Sirenz Back in Fashion

by Charlotte Bennardo

  Whoa. So maybe it was for family, not love, that she’d made a deal. Was she waiting anxiously to see if her brother—possibly strung out by the sound of it—was safe, or had Hades duped her? That wouldn’t be surprising, and it seemed more plausible to me than her having an evil alter-ego. I knew what making deals with Hades was like; there was always some hidden trick, agenda, or loophole, and always in his favor. And always made when people were desperate.

  “I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” I faltered softly. “But I have a friend … Shar. I haven’t seen her in a while. Sounds like it could be the same sort of situation.”

  Not really, but it felt good to say Shar’s name aloud to someone and not have them look at me like I was crazy.

  She laughed mirthlessly, darkly. “I doubt that.”

  “Maybe. But I know what it’s like to have someone you care about just … vanish.” I chose my words carefully. “And I haven’t talked to anyone about it. Until now.”

  In the dimness, I thought I could see her lips twisting into that half-grin.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” I asked gently, hoping for more clues. Her face straightened.

  “It’s been a while. It seems like a century. What about your friend?”

  “It’s still kind of fresh. For me anyway,” I said carefully, not wanting to reveal much more. Telling her I was still in touch with Shar would kind of defeat the purpose.

  Paulina yawned. Then in an effortless, catlike movement, she got up and went over to her side of the room, got into bed, and turned to face the wall. A few seconds later, I heard the light sound of snoring.

  Was she sleeping? I should try it now. Would it be the ultimate act of loyalty to Shar … or a low-down dirty double cross? My hand crept toward my bag and my fingers found the first clip.

  Click!

  Shhhhh!

  “Looking for something?” she mumbled.

  Busted.

  “Just making sure I had my Lit book.”

  “ ’Kay. Night.”

  Not only did she move like a cat, but she slept as lightly as one. I wasn’t even going to try. I’d have to find another way. I closed my eyes and was asleep in seconds.

  The next morning, Paulina was up and dressed, and I hit the showers and then skulked behind my screen; our usual routine.

  We walked the block and a half to the academic building in silence, but something had changed. Paulina seemed more relaxed. She kept the glasses on, but she wasn’t blatantly avoiding everyone that passed. Me? I was only slightly less wretched than the night before. Paulina and I had formed a kind of bond, but what about Shar?

  We went directly to Calculus and took our seats. Laz looked bored, checking off names in his grade book, and Trey and company sat in a huddle chatting and whispering, taking no notice of anyone around them, me included. It was almost as if time had turned back to before the assignment, before I was ever a Siren. I wish.

  I bent down to get my Calc book out of my bag. I unclipped one strap, and then another, then lifted the flap. Golden fleece frothed over the edge like the foaming head on a mug of beer.

  I heard a little gasp behind me. Quickly I stuffed my hand deeper into the bag to retrieve my book, but as it slid out, so did more of the fleece.

  “What is that?” I heard someone whisper.

  I shoved the fleece back into the bag and snapped the clips shut.

  “Is there a problem, Margaret?”

  I lifted my head. Mr. Lazarus was staring me down from the front of the room. He looked annoyed; apparently I’d interrupted his intro to the day’s lesson.

  “Um, no, Mr. Lazarus.” I opened my book and tried to look busy.

  He huffed and turned back to the chalkboard.

  Bringing the fleece to school was turning out to be a mistake, since people were drawn to the damn thing. There had to be some alternative way of doing this—something where either Paulina chose to put it on, or some other way to help Shar escape. But which, and how?

  When time came to change classes, Paulina gave me a little wave and slipped out of the room ahead of everyone else. As I got up to leave, my phone buzzed in my purse. A message from Jeremy:

  Missing u. May B ur roommate will let u out 2 nite?

  XXX. J.

  Before I could answer, Hades’ iPhone went off:

  Am setting aside a cot in the closet for you—looks like you’ll be staying with me soon. Just do it!

  H.

  I closed my eyes in resignation and shoved the iPhone back into my bag. I tapped back to Jeremy:

  Sorry can’t go out. But we r on 4 the concert!

  XXX. Me.

  I couldn’t in good conscience go out and have fun, not with Shar still gone and Hades breathing down my neck. I added:

  & the Spring Fling. Got dress, hope u will like!

  That was good—I had two solid dates set up with him. My not being spontaneously available shouldn’t bother him.

  I ignored Hades’ message.

  Gathering up my things, I made for the door, only to find Trey waiting for me on the other side.

  “Meg,” he started, but I cut him off.

  “Leave me alone,” I said, and didn’t stop walking. Something had to give—Paulina, Jeremy, Shar, Hades, window groupies, or the damned fleece. The fleece would have to go back to the closet, at least for now, so no one else would see it. I didn’t like carrying it around—there were too many opportunities for something to go horribly wrong. I decided to ditch lunch and book it back to the dorm, where I would dump the fleece in the closet and run back for Lit.

  The morning chugged by until the last few minutes of Physics, when I realized that I hadn’t taken any notes in lab—not too smart—or gone to the bathroom—equally bad move. Once class was dismissed I slipped downstairs, past the cafeteria and into the ladies’ room. I shut myself up in a stall and just stayed there. People came and went, chatting, joking, laughing, but in my 3 x 4 cube, I felt blissfully alone.

  I left reluctantly, and only because I knew I had a limited window of time to get the fleece back to home base. When the main section of the bathroom was empty, I took the opportunity to reorganize my bag—books on the bottom, fleece on top so that when I got back to the room, I could stuff the thing in the closet and get out quickly.

  A toilet flushed, a stall opened, and out stepped Kate. She curled her top lip at me but said nothing. Neither did I. I moved in front of my bag to block her view of the contents and tried to finish repacking when I heard another flush, and the bang of another stall door.

  “Oooh, one half of the dark duo,” Alana cooed sarcastically, then her tone softened. “Oh.”

  I’d managed to prevent Kate from seeing the fleece, but Alana got a full view. She stepped up quickly and plucked it from my bag before I could stop her.

  “It’s that jacket !” said Kate, pushing me aside.

  Alana held up the fleece. A gentle shake and the matting and bunching from being cooped up in my bag disappeared. It almost looked alive.

  Someone I didn’t know came into the bathroom and immediately joined them. “Alana, where did you get that?”

  “Hey, that’s mine,” I said, but everyone ignored me.

  “I think it’ll fit,” said Alana, starting to swing it around her shoulders, but Kate grabbed hold of an end and pulled.

  “I saw it first.” Kate tried to tug it away.

  “Can I try it after you?” asked the girl who’d just come in.

  I heard voices outside; more girls were coming into the bathroom. Forcing my hand into their midst, I clutched the fleece and yanked, but to no avail. Six hands—not including mine—were latched clawlike onto it, and they weren’t letting go. The only good thing was that no one could put it on.

  A wicked idea came to m
e. I watched the tug of war for a moment, and then with more glee than I should’ve taken, I stomped on Alana’s foot. She howled and let go of the fleece.

  “Why’d you do that?” She turned to Kate and poked her on the shoulder with a perfectly manicured finger.

  Kate let go to slap Alana’s hand away. “I didn’t do anything!”

  In shock, the other girl let go.

  This was exactly what I needed—a catfight that made everyone in the bathroom forget the fleece. I grasped it with both hands and pulled it to me, only to stagger backwards with its sudden weight—it felt like one of those lead x-ray aprons they put over patients in the dentist’s office. Stumbling toward the door with my prize, I rolled it up and tucked it under my jacket before grabbing my bag and bolting out the door.

  That was close. Too close!

  I ran down the hall, as far away from the cafeteria as I could, and kept moving until I got to a nook that was dark and silent. Stopping, I pulled out the fleece and popped it on top of my books, then slapped the flap of the bag over it. I clicked the straps and pulled them tight. Done. I wanted to kick myself. I’d lost my chance at getting the fleece back to the dorm—why hadn’t I just gone straight there? As I hoisted the bag over my shoulder, it felt incredibly light. How could that be? I had my Calc and Social Studies books in there, and the fleece too.

  The fleece.

  I didn’t want to open the bag to check, but I had the sinking feeling I just sent my textbooks to Tartarus. At least Shar could use them to catch up; I’d have to borrow Paulina’s and figure out how I was going to pay for replacements. Hades owed me.

  Wearily I made my way to Lit—thank God I’d taken that book out to make room for the damned fleece—and finding my chair, sank down into it and put my head on my desk.

  I didn’t need to look to see if Paulina was sitting next to me; of course she was there. I felt her warm, heavy hand on my shoulder.

  Without lifting my head, I rolled it on the desk so that I faced her. She’d taken her glasses off and was looking me square in the face, at close range—the first time she’d ever done that. Her steely gray eyes were wide with concern.

  For me.

  If she had something to hide I’d be able to see it, I thought. But Paulina’s eyes were … kind, yet shrewd.

  “Are you okay?” she asked gently, squeezing my arm.

  I wanted to cry.

  No, I’m not okay. My best friend is stuck in the Underworld and the only I way I can get her back is to send you to take her place. At first you were really annoying and I was ready to do it, so long as I didn’t think about it too much, but now …

  I shook my head. “I’m just having the world’s crappiest day.”

  She flashed her lopsided grin. “You’re stressed out. I know something that’ll fix that.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her as she pulled her cell out of her back pocket and started tapping in a text. About a second later the phone blipped and a grin spread over her face as she read the reply.

  “Yes!” she hissed, and slid the phone back into her jeans pocket. “We’re going to see D’On as soon as school lets out.”

  We are?

  “Who’s D’On? He’s not some sort of … dealer, is he?” I whispered before I could stop myself. Not the best thing to say to someone who’s brother is MIA and probably mixed up with the “wrong people.” But Paulina just shook her head and laughed.

  “Trust me.”

  Hadn’t I heard that before?

  “Who is he? What is he?” I demanded, intrigued in spite of myself. Her own private chef? Personal trainer?

  “You’ll see,” she said mischievously as class started. She promptly opened her book and didn’t take her eyes off it until the bell rang.

  Paulina magically appeared outside the door of my last class of the day. She refused to answer any of my questions about where we were going. She pulled me through the halls, into the street, and down into the subway. Back up into the street and then across avenue after avenue, I followed like her shadow, almost like she’d followed me right after we first met. After about half an hour, we stood in front of a squat, dingy building on Avenue A. She stepped up to the door and pressed one of the six intercom buttons.

  A cheerful voice crackled out, “Come on up, P!”

  The door buzzed and she pushed inside. Putting her foot on the first step, she turned to me with a sly grin. “He’s on the top floor,” she said, and started bounding up steps two at a time.

  Fantastic. A six-floor walk-up with no elevator. I won’t be stressed out when I get to the top, because I’ll have passed out! I clomped up the worn, seemingly endless steep steps. Paulina waited for me at each landing, where I stopped to pant.

  “Nearly there,” she encouraged. As I climbed, I wondered how Paulina—who wasn’t a city native according to Mr. Elwood—knew about this obscure little place, whatever it was, and this D’On, whoever he was.

  When I got to the last step, I doubled over.

  “Mmm hhhmm.”

  I looked up, and startling violet eyes stared back at me.

  “You weren’t kiddin’, P. This one needs to unhinge.” A man with warm amber skin, a sinewy tall frame, and a mass of dreadlocks thrust out a strong-looking hand. “This way, baby. You spend some time here and you’ll feel like a whole new person.”

  He pulled me into a brightly lit room. One wall was all windows, like our old Siren apartment. All the others were mirrored. Everywhere I looked, there I was. The tap of our shoes echoed on the pale wood of the highly polished floor.

  “It’s a dance studio,” I said looking around, trying not to catch my reflection.

  D’ On threw his head back and laughed. “She is smart !”

  I turned to Paulina. “You brought me to a dance studio? For what?”

  “Whenever things get to be too much, I come here,” she said, shrugging off her jacket. “A couple of hours with D and I’m good to go.”

  “You know it, P,” D’On quipped, and handed me a bottle of water, which I nearly snatched out of his hand; I was hot, out of breath, and so thirsty.

  “I don’t dance,” I protested, taking a swig. And then another. And another. It was cold and had a heady, fruity flavor, probably one of those vitamin-infused things.

  “Everyone can dance—you just gotta let go,” D’On crooned, taking the now-empty bottle from my hand and tossing it aside. He hadn’t let go of me and he was drawing me farther into the room, walking backwards in sync to music that started from somewhere, or maybe had been playing when we first came in. I was too taken aback and busy trying to catch my breath to remember, but I suddenly realized I wasn’t tired anymore, or huffing and puffing.

  “See, you doin’ it!” he cried.

  I looked down at my feet, which were like D’On’s, moving in time to the music. A look in the mirror showed that all of me was moving. My body jerked to a stop and I blushed, feeling incredibly silly, until I saw Paulina in the mirror.

  She bumped and ground, her legs, arms, torso, and head jerking like badly connected train cars. I stifled a giggle, but as she kept dancing, the moves became smoother, more fluid. She twisted, writhed, and stomped in rhythm.

  “That’s the way, P!” D’On shouted, letting me go to clap his hands to a new song that started up.

  I gasped. In the mirror I saw all three of us doing the same moves in tandem—D’On perfectly, Paulina slightly less so, and me, a bit better than I thought ever possible.

  “Yeah, girlfriend, you got it, you got it!” D’On sang along with the music. “Let go!”

  Let go let go let go …

  … of your inhibitions …

  … of Hades …

  … of your worries …

  … of the fleece …

  … of any guilt …


  There was just the three of us and the music, the thump of bass, the sparkle of synth and chimes, and endless enticing melodies. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I stood in between D’On and Paulina, all of us stomping, waving arms, shaking.

  Song after song played; we danced and danced. I shed most of what I was wearing until I was down to leggings, a tank top and my sneakers. Paulina wore a loose shirt and skinny jeans, her muscular arms and legs working it. As a song wound down and ended abruptly with the crash of cymbals, I lifted my head, ready to slide into the next move. I was facing the wall of windows—it was dark.

  Shar!

  “Oh my God, what time is it?” I screeched, skidding over to where my bag and clothes lay in a heap by the door. As if in slow motion, I found my pocket watch: it was 6:32.

  I looked up, panic-stricken, and frantically gathered up my things. “Thanks so much for this, but I have to go—”

  Paulina looked at me, puzzled, and started to move toward me, but D’On stopped her.

  “Meet you back at the dorm!” I called, not looking back. I raced down the steps, nearly tripping and killing myself at least twice. Out in the street, the chill air slapped me as I glanced around helplessly; it’d taken us a half an hour to get here, so it would take close to that for me to get to Pandora’s. I panted in frustration. Every second I stood there was a second wasted.

  I bolted for the subway and practically tumbled down the steps—there was no time to find or buy a metro card. I hopped the stall, not bothering to be subtle, ignoring the indignant shouts behind me. A train pulled into the station and I got on it, not having the luxury of caring about where it was going. Refusing to meet the eyes of anyone in the car, I listened for the announcements. The train was going uptown. It was an express. Luck! Luck! Luck! I just might make it.

  At 6:55, the car doors whooshed open at 56th, only one street away from Pandora’s. Out and up the steps I bounded. That dance class loosened me up if nothing else, I thought, reaching the street and taking off down the block.

  I got to the corner and started weaving through the people on the street, but stopped when I saw a group standing in front of the window, bigger than the one that had gathered around me last time.