Don't Tell Him I'm a Mermaid. Laura Steven
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First published in Great Britain in 2020
by Egmont UK Limited
2 Minster Court, 10th floor, London EC3R 7BB
Text copyright © 2020 Laura Steven
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
First e-book edition 2020
ISBN 978 1 4052 9692 2
Ebook ISBN 978 1 4052 9707 3
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library
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For Al and Brodie – even though you both
consider mermaids to be deeply uncool
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE: The Faulty . . . Thingymajigger
CHAPTER TWO: Like, Super-Hot in a Totally Fit Way
CHAPTER THREE: I Didn’t Know There Was a Meire in West Lothian
CHAPTER FOUR: Not the Kind of Place You Want to Go on Your Jollies
CHAPTER FIVE: Ice Cream in Winter
CHAPTER SIX: Something Weird About Their Faces
CHAPTER SEVEN: Ice-White Eyes
CHAPTER EIGHT: The Nosiest Swordfish in the Ocean
CHAPTER NINE: A Playdate with a Noodlefish
CHAPTER TEN: A Stingray Named Paul
CHAPTER ELEVEN: That Strange Glow . . .
CHAPTER TWELVE: A Herd of Goats in Mumbai
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Mightiest of Sausages
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Green Apple Shampoo
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A Duck in a Blender
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Rebellious Reading
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A Snoring Manatee
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: A Dangerous Thing to Discuss
CHAPTER NINETEEN: The Elderly Residents of Beirut
CHAPTER TWENTY: We’re So Cool and Mature
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Lavender Bubble Bath
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: It’s Complicated
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Bacon Sarnies
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Tar and Feathers
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Marefluma
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Rumours of Sugar Cookies
The Faulty . . . Thingymajigger
Molly Seabrook’s favourite thing about being a mermaid was sharing the unlikely secret with her sisters. She had four of them in all, and even though Molly found at least seventy-five per cent of them deeply irritating, it was quite nice to have a special family bond. Plus if any of them stole your white chocolate, you could slap them in the face with your tail, which was definitely a perk.
The worst thing about being a mermaid was almost everything else.
Kittiwake Keep, the wonky old lighthouse they called home, was in pandemonium.
Mum had, for reasons unknown, finally decided to attempt to fix the broken dishwasher. The broken dishwasher had been broken for years, but it didn’t particularly matter, because its primary purpose was not to wash dishes. It was to disguise the trapdoor hidden beneath it that led straight into the sea.
In any case, Mum had obviously got tired of the endless stacks of mugs beside the sink, so she rolled up her sleeves, donned her rubber gloves, and took a wrench to the faulty . . . thingymajigger.
It did not work.
The dishwasher was now essentially a furious geyser spraying water all over the kitchen. The swordfish wallpaper was drenched, the sink was overflowing, and Molly felt like she was trapped inside a washing machine.
Myla, her eldest sister and a literal genius, was frantically leafing through the manual – which was now dripping wet and bleeding ink – as though it contained