Siren's Song

by Heather McCollum

  I kiss Mom on the cheek as she’s making some lunch at the counter. “She’s heard that music all her life,” Mom says. “It’s in her blood.” She smiles knowingly, and I wonder if her memories are coming back on their own. “You’ll be fantastic, Carissima. Dad and I will be in the front row.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  I sag down into Carly’s bucket seat and try not to stare down at Luke’s house. He’s not there anyway.

  “Have you tried singing?” Carly asks as she revs the engine. “You know, to see if you still make people fall into a trance.”

  “Not really.”

  She punches the radio onto a top 40 station. “Go for it at the next red light.”

  * * *

  The spotlight shines down on me as I stand center stage. Its heat almost warms the chill that I’ve carried for two weeks. Almost. I shiver.

  Ms. Bishop choked up with ridiculously obvious relief when I walked in this afternoon. I would have smiled, but those particular muscles are linked to the sharp pains in my middle every time I think of Luke.

  Derek hovers close, not only as the cloaked Phantom but also as my new guardian. I nearly roll my eyes at the title Ms. Bishop gave him. His duty is to catch me if I pass out on stage. The woman would have me sitting to sing if I hadn’t insisted that I need to stand to belt out Christine’s solos.

  I catch sight of Mom and Dad before the bright spotlight blinds me. Mom smiles, Dad frowns but nods encouragingly. Mom thinks singing will build my strength. It was the only argument that worked on Dad. He’d have me chained to my bed if he had his way.

  Madison actually seemed relieved, instead of jealous that she wasn’t to be Christine tonight. She gladly took back Carlotta’s role. She whispers “you were amazing” just before I am rushed out for my encore song with Winston as Raoul.

  I inhale and release a perfect note that dips into more notes, weaving through the intricacies of the song “All I Ask of You”. The song warms me from within as the spotlight warms me on the outside. I close my eyes and allow the sounds to ribbon out of me. The song builds, and my voice rides the waves of sentiment and sweet conviction. I pour the emotions of this last month into the lyrics, surrendering control. I am in my element. No matter what, I am a Siren. I will always have that. And at the moment, while I’m singing my part, it almost feels like enough. Almost.

  Winston answers me and I continue. In and out, my breath hums with life. I’m flying, diving, spinning. I slow as the final notes queue. The end means landing, crashing. The conclusion snails along as my never-ending breath holds the notes of the final song. At last, I break off.

  My eyes flutter open in the absolute silence. With the spotlight shining directly in my face I’m blind. But I know there is an audience of more than five hundred people out there.

  “No more spell-binding,” Carly had sworn on the ride here. “Now your voice is just…really, really good. And I remember it now.” Could she have been wrong?

  The spotlight trips off and the curtain brushes the floor of the stage as it drags across in front of me. As if the whole auditorium wakes at the same time, applause erupts beyond the heavy drape. Derek rushes me.

  “God, Jule, that was,” he shakes his head, eyes wide, “outrageous! We are soooo winning at State!” He gives me an awkward hug around my bandaged shoulder.

  “You should, like, be on American Idol,” Lindsey proclaims.

  “Not until we make it to State,” Madison chimes in with a huge smile. She gives Winston a hug while rising up on her toes in excitement.

  “Listen to that out there,” Ms. Bishop says. “That’s for you,” her gaze rests on me and then spills over to the others, “for all of you. I’m so proud! But hurry, now—the final curtain call!”

  Madison, Lindsey, Winston, and the rest of the cast file out for their bows.

  “Ready?” Derek links his arm through my good one.

  “I suppose so,” I say with as much enthusiasm I can pretend. He billows his cape back and forth as we parade onto center stage for our bow. Thunderous applause. We bow together, and then Derek releases my arm to bow to me. The whole room stands with shouts and whistles. My parents clap wildly in the front row. Richard Ashe, Carly, and Eric stand with them. I bow my head, tired. Perhaps I’ve just overdone it tonight. Or perhaps…this is the crash, the wake-up after the song when my mind is swamped with the knowledge that Luke is not here. That with the release of the curse, the love we had is now only one-sided.

  I force a smile as I raise my face back to the sea of people shouting for another encore. I turn to see Ms. Bishop waving at me. A spotlight drops down in a tight circle, corralling me. I swallow hard to clear my throat and begin.

  The first flickers fall like snow past my line of sight. I glance up as I hold a note. In the stark beam of the spotlight, feathery drops filter down over me, brushing against my skin, catching in my hair, my lashes. I level my gaze and glance around but it’s too bright to see beyond. A soft, summery fragrance descends around me. I inhale long and pause to catch a snowflake in my palm. It doesn’t melt. I capture the flake between my thumb and finger, rubbing at the softness. A petal.

  The words bubble out of me as I watch the individual petals fall, like bluish-white snow. They gather in a ring around me on the stage. Awestruck, my song fades as realization stuns me. The snowflakes, the petals surrounding me, engulfing me in their light, sweet smell…are lilacs.

  With my fade, the sound crew fades the music and raises the lights. The audience stands once more to applaud. But I barely notice as my gaze focuses in on…Luke.

  Luke stands below the stage, peering up at me as the petals swirl on a sudden breeze. It is as if I stand on my rooftop with him below, the very first time we met. Except now, his eyes are deep blue, and clear. A gentle smile replaces the hostile frown, making his face a masterpiece of rugged perfection. His shoulder and arm are trussed up like mine, but in his other hand he holds a bouquet of lilacs.

  He sits on the edge of the stage and swings his legs up to stand in one fluid jump. I can barely inhale as he steps up to me. The swirl of petals rises and settles around us in one last flurry. Luke places the flowers in my good arm and leans in.

  “Hello.” His deep voice, so clear and strong and all Luke, completely cuts off my breath so I can’t reply. He chuckles. “I’m Luke Whitmore. I just moved in down the street. You must be Jule.” I nod at his play and breathe to prevent the stars in my periphery from blocking out the incredible sight of his smile.

  He continues. “You have the most beautiful voice,” he shakes his head, causing the casual waves to graze his forehead. His thumb comes up to glance across my cheek. His caress falls down my jaw line to my hair. “I hear it even now.”

  “Luke,” I whisper and only then notice that the auditorium has grown silent.

  He moves closer. “I thought we should have a new beginning. Except this time, I already know.”

  “Know what?” I whisper the question because I’m again without breath.

  “That I love you.”

  He leans in, giving me only enough time to inhale before he kisses me. Once again the auditorium erupts in applause as Luke pulls me into his arm, crushing the flowers between us. The smell of summer lilacs pulse up to mingle with his wonderful warmth. My heart soars as I feel the silent song of our love grow inside me, silent though louder than the full room, more magical than any enthrallment, stronger than any curse.

  I am flying. And I am not alone.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  We don’t do life alone. Mothers bring us into this world and feed us chicken soup. Fathers put us on their shoulders to see the parade. Teachers show us that the world is so much wider than our assumptions. Friends stand by us no matter what. Mentors kick our tush, tell us what’s wrong with our work, and celebrate our success with chocolate dipped strawberries. Sages make us think that perhaps we don’t know everything. Spouses remind us that no one is flawless, but with love, th
ere is grace and beauty in imperfection. Children remind us that watching an inch worm crawl across a baby leaf is more important than being perfectly on time.

  Mom, Dad, Braden, Skye, Logan, Kyrra, Katherine, Darynda, Ruby Slippered Sisters, Dragonfly Sisters (Jenny, Johanna, Keri), Kevan, Vikki, Christin, Julie, Rose, Virginia, Marcia, Claudia, Deb, Beth, Margaret, Victoria, Sherrie, Liz, Kate, Elaine, Marsha, Kelly, Ann, Barb, and those special people who I remembered right after this went to press.

  To all of you, thank you. You make my writing richer, my decisions wiser, and my life vastly more amazing.

  About the Author

  Heather McCollum is an award winning, historical and YA paranormal romance writer. She earned her B.A. in Biology, much to her English professor’s dismay, and was a 2009 Golden Heart Finalist.

  When she is not picking her teen’s brain for authentic attitude and finding time to write, she is usually found educating women on ovarian cancer symptoms. Ms. McCollum has recently slain the cancer beast and resides with her very own hero and 3 kids in the wilds of suburbia on the mid-Atlantic coast.