The Secret Life of a Teenage Siren

by Wendy Toliver

  Alex is in a coma. If The Siren Handbook is right about his fate, he’s going to die. I wish I could die instead.

  A high-pitched buzz fills the air, and bodies dressed in scrubs flood into the room. “You have to leave, miss,” a voice says, guiding me out of the way and shutting the door in my face.

  When I open my eyes, it takes me a while to get my bearings. I’m curled up in a ball on the orange carpet of the waiting room. Grandma Perkins is looking down at me, a concerned look on her blurry face.

  Then I remember. Alex. Alex was in a deadly car wreck because of me. My body jolts as if I’d just been shocked by a defibrillator. “How is he? How is Alex? Is he … alive?”

  “You told him.”

  I groan, trying to sit up. I can’t believe I fell asleep at a time like this, but something’s not right with my body. “What, that I love him? I already told you that.” I can hardly move, and my muscles are throbbing like crazy.

  “No, what I mean is, you told him you’re a Siren.”

  “Tell me how he is. How’s Alex?”

  She sighs and takes my hands, helping me to my feet. “You’ve managed to break both rules.”

  “I’m sure Alex isn’t going to tell the evil scientists about us.” My eyes brim with hot tears. “Hel-lo? He’s in a freaking coma!” I reach for a tissue and wipe my nose. “So what if I told Alex my secret? Now I’m not going to be a Siren anymore?”

  “Roxy, listen to me. We’ve got to leave. I know you want to stay here with Alex, but you’ve got to trust me. Please. Come with me,” she says, reaching out her hand.

  I hesitate, but the look in Grandma Perkins’s eyes is so scary-intense, I do as she says. I take her hand and walk out of the hospital, not looking back.

  It’s dark outside, and I’m shocked to see that it’s well past eleven o’clock. As Grandma whizzes along in her Lexus, the streetlights cast eerie shadows on her face. She reaches over and turns off her satellite radio, the low hum of tires on concrete the only sound.

  I blink over and over again. Even though her car is as spotlessly clean as always, it’s like the windshield is coated with an inch of Vaseline. I rub my eyes, but it doesn’t help. The entire world is blurry.

  I reach my hand up to my head and touch my hair. It’s frizzy and tangled. I peer down at my chest and see that my boobs have deflated. I’m Plain Jane again. Just a band geek. A part of me feared this would happen. If The Siren Handbook was right about Rule Number Two, it was probably right about Rule Number One.

  Grandma breaks at a red light and turns to me. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then promptly snaps it shut.

  “Is Alex alive?” I almost scream, staring into my grandma’s piercing green eyes.

  “Apparently, he’s doing quite well, considering.”

  “Is he awake? Did he wake up from the coma?”

  She nods, a small smile on her pretty lips.

  “So why did you take me away from the hospital? Why didn’t you let me see him?” The light turns green and she hits the gas. Otherwise, I just might be jumping out of this car and footing it back to St. Mary’s Hospital.

  “Well, first of all, Alex can’t have visitors till the morning. It doesn’t do anyone any good to spend the night in that waiting room when there’s a perfectly good bed at your house. Second of all, we need to talk, Roxy. In complete privacy.” She swivels her head right and left, as if making sure there aren’t any mini-spies suction-cupped to the windows. “When we were at Dairy Queen, you said some things that have been lingering in my mind. Haunting me, even. My mother, your great-grandmother, was adamant about following the Siren Rules, and I accepted them with blind faith. It never occurred to me to question the Rules, as you were doing. It never occurred to me that perhaps an element of the equation was missing, something right before our very eyes. How could something be so small that thousands of Sirens had overlooked it, yet at the same time, so enormous that it would change the lives of all Sirens today and yet to be born?”

  Grandma blinks slowly, reverently, before continuing. “I need to ask you an important question, Roxy. So take your time answering. Now think back and tell me this: Did you ever use your Siren powers on Alex?”

  I rack my brains, but I can’t recall ever playing my flute for Alex. Not a single time. I guess I could’ve chosen to play it when he was working at Auto Spa and I had the Boxster washed and waxed for free. Or when he was working at the theater and got me into all the movies without a ticket. But I didn’t. And his kiss was amazing without my having to seek mystical help. “No, I never did.”

  Now she’s grinning from ear to ear, and her words are coming faster and faster. “You see, the Siren named Thelxiepia fell in love with a sailor and he died. That’s the legend that’s been passed down generation after generation. But there’s one part of the story that we’ve taken for granted. Thelxiepia’s lover was under her Siren spell. She’d sung to him when he was on his ship and drew him in, just like all the other sailors who’d heard the song of the Siren over the course of time.”

  “So you’re saying that because I never used my Siren powers on Alex …”

  “… you didn’t cause the car wreck,” Grandma finishes for me.

  “I didn’t cause the wreck!” As this is sinking in, I feel a deep, satisfying sense of peace. All the fear and tension lifts out of my body and dissolves into the air.

  Grandma Perkins pats my arm. “And I have a feeling Alex isn’t going to die. Not anytime soon, anyway.”

  My smile is humongous, I’m sure. “This is the best news ever!”

  “Yes it is. However, it comes with a little bad news, I’m afraid. This doesn’t change the fact that you told Alex you’re a Siren,” Grandma Perkins says as she pulls up my driveway. “You’ve lost your Siren beauty and powers.” Wow. Being a Siren was so cool. Going back to my plain ol’ self is going to take some getting used to. “Don’t look so glum, dear. I’m going to help you get through this.” She pats my knee. “Besides, you’ve still got Roxy beauty and Roxy powers.” We get out of the car and start walking up to the front door.

  “Thanks, Grandma,” I say, taking her hand. “For everything.”

  She chuckles. “A bowl of Ben and Jerry’s is all the thanks I need.”

  I’m brushing my teeth, trying to avoid seeing myself in the mirror. Not to sound all vain, but it really sucks having to go back to my before-I-was-a-Siren appearance. Kinda like eating McDonald’s soft-serve after getting a taste of Ben & Jerry’s. Make that half a container. (Grandma Perkins isn’t a dainty ice-cream scooper.)

  It’s a bit weird being in this bathroom right now—the same place where I transformed into a Siren on my birthday. But it’s all good, I keep reminding myself. I mean, look at poor Alex, lying in that hospital bed with all those gizmos connected to his body, having to go through who-knows-what after that terrible wreck. Sure, being a Siren was fun and all, but life goes on.

  I dig out my brush and try to detangle this rat’s nest (a.k.a. my hair), but it’s a lost cause. So I get out my acne wash and splash some water on my face. Oh, great. Guess I should’ve taken off my glasses first.

  Pumpkin pokes his head through the doorway and yips. “What is it, boy? You don’t recognize me, do you?” I pat his head and he growls, backing out of the bathroom like I’m going to pull out that princess doggie costume I force him to wear every Halloween.

  When I finally finish fumbling through my get-ready-for-bed routine, Grandma Perkins is waiting in my room, The Siren Handbook on her lap.

  “How’d you know where I hid it?” I ask, sitting down beside her.

  She smiles and shrugs. “I always hid it in my lingerie drawer. I just had a feeling you’d do the same.”

  “I guess I won’t be needing it anymore.” I feel so sad, returning this to my grandma. It meant so much to her that I, too, was a Siren. “I’m so sorry to have disappointed you.”

  She strokes my frizzy, tangled hair and looks at me with those gorgeous gre
en eyes. “You didn’t disappoint me, honey. The whole point of being a Siren is getting what you want. And by giving up your Siren powers, you’ve gotten exactly what you want. You’ve found love.”

  I start crying like a baby. I take off my glasses and dry my tears on my shirt. When I look over at her, tears are falling down her cheeks too.

  “To tell you the truth, you’ve taught me more about being a Siren than I’ve taught you.” Grandma makes a hiccup-y sound and then abruptly stands. “Well, dear, I’m going to go try out that guest room down the hall.” She tucks The Siren Handbook under her arm and starts for the door.

  “See you in the morning,” I say.

  Grandma Perkins whirls around, wiping the tears off her cheeks and smiling warmly. She looks like a heroine in a classic romance movie. “I’ll take you to the hospital in the morning, dear. Now try to get some sleep.”

  When I see Pumpkin wandering down the hall, I jump out of bed and grab him. He yaps and wriggles out of my hold. “Don’t you want to sleep with me, boy?” I ask. In a fit of whimpers, he scampers down the hall to where Grandma Perkins is spending the night.

  Before getting in bed again, I find the biggest, brightest star in the night sky. “I wish that Alex recovers quickly,” I whisper. I can’t wait to start our new life as “more than friends.”

  Eighteen

  A loud, squeaky yawn wakes me up. Down by my feet, Pumpkin yawns again and stretches his little legs. Guess he had a change of heart. I jump out of bed and rub his cute, pointy ears. “Hey, boy. Glad to see you like hanging out with me again. See? It’s not that bad.” I open the blinds and look across the street to Alex’s house. It’s weird being up this early and not seeing his Civic parked on the side of the road.

  Hang on.

  What’s weird is being able to see without my glasses!

  I run to my bureau mirror and gasp. How can it be that I’m Lindsay-Lohan-eat-your-heart-out gorgeous again? Was losing my Siren beauty just a bad dream? Was it a hallucination brought on by the tragedy of Alex’s accident?

  “Grandma,” I yell. “Wake up!”

  I tear through my closet, searching for the perfect first-time-to-see-my-boyfriend-since-he-woke-up-from-a-coma outfit. (If it sounds like a soap opera, I may as well look like I’m starring in one, right?)

  There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door. “Roxy? Is everything okay?” Grandma Perkins asks, her voice a little sleepy sounding.

  “It’s better than okay! Come on in and see!”

  The door opens slowly. I turn around, my flirty Jaded skirt twirling, and stop mid-spin. “Grandma?”

  The woman standing in my room bears a striking resemblance to Grandma Perkins, but something’s drastically different. She’s no longer beautiful. She’s not exactly ugly, but she’s just so ordinary looking. Oh, God, is my mouth hanging open?

  “Um, hi …,” I stammer, averting my eyes until I can get a better handle on the situation. What the hell is going on?

  “It’s okay, Roxy. I know you’re probably surprised to see me like this.” She chuckles. “To be honest, I’m having a bit of trouble with my appearance as well. I’ve never seen myself like this before. I’ve been a Siren for forty-five years, you know.”

  Her hair is coarse and a grayish-white color instead of blond. She’s the same height, but instead of curves, she’s all knees and elbows. Her skin has a reddish undertone with some wrinkles sprinkled in, and her lashes and brows are sparse. She looks a lot like Mom will probably look twenty years down the road. Actually, she looks a lot more like a grandmother.

  Grandma Perkins closes the space between us and runs her fingers through my shiny red mane. Tears glisten in her light brown eyes. “You are beautiful, both inside and out.”

  “But … how?” I flail my arms, hopelessly confused.

  She lowers her lanky frame onto the foot of my bed and pats the space beside her for me to sit down. “I didn’t tell you last night because I wasn’t sure if it would work. These past few days have been so emotional for you, and I really didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing… .”

  “Grandma, what are you talking about?”

  I didn’t realize until now that she’s holding The Siren Handbook. She flicks through until she finds the page she’s looking for, and sets it on my lap. “This part of the legend has always intrigued me. You see, when her lover was on his deathbed, Thelxiepia revealed to him that she was a Siren.”

  “Like me,” I whisper.

  Grandma Perkins nods solemnly. “Yes, like you. And like you, Thelxiepia lost her Siren powers. Until her elder sister, Pisinoe, asked Hades for a favor.” She rests her hand on my back, leaning closer to The Siren Handbook. After clearing her throat, she reads out loud: “Her own death forthcoming, Pisinoe beseeched Hades to transfer her Siren powers to Thelxiepia, who, in spite of her impassioned mourning, was full of life. Hades, who had much to gain by the survival of the Sirens, granted Pisinoe this final request.”

  I shake my head, my fiery hair sweeping over my shoulders. “I still don’t get how you transferred your Siren powers to me, though.”

  Grandma gazes out my window for a moment before answering. “I just did what Pisinoe did.”

  My mouth drops open in disbelief. “You talked to the god of the underworld?”

  She laughs. “Not exactly.”

  “Tell me!”

  “Well, okay, here goes. But I’d better warn you. It’s really bizarre, as you say. First I closed my eyes and cleared my head of all extraneous thoughts. Next I concentrated on what a beautiful person you are. I focused on all the wonderful, unselfish things you’ve done, particularly since becoming a Siren. Then when I couldn’t possibly fill my mind with another thought, I took a deep breath, focusing on all the good times I’ve had as a Siren. And when I exhaled, I envisioned my future without the powers and responsibilities of being a Siren.”

  She flips to the front of The Siren Handbook, running her finger over the picture of the Siren. We’re both silent for several minutes. Finally, I speak. “Okay, so that is totally bizarre.”

  Grandma Perkins laughs, and I don’t think I imagined that snort. “Yes, it is.”

  Twenty minutes later Grandma Perkins emerges from the bathroom with her hair and makeup done, dressed in a linen pantsuit and matching heels. She doesn’t look Siren-beautiful, but she looks nice. And her eyes may not be emerald green anymore, but they still have their twinkle.

  “Roxy, I’m going to go on a trip for a few weeks.”

  “Where are you going?”

  She reaches over to squeeze my cheeks. “Don’t worry about me. Now, go get that man of yours!”

  “Alex?”

  The nurse nods at me as I sidle up to his bed. Patricia is sitting in a beige chair, drumming her fingertips on the armrest. She’s watching her son with pure love in her eyes. She shifts her gaze to me and says, “He’s been asking for you.”

  “Mom, can you go five lousy minutes without embarrassing me?” Alex murmurs, his eyelids half-closed and swollen. The bed is angled upward, like the beds at Willington House when the old people are watching TV. He’s still puffy-looking, but he’s not as red as yesterday. The blood is cleaned off, and bandages and Band-Aids cover his cuts. His skin and hair look so shiny and clean.

  “Well, it’s the truth,” Patricia says. “You were asking for her.”

  The nurse scribbles something on her pad and then slips out of the room.

  “Mom? Will you go get me some Sprite or something?” Alex asks.

  She stands up. “Of course, honey. I’ll take my time.” With a wink, Patricia closes the door behind her.

  Once we’re alone, I put my hand on his and kiss his cheek. “Hey, Rox,” he says.

  “Hey.” After a beat, I say, “So, I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh-oh. Sounds dangerous.” He smiles lazily.

  “We should definitely keep volunteering. We make the old folks so happy. They have a reason to wake up in the morning, to snap in their
dentures and slip on their Depends. And the dogs! We make the dogs happy too. They love being able to get out of their kennels and stretch their legs. We can’t give this up, Alex. It’s up to us to bring everything together. It’s up to us to make a difference. It’s up to us—”

  “To scoop the dog poop,” Alex says.

  “Why do you always have to make a joke when I’m trying to be serious?” I put my hands on my hips, pretending to be annoyed.

  “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

  I intertwine my fingers with his. “God, Alex. I’m just so relieved you’re okay. I was so scared I was going to lose you.”

  “Really? Man, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. As soon as they let me out of here, we’re having Egg McMuffins. My treat.”

  “That sounds great.”

  We’re both quiet for a little while, holding hands, just breathing. I hear people out in the hall, their voices muffled behind the door. The fluorescent lights hum softly, and the blinds tremble when the AC turns on.

  Alex locks his heavy-lidded eyes with mine. “I had the strangest dream when I was in the coma. You were in it, and you were sitting right here, telling me you were a goddess … no, wait. A Siren. Yeah, that’s it. And you were explaining how everything you’ve achieved this summer was because you had these amazing powers. And that truck crashed into me and I was going to die, all because you fell in love with me.”

  I straighten my posture. “Oh, really?”

  His eyelids open a little more, showing those beautiful caramel eyes.

  I stroke his cheek and whisper, “Well, I know one part wasn’t just a dream.”

  “Oh yeah? Which part?”

  I lean over and kiss him lightly on the lips. Then I kiss him deeply. His eyes widen. “Hey! I wasn’t talking about that kind of dream!”

  “You’re so full of it.” I punch him in the arm and he yelps out in pain. “Oh, God! Sorry, Alex.”

  He scoops up my chin and looks into my emerald green eyes. “I’m glad you’re not really a Siren.”