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Derek wants to say that he’s stopped hoping for some savior to swoop in and beat the shit out of Carl, because that’s stupid and childish and he ain’t a kid anymore. He’s the man of the house now, and he’s gotta get his shit together so that he can look after his mama and the girls. But even though he knows that, and he knows he ain’t got time to daydream about the cops swooping in and arresting that son of a bitch, because it’ll never happen-
Despite that, sometimes he still imagines it. Imagines Carl’s face when they kick the door of the cabin down and tell him he’s under arrest, and maybe he resists; maybe they have to rough him up a little and leave him bleeding, the way he leaves Derek bleeding. And maybe Carl starts crying, and he gets to echo Carl’s words back at him: man up, boy. Crying ain’t gonna stop anything.
Derek’s too old for that kinda thing, and he’s too old to cry, too, but that doesn’t stop him doing either. He can’t let anyone see, because he’s not a baby, and he can’t let Carl see, because Carl will think he’s weak, and more than anything Derek wants him to see that Carl hasn’t broken him, no matter how hard he’s tried. Derek’s stronger than that, and he’s gonna work hard and get that scholarship and get outta here, and he’ll never have to see that smug, fake-kind expression ever again.
But for now he sits at the edge of the lake, hidden from the cabin by trees, and cries with his cheek resting against his knees, his arms wrapped around them so he’s in a tight little ball. He’s too tired to do more than let the tears run silently down his cheeks - he’d run out of tears yesterday, when that weird calm had descended on him, and he’s not gotten back out of it yet. The tears don’t seem to care, though, steady and constant now that he’s alone. He doesn’t dare do this in the cabin even when Carl’s out getting groceries or cooking or taking a shower. That cabin gets enough of him - it doesn’t get his tears too.
The wash-wash of the water lapping at the shore is soothing, even if he hates being at the lake house. Water don’t judge, and neither do the birds and frogs and weird little bugs he sees skating across the surface of the lake-edge. Out here it’s just him, and nature, and nature doesn’t mind if he’s not strong for a while.
“You’re crying,” says a girl’s voice, and Derek startles backward. The sudden movement sends a sharp pain through him and he winces, but covers it quick.
“Am not,” he says automatically, and then spots the source of the voice. “Why are you in the lake? Where did you come from?”
“I’m not blind,” says the girl derisively. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and Derek suddenly realises that holy shit, she’s naked. He averts his eyes sharply, and she laughs. “You’re crying. I’ve been watching you.”
“Okay, creepy,” Derek says, glancing at her a little and feeling a blush warm his cheeks even though he’s very determinedly only looking at her face. “Do you- do you want a shirt? Why are you naked?”
“Aw, cute,” says the girl, and looks genuinely pleased. He looks at her face properly. She has dark hair and dark eyes, pale skin and sharp features. She’s not quite old enough to be a woman, he doesn’t think, but she’s definitely older than him. She doesn’t seem to be shy about the fact that her whole torso is out of the water and she’s literally naked, but her hair is plastered to her head with lakewater so maybe she’s just one of those girls who likes to swim without a bikini. “Most guys take an eyeful while they have the chance.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I’m not most guys,” Derek says. “Are you gonna answer any questions I ask you or what?”
“What,” says the girl easily. “And no, I don’t need a shirt. I’m not the shy one here.”
“I’m not shy,” Derek says. “It’s just manners. Most girls don’t walk around like…” He gestures at her, and fuck, his face must be bright red. He can feel the heat in his cheeks increasing.
“Well I don’t walk anywhere,” says the girl, and Derek finally lets his eyes skip hastily over her bare torso to where her legs should be visible in the water.
They’re not, because the girl has a fucking tail.
“Holy shit,” he blurts out. “You’re a fish.”
“I’m a mermaid, dumbass,” says the girl, rolling her eyes. She flicks the end of her tail at him, splashing him with water. He just can’t stop staring at her where she’s dark grey and sinuous beneath the water’s surface, the pale of her skin mottling into scales just below her bellybutton. “Yeah, that’s more like what I’m used to.”
“I’m not being a creep,” Derek says. “I didn’t… mermaids are real? Man, my little sister is gonna freak out.”
“You have a sister?” says the girl, letting herself fall forwards so that she’s resting her elbows in the mud at the lake edge, her chin propped on her hands.
“Two of ‘em,” Derek says proudly. “They’re the best.”
“If they’re so good, why are you sat out here crying?” says the girl, and the sudden topic change throws Derek completely off course.
“I’m not crying because of them,” he says. “My sisters would never hurt me. And I wasn’t crying!”
“So someone else hurts you,” the girl says, and it’s not a question. “There’s a man who lives here. I see him on the deck sometimes, fishing. He brings boys up here. Boys like you.”
Derek can’t speak. There’s a rock in his stomach, and another in his throat, and the girl’s sharp eyes are pinning him in place like one of those butterflies in a frame that his mom loves.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” says the girl after a moment. “I could kill him, you know. I’m carnivorous.”
Her eyes are suddenly softer somehow, less piercing, and he feels like he can breathe again.
“He just- they’re fishing trips.”
“Okay,” says the girl, still looking at him, unblinking. His skin crawls. She doesn’t believe him even a little.
“He’s been running the community centre for years,” Derek says, but he can feel tears welling up again, fuck. “He- he helps us. He gets us off the street.”
“And all out of the good of his heart,” the girl says dryly, pressing a hand to her chest as if swooning. “What a wonderful guy. We should all be kissing his feet.”
He laughs despite himself, charmed. “I’m Derek, by the way,” he says, scrubbing his forearm across his eyes quickly while her eyes are closed in fake-adoration. Her eyes slit open.
“Elle,” she says, after a moment. Derek gets the feeling she doesn’t often tell people; for the first time in their whole conversation, she looks hesitant.
“Alright, Elle,” he says. “Pleasure to meet you. What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a lake like this?”
She laughs, then looks startled by herself. “Oh, so you won’t look at my tits but you got game?” she says, but there’s no bite to it. It’s teasing, like his sisters when they make fun of him for acting slick around the girls in his class. Derek grins, pleased to have caught her off guard. He’s got a good smile, everyone says so - his teeth are straight and white by luck alone, and his eyes crinkle in a way that’s made more than a couple of girls giggle behind their hands. If he moves his facial muscles just right he can even coax out a dimple, sometimes. Elle nods approvingly.
“Maybe a little game,” he says.
“That smile’ll get you out of all sorts of trouble, I bet,” she replies, and Derek shrugs.
“Comes in handy sometimes,” he concedes (a little smugly). Elle rolls her eyes.
“Don’t expect it to work on me, loverboy,” she says, pointing at him with- with a clawed finger, which somehow he hadn’t noticed before.
“I can’t believe mermaids are real,” he says. “Are there dragons too?”
“Ugh, you’re such a boy,” Elle says. “No, there’s no dragons. I mean, not that I’ve ever met. You never know, I guess.”
“Derek!”
Derek flinches automatically, caught off guard, as Carl’s voice carries to the water’s edge from the cabin. Elle’s eyes are dark and locked on him when he glances at her to see if she caught it.
“Grub’s up!” Carl adds. “Come eat!”
“My offer’s still open,” Elle says. Derek smiles at her, but he can feel that it’s thinner and less convincing than the last one.
“And waste a good chicken pot pie?” he quips, though his stomach is so tight with sudden anxiety that he knows it’s gonna be hard to eat anything. It’s like he forgot where he was for a minute, somehow, and now he’s been brought back to reality. There’s still a mermaid staring him down with a blank, expressionless face, though. Maybe not totally back to reality.
“I gotta go,” he says apologetically. “Will you… will you still be here? Later?”
Elle shrugs. “Maybe,” she says. “I got someone to get back to.”
Derek tries not to look visibly disappointed. “See you around sometime, then. I’ll… I’ll come out later. It’s alright if you don’t come back or whatever, but I’ll be here. If you are.”
Her lips quirk up at one corner for a split second. “See you around,” she echoes.
Derek stands up, stretches out his stiff limbs, and forces himself to start walking back to the cabin. That fucking cabin. He doesn’t want Carl dead, but god, he doesn’t want to go back in that cabin. He turns to glance at the water, and Elle is still there, silent and unmoving, though she’s sat up now. He waves, half-hearted with dread and wishing he could just go back to the water, or back home. Anywhere else.
Elle doesn’t wave back, but she stays in place until Derek’s far enough that he can’t see her anymore.