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There once was a boy who wished more than anything to learn about the human world. For this was no ordinary boy, but he was part fish; with a lovely long tail that glittered in shades of blue.He lived in a wonderful underwater kingdom, full of people who looked like he did, with fishy tails and strong swimming muscles, even if they did not think the same way. In the ways of thinking, this boy was very alone.And the boy longed to visit the human world. He was a lonely child, as he had no siblings or friends to learn and play with. You may be asking what the boy’s parents were doing, and to that I would answer that they were very busy.Busy doing who knows what, but busy they were, and that left the boy alone often. Sometimes they would request him to be at their meetings, as something to show off to their friends and compatriots.Now, the boy knew, deep down, that his parents loved him very much. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting when he wanted to see them and they would only have time for him late in the evenings, long after he was tired.And this was what had led him to books. He had been reading in the royal library, for, indeed, this boy was also a prince, although it did not do him much good, when he came across an old, weathered tome. It was encrusted with barnacles and half buried in sediment deposits, and it looked very peculiar. This was because it appeared to be a book of the air; one created above the surface and, reportedly, one that would disintegrate as soon as it touched water. And yet, here it was. Perfectly intact.Unable to stave off his curiosity for more than a moment, the boy gently scooped up the book and examined the title. It was called “Magic Spells to Delight, Amaze, and Transform”, and the boy had never seen anything like it before.As he carefully leafed through the delicate pages, he was delighted and amazed. There were spells the like of which he had never heard, for, you see, as a mermaid in an underwater castle, he had seen all sorts of magic before, but mere simple, everyday things. Changing the temperature of the water, or helping the sea plants grow. Nothing that could create pyrotechnic glories or shrink one down to the size of an ant.With each page he turned was more and more astonishing feats, until he reached a page near the end. “This,” the page read, “is the most powerful spell that has ever been recorded.” Now, as a smart young boy, he knew that this book was written a long time ago, and the information within it might be outdated by this time. But still he read on, excitement building in him with every word. “This spell is one that will allow a mermaid to become a human, though only for a short time. For, if at sunset the mermaid has yet to find someone in which they can confide their true nature, they are cursed to pay the price forever.”Surely, the boy thought, surely this would be a fascinating experience. But there was no need to risk an eternal price for the mere sake of curiosity. And so he put the book back, tucked away in a small corner of the truly massive library where it was likely never to be found again.And yet, the book stayed in his mind, ever-present at the edges of his thoughts. He brushed it off, ignoring it in favour of trying to learn things more relevant to his parents’ studies and responsibilities. It worked, for a while. The mysterious book was forgotten about almost entirely, and his parents seemed to take more of an interest in him.He began to show off for them, and it gained him more and more attention. He began to feel that he had really earned the way in which people seemed to hang on his every word, waiting with bated breath to see if he could keep up with his own momentum. Speeches and monologues and diatribes that almost made him seem to shine with his passion for the written word.However, this light soon began to dim, and the boy became nothing more than a flash in the pan novelty when he was overcome with wracking anxiety. Unable to remain going at such a pace, he began to stumble over his words, and people began to lose interest. Now, this normally where one would want his parents to bolster him with comfort and assurances that he was much more than a passing novelty to them.But, for their own reasons, they merely continued to push him to regain his popularity with their subjects, evidently unaware of their son’s struggles. And he tried. Oh, how he tried. But there are some things that a child, or, indeed, anyone, simply cannot accomplish, especially on their own.Thus, the boy began to consider ways to escape, both literally and metaphorically, from this pressure. He threw himself into his books, and the magical tome he had discovered so long ago began to creep in on his mind again. One night, when he could bear it no longer, the boy hid himself away, hugging that very book to his chest. Hoping that, when his parents went looking and could not locate him, they would panic. They would search, and weep, and cry out for their child to be returned to them.Maybe then, they would realise what they were missing. How much they had loved having the boy in their lives, and how much they would miss him if he was lost to them.This is where the story takes a vital turn. If not for a few words, overheard and muddled in emotion, the boy may have never gone on the journey that was laying before him, each brick in the road laid in time with his devastated heartbeats as he heard his parents saying “...better off now…”; better off without him, he surmised.Feeling grief and betrayal in every inch of his body, the boy swam off, towards the surface, clutching the book of ancient magics and preparing himself for a life on his own.He recited the spell almost without a second thought, though he began to regret it with every breath almost as soon as he had. The water he had depended on for his whole life began to rage against his organs, and he swam desperately towards the sandy beach that was hidden in a small cove, the movement more effort than it had ever been.Coughing, gasping for air he had never consumed in such a way, the boy breached the surface of the water. Being a prepared child, he would have, of course, packed a bag of some various items he would need at the surface, but in the state he had left he had nothing but the garments he wore as a prince, as a symbol of status. That and the book.Chest still heaving, the boy laid on the sand, feeling the ocean water lap at his newly formed legs as he stared at the stars. It was a gorgeous night, but most of it was lost on the boy as exhaustion overtook him and he slept.Waking the next morning was an exercise in rapid confusion, grief, and reluctant acceptance. Having run through that cycle of emotions a time or two, the boy sat up.In between him and the late morning sun, three silhouettes stood.A boy, who appeared to have a large, leathery cape of some sort, a tall girl with a bucket on her hip, and a small child.“Why are you covered in seaweed?” The small girl asked imperiously.And in going to answer, the boy initially just coughed up some more seawater, which had the tall girl at his side in an instant, rather forcefully patting his back. As his airway cleared, he tried again. But, the boy found he could not speak.Not for love nor money nor wishing as hard as he could would a sound escape his throat.Frustrated, he began clicking his tongue, mimicking a code system he had seen and studied in humans’ use to signal ships. It probably wasn’t the right language, but it was something he practiced to calm himself, and he was certainly in need of some calming right now.The other boy brightened up, smiling. “Morse code!” He called. “You can use Morse code?”Yes? He answered, hopefully.“That’s wonderful!” The other boy exclaimed. “We can use it too– Oh, I guess I should introduce us. I’m Reynie, this is Kate, and that’s Constance.” He pointed to himself and each of the girls in turn.The boy smiled. I’m George. He replied. But people call me Sticky.“Why?” The smaller girl —Constance. Right, Constance— sounded irritated on the face of it, but when he considered her tone, he realized she was just curious.Everything tends to “stick” in my head. He explained, bashfully. It’s kind of an odd nickname, I know.“No, not at all!” Kate responded, smiling broadly. “In fact,” She continued, glancing sideways at her friends, “I would say it’s a perfectly great nickname. I love nicknames. I think that people should be able to choose their own, and mine would be ‘The Great Kate Wea–’”“Nope.” Constance said loudly, at the same time as Reynie began fondly shaking his head. “Kate, you have to understand that, as your friend, I cannot let you go around with that nickname. It’s atrocious.”Kate looked aghast, and Reynie jumped in. “It’s really not that terrible, Kate.” He patted her shoulder comfortingly. “You know Constance, she’s always being dramatic.” He grinned at Sticky over Kate’s head, and, for a moment, it felt as if they were sharing something. Sticky grinned shyly back, and then the girls were off again, bickering about something pointless and somehow important.By the time they had talked themselves around back to the subject of Sticky, Reynie had already gathered as much information as he could from the strange boy. And Sticky, in turn, had managed to ask some questions himself.Where did you get that cloak? He asked Reynie, pointing at the thick material draped over the other boy’s shoulders.“Well,” Kate said conspiratorially, having noticed their conversation and quickly switched topics, “That may be one of the coolest things about Reynie, aside from his winning personality and genius intellect.” Reynie’s cheeks grew red at this, and Kate laughed merrily. “Go on, show him, Reynie!”Slowly, Reynie straightened his spine, extending his wings, for, indeed, they were wings on his back. Sticky gasped, as that was one of the few sounds he could still make with the spell having robbed him of his vocal chords, and his eyes grew wide.Astonished, he began to click, asking all manner of questions at such a rapid speed that the other children could not follow him.“Whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Kate held her hands up, silly grin still affixed.Placing a hand on his chest, Sticky took a deep breath. It was still strange to use his nose and mouth rather than the gills he had used all his life.That is certainly incredible. He said, eyes still darting up and down as he studied Reynie’s wings. How did you acquire them? Is such a thing possible? How–Here, Sticky choked a little on his own saliva, as he was still adjusting to this new method of communication. Luckily, he recovered quickly and was about to go back to asking questions when Reynie cleared his throat.“I was born with them, actually. At least, I think I was. I’ve had them for as long as I can remember.”Do your parents not have wings? Sticky asked hesitantly. He was wary of broaching the subject of parents, but in his need to learn and know the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.Reynie shrugged. “I’m adopted.” He responded. “So I don’t know. But my mom doesn’t have wings, she’s normal.”Constance made a face at this. “Who says you’re not the normal one and we’re all weird for not having wings?” She asked, sourly.Kate laughed again, high and clear like a bell. She ruffled Constance’s hair. “Come on, lets go to Mr. Benedict. He might have something that will help with your voice.” Directing this last at Sticky, she offered a hand to help him stand in the warm sand.Sticky accepted, and promptly fell over.Blinking grit out of his eyes, he sighed. It was to be expected that he was unused to these new appendages. Pulling himself up again, he leaned heavily on Kate and Reynie’s proffered shoulders as the group began to make their way inland.Sticky was a mite bit concerned about heading further from the water, but, luckily, their path followed back a river which had its source a good deal away from the ocean. In fact, the river had yet to go underground by the time they reached a kind looking little cottage.How it was kind looking, Sticky was unsure how to articulate, which was a new experience for him. But he did not have very long to contemplate this, as the door swung open to reveal an even kinder looking man. He had white, rumpled hair and equally rumpled clothing that matched the green of the sea heather around them.“Oh, hello, children!” He greeted happily. “And it seems you have found a friend, too. What is your name, young man?”Constance immediately began to explain, with occasional corrections from Reynie, as the quartet was ushered inside. It was in the cottage that Sticky learned the other children were visiting the kind man, whose name was Mr. Benedict, except for Constance, who lived with him.And it was in the very same cottage that, very soon after, Sticky began to tell his story. He showed them the book he had brought with him, and even went as far as to tell them about his life as a mermaid. For, you see, in those few hours he had spent with his new friends, he had come to trust them more than anyone else he had ever known.That, and the pressing need to find someone in whom he could confide his secret nudged him to explain himself, though it was with trepidation. Some part of him feared rejection; feared being alone; feared being cast aside as with his parents.But this group of people were more than ready to welcome him into their circle, and it was with the utmost sympathy that they listened. And it was on that sundown that Sticky had found himself surrounded by those he loved, and who loved him.For, you see, love is a choice. A choice to care for and protect and help another as much as you are able, and these children had already made that choice about the boy who was a mermaid, even before they knew his secret. As it was, learning more about him just cemented their opinions that he was someone to be loved and cherished, in a way he had never known before.And, though it took some time, Sticky was eventually ready to face his parents again. He worked with Mr. Benedict and his friends to find a spell that would allow him to visit the world beneath the surface of the water once again, whereupon he found his parents utterly frantic in search of him.Though he was hesitant to reconnect with them, he was swept up in a hug the likes of which he had not felt since he was a very small child. Weeping enough to double the salinization of the oceans many times over, his parents begged for his forgiveness, vowing to never let their son go unheard and ignored again. And Sticky cried, allowing his feelings of fear and abandonment bubble up and overflow, and he was comforted by family and friends alike.So things went. It was no longer a lonely existence for the boy who longed to learn about the human world, and he was allowed to split his time between the land and sea, though his parents were initially loath to let him go beyond arm’s reach. And he grew in knowledge and love, learning as much as he could about his new friends and coming home most every night to spend time with his adoring parents.