Animal Attraction

I am the victim of a global conspiracy.

I know that sounds overly dramatic—like one of those Everwood episodes where Ephram and Amy break up, get back together, and break up again all before the first commercial—but it’s the only explanation I can think of.

For seventeen years my life has been just like those shows on the History Channel that my dad is always forcing me to sit through. (He loves to say, "Watch with me, Janey. It’s like The Real World, only real.") Except unlike The D-Day Conspiracy or The Pearl Harbor Conspiracy, which only seem like they last forever, The Jane Conspiracy is endless.

Apparently, everyone on the freaking planet has plotted to make sure that I am never anywhere in the vicinity of being cool and that under no circumstance do I ever meet a boy.

I’ve got to hand it to them: Their record is spotless—so far.

But things are going to change. This summer is going to be different. I was inspired by an unlikely source: my big sister, Kendra. She’s a junior at Florida State, and last month she came home for a three-day weekend to get her laundry done, sponge money off my parents, and hook up with her ex-boyfriend Erik. (Or, as she told Mom and Dad, Because I missed you all so much.)

Somehow in the middle of all that manipulating, she actually found time to give me some good advice. (That’s once in seventeen years, but she means well.)

Make the most of this summer, she told me. It should be the best three months of your life.

We were having a girls’ day at the time. Mom had given us some money and the keys to her car, and told us to go have fun. (Mom is always trying to bring us closer together.) As we drove to the mall, Kendra explained the crucial nature of the summer before senior year.

You’re almost old enough to be an adult, but you don’t have any adult responsibilities, she reasoned. "The summer after graduation will be all about getting ready for college. So this is the summer to really have fun!"

Normally, Kendra’s idea of advice is something she read on an Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt. So this was a big deal. For a second I even thought we were going to bond. But then she dumped me at the mall so she could go bond with Erik.

Still, it was a nice moment.

I kept thinking about it as I bought a jewel belt at the Gap. And I thought about it some more when I got some jeans on sale at Hollister. (I got all of the money in exchange for keeping quiet about Erik.)

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. I had to make the most of this summer. I decided that it would mark the end of the conspiracy.

That night I was watching Behind the Music on VH1. The show was about this old alt-rock group called the B-52’s. They were hilarious with huge beehive hairdos and retro thrift store clothes. They sang this great song called The Summer of Love. I instantly decided’that it would become my new theme.

Now it’s six weeks later and my plan is coming together. (I’m also wearing the jeans, which I love.) Today is the last day of school and I drove to campus in a brand-new, oh-so-adorable Cabriolet. Okay, technically it’s nine years old, but it’s brand-new to me.

Having a car changes everything. No more begging for rides. No more getting stuck at lame parties with no way home. And no more waiting in the mall parking lot while Kendra’s off somewhere macking with Erik.

I am now 100 percent mobile Jane.

Of course, the car comes with a catch. I have to pay for half of it. The deal my parents gave, me is that I give them the money—$1,250—by the end of summer. To do this, I have arranged for not one but two summer jobs.

For the third straight year, I’ll be giving swimming lessons at the Y. Usually, I give group lessons, but now I’m going to do one-on-one. One-on-one’s kind of tricky. The pay’s better, but you can get stuck with a nightmare kid. For a car, though, it’s totally worth the risk.

When I’m done at the pool, I will hop into my Cabrio—how I love to say that—and drive to job number two at Tragic Waters. (That’s what the locals call Magic Waters.)

Magic Waters is a lame amusement/ theme park that was a big deal back in the fifties. People actually used to come all the way to Florida just to see it. My heart aches for how starved for entertainment they must have been. To modern eyes, it’s just a collection of dinky rides and mind-numbing shows like the Mermaid Spectacular.

The mermaid show is what made Magic Waters famous. Twice a day, tourists watch six girls wearing clamshell bikini tops and body fins perform underwater to music. It sounds pathetic (who am I kidding, it is pathetic), but it’s got a kind of tacky kitsch appeal. There’s also a huge upside for the mermaids—boys.

For thirty minutes after the show, the ’maids swim around the fake lagoon and pose for pictures. That’s where the boys come in. Tons of them. By the early afternoon, most guys have decided that talking with a mer-chick in a bikini is a lot more fun than waiting in line to ride the Sea Serpent for the fourteenth time.

Here’s the amazing part. This summer, I’m going to be one of the mer-chicks. (This and a car, it’s like I’m moving from the History Channel to the WB.) Most ’maids are picked because they have C cups and perfect skin. I was picked for a different reason. I can swim circles around the other girls. In fact, that’s literally what I do during the show’s finale.

I’m the best swimmer at Ruby Beach High. Good enough that I’m hoping to snag a scholarship or at least make a top college swim team. The mermaid show needs at least one great swimmer for the tricky moves.

This year, it’s me.

It doesn’t matter if the other girls have better skin or bigger boobs. I’ll be one of only six mermaids surrounded by dozens of boys on a daily basis. Not even a global conspiracy can overcome those odds.

I can’t help but smile as a now familiar song plays in my head. It’s the B-52’s and they’re singing away.

It’s the summer of love, love, love….

The smell of Sloppy Joes is so strong that I feel dizzy just walking past the cafeteria. The students aren’t supposed to know that the lunch budget ran out three weeks ago. The school’s gotten by with leftovers, and a large shipment of alternate food product that was purchased with an emergency loan from the PTA. (I was warned by my mom, who’s an English teacher and a member of the PTA board.)

It’s not like I needed the extra incentive to avoid the cafeteria. I always brown bag it and eat on the patio with my two best friends, Becca and Melanie. We started eating lunch together in the fourth grade, the year Becca’s family moved here from Cuba.

We’ve been inseparable ever since, which is why they grant me all of three seconds to sit down before they launch into me.

I can’t believe you got a car and didn’t tell us, Becca says between sips of her Diet Dr Pepper.

I plead for forgiveness. I didn’t know. My parents surprised me. I thought we were going to get it next weekend.

It’s pointless to defend myself. They’re not even listening.

It’s the mermaid thing, Melanie says with authority. We’re getting replaced by the C Cups.

This is officially Day Five of the Jane Abuse Tour.

Bee and Mel—my two oldest, dearest friends on the planet—have been giving me nonstop hell every day since I got the mermaid job. Like it’s going to change me.

I bet she told Crystal, Becca adds with a pointed look. Mermaids share everything. It’s part of their code.

Melanie nods in agreement as she chomps on a carrot stick. Are you kidding? She probably already gave Crystal a ride.

Right, I answer, finally getting a word in. She really wants to ride in my nine-year-old Volkswagen instead of the pimped out Beemer she got for her birthday.

This logic finally slows the assault.

Becca’s the first to concede. Okay. We went too far with that one.

Yeah, I guess so, Melanie agrees. I still can’t believe her parents gave her such a sweet car. Life is just not fair.

Just not fair is often used to describe the charmed life of Crystal Gentry. The Queen Bee of Ruby Beach High, she’s a third-year varsity cheerleader, a second-generation .mermaid, and a first-degree bitch.

We also share a history.

There was a time when the three of us were the four of us. Crystal was the fourth. We hung together all through elementary and middle school. We were really tight. Then, when we got to high school, Crystal was gone. She joined the elites and she never looked back.

Becca flashes a sly smile. Do you think the rumor’s true? Do you think that in addition to the car, her parents also got her a boob job?

This is the hottest gossip at school. I don’t think it’s true, but I don’t disagree when anyone says it. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person or anything. I just don’t like her.

Crystal and I have been enemies ever since she ditched the group. The problem is that now we’ll also be coworkers. When I got the mermaid job, the two of us kind of agreed to a truce for the summer. Bec and Mel still haven’t forgiven me for that.

Just promise that you won’t dump us for her, Melanie says, joking, but maybe a little bit serious. Fake or real, those things attract a lot of boys, and you might be tempted to hang around for the overflow.

I promise—again, I say strong enough so she knows I mean it. And that’s why I want you two to be the first ones to ride in my new car. I’ll drive us all to the park for the ritual.

They share a disapproving look.

Sorry, can’t make it, Becca says.

Yeah, Mel adds. Sorry.

What do you mean? I say, not believing this. Today’s the last day of school! It’s our tradition!

Yeah, Becca says. But Crystal wants to be friends again and she offered to give us a ride in the Beemer.

Melanie shrugs. Although we’re stuck with our original boobs.

With that, we all laugh, which feels good. Things have been tense lately, and I guess I understand. The three of us have mocked the mermaids for as long as I can remember. And I do feel a little bad about it. Because maybe all that mocking was really jealousy. Now that I’m one, I’m really excited. Maybe they’re jealous of me. But no one could ever replace Bec and Mel. They must know that.

Quincy! The name echoes across the patio attracting far more attention than I’d like. I turn and see Coach Latham, my swim coach and the only person on earth who calls me by my last name. I smile and wave, hoping he will quiet down.

My office! he barks before disappearing back into the physical education building.

Becca laughs. You’ve got to give him credit. He does not waste a lot of time with extra words.

I’ve studied it, Melanie comments. His trick is that he doesn’t use verbs. Can you imagine how he proposed to his wife? ‘Marriage! You and me!’

I quickly gather my stuff and turn to them. After school. In the parking lot.

She’s the same way. No verbs. Must be a swim thing.

I roll my eyes and rush over to the office. Coach Latham does not like to wait. I bet he wants to go over my summer workout schedule. He’s always worried that we’ll party too much and get out of shape. Personally, that’s what I’m shooting for.

Quincy, it’s a good thing you swim faster than you run, he says as I hurry into the room.

I had to get my books, I explain. Then he looks up and I realize he’s only joking.

Sit down, we need to talk.

Suddenly, this sounds serious.

Despite his gruff, verb-free exterior, Coach Latham is a total teddy bear. He coaches both the boys’ and girls’ swim teams and even