Siren (2 page)

One one thousand, two one thousand--

10

Thunder roared, and the cliff quivered beneath me. Counting the seconds between lightning bolts and their grumbling aftermath usually calmed me during powerful storms--but that's because most storms weren't directly overhead.

"They're okay!"

Simon. He grabbed my waist with both hands, pulling me up and away from the drop. Then he took my hand and stepped toward the edge. After several long seconds, he squeezed my hand and pointed.

The lightning came faster now, making it easier to see the water. The pool spun as small waves pummeled surrounding boulders. Thin trees dotting the base leaned one way then snapped back, their narrow trunks like flexible straws in the wind. I shook my head, certain Simon was seeing things--and then I spotted her, a tiny sliver of white inching through the darkness. Caleb's arm was around her as they half ran, half crawled across the rocks toward the trail.

She was okay. Of
course
she was okay.

Simon looked at me to make sure I saw them, and then pulled me back. Somehow, my feet managed to move, and I hurried after him across the clearing and into the mouth of the overgrown trail. The branches and roots we'd lifted and stepped over on our way up now slapped and tripped us, but we didn't slow down. My heart slammed against my chest, and I tried to ignore the feeling that, as we ran through the woods, something or someone ran after us even faster.

About a quarter mile down, our path merged with another I

11

hadn't noticed on the way up. I wouldn't have noticed it now, except Simon veered back and to the left.

I stopped short when I saw the reason for the unexpected detour.

Justine. She was in Caleb's arms, and a thick trail of blood trickled from a gash on her knee, wound down her calf, and ended at her foot.

It's just dirt, or seaweed--

"Nessa." As Simon took her from Caleb, she reached for my hand and kissed it. "I'm fine, promise. I could've made the trip myself, but someone wanted to play hero."

"I've got stuff in the car," Simon said, starting toward the main trail with Justine in his arms.

I looked at Caleb. His face was so tense as he watched them go it was hard to imagine the laughing, cocky boy who'd flirted with Justine only minutes earlier.

"Your sister." He shook his head and looked at me.

"I know." We both did. It wasn't his fault. Or mine, or anyone else's. If Justine wanted to run naked through circles of fire, she would. You could wait nearby with a bathrobe and fire extinguisher, but that was the best you were going to do.

We started after them. The longer we ran, the lighter the rain fell. The thunder grew softer, and the seconds between rumbles longer. Even the wind died down from powerful gusts to a normal summer breeze. By the time we reached Simon's old green Subaru parked to the side of the dirt road, the clouds had cleared enough to reveal patches of blue sky.

12

"See?" Justine called as we ran toward them. She sat on the floor of the open hatchback, swinging both legs back and forth as Simon bandaged the injured one. "It's just a scratch."

"It's not just a scratch," Simon said, "but it's not going to require a trip to the emergency room."

Caleb placed one hand on her neck and kissed her forehead. "Baby ... you have to be careful."

She opened her mouth, but then closed it when Caleb's hand moved to her cheek. As his thumb gently caressed her skin, she tilted her head, and her eyes softened.

"You know I'm all for a little adventure, but I'm gone if anything were ever to--"

"I know." She slid his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm. "I'm sorry. I know."

I watched this exchange, a combination of relieved and puzzled. I was glad she was okay and thought it sweet that Caleb was so concerned, but before today, they hadn't seen each other since our last trip north at Christmas. They certainly seemed pretty emotionally connected for two people who occasionally made out.

Which made me think that the making out was exceptionally good, or that exciting near-death experiences just brought people together. I wouldn't know the effects of either possibility.

"You'll need to wash it out," Simon said, securing Justine's bandage. "But this will get you home."

"Thank you much, Dr. Carmichael." Justine took Caleb's

13

hand and hopped to the ground, landing on her good foot. "Do I get a lollipop?"

Simon gave her a look, which prompted Caleb to lead her around the side of the car and into the backseat.

I helped Simon gather gauze and medical tape. "We really got things started early this year, huh?"

His hands froze, then pushed down the first-aid kit contents and closed the case. He looked at me, his eyes locking on mine as if there was something he wanted to say but didn't know if he should. Finally, he reached over to squeeze my shoulder. "There's an old blanket in the front seat if you want to dry off."

He closed the hatchback and headed for the driver's seat. I looked once more to the sky, which was now as blue as it had been when we'd arrived, then rounded the other side of the car and climbed in the passenger seat. Inside, I peeled off the fleece while Simon slouched in his seat, and Caleb and Justine did who knew what quietly in the back.

"So ...," I said when no one had moved or spoken a few minutes later. "What
was
that?"

Simon looked at me, then out the windshield, toward the trail. He laughed once and let out a long, deep breath. "That was Chione Cliffs, welcoming you back."

I shifted, knowing what I would find when I looked over my shoulder, to the backseat.

Justine, tucked under Caleb's arm with her injured leg propped up on a folded wool blanket, was grinning from ear to ear.

"What a rush," she said happily.

14

"What a ruse."

"A ruse?" Justine held up her plate as Dad came around with another platter of grilled steak. "What does that mean?"

Dad speared two slices of meat with a fork, then looked over the deck railing, toward Lake Kantaka. "Ruse. An act of shifty deception, usually intended to avoid capture."

"I know what the word
means
, Daddy. But you really think I scratched my leg climbing rocks on the beach because I wanted to avoid abduction? Are all kidnappers turned off by a little blood? And who's doing the kidnapping? Loony lifeguards? Crazed seashell hunters? The elusive Winter Harbor yeti?"

I smiled into my mug of hot tea. There
was
one person who'd probably kidnap Justine if he had the chance, and given earlier observations, she'd probably go willingly. I couldn't joke about this aloud, though, as our parents still thought of Caleb and Simon as the same "sweet Carmichael boys" they'd known since the boys were babies. They knew we spent a lot of time together during the summer, but they definitely didn't know what one half of our little group had done with much of that time in recent years. And Justine had made it clear that she wanted to keep it that way.

"The elusive Winter Harbor yeti, huh?" Dad dropped a steak onto Justine's plate and replaced the platter on the closed grill. "Is that what they're calling me now?"

Justine and I looked at each other across the table and

15

laughed. Dad was six feet four and usually stooped forward--something he attributed to dealing with lower door frames "back in the day," but which was more likely a result of forty years spent at a computer. His slouched yet imposing frame combined with a head of frizzy white hair and a full matching beard did resemble the legendary creature.

"What happened to Happy Papi? Top Pops? Rad Dad?" He sat down and poured himself another glass of red wine. "And what was the most recent one? Large, something?"

"Big Poppa," Justine said in mock exasperation, like she couldn't believe he'd forget one of her pet names for him.

"Right. I still don't know whether I should be offended by that one." He rubbed his round belly. "But I actually thought of another one on the drive up that I think we should incorporate into our daily conversation as soon as possible."

"We'll take it into consideration," Justine said.

Dad took a roll from a basket in the center of the table, tore off a chunk, and popped it in his mouth. "King."

"King?" Justine said. "King what?"

He shrugged. "That's it. Just King."

"Not bad ... but that would technically make Mom Queen. And I really don't think she's cool being second in command--even just by title." Justine looked to Mom for confirmation.

Mom, who'd been sawing her steak with a knife like it was made of metal instead of meat, paused. "I can't believe you're still doing this."

16

"The girls are getting older," Dad admitted, "but I'll always be their Big Poppa. Until old age catches up with me and I start to shrink. Then I'll be ... Little Big Poppa? Medium Poppa? Poppa Grande?"

"You can be Grand Master of the Universe forever. That's not the point."

Dad raised his eyebrows, considering the title suggestion instead of the fact that Mom wasn't amused. Not that that fact was out of the ordinary, since Mom was rarely amused. Of the two, she'd always been the more serious one, the disciplinarian. She was president of Franklin Capital, a financial services firm in Boston, and Dad was a writer and professor of American literature at Newton Community College. The characteristics required for their respective professions usually translated to their home life.

"Then what is the point, my sweet?" Leaning across the table, he gently removed the knife and fork from her hands and took over the seemingly strenuous task of cutting her steak.

"That you're eighteen." Mom frowned at Justine. "That you're an adult. That mistakes you make now actually matter."

"So I might have a small scar for the rest of my life," Justine said. "Big deal."

"You're lucky to have walked away with only that."

Justine glanced at me, the smile she'd worn since climbing into Simon's Subaru fading. "Mom, we got caught in a rainstorm and slipped on some rocks. Accidents happen."

"They do. And if you were eight years old and had really

17

been at the beach, I'd kiss your knee and it'd be all better."

"Wow!" I exclaimed, pointing to the lake. "The Beazleys finally got a new canoe. It's so ... long."

Finished cutting Mom's steak, Dad replaced the knife and fork on her plate and leaned toward me. "A for effort, kiddo."

Justine shook her head. "I'm confused."

I tried to catch Mom's eye so that I could silently beg her not to say what she was about to, but it was no use. She was on a mission--and about to get me into serious trouble with the one person I always wanted to keep happy.

"You weren't at the beach, Justine. You were at Chione Cliffs."

I held my breath. Mom's words were followed by silence.

"That's impossible," Justine said finally, picking at the napkin in her lap. "I've never even heard of such a place."

"Really? Then which dangerous, life-threatening cliff was your sister referring to?"

I closed my eyes and sat back. I didn't have to look at Justine to know she stared at me now, her expression a combination of surprise, doubt, and hurt.

"Last summer," Mom continued, "you were out and Vanessa was here, upset. I asked what was wrong, and she told me how you had found the cliff, how you go there every year, and how she felt awful for being too scared to jump."

"Speaking of, maybe we should all take a quick dip in the lake after dinner," Dad said lightly. "What do you say?"

"We said we wouldn't tell," Justine said to me, like we were

18

the only ones at the table. "We said it was just our thing. That's what made it so special."

I looked up. "I know, I--"

"Don't blame Vanessa," Mom said.

As Justine slouched in her chair, Dad buttered a roll, and Mom drained her wineglass, I frantically searched my brain for the words that would make this better. I wanted to tell Justine that I hadn't meant to say anything, that I was just frustrated with myself after our trip to the cliffs last summer, and that that had made me frustrated with myself for being afraid of everything else in the sixteen years before. I wanted to tell her that Mom was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that she promised she wouldn't say anything, so long as I did my best to try to keep Justine from jumping whenever we went again--and that I hadn't done that, because I would never want to stop my sister from doing something that made her happy. And I wanted to tell her that I was sorry, so sorry, for all of it.

But I couldn't. I couldn't tell her anything. Maybe it was because I was scared it would come out all wrong, but the words just weren't there.

"And what are your plans with this Carmichael boy?" Mom asked.

My eyes widened as I looked from Mom to Justine. I definitely hadn't said a word to anyone about Caleb.

Justine's face reddened. "My
plans?"

"Between diving off cliffs and doing who knows what with a nice boy who wouldn't know the difference between a video