The Secret Life of a Teenage Siren (19 page)

I step inside the fluorescent-lit room. The doctor and nurses look up at me, shocked. Before they have a chance to ask me who I am and what I think I'm doing, I blow a series of half-hearted puffs into my flute. Then I say, “Tell me what's happening.”

“She can't be in here, doctor,” a nurse mutters.

The doctor turns his attention back to his patient, pressing his stethoscope to Alex's chest. As he starts listing all the horrific injuries, my stomach lurches. Oh. My. God. Poor Alex.

I take a deep breath, the stench of blood and alcohol mixing in my nostrils. “Is he going to … die?”

The doctor looks up at me and smiles. For an instant I assume he's going to tell me that Alex is fine. That he'll be good as new
in a week or two. So when the words “It doesn't look good” tear through my ears and crash into my brain, I shake my head in disbelief. The more I shake it, the blurrier my vision gets. I feel hands on my shoulders, steering me out of the room and into the darkness.

“I came as soon as I could get here, honey,” Grandma Perkins's voice rings from somewhere far away. I lift my eyelids and her suntanned face comes slowly into focus. “Let's get you something to eat, to get your strength back up.”

I don't think I can eat a single morsel of food, especially hospital cafeteria food, but I take her hand and amble down the long, brightly lit hallway. I sit down in the closest booth while Grandma grabs a tray.

Patricia McCoy is in the cafeteria, chugging coffee like she has the inside scoop on an impending coffee bean shortage. Running over to her, I give her a hug and kiss her tear-stained cheek. I can't think of anything to say. What do you say to the mother of your murder victim? Her eyes are puffy from crying, her hair haywire, and her clothes wrinkled. Her ashen face tells me that the doctor's words still hold true. That it doesn't look good.

She hugs me, her entire body convulsing into sobs. In a tiny, distant voice, she says, “They asked me if he's a donor.”

Oh, God. “I'm sure they ask that whenever anyone goes into surgery, Patricia. It's probably protocol, that's all.” My voice sounds strangely calm.

“Maybe he'll wake up soon.” She tells me which ICU room he's in. I flag down my grandmother and tell her I'll be right back.

The longer I walk, the farther the hall seems to stretch. I pass room numbers 1172,
1174, 1176, and finally stop in front of room number 1178. I've run out of gas. I can't go on.

The door opens, revealing a curvaceous nurse in turquoise and pink swirled scrubs. There's a pen stuck behind her ear and a plastic clipboard tucked under her arm. “Are you one of Alex's sisters?”

I nod, just in case they won't let a non-relative in, and she steps out of my way. “He's in an induced coma,” she says. “Go ahead and talk to him, though. It never hurts.”

Oh my God! No! “He's in a coma?”

“An induced coma, dear. Didn't your mom tell you?”

Mom? Oh, right. Patricia. “You mean you
induced
a coma? You put him in a coma? On purpose?”

“Yes. It's actually a fairly common practice. Your brother would be in a lot of pain otherwise. Plus he's on a ventilator, and putting him in a coma keeps him from pulling out the tubes. It's for his own good, really.”

But you have no idea what's happening,
I want to yell.
You have no idea that I'm a Siren and I told him I love him and he's going to die,
and putting him in a freaking coma just makes it that much worse. Because, because ₀ well, he looks like he's dead already!

She leaves, quietly closing the door behind her.

My breath catches in my throat. I inch over to the bed. His skin looks puffy and dull, and judging by all the little bandages and bruises on his arms, he's been a virtual pincushion. I bend over and kiss him softly on the forehead, and then brush my lips across his cold, clammy cheek. “Dear God, what have I done?” I whisper.

The only response I get is the humming of the medical machines.

I take his hand and stare at his closed eyelids. “This is all my fault, Alex. All my fault.” I wipe a wayward tear before it drips down onto his swollen face.

I rise and wander over to the window. Dark clouds clump in the sky, creating ominous shadows on the street. The cars look so tiny from up here, the trees like sprigs of broccoli. Even the mountains appear small and insignificant.

“You see, Alex, I messed up. I shouldn't have let myself fall in love with you. If I'd
listened to my grandma, and if I'd taken
The Siren Handbook
seriously, you wouldn't be here.”

I return to his bedside, sit down in the chair, and scoot it as close to Alex as it'll go. Smoothing his hair, I ask, “Why am I so stupid?” I wait, in case he feels like answering, but of course, he's just lying there in his coma.

A moment later his little finger twitches. Is it just my imagination, or did his left eyelid just flutter? I know I should call the nurse, get someone in here. But I'm glued to the chair. I want to be here when he wakes up. I want to be the first person he sees.

“Please wake up, Alex. Please be okay.”

Nothing.

“I have something to tell you. Something very important. I don't know if you're going to believe me, and I don't blame you if you think I've gone off the deep end. But I have to let you know.” I take a deep breath and watch his face for any sign of life. But he's a statue. “You're always telling me to be honest with you, Alex, and now I'm going to. It's the least I can do.”

I have to swallow several times before I can speak another word. Leaning closer, I
whisper into his ear, “I am a Siren. I'm a Siren and I can make men do anything I want. That's how I got Zach Parker to date me. Not that I'm proud of that. But it's true. I used my Siren powers to become a model. I even got my dad to relinquish the keys to his beloved Boxster with my Siren powers. You know what? I never even took my driver's test. I used my Siren powers on the driving instructor, and he passed me for just driving around the parking lot a couple of times.

“You see, everything I've gotten, everything I've achieved this summer, I owe to being a Siren. And one of the rules about being a Siren is you can't fall in love. I broke that rule, Alex. I broke it horribly. The car wreck wasn't your fault. It was mine.”

Every muscle in my body aches, and my head pounds wickedly. I feel like I've eaten a whole stack of saltines with no water to wash them down. But at least I'm alive.

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.