by Giger, S. L.
“I have mononucleosis.” I bore up against Mr. Parrot’s examining gaze. “I’m exhausted all the time.” One of my friends in Switzerland had suffered this virus in primary school. However, the doctors didn't figure it out for over a year. She was feeling tired and lousy and the teachers at school thought that she was lazy and cutting school. By now, that sickness was a little better known because some famous people had got it as well. Therefore, I hoped that he would believe me and nobody at school would think anymore that Melissa and Luke were hiding someone who had the night flu. Or whatever weird perceptions the senders of those hate letters seemed to have.
“Mono,” Mr. Parrot said pensively. “I heard that can drag on for ages.” Usually, everything that came out of his mouth sounded as if he was utterly excited, but now his voice was quite calm.
“Sounds promising.” I sank into my chair, annoyed that he remained so skeptical.
“You should count yourself lucky that it’s not the night flu,” Marty said. He was sitting at the desk next to me and tried to flirt with anybody who wore a skirt. With many, he was successful because with his broad smile and dimples he sure could be very charming. “You know that it's also called the kissing disease? I wonder where you got it from.”
I was thankful that Marty bought my excuse and that any of the students even talked to me at all. Much better than the hostile stares from the rest of them. “Well, my boyfriend doesn't have it yet, so it couldn't have been him.” I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at him. The bell rang and Mr. Parrot clapped his hands.
“Okay, let's move on. We were speaking about the conflicts in Europe. Who can give us a little overview of what has happened lately?” He was back to his old energetic self.
Nobody moved.
“Not everybody at once,” he said in a dry voice. “Why wasn't I expecting anything else, though? I preferred your enthusiasm in seventh grade when I had to find methods to get you quiet.” He looked at us encouragingly and was relieved when Conny slowly raised her hand. It surprised me that she was the one to save Mr. Parrot from the silence in the room, as she was a very shy person. I hadn’t talked to her once during the past year and in a group, she always listened and never contributed anything.
“Yes!” Mr. Parrot said to her.
“After an epidemic of the night flu in Istanbul, people protested against the Turkish government because there isn’t any remedy,” she said.
“Good, okay,” Mr. Parrot answered.
“Mass shootings in France, Italy, and Belgium after robberies of drug stores,” Marty said without raising his hand.
“Right.” Mr. Parrot nodded with a serious face. “Europe does not seem like such a good destination to travel to at the moment.”
I didn’t realize that it had gotten so bad. I was too focused on the region of my family and the US.
“What connection do we see between these events?” Mr. Parrot looked around. “Emily?” Now I was sure to finally receive an explanation of the night flu that would make everything more tangible. Emily was an A+ student and seemed to have knowledge about everything.
“The night flu,” Emily stated. “Over the past two years, there had been outbreaks of what they have named "the night flu" again and again. It's a sickness that comes in the night and leaves you dead in the morning. A cure hasn’t been found yet, except a shot the pharmaceutical industry has made a lot of money from, which hasn’t actually helped.” Emily hesitated for a moment. “It’s scary. Now, countries have started to seal off their borders so that travelers can’t bring the virus into the country.” It was completely quiet in the classroom, as everybody had been paying attention to Emily.
“Yes.” Mr. Parrot nodded and pursed his lips. “What are governments doing against the uproars?” He was still looking at Emily, so she continued.
“They use military force against anybody who scavenges the drug stores. This only endangers the people further. Don’t they see that fights are pointless? I bet more people have died in street fights than from the night flu.”
Now there were a few whispers around me from students who were disagreeing.
“You are right, but history has shown us that people start unnecessary wars repeatedly.” Mr. Parrot swallowed. “What role does the US currently play?”
“We are putting travelers in a 24-hour quarantine and spraying the borders with disinfectant,” Felix said loudly from the back of the class. “That's one thing we can do to prevent the flu from spreading. It’s a simple flu. For this reason, we should treat it like a medical problem and not like a cultural one.”
Thank you, Felix, I thought. He was one person I could be sure wasn’t involved in the hate letters Luke and Melissa had found on their property.
“Why? What is the mindset of people if you say that they don’t treat it like a medical problem?” Mr. Parrot asked as if he didn’t know the answer himself. “If you have something to contribute to the topic, please say it to the whole class.” He said because some students had been talking to each other. Once the chatter quieted down, Felix spoke again. I turned around to hear him better.
“Since there hasn’t been any progress in finding a cure for the flu, a group of people is forming who believe that the night flu is actually a curse,” Felix snorted. “If these people had a brain, they’d have realized by now that there is no witchcraft.”
I tried to stay straight-faced and set my gaze on Felix, although I could see out of the corner of my eye how Belinda and Courtney were whispering something to each other, and Belinda threw a glance my way.
“People are scared,” Sarah remarked. She was sitting right next to me and therefore I felt like even more people were staring at me now. “You have to admit that the way the virus spreads is unusual, and some people have always behaved as if they are better than the rest and purposely kept their distance from society.” Had I imagined this because I was paranoid, or had she leaned her upper body further away from me while she was speaking? Her tone had been quite accusing, and I hoped Mr. Parrot, or anyone would say something to steal her thunder.
“Okay, you say fear is a motivational factor. It’s not the first time people start doing unreasonable things out of fear,” was Mr. Parrot’s answer.
“Yes, in the Second World War, people backstabbed their Jewish friends because they thought they’d be safer then,” Laura piped up, eager to enter the conversation, now that it had gotten a little heated.
“Thank you, Laura,” Mr. Parrot said, unimpressed. “So, if the night flu arrives here after all, how should we react instead?”
Marty’s hand shot up. “Believe in biology. There are more or less simple scientific reasons to explain everything. This flu is one of them.”
He looked around the room until everybody had his attention, but Sarah objected. “Well, this virus has been killing people for the past two years and medicine has been powerless so far!” Sarah shot past me at him. “You can believe whatever you want. I’d feel safer if there was something we could do and not just sit around and wait. Besides, not even the doctors believe that there is a cure.” She crossed her arms.
“What, do you mean? Dr. Palmer?” Marty countered. “He is only making propaganda to draw people's attention away from medicine and find a new scapegoat. Simply because some mentally dull-witted people support him doesn’t mean his theories hold water.”
“Exactly,” I said and regretted it directly afterward. Not only did I have both their stares on me now, but also the whole class wanted to hear my opinion. “Um,” I cleared my throat. From the look on Courtney’s hostile face, I knew that I would only say the wrong thing anyway. “I think medicine and doctors should be here to save lives. However, because of Dr. Palmer, some people have turned into monsters that attack and kill innocent people. This alone makes me disrespect him.” I swallowed. I really needed to google that Dr. Palmer, so that I’d know what exactly his message was.
I expected a counter-attack from my classmates who looked at me with the
ir brows furrowed or jaws pushed to the front. Yet none of them responded. I sat back in my chair, a bit irritated, and wandered from face to face. Courtney had once taken every opportunity to make anything I said sound ridiculous. Why not now? Could it be that they were scared of me? I pressed my lips together. Could they indeed believe that I might be different from them? If that was the case, I was in trouble. I needed to attend school regularly again to convince them otherwise.
Mr. Parrot took over. “We’ve heard a few opinions now, but I’d also like to hear what the rest of the class has to say. Until Friday, I want you to write an essay and answer these two questions.” He started writing them on the blackboard. “First, what does it take for people to turn into demonstrators and street fighters. Second, do you think America will be further affected by the happenings in Europe, and why or why not?” He looked around. “400 words, and you may start now.”
There was a murmur in the classroom, followed by clattering and rustling as people looked for their pens and paper. I chewed on my pen and still thought about the accusatory opinion some of the people in my class had. I could only hope that there would finally be a remedy for the flu. Then my problems would disappear on their own.
The bell rang and I packed up to head to the gym. The whole day I was on tenterhooks because somebody might directly challenge me about my thoughts on that topic or would ridicule me in front of others. Luckily, everyone kept their distance from me. On my way home, I walked at least 1.5 miles at human speed until I was sure that none of the high school kids or any other people were around anymore. I had to be even more careful not to show my abilities to them.
Then, I took off in Siren speed and raced back to Boston. Alex was working at the deli, so I started the laptop and searched the Internet for Dr. Palmer. He had created his own website with videos, articles, and buttons to donate money. I clicked on one of the videos. Dr. Palmer was a bald man with thin, wired glasses and a British accent. In a nasal voice, he explained how it was a good sign that groups of people were starting to revolt against the governments, which remained idle. He stated that supernatural people were real, and they would destroy humanity to claim the world for themselves. Further, he congratulated everybody who had stayed alert. He thanked them for the many messages about people who they thought belonged to the Alternatives. His office would check all these cases.
I shook my head in front of the screen. He had people who worked for him and investigated these cases? Although he obviously had mental issues, he seemed to have a good strategy for winning people over to believe in his cause. But why wasn’t anybody stopping him? If the magical world would suffer because of him, surely the real witches or magicians could do something to eliminate him as a threat? So why wasn’t anybody interfering?
Chapter 6
Before heading to school the next day, I had another shift at The Wild Rover. The familiar smell of the wooden interior mixed together with beer had a calming effect on me. It reminded me that some things in the world were still the same and hadn’t changed. I let my eyes wander over the Irish proverbs on the wall for probably the thousandth time. The pub wasn’t only authentic from the inside, but I also liked the outside of the building. It had a wooden facade painted in shiny black, bottled windows, and 'The Wild Rover' printed in an ancient font above the doors. It was the only building in this street that didn’t have a brick wall at the front and therefore it stood out a little. Jimmy, the owner, had come up with the idea, so it might attract more customers. For the past eighteen years, he had proudly run this business. And although he had left Ireland over twenty years ago, I still thought of a leprechaun every time I looked at him, with his orange hair around the bald spot and his stubby nose, along with the Irish accent. Today, I had the honor of working with him. He only showed up about twice a week or filled in if somebody was sick. That’s another thing I liked about working here. Jimmy trusted us in running this place for him. We were a work family.
Shortly past 9 p.m., an unexpected guest walked into the pub. With her black leather boots and dark blue skinny jeans, Roisin attracted several of the men’s glances as she was walking toward the bar.
“Hey kid, simply wanted to see how you were holding up,” she said and sat down on a barstool. I didn’t want Jimmy to know about my family complications. He thought I studied in Boston and my family lived on Cape Cod. Therefore, I tried to answer as politely as possible, although inwardly I was cursing her for just showing up.
“Yes, good. Why wouldn’t I be holding up well?”
“Who knows? New apartment, no more parental control. Perhaps you have only been eating deep fried pizza for the past weeks.” Her eyes sparkled.
I rolled my eyes. We both couldn’t eat anything and her enthusiasm over making up a story was a bit strenuous.
“Oh, you moved?” Jimmy asked. He was standing behind the counter, updating our inventory list.
“No,” I said, still intensely looking at Roisin, trying to make her understand that I didn’t want any trouble here. “I just moved the last of my furniture out of my parents’ home and now they think I will never come and visit anymore. This is my cousin Roisin.” I pointed to her.
“Oh, an Irish name,” he remarked.
“Yes, my dad is from Ireland,” she said, and my shoulders tensed up. I didn’t want her to make conversation, I wanted her to leave. “I’ve studied there for a couple of years as well. Lovely country,” she said in an Irish accent.
“You picked that up well.” He nodded approvingly.
“So, when are you done with work today? We haven’t gone out in ages.”
I hesitated for a moment. Had Melissa and Luke sent her to check I was going to school every day? I didn’t need a babysitter. “I’m done at 2:30 a.m.,” I lied, and hoped that it would go unnoticed.
“It’s Wednesday. We will close at 1 a.m.,” Jimmy said to my dismay, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
My posture slightly deflated. “Oh, I mixed up the days. I thought it was Friday.”
“Cool.” Roisin smiled as if everything was okay. “I’m in town anyway. We could head to Vior afterward. We have a Wednesday night special and are open until the early morning hours.” Vior was the club she currently worked at in NYC. Running from Boston to NYC to visit a club and attend school the next day without sleeping wasn’t a problem. However, I didn’t want to talk to her.
“I have to get up early tomorrow. I don’t think I should stay out late,” I said, hoping she would finally get the hint that our conversation was finished.
“Oh, come on. You’re only young once. I’ll be waiting for you at 1.” She waved to Jimmy and left the pub.
“Real Irish party spirit,” he said.
When I finished work and walked out of the Wild Rover, Roisin unfortunately hadn’t forgotten about me and was leaning against the wall next to the entrance.
“I like your pub. It’s very authentic,” she said.
“Probably because Jimmy is Irish, and he wanted it to be this way.” I dug my hands into my pockets and waited for her to say something else.
“Nathalie, please don’t be mad at me. Don’t you love being a Siren?” she asked. “If I had a choice, I’d choose to be one again in a heartbeat.”
I took a deep breath. “I do like it. But I can’t take it as light-heartedly as you do.”
“That’s a choice you have. You could try to see things less seriously,” she said and hit a sore spot. Already as a human, I used to think everything through too thoroughly and my dad often mocked me that I would become president of a country one day with my serious face. Then, I had always wished to have a lighter personality and be the always-smiling girl who was spreading a good mood everywhere.
“Did Melissa and Luke send you?” I asked.
“No. But you are my friend. More than that, you are family. We need to stick together. Besides, there is much more you have to learn and it’s so much fun watching you discover it.”
“What, for example? And wh
y do I need to figure it all out on my own? You better tell me straight what I have to learn, if you already know it,” I muttered under my breath.
“That’s as if I've been on a year-long trip around the world and you’re asking me to just start telling you about the whole thing,” Roisin said in her bright and happy voice. “Where should I start? It’s just too much. It’s easier if you ask questions.”
“Except that I still don’t know which questions I should be asking.”
“You are doing fine. I didn’t know about puddles until after eight years. It’s not that you really need us. But it’s fun to hang out with you.”
I raised an eyebrow and felt myself warming up a little. Roisin was the one who was spreading a good mood everywhere. I took it as a big compliment to hear this from her. “I like spending time with you as well,” I said slowly.
“So, what do you say, friends?” She smiled broadly.
“How about truce?” I suggested. “Friends don’t keep each other in the dark about important details like why you made me a Siren.”
She shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with you. And you will come around as well, once you realize that you're making this into something bigger than it is. What about that club now?”
“Alex is home asleep,” I said feebly. Roisin wouldn’t give up until she had what she wanted.
“Even more reason to come with me. You can give him a wake-up kiss in the morning but right now, he is somewhere in the land of dreams.” Roisin slowly drew a circle in the air with both of her hands. “And you can’t reach him anyway. You aren’t even twenty years old and already you behave like a married person.”
I smiled. “That’s something I don’t feel like I should change. Don’t you ever miss having someone around consistently?”
“Variety is my motto. Why would you want to make yourself dependent from somebody?”
