rock, and sang my siren song. This wasn’t to lure unsuspecting sailors to their watery grave. Far from it. A siren’s song is meant to make the Humans forget about mermaid sightings. The Merfolk are far from invisible. In fact, during one day at the beach, you are likely to see at least two of the Mer. Being a siren is an important job, and only a few have the talent.
I was one of the youngest Sirens in history at fifteen years old. My father had discovered that I had a talent for singing when I was four years old. We had been playing together in the shallow water of this beach; certain that the old Siren stationed on the rock would keep us safe. A boy had spotted us, and apparently the Siren hadn’t noticed. I tried to replicate her voice as best I could, and sure enough, the boy had soon forgotten about us.
From that day forward, I studied in the shining castle of our King, Neptune. I hadn’t seen my parents since then, because it was believed that Sirens needed to work without the outside distractions of a family. All we had was each other, and the week’s break to go into the Capitol city, Triton. There were six sirens out of all the Merfolk in the world. There were five stations that we rotated on, and the sixth had a week long break.
I often didn’t sleep when I was on this particular shift, because there were always college kids coming out on boats in the middle of the night. But the next shift, down near Brazil, was fairly quiet, and I was often allowed to sleep through the night.
The day I met him, I was pulling a comb of pearl through my hair. This wasn’t a vanity thing. The spines of a mildly toxic sea urchin made the prongs of my comb, and the toxin acted as a way to keep myself awake. A wave mercifully came and wet my tail of blue scales. It was unhealthy to have my tail be dry, and I often had to splash saltwater on it, so that I wouldn’t get sick.
I remember it very clearly, like it was just yesterday. It had been a very windy day on the North American coast, and the wind carried the strong salty smell of the ocean with it. It was a comforting feeling, my black hair whipping with the wind and my voice being carried on it. The sound of the waves kept me calm, reminding me of home.
The singing was a reflex thing now. I had been on the job for two rotations so far, and was at the start of my third. I didn’t have to think about the haunting melody that resonated everywhere. It came naturally, and I could think about other things.
On the job, I often day dreamed about my childhood. I missed my parents greatly, and often wondered if they missed me as well. I remembered the sea cave that we lived in, the colorful coral garden that my mother grew. I recalled how my father would take me into the depths of trenches, looking at the beginning of new life. I had played with dolphins, eaten sugar kelp, and hid from my friends in the seaweed meadows.
It had been a carefree childhood. I had even had fun while I was studying at the palace. Neptune let me play with his children, so we explored the palace together. But never the locked door. It was in the South Wing, at the end of the hall. A large, grand door, adorned with mother-of-pearl and carvings of flowers. We pushed, pulled, and even tried finding a password, but nothing opened it. It remained tightly shut.
I was always slightly afraid of the door, but the Crown Prince, Merrick, insisted that my fears were silly. He kept trying to bring it up with King Neptune, but the King always changed the subject immediately. I think that he had once forbidden us from going into the South Wing, but we, being the foolish children that we were, snuck in. After all, it did have some of the best hiding places in the palace. But I was always careful to stay far away from the door at the end of the hall.
I was thinking about all of this when I noticed a boy my age sitting on a surfboard a hundred meters from me. He wore board shorts with no shirt. He bobbed up and down on his board, not moving, just staring at me. I sang louder, trying to break his gaze.
Still he stared at me, his head cocked to the side, the sun glistening off the short, wet, light brown strands of hair. I sang even louder, desperate for him to look away. Still, he stared. He started paddling over to me, his eyes wide with curiosity. I was uneasy, shifting around on the rock. He came a little too close for my taste, so I started sliding into the water.
Just as I was pushing off the rock to flop into the water, he held out a hand shouting, “Stop! Don’t go!” He spoke in the strange language of humans; I think that they called it English. I could understand it, but it was extremely hard to speak.
I did my best, cringing at the Mer accent. It sounded like I was talking in sing-song, the way that Humans sing along, badly, I might add, to songs. “How do you see me? The song should have made you forget.”
“How could your singing make me forget about you? You’re a m-“ I darted over to him, covering his mouth with my hand.
I said forcefully into his ear, “You must never say that word. If a human voices what we are, really knowing what we are…” I shuddered. “It would be very bad for both of our worlds.”
He motioned for me to sit on the board with him, but I showed him the tip of my tail and sat on the rock. There we no Mer vacationing here today and nobody seemed to be looking my way, besides the boy, so I decided that it was safe for me not to sing. He glanced behind him, seeing that nobody was watching, and dragged his board to the other side of the rock, tying it down. He clambered up to sit near me. There was a silence until he said, “So, getting over the fact that you have a tail, what’s your name?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you really over it?” I flopped my tail around, watching the beads of water shine in rainbow colors on it.
He shook his head. “Not really, but there’s not much I can do about it, now is there? I’m freaking out inside.”
I shook my head as well. “You can’t really do much about it, no. My name is Nerin, then. What do they call you?”
“Nerin. What an odd name. I’m Rickie Miller.”
I giggled. That was an odd name, if I ever heard one. “You have two names? Do I call you Rickie, or Miller? Perhaps I’ll call you R.M.”
“No, Nerin. I don’t have two names. Just call me Rickie. Have you never heard of a last name?”
“What is a ‘last name’?”
“You’ve never heard of last names? How do you know what family you’re from?”
“It doesn’t matter for me. I haven’t seen my family in years. I live in the royal court.”
“You’re a princess?”
I burst out laughing. “If I was, do you think I would be here, Rickie? I’m only a-“
I never finished the sentence. Just then, I had remembered what King Neptune had said the day before I started my first shift. “Now, Nerin. Remember, if a Human sees you despite the song, immediately swim back to the Palace and report it. Something has gone terribly wrong if a Human sees you. Promise me that you will come here, and not talk to the Humans. I need to know that I can trust you.”
I remembered saying confidentially, “I promise, King Neptune. You have my word.” I had broken my promise. But, if I left now, I could fix it.
Rickie had his eyebrows pulled together. “You’re a what, Nerin?”
I slid into the water. “I’m sorry. I must go. Do not tell anybody about me. You’ll regret it, if you do.” With a flip of my fins, I was gone.
) I don't have any critiques or nitpicks. I just loved it the way it was written. 
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