by Cody Wagner
“You may not know this,” she said, “but a lot of myths were based in truth, as a way to explain the unexplainable. People rationalized things they didn’t understand by making them into monsters and boogeymen.”
“Really?”
She leaned in. “Yes. Sirens were known for hypnotizing men. What if there are women who can somehow make men do whatever they want? Plain, ordinary-looking women. It would certainly explain the myth. What do you think?”
I froze up. She wasn’t talking me out of my weird Siren thing at all. No, she was trying to convince me otherwise. And it was working; the fact I wasn’t the only one considering the idea made it way less crazy. Especially because Cassie was so smart and sensible.
“Tell me more,” I said.
“Well, I think it could explain a lot,” she said, very matter-of-factly.
“Like what?”
“Take Eleanor Roosevelt, for example.”
“FDR’s wife?” I asked.
“So you know of her?”
“Don’t sound impressed. That’s all I know.”
“For starters, she was extremely unattractive. In fact, her own mother used to call her ‘granny.’”
“Ouch.”
“Right,” Cassie said, sitting upright and intent. “From out of nowhere, FDR married her. Somehow, she got the most important person of the 20th century to marry her.”
“Maybe he liked fuglies? Everyone has their own type.”
“Fuglies?”
I smiled, but didn’t respond.
“The thing is, she didn’t just ride his coattails. She was the most influential first lady in history, making strides in womens’ rights, civil rights, youth rights. She was a figurehead for the less fortunate. Clearly, she married FDR to push her own issues.”
“So you think she was controlling him?” I said.
“If you look at it the right way, there’s a lot of evidence.”
“Like what?”
“Just as FDR was gaining prominence, he suddenly contracts polio and withdraws from the public. During that time—seven whole years—Eleanor is left free to do her own thing. And she could do it without scrutiny, saying she was the ‘legs and eyes’ of FDR. She claimed she was doing his work.”
“So you think she gave him polio?”
“Not necessarily. But she could have commanded him to go into hiding, then pretended he was sick.”
I squinted at her. “You learned all this in the last few weeks?”
She didn’t answer.
I looked down at my desk. So Cassie had reached the exact same conclusion I had. I wondered what, exactly, she’d found in her recent excursions and research. And, more importantly, what all this meant.
Tapping my pencil on the desk, I said, “So do you really believe she was a Siren?”
“It would explain a lot.”
“How would she control him? Like how would that even work?”
“Maybe it’s a form of hypnosis. Or her voice was like an aphrodisiac. When she wanted something, she told him, and he did it.”
“Whoa,” I said.
“Powerful is more like it. Can you imagine how powerful a person like that could become?”
She could brainwash my best friend.
“Yes,” I said. “How would she even get that power?”
“Genetics? A DNA fluke? A vocal trait? I’m not entirely sure.”
“Wow,” I said.
“So you believe me?” she asked.
At that, I shrugged. Insanely, it explained everything, but I needed to think on it some more.
Just then, Mr. Pryor came in and began the lecture. After a few minutes, I realized the real point of our discussion was left unresolved. As quietly as I could, I tore a piece of paper from my spiral and wrote, None of this explains why Jimmy freaked out.
Cassie thought for a second, wrote, then handed me, I have some ideas. I raised a confused eyebrow and responded, What, you think he knows a Siren? To which Cassie replied, Why not? Sometimes the answer is what’s right in front of your face.
Mr. Pryor cleared his throat, causing me to jump.
“Hand it forward, Mr. Trales.”
I gaped at him and stared at the paper. “Uh . . . It’s just notes on um . . . the stuff you were just talking about.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And what ‘stuff’ was that?”
I frantically tried recalling what he was discussing, but drew a blank, and said, “The Library of Alexandrite,” much to everyone’s amusement. Without replying, Mr Pryor walked up and snatched the paper. I expected him to read it aloud, but, after taking one look, he glared at me, folded the paper, and stuffed it into his pocket.
He went back to the front and continued the lecture as if nothing had happened. I sunk down in my chair, mind reeling.
Was Kyle really under control? Was it a Siren? Either way, Jimmy’s connected. And Sanctuary seems to know.
Fifteen
Assassination
The following morning, I apologized to Jimmy, who acted like nothing had ever happened. After my conversation with Cassie, I desperately wanted to ask him about the Siren poster. But I knew that, if I did, he’d probably flip out again.
Instead, I took matters into my own hands and began researching. Unfortunately, my search yielded nothing. I Googled everything I could think of—“Do Sirens exist today?”, “What is a Siren?”, “Where does a Siren get her power?”—and all results were useless. Mom and Dad used to tell me how frustrating old libraries used to be and I suddenly felt their pain.
The only proof I had was my own memory and the protest. Consequently, I pulled up YouTube again, this time pulling up videos of other protests. Although I never heard any singing, there were definitely moments of people trancing out. One married guy, wearing a ribbon supporting gay rights, cocked his head like a schnauzer hearing a dog whistle. Suddenly, he threw his wife’s hand away and crossed the barricades. He wasn’t the only one; lots of guys blanked out and joined the protesters.
It was crazy, but the idea of someone controlling them made sense. What didn’t make sense was one glaring question I couldn’t even begin to answer: If all this were true, why wasn’t I affected by the singing?
I had no idea and kept searching.
In between learning about Sirens, I had to deal with Jimmy’s obsession with the play. He bombarded us with information about the theater and acting every chance he got. Dinnertime became a lesson in Acting 101 that stopped only when Roze forced him to change the subject. Which she had to do. A lot.
Seeing Jimmy’s enthusiasm was relieving. Because the whole thing was my idea, it was much nicer witnessing him having fun instead of panic attacks. He really seemed to appreciate my gift. Giggling, Cassie noted he was like Bambi, fawning all over me.
“Yeah, he’s crushing all right,” Roze said at dinner one night.
That caught me completely off-guard. Stunned, I looked around, hoping Jimmy hadn’t heard. Luckily, he was getting seconds in line, so I leaned in and hissed, “What?”
Roze gawked at me while Cassie smiled knowingly into her hamburger.
“How blind are you?” Roze said.
I thought back over the past few months and reality crashed into me. Jimmy always had to sit next to me. He was always trying to talk to me. He seemed to hang on every word I said. All this time, I just thought I was his hero, like Timothy was to me. It was a cool feeling.
The truth was way less cool: Jimmy had a crush on me.
When Jimmy came back and plopped down next to me, I felt myself squirming away. Don’t get me wrong, I had nothing against him. He was a nice guy who had grown on me (that was a surprise, considering how he grated on my nerves when school had started). But I didn’t think of him as anything more.
Forcing myself to sit normally, I watched Jimmy going on about stage lighting. He wasn’t so bad looking and his smile was kind of endearing. But there just wasn’t anything there. I heard about feeling sparks or fireworks. Those dumb st
atements had to be exaggerated, but I figured there’d be something. Jimmy was a friend—nothing more—which made the situation incredibly awkward. In addition to everything else, I was going to have to worry about giving him mixed signals.
Just then, I realized the table had gone quiet. Peeking around, I saw all three of them staring at me like I’d explosively farted. How long had I been staring at Jimmy? He was blushing and Roze was trying not to smile. I picked up a tater tot and threw it at her.
“What?” I said.
“Who were you staring at?” Roze said, egging me on.
Jimmy looked back at his food, embarrassed, but grinning. I glared at her, and said, “Sorry, I was thinking about that Spanish test we have tomorrow. Caminamo hasta el museo.”
Roze laughed. “You sound like a redneck.”
“Are you ready for our first exercise session tomorrow, Jimmy?” Cassie said, changing the subject.
I shot her a grateful look as Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t know about this. I’ve tried exercising and it doesn’t work. Besides, I’m so busy with everything.”
“No no no no no,” Roze said. “You’re doing this. End of discussion.”
Jimmy looked at me. “You’re coming, right?”
Instead of seeing him as the doting puppy, Jimmy was now the guy with the crush on me. I felt myself squirming again and muttered, “Of course.” He grinned and threw a chicken nugget into his mouth. Roze leaned behind his back and mouthed, “Ahhhhhh.” I got up with my tray, walked by her, and “accidentally” spilled some corn in her hair.
I’d never thought Roze was the screaming type, but she yelped and grabbed her head as I laughed. More accurately, I laughed while running because the second she regained composure, she hopped up and took off after me.
“Put up your tray,” a lunch monitor said to Roze, before she reached me.
“Yeah, put up your tray!” I yelled over my shoulder.
* * * * *
By the next evening, some of the snow had melted, but the night air was bitter. Hugging ourselves, the four of us stood on the exercise field looking like giant bowling balls in all our clothing. Roze was stylish, wearing a full Nike tracksuit and coat. Cassie had on sweats that dragged the ground. Already, the cuffs were wet and dirty. Jimmy hopped back and forth in his own blue sweats. Looking between them, I realized I was the only one without a scarf. It was definitely cold enough for one, but I felt weird exercising with something smothering my mouth.
“Do we really have to do this tonight?” Jimmy asked. “I have lines to memorize.”
“Tough,” Roze said.
I inadvertently positioned Roze between Jimmy and myself, but that didn’t stop him from nudging closer to me every time he hopped. I inched away, wishing I didn’t know about his stupid crush. Suddenly, I was judging everything he did, and it was ruining our time together.
Gritting my teeth, I tried telling myself, Who cares if he likes me? If anything, it should have been flattering. I guess it was, but I didn’t know how to handle it. Pushing away from him surely wasn’t the right answer, though, and I forced myself to walk over and look directly at him.
“It’s gonna suck at first. But we’ll have fun.”
Without replying, Jimmy nodded. At least you’re using your powers for good and not evil, I told myself. I could tell Roze wanted to say something but, to keep Jimmy motivated, she kept her mouth shut.
As we started our workout, I kept a couple things in mind. First, pull-up bars and tougher things like that were off limits. I didn’t want Jimmy to get frustrated right away, so we stuck to jogging, jumping jacks, and the like. Second, anything on the ground was the most horrible thing ever. We quickly learned that when we all sat to do crunches. The second my butt touched the ground, I flew up, yelping, as water soaked through my sweats.
Roze hopped around, yanking at her pants like she had the world’s deepest wedgie. When she turned around, I could see a huge, wet circle on her butt (I wanted to make a joke, but I’m sure I didn’t look any better).
Jimmy was so shocked, he couldn’t stand. He remained on the ground, panting, until Roze reached out and pulled him up. Cassie smartly kept her hands on the ground like she was crab-walking. I noticed her smile and wondered if she knew exactly what was about to happen.
“You could have warned us,” I whispered to her.
“Sometimes you have to suffer to learn,” she returned. I proceeded to wipe the back of my sweats on her.
After a half hour, when Roze and I were nicely warmed up, Cassie and Jimmy hovered on the brink of exhaustion. I got a strange satisfaction seeing Cassie panting and miserable. She was usually so in control. The raw, unhidden exhaustion was satisfying. Jimmy looked like a deflated balloon. Within the first ten minutes, he begged for mercy. Now he stood there, whimpering. Roze walked up and punched his arm.
“We’re doing this for your own good. Trust us, it’s going to get easier.” She smirked and said, “Trales couldn’t even do one pull-up a few months ago. He just stood at the bar, praying.”
“I was meditating,” I retorted.
We made it another half hour before Jimmy refused to continue. That was fine with me; we’d pushed them farther than we’d thought they could go. And it was getting so cold, no amount of exercise kept us warm. Without a scarf, every breath felt like ice shards stabbing my lungs.
* * * * *
The pain began later that evening. At midnight, the room swayed in a haze of fever. By 1:00 AM, my throat was on fire. Every time I swallowed, tears of agony welled up. It got so bad, I had to lay on my side, spitting into a cup. Jimmy and Cassie were sound asleep, and I made as little noise as possible. I told myself I didn’t want to wake them, but the truth was I didn’t want them to know I was getting sick.
Closing my eyes, I spit into the cup again. I didn’t know what I was going to do when it was full; I didn’t think I’d be able to move to empty it. Would I end up just dumping it down the wall? Exhaling slowly to lessen the pain, I leaned my head back. The room spun faster.
An hour later, I knew I had strep throat. I used to get it all the time, but recurrences stopped once I actually took all the antibiotics. You should have worn your scarf, dummy, a part of me said. I wanted to tell it to shut up, but I was too achy and tired to protest.
I leaned forward to spit again when I heard a small creak near the door. Irritated from exhaustion, I peeked over, wondering if it was a bug or something. The door began to open, and a small triangle of light expanded across the wall.
I flew back into my pillow, mind groggily reaching for answers. Was Jimmy leaving again? No, his snores still filled the room. Who was it, then? I thought only me, Cassie, and Jimmy had keys to the door. I tried telling myself it was an innocent mistake, but that didn’t make sense, and my heart raced. I peeked over to see if Cassie was awake. She breathed softly, in the fetal position, on her bed.
The door closed without a sound and the room went dark. My head swam and I wondered if this was part of the fever. Just in case, I squeezed my eyes shut to calm the pounding in my head, then peeked out again. Someone was definitely there, leaning back against the door, watching us.
Panicked, I tried to still my breathing and pretended to be asleep. In hindsight, I realized I should have said something. Yelling, “What are you doing!” would have scared anyone away. Yeah, that would have been the smart thing. In the moment, however, the thought didn’t even cross my mind, and all I could do was watch.
After a few agonizing seconds, the form inched into the room. It was horrifying, like a scene from a horror movie. I felt saliva well up in my mouth and I had no choice but to swallow it. In the panic of the moment, the pain was numbed and I took a few more breaths as the person approached our bed. The form crouched down and I heard a small creaking in the bottom bunk. I frantically listened, wondering if it was a sleep walker.
I didn’t hear anything for a few seconds. Just as I convinced myself it was a sleep walker, I caught it: a muffled groa
n. Was it just my imagination? Then I heard it again. This time, the noise sounded panicked.
It was Jimmy.
Hearing him shook something inside me. The fear was gone. The only thing racing through my head was, Make sure he’s OK. Without letting myself think, I grabbed the edge of the bed, palms leaving a slick trail on the wood. Another muffled whimper reached me, and I launched myself over the side and landed on the tile floor with a huge thud.
Part of me still expected to see a sleepwalker trying to take Jimmy’s covers. I wasn’t prepared for this—a girl knelt over Jimmy smashing a pillow into his face. She had his arms pinned with her knees and his legs kicked uselessly out behind her. He was moving his head, yelling and trying to escape. With the force of the pillow, barely any sound escaped.
Gasping, I dove on her, smashing her shoulder into the wall. My attack must have surprised her, as she released the pillow and yelped. The instant Jimmy was free, he ripped the pillow away and heaved for breath. Seeing him liberated, the girl freaked, got her leg under me, and kicked me off the bed. I flew back and stumbled onto the floor as the girl reached for Jimmy again.
Now, here comes the weird part. When Jimmy saw the girl, he flew back in surprise. Even in the darkness, I could see the whites of his terrified eyes.
“You’re under control!” he whispered.
“Kill the seeker!” she hissed in reply.
Even in the moment, I was caught off-guard. What the crap was a seeker? I couldn’t stop to think about it because the girl lunged forward and seized his neck. I pushed myself up and leapt back onto her, screaming, “Cassie!”
Within seconds, Cassie and I were on top of the girl. Jimmy still lay underneath, panting, but we had her immobilized so she couldn’t hurt him. Screaming in fury, the girl got a second wind and kicked, knocking Cassie off the bed. Steeling myself, I leaned forward and pinned her hands over her head. She tried to bite me and Cassie pushed the side of her face, smashing it into the bed.
Pounding vibrated the door and we heard “What’s going on?” Our commotion had roused the entire floor.
Neither Cassie nor I wanted to risk releasing the girl, so, without moving to open the door, Cassie yelled, “Get a teacher!” She reached up and pulled my sheets down. Jimmy had managed to roll over and out from underneath us. He plopped onto the ground, heaving, as Cassie tied the sheet around the girl’s wrists. Within seconds, her hands were bound, and we remained on top of her until we heard noises outside.