The Accidental Siren by Jake Vander Ark Page B

head.
    Then he noticed Mara. He wiped his forearm
across his lips and stepped forward. “Did you hurt dem kids,
Danny?”
    “No, sir,” Danny replied.
    Hank’s eyes were hooked on the girl. “Age,”
he said, “yer dad’s lookin’ for ya.” He glanced at T. “Whoever the
hell you are, go home an’ leave dem kids alone.” He smacked Danny
again. “And you... get yer mangled head back down that hill and
help pull some weeds.”
    Danny looked at me. His final glance said
what his lips couldn’t: we’ll finish this later.
    T whacked a branch with his sword and plodded
away. A.J. and Danny crossed the patch of grass, then disappeared
into the brush from whence they came.
    Hank nodded to Mara, tipped the rim of an
invisible hat, lingered for a moment too long... then followed the
boys into the forest.
    I clutched the tree to pull myself up, then
limped to Mara. I sat beside her and held my stomach. I hoped she
would crawl to my lap–I could comfort her there–but she remained in
the dirt and rolled to face me.
    “You okay?” she asked. Her cheek still held
the imprint of jagged bark.
    “Got the wind knocked outta me. Otherwise,
I’m fine. How about you?”
    “Feel a little sick, but no scratches.”
    “What did A.J. whisper to you?” I asked.
“Unless you don’t wanna tell me...”
    “He found the tape of me singing... the one I
played to keep Aunty asleep.”
    That scrawny little hillbilly had a
recording of Mara’s voice! I was jealous– furious –but I
also felt sad for her... and that was the side that Mara needed to
see. “I’m sorry those jerks stole your stuff. If I could get it
back–”
    “Not jerks. They’re assholes.”
    I smiled at the dirty word. Mara smiled
back.
    Inside, I was terrified. Danny and the boys
wouldn’t stay away for long. Today it was threats and hateful
words; tonight, Mara would visit them in their dreams. Tomorrow,
the lust would blossom into plans and strategies. Eventually,
they’d come back for more.
    “Guess what,” she said.
    “What?”
    “My washcloth was purple... Ms. Grisham used
green.”
    We laughed. I picked a leaf from her
hair.
    “Mara?” I said.
    “Yeah?”
    “I won’t ever make you sing.”
    The girl didn’t respond, but closed her eyes
and wound my shoelace around her finger.
     
    * * *
     
    Midnight.
    The scream belonged to Mara. It’s terrifying
vibrato echoed through my subconscious and strangled my dream until
I woke up thrashing. I sat up in bed, froze in absolute silence,
and wondered if I had imagined the cry.
    Then it happened again–the word “fuck” in
Mara’s precious voice–splitting the stillness with such ferocity
that it rattled my windows and sang for days in the back of my
mind.
     
    * * *
     
    “You actually think I have superpowers?”
Mara’s face glowed amber in the light of a dying prayer candle. The
cavern’s pipes fell to the blackness of my peripherals; for all I
knew, we were the lone survivors of the apocalypse.
    “Think about it,” I said. “How do you explain
all those boys outside your window? You saw them, right?”
    “Duh. Every time I looked out my window there
were more.”
    “They even went back to steal your stuff! And
what about that psycho woman? She took you out of school and never
let you out of the house. That’s not normal.”
    “Yeah...”
    “Plus, I’ve known those bullies since
preschool and they’ve always been jerks–’specially Danny–but I’ve
never seen them like that. They were totally nuts.”
    “You think I made them like that?”
    “Not on purpose. I just think that boys
really, really like you when they see you. And when you
sing...”
    “When I sing... what?”
    I shrugged. I didn’t intend to finish the
thought. “It’s different somehow. Special. Did you see the way that
Danny’s uncle looked at you? Who does that?”
    “Lots of guys do that.”
    “Maybe to you. But not to other girls.”
    Mara’s pupils had consumed all but a sliver
of her irises.