I'm swimming alone toward West Marin Heights for my first day. Dad left our new (much smaller) cave earlier to get his classroom prepared. I think he wanted me to go with him and hold his hand, but I told him he'd do fine on his own; then I went back to sleep.

The fog is so dense, it's like I'm propelling myself through a cloud. My head is above water, and I'm navigating by smell—Dad told me to follow the smoke, which is ironic, because my whole life has gone up in smoke. As I near the shore, the scent of sage and oysters and the tell-tale wood smoke from the school chimneys intensifies. Apparently, the school compound is 'off the grid,' meaning there's no human electricity or phone service or cable television.

My long green hair floats around me while I swim. I've worn it loose today, so when it dries, it'll conceal my neck. That's just smart when you're going to hang out with vampires. Don't add to the temptation.

When I left the cave this morning, I could tell Mom wasn't totally on board with the vampire-school idea. She packed a wooden stake in my waterproof pack. I hope I don't have to use it. And not just because I despise the sight of blood—I'm just pretty sure that if I stake a classmate on day one, I will ruin whatever minuscule chance I have at a social life. I wish I knew more about vampires. Here's the sum total of everything I've learned about the species: they enjoy mermaid blood. They turn into bats on the full moon. They run on land as fast as merfolk can turboswim. They avoid direct sunlight and hate saltwater. I hope they don't hate all water, because if they don't shower, I can only imagine what a mess there would be after a 'feeding.'

I plan to emerge on the shore a short distance from the school and change into the clothes in my pack because the shell bikini top I'm wearing now won't be enough once I sprout legs. Merfolk are pretty shy. We're not used to having 'parts,' so, like humans, we like to cover up when we're tailless. Luckily, I don't have to wear a wig and contacts because the kids at my new school already know all about merfolk. I'm just hoping they think of us as more than a delicacy.

I'm probably already late, and I'm only about two-thirds of the way. The fog is burning off. I've just gone into turboswim when I catch a glimpse of great white shark fins gliding toward me. I speak enough Shark that I'm not too worried. We have agreements with most of the sharks back in Pacifica. I send them a telepathic message in what is probably garbled Shark saying, "Hey, I'm new here. Nice to meet y'all."

My Shark must be rustier than I thought because they keep coming. Maybe there's a different dialect up here. I don't have time for this right now, but with bullies, you have to establish your position on the food chain right away, or they'll never leave you in peace.

I stop swimming. The sharks do their little threatening shark circle around me, only their fins sticking out of the water. I don't know if you've ever gotten a good look at a shark's face, but when their mouths are closed, they look like old humans who've lost their teeth.

"Come on, guys. I mean you no harm, and I'm late for school. Move off," I say out loud. Even if they can't understand the words, hopefully, they'll hear how serious I am. The one closest to me opens his maw, and it becomes very obvious these folks haven't left their teeth at home in some jar. They smell terrible—like blood, rot, death. "Go away! I mean it!" I shriek, but they keep circling.

These are the dumbest sharks I've ever encountered. I wonder if there's some kind of pollutant in the water that's taking them down a significant number of IQ points. I splash at the sharks, but they arch their backs and point their fins downward. Well, I can get aggressive too, you know. But I don't. I don't want to hurt them. And I don't want to take a chance to hurt myself, even though I know I could handle myself if it comes to a fight.

A flick of my tail, and I'm under the sharks, ready to make as quick a getaway as possible. But before I can move, something heavy hits my back. Whatever it is, it wraps itself around me, and together we plummet to the bottom of the bay. My tail hits the seafloor with a shudder. It accordions, sending an astonishing shock of pain through my body. With my tail in agony and my arms pinned to my sides, I'm unable to move.

What the ...?

I manage to straighten my tail, and the pain eases enough for me to open my eyes and figure out what's holding me down.

It's a man. A human man!

"Let go of me," I telepathically scream at him, even though I know humans haven't developed mind-reading abilities like us merfolk. I thrash my tail, trying to escape.

In the meantime, the sharks have followed us down to the seafloor. Just a few feet above us, they twist and whirl, churning the water, slapping their tails in a frenzy. Bubbles obscure my vision. A shark scrapes the back of my tail, and it stings with shark burn. "Leave me alone!"

The man's powerful hold on me suddenly releases, and I'm free. I twirl, trying to spot where my captor has gone. I don't want him sneaking up on me again, though I don't understand how a human could knock me down here in the first place. The bubbles surrounding me increase, tinged with red. And the water smells different. Pungent. Bloody. I check my body, but the scrapes I sustained earlier aren't bleeding. Through the maze of bloody bubbles, something bumps against my arm. It's a head. Please let it be attached to a body.

Instead of fainting, I check for the man's arms, his legs ... oh no. He is missing the lower half of one of his legs. Inky, maroon-colored blood flows from the wound. I grab the ends of his tattered pant leg and tie a quick tourniquet. The sharks are crazed. This is ridiculous ... and dangerous.

The sharks move in to divvy up the human. Have they never met a mermaid before? I grab the human under the arms and turboswim toward the surface. One shark bumps my side. Eel's meals! It's like these sharks want to fight a fully grown mermaid.

"Okay, I warned you," I say. Even though I don't want to relocate them, I'm in the middle of a rescue operation. I whip around, still holding onto the human with one arm, and pull on the tail of the shark closest to me. With a heave, I throw it up and out of the water. It'll probably end up half a mile away.

The rest of the sharks catch up with us as we reach the surface, and I grab and toss each one away until I've cleared the area. If I had use of both my arms, I could send these sea bullies a mile away, but if I let go of the human, he'll float off. With all that's happening, it's hard to tell if he's even alive. As fast as I can, I turboswim for shore.

I launch myself onto the sand, landing on my backside. The human is cold and limp on top of me, and my backpack is squished beneath me. I barely feel the discomfort of my transformation into a biped because I'm already in so much pain. As soon as I have legs, I sit up and lay the human's body on the sand. He isn't really a grown man, after all. He looks more my age ... and really cute ...

Focus, I tell myself. Does he have a heartbeat? I tear open his soaked red plaid shirt and put my ear to his chest. No heartbeat, he smells like strawberry ice cream and is about as cold.

All merfolk are trained in how to rescue humans, but training is one thing—reality is another. This is my first 'reality.'

I try to remember the course I took in human physiology when I learned CPR. First, you're supposed to apply chest compressions. But I can't remember how many. Then you're supposed to tilt the head back, pinch the nose closed, cover the victim's mouth and breathe. How many breaths? I can't remember that, either.

I get to work with the compressions and am totally not noticing what a sculpted, hard, pale-skinned chest he has, because even I know it's wrong to gawk at someone who is unconscious ... or dead.

I do about thirty compressions, then tilt his head and pinch his nose. I cover his mouth with mine and breathe. I twist my head, trying to watch his chest to see if it moves. Nothing happens. I breathe into him again. His chest rises and falls. I want to wail with happiness because I'm doing it! I'm saving a life.

I continue giving him mouth to mouth—and it's too late when I notice his tongue is in my mouth.

Wait—this isn't part of CPR.

His tongue is moving against mine. And what's even weirder is that I've started reciprocating without realizing. My hair is shooting off purple sparks. Great. A whole new color I've never seen before.

I pull away, but something sharp snags my lip. The taste of metal coats my tongue, and I draw back and cover my mouth.

"Mmmmmm," he moans, reaching for me. "More."

I jump back so fast he ends up clutching air. There's not enough time to grab my stake, so I pick up a nearby piece of driftwood and brandish it at him. That's when I remember that all I'm wearing is a waterproof backpack and a shell bra. I drop the driftwood and rotate the backpack to cover my 'parts.'

The boy laughs, even though a chunk of his leg is missing.

"What's wrong with you?" I say.

He looks down at his leg.

"Exactly, you're missing some serious flesh. What were you even doing out there?"

"Rescuing you," he says, leaning back on his elbows. "Hold on." He unties the tourniquet. Urgh! I don't want to see the wound. But it's too late.

Weird, it looks like the bleeding has stopped. And his leg seems not only to be healing but growing, which is even stranger than anything that's already happened. I mean, mermaids heal quickly, but this guy's leg is regenerating right in front of my eyes!

"That's rich," I say, my disbelieving eyes fixed on his leg. "You were rescuing me?"

"Yeah, I was hanging out near the top of that tree." He points to a hundred-foot redwood. "And I saw those sharks circling you. I couldn't just let them eat you. Headmaster Crumpet said we weren't supposed to let the new kids die. I dove in to rescue you."

He grins, and I try not to notice that his smile is a bit crooked and adorable. He has eyes the exact sapphire blue of the deepest part of the ocean, the cutest dimples, and very white teeth ... with two needlelike fangs poking out above his lip.