by Jody Morse
That’s fine. As long as you’re feeling up to it, I texted back.
My phone chimed again with Tyler’s reply right away. I definitely feel up to it, no worries. See u around 5?
Sounds good, I replied.
Next, I dialed Carrie’s phone number. She picked up on the first ring. “Felicia?” There was a worried tone in her voice.
“Hey,” I said into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I’m just taking Cookie for a walk,” Carrie replied quietly. I could hear her German Shepard mix barking in the background. “I had to tell you about my date.”
“You’re going on a date?” I asked, surprised that she hadn’t just texted me to tell me about it.
“No, I went on a date already,” Carrie replied. “Do you remember that really hot guy from the beach?”
“Yeah, I do,” I replied. How could I forget? That guy wasn’t only gorgeous, but just thinking about him made my skin crawl. I couldn’t figure out why, but he had creeped me out.
“Well, his name’s Donnie. We went out last night,” Carrie said. “He went to the movie theater on the beach with me. It was really fun, and he was actually really sweet. He even saw the new Justin Timberlake movie with me. What guy would want to do that for a first date?”
“That’s sweet,” I replied, unsure of what else to say. “Are you seeing him again?”
“Yeah, we’re supposed to. Actually, he wants you and Tyler to come on a double date with us,” Carrie said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Um, it’s fine,” I replied. “He doesn’t even know me, though.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t?” Carrie asked.
I hesitated. He hadn’t looked familiar, but maybe we had met before and that’s why he struck such a chord with me. “I don’t think so.”
“Huh, that’s weird. He was talking about you a lot . . . and Gram, too. I mean, he knew your name. He also asked all these weird questions about you . . . like where you live and stuff. I just assumed he knew you,” Carrie replied.
“Well, did you tell him where I lived?” I asked, a little unnerved.
“Yeah, I thought it was no big deal. I’m sorry. I thought you knew him.” Carrie paused. “Anyway, I was thinking we could go mini golfing or something fun like that.”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied quietly. I tried to listen to what Carrie had to say, but all I could think about was why the guy had wanted to know where I lived.
*
The doorbell rang at exactly five o’clock.
“Wow, he’s prompt,” Gram called from her bedroom as I swung the front door open.
Bruno stepped into the living room first, followed by Tyler, who was carrying a bag of groceries. He took them over to the counter and preheated the oven without saying a word.
“Hello to you, too,” I said, a bit more sarcastically than I intended to.
“Sorry,” Tyler said with a laugh. “I’ve just carried these groceries all the way from the grocery store. They were starting to get heavy. Unfortunately, now that I had another seizure, I won’t be able to get my license for a few more years.”
“That really sucks,” I replied sympathetically. “But the good news is, I’ll be able to get mine. I hope. So, I can be your personal chauffeur!”
Tyler smiled, his grey eyes sparkling in the bright kitchen light. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” I replied.
“Now, you two love birds, I have one rule,” Gram said, coming out of her bedroom. “No making out in front of me, okay? I’ve never been a huge fan of public displays of affection.”
“That’s fine with me,” Tyler said with a grin. He reached out and shook my grandma’s hand. “I’m Tyler Harris.”
“You can just call me Gram,” my grandmother told him. She glanced over at me and winked, which let me know that she liked him already. Not that it was that hard to please Gram. Even despite the fact that Carrie slept over with hangovers sometimes, my grandmother was able to see the good in my best friend. I guess I was fortunate enough to have a lenient (yet somewhat overprotective) guardian.
“So, what’s for dinner?” Gram asked Tyler.
“Spaghetti Bolognese, salad, and cheesy garlic bread,” Tyler replied.
“That sounds delicious,” my grandmother replied. “I’m just going to go back to my bedroom so that the two of you can have some alone time.” To me, she mouthed: “Help him.”
Once her bedroom door clicked closed, Tyler got to work on his homemade pasta sauce with ground meat and fresh herbs. I offered to help, but he gave me the easiest job in the kitchen—cutting up the vegetables for the salad.
“That smells really good,” I commented as the scent of the pasta sauce began to fill the house.
“So do you, actually,” Tyler said, leaning in to sniff my hair. “What type of shampoo do you use?”
“Pantene Pro-V,” I replied, picking up a strand of my hair and putting it to my nose. I didn’t smell a thing.
“Well, it’s definitely working for you,” Tyler replied. He turned to look at my face, as though he were examining it for the first time. “You also look very pretty tonight.”
“Thanks,” I said, unconvinced. I glanced down at my outfit. I had just pulled on a pair of jeans that did nothing to accentuate my figure and a short-sleeved hooded shirt because I hadn’t known what else to wear. If anything, I felt as though I looked like a tomboy.
“No, seriously, you look great. Every time I see you, I’m reminded of why I asked you to go out with me that day on the beach.”
“Oh, yeah? And why was that?” I asked, popping a cucumber slice into my mouth.
“Because you’re beautiful without even trying to be—inside and out,” Tyler said quietly.
Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of loud bubbling. Glancing at the stove, I noticed that the water was bubbling over the pot and pointed at it. Tyler turned the stove’s burner down and took care of the spaghetti noodles when the kitchen timer went off.
“I don’t really know how to cook,” I admitted, feeling sort of embarrassed. I knew that Carrie couldn’t cook anything besides macaroni and cheese or leftovers either, but I was pretty sure that most girls my age had acquired basic cooking skills by now. Then again, most girls lived with busy mothers, who weren’t around to cook dinner for them, instead of retired grandmothers, who found joy in cooking.
“I can teach you.” Tyler grinned. “I want to go to culinary school. I hope to become a chef eventually.”
“You don’t seem like the chef type.” As soon as the comment flew out of my mouth, it seemed like a stupid thing to say. There Tyler was, pulling the pan of cheesy garlic bread out of the oven, and I was saying that it didn’t seem like he belonged in the kitchen.
“What do you picture me as?” Tyler asked.
“A lighthouse keeper.” It was the first thing that came to my mind—and the first thing that came out of my mouth. Admittedly, it’s not like I knew much else about Tyler, besides the fact that he obviously loved the ocean enough to walk the beach every day, liked marine life enough to take me on a first date to swim with dolphins, and his father was a lighthouse keeper. Heck, the boy was born in a lighthouse. It only made sense.
As soon as the words came out, Tyler froze and turned to look at me. His face had turned a ghostly shade of white. Sternly, he replied, “No. I would never want to be a lighthouse keeper.”
Before I could ask any other questions, he carried the bread to the table and called to Gram, “Dinner is served!”
Gram came out of her bedroom and sat down at the kitchen table. As we began to eat, I tried to ignore the new nagging feeling at the back of my mind that Tyler was hiding something.
As I bit into a piece of spaghetti, I nearly gagged. It tasted absolutely disgusting. The spaghetti noodles were overly wet and almost slimy, and the meat sauce was clumpy and tasted sour—not sour like milk, but like sour tomatoes.
“It’s delicious,” I lied, forcing mysel
f to take another bite. I noted that I was going to have to convince Tyler to do something other than go to culinary school. This was one of the worst things I’d ever tasted.
Chapter 13
In my dream, I was floating in the middle of the ocean. Except it felt different from floating; I wasn’t on top of the water, I was under it. Somehow, I was still able to breathe, even though there were a few feet of water above me.
I wasn’t afraid; it felt as though the water was a part of me, as though we were one in the same. Even so, out of habit, I rose to the top of the water.
When I broke the surface, I could see the stars, dimly lit in the night sky, through a heavy curtain of fog that danced over me. The wind smelled like rain. Soft music played from somewhere in the background, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I wasn’t sure if I had fallen asleep or not.
Glancing around, I realized that I wasn’t floating in the ocean any longer; I was lying on the sand. Looking over my shoulder, I found that I was in the same place I always ended up whenever I sleepwalked—in front of the lighthouse.
The light that shone from the lighthouse was dimly cast through the fog, but I was able to see clearly. There were three of them, all plastered against the rocks. They weren’t moving, and I knew they were trying hard to make sure I wouldn't be able to see them. I wondered if they knew that I could.
As I crept closer to them, I could see that the one on the left was fair-skinned and had dark hair, a silky shade of bluish black. All I could tell about the one farthest to the right was that her skin was darker toned and her hair was a shade of ebony.
Scarlett was in the center, which suited her personality as I remembered it, her coppery auburn hair billowing out in front of her.
The music was growing increasingly louder; it sounded like someone had turned a radio up to its loudest setting and left it there.
Even though I tried to block the music out, I couldn’t. I suddenly found myself singing along. At least, it felt like I was singing along. My voice box was producing a sound—of that, I was sure—but no lyrics came with it. Or if they did, I had no idea what the lyrics were.
I took a step closer to the girls. It felt as though the music was drawing me to them, for some reason, and I assumed it was because the source of the sound was somewhere near where they were standing.
“Scarlett,” I said. When there was no response, I repeated myself. “Scarlett, I know it’s you. You’re here . . . You’re not dead.”
Scarlett pulled herself away from the rock she had been pressed against and turned to face me, her green eyes flashing with anger. “That’s where you’re wrong, Felicia. I am dead.”
Chapter 14
“What are you talking about?” I asked, shaking my head in confusion. “You’re alive! You’re talking to me!” I didn’t even try to hide the excitement that I felt. I knew it was just dripping from my voice, and it had to be written all over my face. Was I insane? Was I just imagining this all? It didn’t feel like I was, but the alternative seemed too good to be true.
“Felly, no. I’m dead,” Scarlett said, and I could feel my eyes light up. I was positive that the girl who stood in front of me was my sister. She’d always called me ‘Felly’ when she was trying to get on my nerves when we were kids.
I shook my head again. The tears began to build up behind my eyes as I wondered why my sister was lying to me. Did she want me to think I was crazy? Why wasn’t she happy to see me after all these years?
“No,” I managed to choke out. “You’re alive. You’re just confused. We can get you help.”
“I think you’re the one who’s confused,” a voice spoke up. Glancing away from my sister, I noticed that the girl with ebony hair and mocha-colored skin had stood up. She was now staring at me intently, and I couldn’t get a sense of whether the look in her light brown eyes was friendly. They just looked kind of hollow.
“Your sister is dead,” the mocha-skinned girl said. “D-E-A-D.”
“But so are you,” the dark-haired girl with porcelain skin whispered, looking down at the ground timidly.
“Gabby, shut up,” Scarlett hissed. Turning back to look at me, my sister said, “Felicia, just leave us alone, okay? Forget that you ever saw me. Just go back to living your life the way you were before you saw me.”
I shook my head. “Living my life the way I was before I saw you? I deserve an explanation. Did you run away from home when we were little? Are you afraid you’ll get in trouble or something?” When my sister just stared back at me, an expressionless look in her eyes, and didn’t say anything, I blurted out, “Actually, don’t tell me if you don’t want to. We have plenty of time for that later. Just come home with me. Gram will be so excited to see you.”
“Gram?” Scarlett’s eyes lit up and for a moment, I was sure that I had gotten my sister back. But just as quickly as the look had filled her eyes, it was gone, and her stony exterior had returned. “Leave. It’s what’s best for you.”
“No.” As if to make a point to her, I sat down on one of the rocks and crossed my legs. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The mocha-skinned girl let out an exhausted sigh. “Just tell her, Scar. No one was around to protect any of us when it happened. Stop trying to be brave for your sister. She’s dead, whether you like it or not. You should at least explain it all to the girl.”
“Why do you all keep saying I’m dead?” Were these girls on drugs? Maybe that’s what had happened to my sister. She’d been kidnapped and was forced into a life of drugs and prostitution or something. Or maybe she had been forced to join a cult where the leaders had brainwashed them into believing that they were dead . . . and that I was dead, and that everybody in the world was dead.
Scarlett looked at me, and once again, I couldn’t read her eyes. My sister, who I had once been able to have full conversations with through eye contact alone, was completely unreadable.
Finally, she glanced over at the mocha-skinned girl before turning to me. “Jasmine’s right. You need to know the truth about us, Felicia.” She took a deep breath. “Have you noticed any differences in yourself lately?”
I thought about it. The only thing that was different about me lately was the sleepwalking, but I had come to the conclusion that the shock of seeing Scarlett could have caused that—I had been stressed out ever since. “No, I’m not any different,” I replied, shaking my head.
Scarlett’s expression didn’t change, but somehow, I knew that she didn’t believe me. Maybe it was because I didn’t even have myself convinced.
“Have you noticed that you’re not hungry lately?” Scarlett asked. “Like you suddenly have no appetite at all?”
I nodded.
“And when you do eat, it tastes funny . . . like something’s off?” Scarlett pressed.
I thought back to the jelly donut I’d eaten before work the other day. It had definitely tasted off. “Yes,” I replied quietly, nodding in agreement.
“And have you noticed that water tends to want to avoid your body? No matter what, you’re always dry the second you step out of the shower or the pool.”
I felt my eyes widen as I nodded. How could Scarlett possibly know this about me? This had to be some sort of joke. Or maybe I was dreaming again. That was it. I was dreaming, and I was going to wake up any minute now.
To see if that were the truth, I pinched myself . . . hard. And it hurt. I wasn’t dreaming. I was very much awake. This was too weird.
“All of that is because you’re a siren.”
Chapter 15
“A siren?” I asked.
“Girl, you don’t even know what a siren is?” the mocha-skinned girl who Scarlett had referred to as Jasmine asked. “Even when I was still a human, I knew what sirens were.”
I shook my head. “I’ve heard of it, but . . . I don’t really know what it is. Isn’t it like a mermaid?”
Gabby, the brunette, who had been staring down at the ground with what looked like a guilty expression on her f
ace spoke up. “No. We’re different from mermaids. We don’t actually live in the water.”
“Well, technically, we could live in the water if we wanted to,” Scarlett said to me. “We can breathe underwater. We can’t drown. Our bodies can’t even get wet.”
“What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. “I don’t understand how that’s even possible.”
Scarlett shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. We repel the type of water you drink. We can drink it, but we can’t bathe in it. It will clean us, but it won’t stay on our skin. Salt water, on the other hand, is absorbed by our bodies. It’s kind of complicated to explain, but let’s just say you’ll never need a towel again.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean all of this. I don’t understand how any of us are dead if we’re here talking to each other. Wait. What do you mean, our?” I asked with my eyebrows raised in confusion.
“Yeah, we’re sirens, too,” Jasmine spoke up. “Don’t think you and Scar are the only ones who are privileged enough for this life.”
“Jas,” Scarlett said softly. “Be nice.” For the first time since I had reunited with my sister, the look in her eyes made her seem like herself, rather than the secretive, emotionless girl who was nothing more than a stranger to me.
When I didn’t say anything, Scarlett turned to look at me, “Being a siren means that you’re dead, technically. But you shouldn’t think of it in a bad way.”
“Dead?” I whispered, still not completely convinced that they weren’t playing a joke on me. It was weird how Scarlett knew about the things that had been happening to me, but . . . I didn’t feel dead. I felt very much alive.
“We’re not dead in the traditional sense,” Gabby said quietly, shyly meeting my eyes. “Not in the way that we’ll never be conscious again, or we need to be buried. We just can’t die again. We’re immortals.”