Dean was sleeping again, though miraculously he had regained consciousness during the night. The doctors were optimistic that the brain damage was not as severe as they had originally suspected. Especially since his first question was whether or not he had totaled the new bike.
Felix sat at his cousin’s bedside, enjoying the solitude. He had sent everyone home to shower and rest, assuring his family that he could man the ship for a few hours. Looking down at his cousin, tubes snaking in and out of him, he couldn’t help but wish that Portia was there with him. Seeing Dean like this had forced him to gain some perspective. After all, it wasn’t life or death with her—even though her performance had felt like a deadly blow.
But now he had to deal with the realities of the situation. And the truth was, her new voice should make no difference to him since he couldn’t hear her anyway. A true friend would just be happy for her. And that is all he was. Her friend. If he was ever going to move on, he needed to accept once and for all that he and Portia were just friends.
Right?
“Stop looking so morbid,” Dean had garnered all his strength to sign the words to his pensive cousin. The boy’s hands were still slow to follow the instructions of his brain—but at least they followed, which was more than could be said for his legs.
Felix attempted a weak smile but couldn’t hide his worry, “Hey, you’re up. Thank God. I was worried that you slipped back into a—well, never mind.”
“No—just tired.” He spoke the words now that Felix was looking at him. “These must be some serious drugs they have me on…could be addictive.” He attempted a weak smile, which Felix didn’t return.
“Listen, Dean-o, you gotta get out of here. Do you hear me? You gotta stay focused on walking out of here.”
“I don’t know, man. That’s feeling like a whole lot of pressure.” His cousin looked aged and defeated.
“Yeah, well, pressure never seemed to bother you when you were riding the crest of like a forty-foot wave or boarding out of bounds with ski patrol after you.”
His cousin smiled, reaching his hands down to his inert legs.
“Anyway, let’s change the subject,” Felix suggested. “That girl, Meadow, was here this morning—what a name—I think she’s hot for you…”
Felix waited for a response while Dean seemed to be sorting out his thoughts. “Felix, why are you still here?”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I mean, I wasn’t sleeping the whole time, man. Just too tired to open my eyes…I heard everything you said. About Portia. So why are you still here?”
“You must have been dreaming, Dean-o…Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“It wasn’t a dream. I
heard
you. You gotta be more careful, you know. Just because you are deaf, you can’t assume that every drugged-up potential paraplegic is also. I know what you admitted to me.
You
know what you admitted to me.” Dean had lifted his head to enunciate his words but then let it fall back to the pillow.
Felix raised the head of the bed with the button so that his cousin wouldn’t have to strain himself.
“Thanks, that’s better. Shit, I can’t even keep my head up.”
Felix didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. What could he say to his cousin when everything was still so uncertain?
“Hey, listen up, dumbass,” Dean decided to break the silence on his own, weakly signing the words he was speaking, “I’m gonna make you a deal, OK?”
Felix inched closer, relieved that his cousin was swearing again. Dean was famous for his toilet mouth.
“OK, I’m listening, well, lip reading…and, by the way, you could use some mouthwash.”
Dean ignored the dig. “You go back and get her, and I will walk out of here on my own two feet.” He followed up the verbal contract with a weak smile, but Felix recognized the fear in his cousin’s eyes.
“I think you might be getting the raw end here, buddy.” Felix signed back. He couldn’t bear to speak the words aloud. The doctors had cautioned the family to be encouraging but not to offer any false hope.
“With that mug? I don’t think so. I’ll probably be running a marathon before she even gives you the time of day.”
They laughed.
The Fein boys who shared the same birthday, a passion for sports, a love of spicy food, an obsession with
Harry Potter
, an insistence that Coca-Cola could only be drunk from a glass bottle—they laughed.
If they hadn’t laughed, they would have cried.
And laughing just seemed far preferable.
♪
Portia sat on her bed and stared at her “homework.” How she wished she had the simple threat of a calculus test looming over her. Instead she was struggling through the calligraphed list, written with a quill no less, that had her figuring new methods of vocal manipulation in her every waking moment. Upon reviewing it, she still wasn’t sure how any of the exercises would have helped out in the music room a few days ago, but since then she had to admit that the training had come in handy…
Erase a Memory
:
Well, she could certainly cross that one off the list. She thought back on how easy it had been to convince Max that they had never even been to the music room, let alone shared in a romantic duet. The guilt she felt at deceiving him paled in comparison to the shame brought on by her fitful behavior at the piano. At least her powers were able to help out in some way.
Beg Forgiveness Where Forgiveness is Undeserved
:
Check. Her first instinct here had been Felix, but since he was still away, not to mention the fact that he wouldn’t have been able to hear her anyway, she turned instead to Charlotte. Her friend had proved a tough nut to crack after Portia had accused her in front of everybody of being jealous. She wouldn’t meet Portia’s eyes and continued to chip away at her nail polish while Portia apologized over and over again. Finally Portia took a chance with “CHARLOTTE, YOU WILL FORGIVE ME.” An awkward moment had ensued, and then Charlotte broke out into a smile and asked Portia if she wanted to see the new Ryan Gosling movie that night. Portia was relieved at having been forgiven but vowed to herself to try to be more careful in front of Charlotte in the future.
Infuse Love and Passion into a Moment
:
She preferred not to think of that one for fear that she might throw up. She had wracked her brain for a way to do this without landing in dangerous territory. Then, when she was helping Helena prepare dinner one night, she remembered the book
Like Water for Chocolate
and sang corny love songs with her mother while they sliced and diced. By the time her parents were finished with the succulent meal, Portia literally had to tell them to “get a room” and, to her sheer horror, they did, leaving her to clean up the aphrodisiacal leftovers. Eeww…
Learn to Calm Yourself with Voice Alone
:
This one was a work in progress. When Leucosia had told her that her distorted reflection was actually a shape-shifter who was aiding and abetting her sisters, she would have done anything to have mastered this skill. The conversation had been so out of the realm of reality that she had half expected Professor Dumbledore to walk in and toss her an expelliarmus charm.
“So this guy can change into anything he wants—”
“Anything living,” Leucosia had interrupted matter-of-factly. “He can’t transform into an inanimate object.”
“Oh—well, that makes me feel a lot better then.” She couldn’t help her sarcasm, which incidentally was also a skill listed in her homework.
Ease Up on the Sarcasm!
But she suspected that Leucosia had just snuck that one in there self-servingly.
“Portia, Ares has been after Proteus for as long as I can remember. He will surely help us defeat him. We just have to have patience.”
That was one thing that no amount of homework could help her acquire.
“Yeah, well, about that. Can you explain to me why exactly we have to wait three whole weeks to execute a plan? I’m already starting to have less time in between the, um, bad moments.”
Leucosia had then explained all of the various reasons why the anniversary of her sisters’ death would be the optimal date to attack. “Until then, Portia, you must remember that my sisters cannot truly control you—they can only influence you. They lost the powers of their Sirenhood at the very moment they lost their lives…”
None of it had helped to calm her. And though she tried speaking aloud to herself, singing, and even yogic chanting, she still could not calm herself with her voice alone.
She knew that there was one thing that could calm her. Had always calmed her. But Felix had kept their communication to a minimum while he was with Dean.
She knew she was being selfish, that her problems paled to Dean Fein’s, who might never walk again. But still she checked her phone and e-mail constantly for signs of her elusive best friend. And then finally, late one night, he had texted her.
“Am boarding plane in a few. I’m coming home to straighten things out. Hope you’re up for it.”
She was a little confused by the comment. Why wouldn’t she be up for having her best friend back? Up for resuming some semblance of normalcy? Of course she was up for it.
“Of course I am :)”
“Good,” Felix had written back.
Portia was so relieved that he didn’t bring up the voice thing that she just sent him an XO to conclude the text exchange.
Looking back at the homework list, she had to admit that though she had not used her voice, just knowing Felix was coming back had brought her an immeasurable dose of calm.
Felix and Wendy snuck in a quick Starbucks the next morning before school.
“Why’d you take the red-eye last night? Dad wouldn’t have cared if you missed another day of school.” She eyed him suspiciously.
“What?”
“Did you use more of that gel I left you?” She reached out to touch his hair. “You did! What the hell, Felix? Trying to look good for Gabrielle Parker or something?”
Felix busied himself by sprinkling some cinnamon onto his latte, prompting Wendy to practically shove her signing hands up in his face.
“What are you not telling me?”
He was forced to stop fussing with the condiments and look at his sister full-on.
“Is it Gabrielle? I mean, I didn’t peg her to be ‘the one’ for you, Felix, but if she is and you came back to—”
But Felix was shaking his head. “It’s not Gabrielle, Wen. Stop, OK? There’s nothing going on.”
But she would not be deterred. “Wait a second. Hold up, here. Is it Portia?”
At the mention of her name, Felix went back for the mocha powder.
“Felix, you never add mocha. Look at me.”
He turned toward her, unable to mask his guilt.
“I don’t believe it—it is Portia! Of course it is. You took the red-eye back for her. Are you, like, finally going to declare your love to her or something? Not that it needs declaration. I mean, we all kind of knew it all along.”
“I don’t think this is skim,” Felix tried dodging this inquisition. “Does this look like a skim latte to you?”
“Felix, I’m talking to you!”
“And I can’t hear you—remember?”
She grabbed the collar of his shirt with her fists, having to stretch to her tippy toes to reach it.
“Read my lips, Felix—”
“What? No new taxes? So now you’re running for President?”
Wendy’s face reddened with anger, and finally Felix put his cup down and eased her hands off his collar.
“OK, Wen, you got me. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna get me the girl.”
“What do you mean? What made you decide? Well, except that I’ve been telling you for years that you guys were literally born to be together…”
“I don’t know,” he pilfered a couple of extra Splendas, preferring his coffee to taste like a milkshake. “Something Dean-o said, maybe. Or just seeing him like that. Or maybe that it’s just time, you know? I mean, I’m not looking too bad these days, right? Especially with all that hair crap you’ve been shoving my way—”
Wendy looped her arm through his when they had finally finished doctoring up their drinks. As they headed out of Starbucks, latte and frappuccino in hand, she wasn’t even sure why she bothered saying, “Gabrielle Parker’s gonna be crushed.”
Even if her brother had not been deaf, he was way past hearing the obvious.
♪
But forasmuch confidence as he felt with Wendy, Felix was not quite so sure of himself a half hour later when he returned to RPA and found that the entire male population of the school was suffering from “Portia Fever.”
He had assumed he’d just find her hanging around their lockers—most likely in the company of Max Hunter, for whom he had already prepared a dignified apology for everything that happened at the café. Instead a small throng of boys was waiting for a chance to scribble something on Portia’s overcrowded whiteboard. And this throng actually included some guys on the football team, a species of human that Portia would never have deigned to befriend.
Would she?
He spotted Charlotte on the periphery, an equal measure of confusion on her face. In the week and a half he had been away, Felix had to admit that Charlotte had really begun to morph. Her face was no longer camouflaged by harsh streaks of makeup, and she was actually wearing an RPA button-down shirt rather than her trademark turtleneck. She looked like she had even put on some much-needed weight, and Felix had to admit that Portia’s neighbor was actually, well, pretty.
“Hi, Charlotte, how’s it going?”
She responded with a tilt of her head in the direction of Portia’s locker.
“I guess you didn’t hear about the new RPA rage while you were in Canada, huh? How’s your cousin, by the way?”
“He’s doing OK, thanks. What rage?”
“I don’t know. It’s like ever since that night Portia sang at the café—oh, sorry…”
“It’s OK, Charlotte. I was there. I saw what happened.”
“Right, so…anyway, I don’t know. Something is going on with her. I mean, sometimes she complains to us about feeling suffocated by all the boys, but other times you can tell she loves every minute of it.” Charlotte looked a bit uncomfortable at ratting out her friend. Felix put a reassuring arm on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing.”
When she finally did show up, Portia approached Felix, ignoring all the other boys and offering him a running hug. He welcomed the embrace with notable enthusiasm, determined to start laying the groundwork immediately for the turn he hoped their friendship could now take.
“Where’s Max?” He couldn’t believe those were the first words that spilled out of his mouth and quickly followed them up with, “I wanted to apologize to him for the other night.”
An oddness settled on the moment suddenly, a nonchalance on Portia’s part that left Felix slightly uncomfortable.
“Oh, he doesn’t like to come around when all the guys show up in the morning. He usually waits for them to clear out.”
Felix decided, against his better judgment, to delve.
“What do you mean,
when
they show up?” He signed out the letters to the definitive word. “Is this some kind of new daily routine for you? Show up to school and have to ward off a group of guys before first period?” He tried sounding indifferent, but something about the way she was so matter-of-fact about the situation was unnerving. “I mean, Daniel Becker?” he continued, not able to control himself. “Come on, Portia, you don’t even know what a quarterback is—”
And then he caught a flash of something in her eyes that left him cold. What was it? Arrogance? Presumption?
“All that matters, Felix, is that Daniel Becker knows who I am…”
No, it wasn’t just arrogance. It was blatant narcissism.
He spotted the light on the bell and excused himself to class, grateful that they weren’t in first period together. Something about her felt different. He needed some time to figure out what it was.
♪
Later that afternoon Felix’s confusion was stretched further when Portia told him that she got an “A” on her makeup chem quiz, even though she had left half of it blank.
“I just kind of told Mr. Rooney that it would sure be nice if I could just get an A. And that’s all it took. He gave me an ‘A.’ They should add that to my homework list—‘get teachers to give you perfect grades…’ ”
“Who’s ‘they’? What homework list?”
But just as suddenly as she had divulged this bizarre tidbit, she begged off to the nurse’s office, claiming a headache.
He had spotted Max in the hallway a few minutes later, and though he really wasn’t in the mood to make nice, considering how differently this day was going than how he had expected, he approached the guy, who still bore some scrapes from Felix’s angry fists.
“Hey.”
“Hey, how’s your cousin?” Max asked. He wasn’t doing the overenunciating thing this time, which Felix appreciated. In fact, Felix couldn’t help but notice that Max looked slightly dejected.
“Listen, man, I want to apologize for the other night—”
“Don’t bother. It was bound to happen, right, mate? I’m just not sure why we’re all trying to win the same prize. I mean, I guess, I get you and me. But all these guys?”
“Yeah, what the hell is going on with that? She’s never—” But just then Felix was startled out of his thought by a kiss on his cheek. He turned to see Gabrielle.
“H-i, b-a-b-e.” She signed out the letters with fingers whose nails were painted a joyous shade of pink. She was so clearly proud of having mastered the sign language alphabet.
Felix smiled at the simplicity of her.
“Hey, Gabs, you know Max, right?”
“Of course,” she answered, oblivious to the fact that maybe she shouldn’t have interrupted the boys who had just recently tried to kill each other. “I’m glad you guys made up. Now maybe we can double date, right? I mean, Max, Portia is your girlfriend, right?”
Max hesitated. “Yes, Gabrielle, she is.” He started to walk away and then turned around and added a meek “I think.”
♪
Felix never got a chance to talk to Portia that day and the next morning when he got to school, he found her standing against her locker, locked in conversation with Daniel Becker. All the hair flipping and eyelash batting that they had so often made fun of were suddenly part of her own repertoire. Coupled with the distastefully short hemline of her skirt, he couldn’t help but wonder just what the hell had gotten into her.
“So tell me what exactly the quarterback does…” Reading her lips, he would have sworn he misinterpreted.
When Max entered the picture, he threw a disapproving glance her way but then just continued on to his own locker. Portia flashed him a sardonic grin and, rather than putting the brakes on, she actually moved in closer to Becker. Flirting shamelessly.
Felix actually felt bad for Max. “Hey, dude,” he made his way over to his nemesis. “Did you guys have a fight last night or something?”
“No, I have no idea what the hell is going on. Everything has been going great with us.” And then remembering who he was talking to, “Um, you know, things are pretty good.”
Not exactly soothing words for Felix to have to take in, but he had brought it up after all.
“Why don’t you say something to her?”
“That’s the weird thing,” Max looked up helplessly. Felix registered, not without a degree of satisfaction, that he was a good two or three inches taller than him. “I want to go over there and beat the shit out of that Becker kid. I know I can take him. But I literally can’t move. It’s like I’m paralyzed.”
Felix was underwhelmed by Max’s lack of bravado. Why the hell was everybody pussyfooting around Portia like this all of a sudden? He decided to take matters into his own hands.
“Portia, can I talk to you for a second?” he grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out of Daniel Becker’s clutches.
“What the hell is going on with you, Portia? You’re acting like a tramp.”
“A ‘tramp’? Is that the best you can come up with, Felix?” she challenged him.
“I was trying to be delicate. Didn’t you see Max standing right there? You know I’m not the biggest fan of the guy, but come on.”
In response, Portia did something that Felix interpreted as laughing.
“Max is a big boy, Felix. I mean, come on—world traveler, mother disappeared, father locked up in a loony bin. I think his skin is thick enough to handle a few games d’amour.”
Felix could not believe what was coming out of her mouth. It was like a demon had taken her over. He was about to tell her just that when suddenly Ms. Leucosia, the school nurse, of all people, interrupted their conversation.
“Portia, can I see you in my office, please?”
“Now, Leucosia?” He was surprised at Portia’s familiarity with the nurse. He, too, had known her for years, but he would never have dreamt of dropping the “Ms.” in front of her name.
“Yes, right now.”
“Sorry, Felix.” Portia said. “I’m just in such high demand.” She walked off in the direction of the nurse’s office. Felix noticed that her gait had transformed from light and sporty to seductive and deliberate.
He looked around and found a thousand pairs of male eyes noticing the exact same thing.
♪
As they walked to her office, Leucosia noticed every male head turn to get a good look at Portia. Things were worse than she had feared. There was a spring in Portia’s step that she hadn’t seen before, a swing of the hips that was less than subtle.
As they approached her office, the young Siren started to come down from the high. She quickly pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and tugged her skirt down a little.
Leucosia closed the door to her office and instructed Portia to sit down.
Now.
“Portia, things are not looking good…The way you’ve been acting—like a burlesque performer—well, it seems my sisters have already wormed their way under your skin.”
Portia jumped up and started pacing nervously. “I can’t control it, Leucosia. Part of me wishes I could just fade back into the woodwork. But the other part of me feels like I’m on fire. Like, in a good way. And then it’s like my mouth has its own motor, and I don’t have the key to shut it off. I mean, the look on Max’s face before, when I was flirting with what’s-his-name, should have broken my heart into a million pieces. Instead, it—it thrilled me. Why didn’t he say anything? Try to stop me?”
Leucosia sat her back down. “You must stop pacing—you’re making me dizzy. Max doesn’t say anything to you, Portia, because he is afraid to upset you. He is so smitten with you that the thought of losing you is like losing his ability to breathe. He would literally let you walk all over him right now.”
And then Leucosia saw it. The evil. Portia revealed a smile, just for an instant, that bore an uncanny resemblance to the ones her sisters would flash after their killing sprees. Just as quickly, it was gone.
“What?” Portia asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost, Leucosia.”
“I believe I did.” The always-composed Leucosia was visibly shaken.
“Leucosia, you’re freaking me out. Come on, think. You must have some other tricks up your sleeve that can help smooth out these ‘mood swings’ of mine.”
But Leucosia was tapped out. After seeing the evil in her charge’s face, she felt an overwhelming fatigue the likes of which she had not felt since the days when she had to trail her sisters on their killing sprees.
“I’m afraid my sleeves are empty, Portia.”
“Well, then, I don’t have a choice. I think I’m going to tell Felix.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, landing with a solid dismount. Clearly she had rehearsed this declaration and was determined to see it realized.
The announcement shook Leucosia out of her stupor.
“No, Portia. You can’t. You just can’t.”