Once Upon Now

by Danielle Banas

  If I tell her there isn’t any, she’s going to lecture me along with freaking out. If I lie, I’ll feel horrible, but at least she won’t have to go through the trouble of performing an impromptu speech. “They’re there. They just stay in their room or office.” Which could be true.

  “What’s their last name?” The perks of having a mom who works as an assistant at a law firm—she may not be a lawyer, but she definitely picks up their interrogation tactics and brings them home.

  “I don’t know. I’m sure Coach does.”

  “You seem to know nothing about them.”

  I unzip my backpack and dig out my folder. I need to make sure I put my history homework in here. “The one I talk to’s name is Rose.”

  Bingo. History homework packed.

  “I just want you to be careful and make smart decisions.”

  I reach forward and pat her shoulder. “I know, Mom.”

  She places her hand on mine and gives my fingers a squeeze.

  We ride in silence the rest of the way. My school is the first on her morning route so she drops me off first. As I’m getting out, she rolls down her window.

  “Remember I can’t pick you up today.”

  “Got it.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head to the doors. Two of the boys from my team meet me before I reach them.

  “How’s the ballerina doing?” Camden jokes, while Tyler does an arabesque, dramatically falling onto Camden.

  “It is what it is.”

  “Aww . . . you embarrassed?” Tyler teases. “How long is Coach going to make you four keep this up?”

  “Well, if he sees improvement he’s making the whole team join in. And it’s just four of us?”

  Camden nods. “Yeah, four, right? You’re the one taking ballerina class with them. You should know.”

  I sigh, a headache starting to come on. “Ballet class. And I just thought there were more of us. That’s all.”

  “What, twelve chicks too much for you guys to handle?”

  “Shut up.”

  As we walk to our first class, math—who schedules math at seven thirty in the morning?—I spot Rose surrounded by six of her sisters. If I didn’t know they were her sisters, I’d say they’d be about to gang up on her and fight.

  “You can’t waste any more of our time.” Amaryllis runs her hand through her own red hair and tugs at the ends. “You aren’t getting attached, are you?”

  Rose doesn’t answer. She simply takes a deep breath.

  “You are, aren’t you?” another sister asks.

  “No, I’m not. Don’t worry. I can handle it.” She notices me and swallows.

  The sister behind her mutters, “Here come the Beasts.”

  “Everything good?” I ask, attempting to intervene.

  The sister who muttered rolls her eyes and slinks off. The others nod to me and leave.

  Camden taps me on the shoulder. “We’re going to head on to class.”

  I shrug and tilt my neck, looking at Rose, who doesn’t meet my eyes. “You okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Sisters are sometimes a bit needy.”

  “I know, and I just have one.” I stare at the locker behind her. “You know, I still can’t remember anything of your class. I just remember talking last night.”

  She brushes her hair behind her shoulder. “You drove yourself home so that’s a tad bit worrying. Maybe you should see if you have a concussion.”

  She has a good point. I’ve been playing football since I was four. I’ve been hit on the head with just about everything more times than I can count. One time I got hit by an Ohio license plate. Long story.

  “You’re coming over tonight?” she asks before pressing the knuckle of her finger against her teeth.

  “Of course.”

  She smiles, nervously biting on her skin. “It’s sure to be a life-changing class.”

  TUCKING THE BALL UNDER HIS arm, Reed jogs up to me, his cleats sloshing through the wet field. “Hey, Cal, does it seem like we’re short?”

  “I mean, I didn’t want to say anything, but my neck gets sore always looking down at you.”

  Rolling his eyes, he laughs. “You’re so funny, Calvin. No, but seriously, are we missing people?”

  I look around the field and scratch my head. I notice Rose on the bleachers. “I can’t think of who’s missing. If we are, then they just must be sick.”

  “We know most everyone on this team. We’d know which ones of us are missing, right?”

  “Then I guess everyone is here, and we’re losing it.” I run backward, spreading apart my arms. “Ball.”

  Reed steps back a few feet before launching the ball into the air. Looking upward, I run to catch it. The ball’s about to drop into my hands, when I slip on the wet turf and crash to the ground, landing on top of my right wrist.

  I feel nothing, and that’s the scary part. Slowly, though, an intense pain spreads over my wrist, and I push myself up using my other arm. Reed, Camden, and Tyler rush over to me.

  Bending down next to me, Tyler asks, “What was that epic fail?”

  I grimace, clutching my wrist. “I think I broke it.”

  Camden and Tyler swear.

  Reed offers his arm and pulls me up. “How are you going to be able to play?”

  “Coach is going to kill me.”

  “I’ll drive you to the clinic.” Reed motions for me to start walking.

  Camden jogs in front of us. “We should tell Coach first.”

  “He’s inside and even after we track him down he’ll have to fill out a form and more garbage. Let’s go, Cal.”

  Rose joins us from her spot on the bleachers. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Fine.” Reed motions with his head to follow us. “Make sure he doesn’t trip on anything else.”

  IN REED’S CAR I sit in the front with him while Rose sits in the back. I text Mom about what happened, using my left hand to do so. She says she’ll get there as soon as she can, but her boss is being difficult, and an accident is blocking the road outside her office. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the window, the pain becoming unbearable.

  Rose begins humming, her voice soothing.

  As we near the clinic, Reed asks Rose, “Can I drop you two off?” Rose agrees and Reed pulls up under the overhang.

  Once inside, the man at the desk stands when he sees me clutching my wrist. “What happened?” he asks.

  “I fell on it during practice. I think it’s broken.”

  “Do you have a parent with you?”

  “She’s at work.”

  He sighs, typing on the keyboard. “Please take a seat. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.”

  The waiting area is short on seats. The last thing I want to do is sit in a noisy, confined space with people who are sick while the pain in my arm is making me want to throw up.

  Rose glances at me before shuffling through stacks of pamphlets on the counter. She starts up her humming again.

  “Is there really no way someone can’t take a quick X-ray?” I ask. I’m debating begging for even an ibuprofen.

  “I’m sorry, but as you can see there are plenty of other people who are waiting, some far worse off than a suspected broken wrist.”

  I squeeze my eyes, the pain growing worse. “Do you at least have some ice?”

  Rose stops humming.

  “Actually”—he moves the computer mouse around—“I think we should see you now. I’ll call up a nurse to take you back.”

  What even? “Uhh . . . thanks.”

  Rose makes sure the stack of papers is tidy before giving me a thumbs-up. Weird how he changed his mind like that, but hey, if it means I’ll get some painkillers sooner, then I don’t care.

  I end up only having to get a cast around my wrist, and I’m back in the waiting room before I have much time to process anything. The pain makes everything—time and surroundings alike—blurry.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket.

  Mom: I’m getting in
the car.

  I sit down in the corner of the waiting room and set my phone on my lap. The red cast rests awkwardly on my leg. Nothing feels comfortable.

  Rose sits next to me.

  “I suppose you’ve already pieced together that I won’t be going tonight,” I say.

  Rose frowns. “I’ve gathered.”

  I drum on my thigh. “Do you think it’s weird I can’t remember anything?”

  “I guess so.” She stares off into space.

  “Mind if I take a nap? The painkillers are putting me to sleep.”

  “Sure.”

  I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes, but I have a hard time finding a comfortable position. I don’t know how much time passes before a phone rings and Rose says, “I know we’re running out of time . . . He cannot come tonight. Tomorrow, yes, I’ll make sure it’s finished.”

  Whatever she means by “finished,” I’m not too keen on finding out.

  “I’ll still be there tonight,” she continues. “I’m just waiting for his mom . . . I’m not.” She sounds annoyed. “I know we have to make up for what we did. I’m not going to be selfish about this. I’m close to completing it.” She sighs. “He’s asleep. Violet, I can handle it.”

  I know I wasn’t supposed to hear any of that.

  “Calvin?!”

  I crack open an eye at the sound of Mom’s frantic voice. She’s at the entrance, the sliding doors refusing to close because she’s too near them. Her head whips side to side and her purse’s contents threaten to spill out from the straps slipping down her arm. I wave to get her attention.

  She shoves her way past the legs of the other occupants of the waiting room, a couple of which are broken. “Calvin, sweetie, how are you feeling?”

  “It hurts, but I’m alive.”

  She places her cold hand on my cheek and frowns. “I know it hurts, honey.”

  Rose stands up and holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Rose.”

  Mom shakes it, taking in Rose’s bright red hair. “Ms. Finnick. Are you one of the girls teaching Cal and his team ballet?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m afraid Cal will have to miss it for a while.”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t want him to hurt himself further.” When she was on the phone, it sounded like she had plans for something tomorrow, and that something seemed to be about me.

  “Do you need a ride back home?” Mom asks her.

  She smiles, looking regretful for having to cause any trouble. “Actually, yes. That would be amazing.”

  “Let me pay the bill, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  Once we’re in the car, Rose gives Mom directions to her house and says to me, “You know, Cal, you could still come tomorrow and watch.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Mom’s eyes flick up to the rearview mirror to look at Rose. She doesn’t look thrilled with her dyed hair. “I doubt Cal will be feeling up to it.”

  “Right,” Rose says. “I want Cal to be sure to get better.”

  We sit in a tight silence for a few minutes before Rose starts humming, I assume to pass the time.

  I turn to Mom. “How was work?”

  “Long. Especially knowing my little boy was stuck at the clinic without me.” Does she have to embarrass me in front of Rose? “I think you should go tomorrow night.”

  I blink. “You’re fine with that now?”

  She nods. “Rose is right, you can still watch.”

  I know a few minutes ago I wasn’t up for going at all, and now . . . well, now I’m okay with going.

  Rose is completely silent.

  LUNCH ROLLS AROUND and Rose hasn’t spoken to me since I dropped her off at her house yesterday. When I said hi this morning, she ducked her head and darted into the girls’ room.

  Rose and her eleven sisters sit at the end of one cafeteria table. I head over to them, not yet having gotten in line. Rose swings her legs around the bench and runs off, murmuring, “Bathroom.”

  “Am I still supposed to come over tonight?” I ask. Rose’s behavior is causing me to think I’m not welcome.

  One of her sisters sets down her glass. “Of course you are.” She glances at the door Rose exited through. “She’s just being shy.”

  “We think she likes you,” Amaryllis says with a smirk.

  Something akin to pride swells through me and maybe a little bit of excitement. “Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you supposed to keep these things a secret?”

  The sister who spoke first winks at me. “It’s our joy to embarrass each other.”

  “Right, well, I’m going to grab food.”

  As I get in line I wonder what I’m supposed to do with this information her sisters gave me. I pick up a slice of pizza.

  Do I just go for it?

  WHEN I SHOW UP at the girls’ house, my car is the only one in the driveway. No cars are parked in the street, either. I knock on the door, and Rose answers it, looking like a smile was painted on her face five days ago and hasn’t been touched up since.

  “How’s your wrist?” Rose asks.

  “Bearable.”

  Calla stands beside her. “Why don’t you two go ahead out back?”

  Rose sends her a glare but silently leads me outside. I shut the back door behind us. “Is everything all right?” I ask.

  “Perfect.” She sinks into a pool chair, the lights from the pool casting blue light on only half of her.

  I’m here the same time I come every other night, no sooner, no later, so where is everyone? I swear there were more than just me at the start of all this. I don’t know how many there were, but Coach wouldn’t have me do this alone. He may be tough and hardheaded, but he’s not this cruel. “What’s taking the others so long?”

  “They’ll be out shortly.” She twirls her thumbs.

  I sit down on the seat across from her. “I meant my team.”

  She inhales deeply. “They’re sick.” I’m not the only one coming to these things, then. I’ve really got to get my memory checked.

  “What was up with you at school?” I ask.

  She looks up at me. “You’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you? I wasn’t feeling well and thought I caught something at the clinic. I didn’t want to get anyone sick if I was contagious.”

  “You’re feeling better now?”

  “Yeah.” She stares out at the ocean. “I’m sorry for anything that I’ll do in the future.”

  I squint at her. “That’s morbid.”

  She shrugs, still gazing over the water.

  I hear a door open and look to my right to see her sisters coming outside but lingering by the door.

  Sighing, she stands up ever so meticulously. “You ready?”

  “Just us?”

  With a quick, weak smile, she holds out her hand. “Yes.” She pulls me to my feet and stares at me, her eyes and body not moving. I expect her to move us away from between the chairs, but she doesn’t. She starts to hum, the sound drawing me in. She steps closer and wraps her arms around my neck.

  The wind blows lightly, and she sways us with the wind.

  “Are you sure this is ballet?”

  She caresses her hand down the side of my face, her hand like ice. “Sure it is.” Her fingers brush under my chin and down my neck. “In the morning no witnesses remained—but there never were any,” she sings.

  I barely notice a tear slip down her eye or the pain in my wrist. Her feet step back and mine step forward, mirroring her movements. Faintly, I’m aware that we’re moving away from the chairs.

  “When people came to find those once loved, they were met with a pure white shore, untouched by human feet.” She’s the only one singing. Her hands remain at my neck, and mine, I find, are on her waist. “Twelve sailors sinking to the depths were spared at the unknown cost of twelve of us. If the debt is not paid, twelve more lives go for the ones wrongfully snatched.”

  My shoes and her ba
re feet crunch the grass. All I see are her bright blue eyes.

  They’re . . . they’re hypnotizing.

  “Yet as for the truth, only we know. And we will take it to the depths with us . . .”

  Water spreads over my shoes and ankles, rising higher and higher.

  “. . . until the return of the saffron-colored moon.”

  The water is up to my shoulders.

  Rose places her hand on my neck. “I’m sorry,” she says before leaning toward me.

  Her teeth scratch my neck.

  I ROAM AROUND THE HALLS at school with a headache far more intense than any I’ve experienced in the past few days, or ever, really. This pain has lasted since I woke up almost seven hours ago. I can’t remember anything from yesterday evening, and I’m not really sure if I remember anything from yesterday at all, for that matter. I haven’t seen Rose or her sisters all day.

  Before I head out, I open my locker and freeze. On the inside of my locker door are written eleven names in black marker: Reed Williams, Marvin Monroe, Breck Eisenhower, Eli Davis, Carter Lun, Brendon Cecil, Ryann Ledbetter, Brian O’Connor, Nathan Mallot, Mark Noyes, Wes Jacobs.

  Everything starts to come back as I read the names. There were twelve of us and now there’s only one . . . me. They were killed by the sisters. Somehow they bewitched us all. Every single one of us. What kind of human—or creature—could do such a thing? A witch? No. The singing, the lyrics, the ocean—they fit together like a puzzle. They were not witches. They were something far more dangerous. They were twelve beautiful sirens who lulled us with their song.

  At the front of my locker is a white square of paper with a red rose lying on top of it.

  Is this all from Rose? Is this her goodbye?

  I pick up the note. It reads simply:

  You were a beauty, and I was a beast.

  Hooded

  shannon klare

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Accident

  TODAY, I HIT ROB HOOD.

  It started like every day, normal and mediocre. There were tests—too many tests—and a horrible cafeteria lunch, so it was nothing out of the usual for me to quickly vacate the premises.

  But in my haste, in my attempt to escape the school’s redundancy, I inadvertently drove into Rob Hood.