Chase is dusting the blinds in my room. I flop onto my perfectly made bed and watch him for a few minutes. It would be a shame to have to do these tedious chores myself. Especially when Chase does such a great job. Iâve grown rather fond of having my room and bathroom so sparkly clean and always having freshly washed and pressed clothes to wear. But I did promise my parents Iâd talk to him.
I whip out my flute and start playing. Once heâs under my spell, I say, âChase, I want you to continue doing my laundry, keeping my bathroom and room so clean, and doing the dishes â¦â Did I forget anything? Oh, yeah. â⦠and feeding Pumpkin.But I need you to be very
secretive.
Donât let Mom and Dad notice that youâre doing these things. And make sure youâre still doing your own chores, and next time someone invites you to a birthday party, go.â
Chaseâs eyes grow big, like when he was seven and I told him the tooth fairy was really a big ugly monster that would gobble him up if his teeth werenât up to its standards. âBut ⦠what if Iâm not done with everything in time?â
I put my hand on his shoulder. âBirthday parties trump doing chores, got it?â
He takes a breath and then smiles. âGot it.â
âGood.â He turns around and continues his blinds-dusting. âAnd I really love your new haircut, Chase. Very handsome.â
Grandma Perkins whizzes up to the front of the valet line and parks next to the curb. Honking and vulgar hand gestures follow in her wake. Itâs totally embarrassing, but at least with Grandma around, I didnât have to use my Siren powers on Dad to get him to cough up some spending money. I jump out of her Lexus while she waits for the man in the maroon valet suit to open her door. Shelooks me up and down and smiles that dazzling smile of hers.
Another man holds the gigantic glass doors open for us as we sashay into Denverâs most elite shopping mecca, Designer Palace. In fact, itâs so high-end that Iâve never even stepped foot inside. âI am so pleased you called me, Roxy. I canât remember the last time the two of us went shopping together.â
âThatâs because we never have,â I remind her, trying to keep my jaw hinged. This place is amazing! Itâs like weâre traipsing through a royal courtyard, and the stores themselves are part of a beautiful white castle. Above our heads, the ceiling is painted like a sky, complete with wispy clouds and birds.
âWell, thatâs a shame,â she says. âYouâd have a much nicer wardrobe if we had.â We hop out of the way for a horse-drawn carriage. As it passes, I see two elderly women sandwiched between a mountain of shopping bags.
Despite the hustle and bustle of the shoppers, we get our fair share of rubber-neckers. Will I ever get used to all this attention? Will I ever get used to being a Siren?
Grandma Perkins waves down a guy in a reddish-brown BEAN THERE apron. âSon, would you please bring us one white-chocolate mocha and â¦â She holds her palm out to me, my cue to add my order.
âA French-vanilla iced latte.â
He looks at us bleary-eyed and says, âIâm sorry, ladies, but Iâm off. The coffee shopâs just around the corner, by the big cherub fountain.â The guy nods to his left.
Before he can get away, Grandma Perkins starts singing, just loud enough for him to hear. âWeâll be in Nordstrom, in the juniors department. You can bring our drinks to us there.â
He turns around, gives us a big goofy smile, and literally sprints back to the Bean There shop.
âAh, thatâs more like it.â Grandma Perkins straightens a button on her tailored linen jacket and winks at me.
âGrandma, we couldâve gotten the drinks ourselves. Itâs not a big deal.â
For a scary moment she looks like sheâs going to
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