I hurry forward along the path, the smell of saltwater hanging in the air. Buzzing insects flit past my face. Despite this unpromising beginning, I can't help being a little excited about my new school. I get to meet actual gods. What do you even talk about with a god? The weather? Favorite eon? Do you regret the whole poisonous jellyfish idea?

And there are fairies. Maybe I'm related to one of them! What if I could learn to grant wishes for real? There will be werewolves too, but I know little about them other than what most people say: they are hairy, have big teeth, and suffer from an unhealthy relationship with the lunar cycle.

I can't wait to tell Carla about what happened on the way to school today. She'll be shocked to find out that vampires can fly without turning into bats. Although, maybe we learned this in Supernatural Studies, and she already knows, and I just hadn't been paying attention.

From somewhere up ahead, I hear a bell ring. Does that mean classes are starting? Am I late? Hurrying, I forget to be careful where I put my bare feet and manage to cut one on a sharp rock. Standing on the other foot, I check the injury and discover that it's bleeding. Great. I'm walking into a school full of vampires leaking blood. Can this day get any worse? Merfolk heal quickly in saltwater, but if I go back to the bay, I'll be even later to class. The only thing that cheers me up is the thought that if vampires attack me—and I manage to survive—my parents would for sure send me back to Pacifica. I mean, I hope they would. Otherwise, they'd be the most tragically neglectful parents ever.

I limp super-heroically to the end of the path. It ends at a circular pebbled courtyard in front of a large wooden building. Four statues on marble pedestals surround a bronze fountain depicting bats flying out of a cave. There is a statue of a wolf holding a scroll and a pen, a winged fairy juggling books, one of Athena with an owl perched on her shoulder, and one of Galena, mermaid of knowledge. Looks like the vampire fountain has been there the longest; it has way more bird droppings than the others. I take a few seconds to stick my foot in the deep, dark water to wash off the blood. The fountain gurgles with what sounds like appreciation. Urgh. A blood-eating fountain. Stepping over the gravel path toward the building, I glance back at the bay just as the fog lifts from the sparkling surface.

Pausing at the door, I draw a deep breath, square my shoulders, and grab the handle. I am nobody's kelp smoothie. I am a mermaid who just fought great white sharks and faced a hungry vampire without being eaten. I arrange my hair to cover my neck and tug down the bottom of my dress before pulling open the heavy wooden door and stepping inside.

The air is thick and stifling and burns my lungs. There is a fire blazing in a fireplace almost big enough to accommodate my whole family. Despite the heat, one skinny guy with a mop of black hair is practically inside the inglenook. He has a smoldering look. Literally. It's hard to tell in the smoke-filled room, but it looks like gray vapor is coiling out of his mouth. This is a school for, um, alternative beings, so I'm sure a guy who likes his skin extra crispy is nothing out of the ordinary.

First thing I do is check for vampires. I find them in the middle of the audience. I can tell they're vampires because of their stillness and the fact that they're all wearing plaid flannel shirts—even the females. The plaid attire is a genuine surprise for me. Everyone thinks vampires wear black capes with tall stand-up collars, but it turns out they all dress like they're going out into the forest to cut timber.

All the chairs are taken, and many students are seated against the wall on the saggy wooden floor that slants toward the middle of the room as if it has surrendered to time. Almost everyone is sitting with their own species, except for Shelly, who is sprawled across the laps of some hot togaed guys (gods, of course!). I stand in the back, leaning against the warm paneled wall, which is blackened by smoke, scratched and scarred. I can almost see the memories encrusted within.

"Are you okay, Wave? You're late," my dad telepathically says in a concerned tone.

He's sitting at a long table at the front of the room with an eclectic group of what must be the other teachers. My dad is so large he barely fits in the human-sized chair. Besides Dad, there are several plaid-clad vampires, a young towheaded boy in a long purple robe, a yellow-eyed werewolf-type, a fuchsia-haired fairy with a crown of live butterflies who's smoking a pipe, and a goddess with a killer body wearing nothing but mud and leaves.

"I'm fine, Dad," I say back. "Just ran into a few sharks and a vampire on the way to school. No big deal."

"What?" he asks in his 'alarmed-Dad' tone.

I cannot tell you how grateful I am that we can communicate telepathically. Otherwise, I'd have to actually have this conversation with my dad in front of everyone. Like most teens, I prefer to perpetuate the myth that I sprang fully formed from sea foam. Why do parents think fingerlings can't handle things themselves? You don't live in the ocean for seventeen years and not learn a few things about surviving in a hostile environment.

"Can we talk about this later?" I plead.

"Yes, my little fingerling."

Ugh.

Shelly looks at me and smirks. She's obviously been listening in on my mental conversation with Dad. She really has no manners.

I'm saved from having to teach her a valuable lesson about privacy when the kid with white-blonde hair and purple robes stands and takes the podium at the center of the teacher's table. He clears his throat, and for some reason, everyone is instantly quiet. I giggle. Everyone turns around to look at me. I think about diving under the back row of chairs, but instead, I straighten my back and manage to say, "Sorry." You have to admit, it's funny that supernatural beings are scared of a twelve-year-old.

The kid smiles at me and looks like he's suppressing a laugh. "I would like to welcome you all to West Marin Heights," he says. "For those of you who do not know me, I'm Headmaster Crumpet." He looks at me and bites his lip to keep from laughing. I see his fangs. Right. Vampire. And a nice one. He could've totally nailed me for inappropriately timed laughter.

Crumpet looks like a fingerling, but he's probably ancient—maybe even older than my parents. He must've been turned as a child. How awful. And speaking of vampires, Pierce walks through the door just then on both feet. He stands so close to me I can feel the heat rising from his skin now that he's ... um ... fed.

If I thought he was attractive with one leg, that's nothing compared to seeing him with a full set of limbs. I decide not to dwell on his dimples, his sculpted chest (now unfortunately covered by a new plaid shirt), or the way my heart thrums when he's around. He smirks at me as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. Luckily, vampires can't read minds.

"Hey," he whispers in my ear. I shiver, and he grins. "Miss me?"

"I'm just cold," I lie. I keep my eyes focused straight ahead, but I can feel the vampire's body quivering with laughter.

I hear a telepathic gasp from Shelly, and I know she's noticed Pierce. She scoots off of the gods' laps and sits on the floor, gawking at Pierce. "He is so hot," she telepathically tells me. "And lucky for me, you hate vampires."

I pretend not to hear.