The Accidental Siren (9 page)

The foyer door opened and slammed. I cupped
my mouth, huffed my breath–
not too bad!–
then ran to meet
them at the top of the stairs. Mom was talking but I didn’t care;
my attention was with Mara.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi,” she replied in that delectable voice
I’d been savoring for days. Her irises mirrored her cute tan dress.
Screen-print daisies rose from the hem and twirled her ankles as
she sauntered up the stairs. I studied her expression for any sign
of hatred or thankfulness, but
in a heartbeat
I had
forgotten my mission, abandoned for the midnight center of her
perfect eye.

Before I could utter a better greeting, Mom
swept Mara into a tour of the parlor, bedrooms and library. They
plopped her suitcase on Livy’s second twin bed, then ended the tour
in the kitchen with plans to see the ballroom after dinner.

Mom’s place settings were fancier than usual
for a Friday night. She removed the crystal from the buffet and
adorned the table with forest-green place mats that matched the
seat cushions and walls. “Sorry about the mess,” she said and
offered Mara a chair between Bobby and herself.

“Your home is beautiful, Mrs. Parker,” said
the girl, more somber than I expected from the nymph who once
scurried a homemade rope. “Is it a real castle?”

Dad sat at the head of the table, then opened
the pizza boxes. Jake lunged for the first piece of plain
cheese.

“How rude,” Livy muttered and took her own
slice.

“The castle is totally real,” I replied (my
first words to Mara since “Hey” at the top of the steps). “It’s
real old too. It was built eighty years ago by a guy named John
Alabaster Rhodes.”

“Cool,” she said, then looked at me and
smiled.

I maintained my scholarly façade. Inside, I
was beaming.

Dad served a slice of supreme to Jake, then
tore off the biggest pieces and slid them on my plate. “Two slices
of supreme for the famous director.”

“Just one,” I said, then pulled them apart
and placed the larger piece back in the box.

Dad and Mom exchanged a glance; for the first
time, I knew what it meant.

“So Mara,” Mom said, “what do you do for
fun?”

She scanned our faces. “Well, I really like
school. I miss it a lot.”

“I’m sure you do. A year without friends is a
long time.”

“Sometimes I see kids at church.”

Livy wrinkled her nose. “Church sounds lame.”
She poured herself Diet Coke from a two-liter, then looked to Mara,
“You want pop, apple juice, milk or water? Friday night is kid’s
choice.”

“Water, please.” Mara extended her crystal
glass and Livy filled it from the pitcher. “Thanks.”

Mom looked at Livy. “Mara brought some
special candles with her. I told her we could find a table to
display them on in your room.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to burn candles
in our rooms,” Livy said.

“Well, as much as it breaks a mother’s heart,
my children are growing up. You’re allowed to burn candles, but if
I see one lit when you’re in another room... dishes for a
week.”

Livy nodded. “Sweet.”

“I have a bronze statue of St. Michael too.”
Mara added, then flinched suddenly and nearly knocked over her
glass.

Before I could ask what happened, Livy cut me
off. “Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?”

Mara nodded. “Sure.”

“James’ll be playing pogs with Whitney or
working on his stupid movie–”

“I don’t play with pogs!” I blurted. “I gave
half my collection to Sean Bullard! You can ask anybody!”

Livy looked at me like I was three, then
slowly turned back to Mara. “
Anyway
... I’ll introduce you to
Kimmy and Haley tomorrow morning. Kimmy’s grandma bought her a
tie-dye set for her birthday, and Haley’s bringing her bedazzler
and some t-shirts.”

Mara’s smile was genuine.

I tried not to whine. “I was gonna show her
the woods tomorrow!”

Livy rolled her eyes. “I thought your woods
were a ‘girl-free zone?’”

“Just girls who are dumb enough to get poison
ivy,” I snapped.

“Whatever,
doofus
.” She looked at
Mara. “For real, you don’t wanna go in those woods.”

Mara washed down a bite of pizza with water.
“We had trees behind my house too, but I never really–”

“Your hair’s wicked cute,” Livy said. “I’d do
anything to have hair that soft.”

“Thanks.”

Mom patted Livy’s hand. “When Livy was a
little girl–”

“Aw, Mom,” she groaned. “Not this story!”

“–all of her friends had either blonde or
light-brown hair, but hers was so coarse and nappy that we had to
get it professionally braided or she’d look like a member of the
Jackson Five.”

Mara laughed.

“And braids are expensive! So whenever I gave
her a bath I would tell her, ‘Olivia Jean, do not take out those
braids!’”

“For real,” Livy said, “I was like,
four.”

“But if I ever left her alone for more than a
minute, I’d come back to a pile of rubber bands on the rug and the
braids would be gone. I watched her once from the doorway. She had
conditioner in her palms, then dunked her whole head under water
and slowly pulled her fingers through her hair. She noticed me
watching. And all she said was,
‘It feels like silk, Mom.’
”
She squeezed Livy’s hand. “How could I be mad at that?”

“That’s a great story,” Mara said.

I leaned forward. “One time, I convinced Livy
that her real Dad was the guy from Reading Rainbow.”

“James,” Mom said with a clear undertone of
watch it mister.

Livy rolled her eyes. “Such a nerd.”

“Hey,” I said, poking my sister in the side.
“Did you talk to Ryan yet?”

She glanced around the table sheepishly. “No,
James, I didn’t talk to Ryan.”

“Will you ask him soon. Please? For me?”

“He doesn’t wanna be in your little-kid
movie. He’s too mature.”

“But I need an evil prince. You know that
Whit can’t sword fight!”

“Ryan’s in high school now. It’s not gonna
happen.”

“Pleeease! If he does it,” I finished in a
sing-song voice, “you’ll get to do his maaakeup!”

She kicked my shin under the table.

I looked at Mara and leaned forward. “Livy’s
in love with Ryan Brosh.”

“Am not!”

“They passed notes back and forth in Algebra
last year. He’s a whole grade older, but he got held back in
math.”

“Uhg!” Livy said. “You’re such a baby!”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“Good comeback,
dork
. Mom!”

“James...” Mom said, “Cool it.”

I snickered and looked to Mara for a
reaction, but she was silent, unfocused, circling her index finger
around the rim of her glass.

“Hey Mara,” Livy said, “Do you use face
cream?”

“I–”

“You do, I can totally tell. Your skin is
seriously gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

She reached across the table and grabbed
Mara’s hand. “I can’t believe how soft you feel–”

“
Olivia Jean,”
Mom said. “Pass the
apple juice, please?”

“Ugh.” She released Mara’s hand, grabbed the
juice and unscrewed the cap. “I was just telling our guest that I
like her makeup.”

Bobby piped up. “If you like it so much, why
don’t you marry it?”

Mom held out her glass as Livy poured the
juice. “Have you ever been to the Grand Harbor Art Show, Mara?”

“No, Ma’am. What is it?” (She flinched again
but no one seemed to notice.)

“James will be showing his movie there.”

I nodded. “It’s gonna be sweet! It’s a
contest and anyone can enter. It’s part of The Lakeshore
Celebration. Have you heard of it? There’s an art show, a firework
display, a farmer’s market, and a huge carnival with elephant
ears–”

“Oh, I’ve seen that!” Mara said. “With the
colored lights and all the kids?”

Livy and I looked at each other. “A
carnival,” I repeated. “Right.”

“We drove past it last year. It looked like
so much fun. Are we... allowed to go?”

“Of course,” I said. “We can buy a wristband
that’ll get us on every ride for the whole night. But Lakeshore
Celebration isn’t ‘til the end of August.”

“James,” Mom said, “maybe Mara would like to
help with your fairytale.”

“It’s not a fairytale,
Mother
... it’s
just a movie.”

“Do you like to act, Mara?” she asked.

“Oh!” I said before the girl could reply,
“Mara was in a radio commercial for Great Lakes Family Diner!”

“Really?” Livy asked.

“Whoa!” Jake said.

“Hey Mara, tell ‘em what you say!”

Her eyes flicked from person to person. “I
don’t–”

“Say your line!” I implored. “You know,
Great Lakes–
”

The twins chimed in,
“Faaaaamily
Diner!”

Her cheeks flushed. “I really don’t–”

“Pleeease? Come on!”

“
James!”
Mom said. “If Mara doesn’t
want to do it, she doesn’t have to.”

“It’s not a big deal!” I said. “Mara, come
on. Just show ‘em how you–”

“
James Parker!”
Mom glared at me, head
cocked in apparent disbelief. “What has gotten into you kids?”

Mara flinched again and Bobby giggled. The
table fell silent as the children avoided Mama Bear’s burning
gaze.

“I like to act,” Mara said quietly. “If you
need help... I think it’d be fun.”

I nodded and chewed my pizza with a satisfied
smirk. “Cool.”

With the tension relieved, Livy, Mara and Mom
began discussing the intricacies of the new living situation.

The pizza box was whispering my name, so I
pushed away my plate and forced my attention on Dad. He was
unusually quiet since Mara’s arrival. He was staring at her.

Mara flinched again and cut my musings short.
This time, her knee thunked the table and everybody noticed.

“Are you okay, hon?” Mom asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Parker,” she said, then cleared
her throat. “I think Bobby just likes pinching the new kid.”

Bobby’s eyes lit up like a frightened pinball
machine. “Nu-uh!” he exclaimed. “Ms. Mara’s a liar!”

“Bobby!” Mom shouted. “Are you pinching our
guest?”

Fantasia wailed from her basket and Mama Bear
rose to her hind legs.

“It’s really okay, Mrs. Parker–”

Bobby blubbered his tongue at Mara, then
pushed back his chair and zipped away with Mom at his heels.

Livy and Jake snickered. Mara looked
terrified.

From the parlor to the dining room, Mom’s
anger echoed against the painted brick as she sentenced Bobby to a
time-out.

Through all the commotion, Dad never took his
eyes off Mara.

* * *

Mom rarely tucked me in anymore.

Was I in trouble for asking Mara to say her
line? Maybe Mom caught a whiff of my infatuation and wanted to
pry.

My room was dark except for a crack of parlor
light that highlighted my mother’s silhouette. “Mara and I had a
long talk before she decided to stay with us,” she said.

“About what?”

“Well, I told her about the castle and the
beach and the extra bed in Livy’s room... the usual
‘get-to-know-ya’ stuff. She’s a very excited little lady.”

“I believe it.”

“You need to be sensitive around her, James.
Mara looks normal, but she’s in a very sad situation.”

“Sad how? I thought we helped her.”

“Well, she doesn’t know who her parents are.
She’s lived with Ms. Grisham for as long as she can remember. You
remember Mr. Anderson?”

“Your old mentor. He was at the house when
you rescued Mara.”

“He’s going to do everything he can to find
her mom and dad.”

“How’s he gonna do that?”

“It’s a long process, but he’ll check Mara’s
records in Michigan and in other states, and he’ll do a background
check on Ms. Grisham. If he still can’t find anything, he’ll put a
special notice in the newspaper.”

“Think he’ll find ‘em?”

Mom touched my hair. “There’s another thing
we need to talk about. Remember the tape you showed me?”

“It’s film...”

“Ms. Grisham forced Mara to sing like that
all the time. That’s a form of abuse, you know that?”

I nodded.

“Things like that can be very hard on a
child.”

“I knew it was bad when I saw it.”

“I’m proud of you for telling me. Mara and I
talked about it, and she doesn’t want to sing anymore.”

No!
screamed my gut. “She said that?”
I asked.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“But... but what about at Christmas carols?”
A silly question, but it was the first protest that popped in my
head. “There’s all kinds of songs to sing at Christmas...”

“If she wants to sing again, that’s
wonderful. But we’re going to let her do it on her own time.”

“I understand.”

Mom touched my cheek. “Your cut is almost
gone.”

“Yeah.”

“Mara’s a pretty special lady, huh? Very
down-to-earth.”

“Yeah. She’s nice.”

Mom pulled tight my dinosaur sheets and
kissed my temple. “I was going to do linens tomorrow, but your bed
smells fresh. Must be the new detergent.”

* * *

The tripod legs extended with a trio of
swooshes and clicks. The canvas tote unfurled with the satisfying
grind of a plastic zipper. The inside smelled like new car. A
square mount screwed into the underbelly of my brand-new Canon A-1
camcorder with the twist of a spare penny, then easily snapped onto
the head of the tripod.

I stepped back to admire the beautiful
machine with Hi-Fi stereo sound, large LCD display, ten-X zoom,
state-of-the-art autofocus, and endless promises of joy. I flipped
the “on” switch, held my breath, and looked through the viewfinder
at the black-and-white girl framed by the twenty-foot ballroom
window, arms behind her back, nylon toes planted on cut-loop carpet
roses, twirling her shoulders to and fro in a darling dance that
showed her impatience. My heart skipped at the seamless union of
girl and machine; two obsessions conjoined in a digital crucible of
fantasy, creation, and love.