by Cody Wagner
“That’s true,” Roze said. “Which means I have to push her farther. Make her mad enough to come after me for no reason.”
We approached the older dorm and stopped. The air was chilly but not unbearable. Still, a shiver ran down my entire body.
“That is really dangerous,” I said.
“Not only to you, but the school,” Debate Cassie added. “If you get controlled, you could be another Tracey trying to destroy Sanctuary.”
I pointed at Cassie. “That’s so true.”
Roze shrugged. “That’s why you’ll have to watch me. Nonstop.”
While Roze spoke to both of us, I knew she really meant me. This plan wouldn’t work without the Seeker. Only I would know if, and when, she was under control.
I tried to play dumb. “What would we even look for?”
“It will be easy,” Cassie said.
I rounded on her. “Easy? Are you jumping on board already?”
“Of course not.”
I watched her for a second and could tell she was considering the idea. At first, it made me mad that she’d caved so easily. Did Roze mean that little to her? Then I saw the pain behind her eyes. Once I thought about it, I realized it had been there for months.
While I was dealing with my stupid crap, I was happy enough. But what about Cassie? I mean, we suspected her mom of being the freaking Siren. That had to be torture. I couldn’t have functioned if I thought my mom was the Siren. Looking at Roze, I realized she was doing this more for Cassie than anyone else.
Sighing, I said, “So how would you know Roze is under control?”
“Her behavior will change.”
Roze nodded. “I’m going to piss Mrs. Cooke off enough where she’s going to make me do something awful.” She looked at me and added, “Trust me, you’ll know.”
That was a double meaning I got right away. Still, I said, “This sounds so risky.”
“Agreed,” added Cassie. “And I didn’t say I was in.”
“Guys, stop.” Roze looked at both of us. “I’m doing this. End of story. There’s no other way. And it scares the hell out of me. Please, just support me.”
We didn’t move for a long time, then Cassie reluctantly nodded.
Roze turned to me, and I threw up my hands. “Fine.” I lowered my voice. “You’re amazing, by the way.”
She ignored me, but a tiny smile appeared. “Remember, you’re going to have to follow me everywhere. And I mean everywhere. If you see me under control, get me out.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Take her to the principal,” Cassie whispered.
“Exactly. They’ll know what to do.”
“I hate this,” I said. “What about classes? We can’t be with you every second.”
“And what about after curfew?” Cassie added.
“I’ve thought of that.” Roze said. “Well, part of it. And we’ll just have to deal with whatever surprises come along.” She let out a long breath. “Speaking of surprises . . .”
I nodded at her, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t. Instead, she shifted around.
“Uh, are you OK?”
“Well.” Roze raked her foot across the ground, back and forth. “I have to tell you something. Something kinda big.”
I frowned at her and said, “OK,” drawing the word out for like five seconds.
“Don’t be mad,” she said. “But try to understand why I didn’t tell you earlier.”
I looked at Cassie, who clearly knew what Roze was getting at. Apparently, this surprise was for me alone.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I said. “Unless you’ve killed someone or something.”
I thought that might get a funny scowl, but Roze fixed me with a stare, took a huge breath, and said, “I’m trans.”
I squinted at her. “A Transformer?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “No, you dork. Transsexual. Male-to-female.” Her lip actually trembled.
This sounds awful, but my first urge was to laugh. I’ve seen TV shows where someone is all nervous about coming out, but when they do, the family doesn’t care in the slightest. That’s exactly what was going on here, and I simply said, “So?”
Her eyes got wide. “That’s it? So?”
I punched her arm like she always did mine. “Did you think I’d react any different after what I’ve been through? Besides, I figured there were trans students here. Who cares?”
She was at a loss for words.
Cassie hid a tiny smile.
“Wait,” I said, donning my best redneck accent. “Was you worried about my reaction cuz I be an unedumacated Texan.”
Roze didn’t retaliate, so I knew she was embarrassed. Keeping my accent a bit longer, I said, “Well. You was wrong. You is still my best friend.”
Cassie laughed.
Roze looked at the ground for a second and finally smiled. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”
“Not for you, though.” Something hit me, and I put up a hand, “Hold up. You’re obviously on hormones or something. How did you get them? Your parents can’t approve of this.”
“Now that is an interesting story,” Roze said.
“How?”
Cassie sat down on a bench and motioned for me to join her. I obliged, wondering what I was going to hear.
Roze walked over and faced us. “My parents are actually OK with it. My being trans.”
I shook my head as if ferrets were in my ears. “Say what?”
“I’ve been dressing as a girl ever since I can remember. Always sneaking into Mom’s closet.” She brushed off her pants. “One day, Dad caught me. I was probably five or six.”
“Ouch,” I said. “What did he do?”
Roze grabbed a rock lying next to her and rubbed it between her fingers. “Oh, he lost it. So did Mom. They actually padlocked her closet.”
“Ugh.”
“They couldn’t stop me, though,” Roze said. “I always found clothes somewhere. Being a girl was in my blood. And as you know, I can be stubborn.”
“You?” I gasped. “Never!”
Cassie smiled, and Roze went to punch my arm but stopped. “After a few years and many therapists, they knew it was a losing battle. They gave me puberty blockers and raised me as a girl. I went from Roger to Roze.”
I was stunned. Her parents sounded pretty amazing. “There has to be a catch.”
“Oh, there is.” Roze rubbed the rock faster. “First, they moved us to Atlanta—to start a new life. They forbid me from ever telling anyone the truth. That was fine by me, though. Their reasoning is this: if everyone in Atlanta thinks I’m a girl, our family isn’t weird, and my parents don’t look bad.”
“Win-win”, I said, sarcastically. I knew all too well how much image can matter to parents. “I take it there’s a second thing.”
“Yeah,” Roze said, staring off at nothing. “Since I was a quote-unquote normal girl, I was supposed to like boys. But I didn’t.”
I turned to her. “They’re OK with you being transsexual, but not a lesbian?”
“Yep.”
I started shaking my head again and found I couldn’t stop. That was ridiculous. Still, I understood the twisted thinking.
“So that’s how you ended up here,” I said.
“Yep. Don’t get me wrong. I’m thankful to my parents. Most people would be way more thrown off by a transsexual kid than a gay one. It’s just, you know, weird.”
I nodded and watched Roze for a second when a new thought hit. “Are they threatening to stop your puberty blockers or whatever if you mess up here?”
Roze laughed and this time it was her turn to fake a redneck accent. “Looks like you isn’t so smart after all. I is already in puberty.”
I rolled my eyes at her.
She smiled. “When I turned sixteen, they put me on the estrogen patch. That’s one reason I look so damn good.”
Cassie nodded, and I raised an eyebrow at her. She immediately put her hands in her
lap and looked down.
I held in a laugh and looked at Roze. “You didn’t answer the question. About them stopping your, um, treatment.”
Roze shrugged. “Luckily, they don’t want to move again. And if their long-lost son, Roger, came home, they’d never live it down. So that won’t happen. But they sure as hell don’t want me gay. They even try to set me up with the neighbor to make me look straight. It’s crazy.”
I nodded, processing the information. “Parents are weird.”
Cassie nodded. So did Roze.
The three of us sat in silence when I realized Roze’s news caught me so off guard, I’d lost track of the bigger picture. “What does this have to do with Mrs. Cooke?”
Roze paced in front of us. “Well, I’m not sure what she can do to me. With my transition and hormones, there’s a chance her magic, or whatever you call it, might wreak havoc on me. Or it might work different on me. You need to know so you can be ready.”
That made sense, and I nodded. Until this was over, Roze was my responsibility, and any information that might affect the situation was invaluable. Seeing her bravery, I told myself I’d do whatever it took to protect her. She deserved it.
* * * * *
Roze made the call to Mrs. Cooke three days later, on a Friday evening during the first week of May. We’d spent hours planning and hoped Mrs. Cooke would control Roze over the weekend. That way, we could deal with everything before class on Monday. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cooke had been anything but predictable, but we didn’t know what else to do. The plan certainly wasn’t foolproof, and my teeth chattered like crazy when Roze took out her phone.
The three of us gathered around a chair in my room. Roze went to sit, but instead, started pacing. After a few deep breaths, she stared at the phone. “Here goes nothing.”
I played a nervous drum solo on my legs.
Cassie pulled herself into a ball.
Roze gave us a nod and dialed Mrs. Cooke’s number.
After a couple seconds, I heard ringing. Roze held the phone up to her ear.
I made myself give Roze a reassuring smile. Still, I don’t ever remember being that scared. Part of me wanted to grab the phone, throw it on the ground, and do basketball drills on top of it.
Suddenly, Roze jumped, motioned at us, and spoke into the receiver. “Mrs. Cooke?”
I couldn’t hear what Mrs. Cooke said, but I’m guessing she confirmed her identity, because Roze closed her eyes and said, “This is Roze Merrill. I attend school with Cassie.”
Pause.
“No, nothing’s wrong with her. But there’s something wrong with you.”
Pause.
“She’s not here.”
Pause.
“I took her phone.”
Pause.
“To tell you I disagree with the way you’ve brought Cassie up.”
Pause.
“Well, I think it’s disgusting.”
Pause.
“I don’t care if you asked for my opinion or not. I’m giving it to you. She is a wonderful person, and you treat her like dirt.”
Pause.
“How about giving her praise for once? Better yet, try treating her like a person instead of a dog.”
Pause.
“She DOES deserve more. A lot more.”
Pause.
“I’m not even talking about the gay thing.”
Pause.
“We are healing here. More than you know. And furthermore—”
Pause.
“Don’t interrupt me. I’m not a child.”
Pause.
“Let me assure you, I’m not scared of you.”
Pause.
“Bring it on. There’s nothing you can do to me. I’m safe here, you bitch.”
Roze held out the phone. “She hung up on me.”
I realized I’d been holding my breath the entire time and let out the longest exhale of my life.
“Oh my god,” I said.
Roze threw her phone on the desk. “I’d say that worked.”
“How mad was she?”
“Furious. Her entire voice was shaking by the end. She told me I’d regret my words.”
I rubbed my neck. It was stiff from standing like a statue. “I bet she’s never had a teenager talk to her like that.”
“Yeah, well I meant every word.”
Both of us turned to Cassie, who pulled a sheet over her head. I didn’t know if she was scared or touched, but she said, “I really hope you’re going to be OK.”
Roze gave us a thin smile. “I leave that up to you two.”
* * * * *
We turned into Roze’s permanent shadows all weekend. Cassie didn’t even let her go to the bathroom by herself. Every time a phone rang, all three of us jerked in surprise, and Roze desperately looked at us. She was putting everything into our—well, my—hands, and we both knew it.
But Mrs. Cooke didn’t call, and the entire weekend passed in a panicked frenzy.
Sunday evening, Roze lay on our floor. We’d smuggled her into our room all weekend to keep watch. It was her idea, and I’d tried to think of it as a slumber party. By that night, though, frustration kicked off our tempers.
“Why won’t she just get it over with!” Roze said, slapping the floor.
“Shhhhh,” Cassie said. “Someone will hear you.”
“Sorry. I know. It just sucks. What if she doesn’t do it for weeks? I can’t live like this!”
“The floor is pretty gross,” I said. “My underwear was laying there earlier.”
I was trying to lighten the mood, but Roze wasn’t having it. “Not funny. At all.”
Normally, her tone would have offended me, but I could only imagine the torture she was experiencing.
I pushed down my pride. “Sorry. But you won’t have to wait much longer.”
“How do you know?” Roze said.
I didn’t have an answer. Luckily, Cassie came to my rescue. “I know her. She’ll do something soon.”
That seemed to appease Roze a bit, and she rolled over. “This is so uncomfortable.”
“I offered to switch with you,” I said.
“Me too,” Cassie said.
“Well, I’m doing everything else. I might as well do this.”
Roze’s mood didn’t improve much the following morning as we walked to Geometry. She jumped at every noise and complained about squirrels being too loud. I tried to ignore her, and we finally made it to the classroom and sat down.
“I hope today’s lesson is tough,” Roze said. “To take my mind off this.”
I don’t think I’d ever wished for a difficult math class, but I nodded at her.
Suddenly, her phone rang.
Both of us jumped in our seats. Roze looked at me. All irritability vanished as panic flooded her face.
The phone rang again.
I ripped Cassie’s phone from my bag, opened the video camera, and started recording. After a second, I muttered, “Ready.”
Roze’s breathing became shallow as she reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. “Unknown number.”
I gave her my penetrating Wolcott look. “I’m here for you.”
Clenching her jaw, Roze answered the call. After a brief pause, she put the phone to her ear and said, “Hello.”
She sat there, silent, for about twenty seconds. I didn’t hear the person on the other line, and it was killing me. We couldn’t use the speakerphone, though, for fear of other students being controlled. My heart pounded in my chest as I listened for the sound of singing. Was it the Siren? Or just a stupid salesperson?
Suddenly, a purple halo appeared around Roze’s head. It was dim at first but brightened into a glow that surrounded her entire body.
The fear flooding my body ebbed away as fury poured in. Mrs. Cooke was the Siren. And she was pure evil. I grabbed Roze’s phone while still recording with Cassie’s. Pushing it against my ear, I growled, “I know who you are!”
The line was dead.
/> I shoved Roze’s phone into my pocket and continued recording with Cassie’s. My hand started shaking, and I steadied it with my other arm. Before I could say anything, Roze grabbed the phone from my hand and stopped the video. “It was a wrong number. Dammit.”
“It was?”
Roze hit the desk. “I’m tired of this.” She looked at her feet. “It sounds crazy, but I actually wished it was her. I’m a wreck.”
I didn’t expect her to sound like . . . well . . . herself, and I said, “How do you feel?”
“I just told you,” Roze said. “I’m a wreck. Let us learn impossible equations today. Please.”
This was insane. I anticipated Roze wanting to leave class. At the very least, I thought she’d cause a scene right here. Instead, she threw open her notebook and grabbed a pencil.
I seized it from her. “What are you writing?”
“The date.” She took her pencil back. “What is wrong with you?”
“You’re under control.”
Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say to someone under control. But it just came out. And I thought hearing it might snap her out of it.
“Don’t be stupid,” she said.
“I’m serious.” I gave her the gravest look I could muster.
“You’re not funny.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I’m sitting here, looking at you, and you’re glowing. You are under control.”
She looked at me, upset. “You know I’m freaking stressed about this. Stop joking around before you piss me off.”
As much as it hurt, I needed to set her off, so I said, “Good. Be pissed off. You. Are. Under. Control.”
Then, something happened I didn’t expect at all. Roze started crying. It’s like the wall of strength she’d built around herself collapsed. “Do you understand how hard this has been for me!”
A few students looked at us, and I scooted closer to Roze and tried to say something. But her tears shocked the words right out of me. Was this her own behavior or part of Mrs. Cooke’s orders? I reached out and touched her arm. It didn’t feel any different.
Roze pulled away from me. “Leave me alone!”
Just then, Ms. Meeks walked in. I pushed back against my chair and looked from her to Roze, frantically trying to decide what to do. Nothing came to me. Roze’s behavior had jammed a gigantic wrench into my brain. What was the Siren doing?