Sound of Sirens by Jen Minkman (new reading txt) 📖

prick. Lording his wealth over you by letting you use his LP player. If anything, he should be thankful to you.”

I register the shocked look on my father’s face. “Thanks, bro,” I grumble, violently stabbing my sausage with a fork. “I really wanted Heit to know that.” Plus, it’s not even true. Royce never boasted his riches in front of me. And he had been grateful for my presence.

“So?” Sytse prompts me when I don’t say anything else.

“So, what?”

“Will you keep your distance?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes at him. “I guess Alke is off-limits too, huh? Because of his involvement with the resistance? Maybe you’d like to make me a list of people I can be friends with.”

Sytse glares at me. “Don’t get fresh with me, Enna. I don’t want you to befriend someone who runs in a completely different circle. Now that you know my secret, you might let something slip.”

“Oh, of course, because I’m a complete idiot,” I snide. “Besides, what could I possibly blurt out by accident? You haven’t even told me what you guys are up to, and you’ve taken the damn book back.”

The look in Sytse’s eyes softens. “Look, I’m sorry. I never wanted you to get mixed up in this. But now that you are, I want to keep you safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” I mutter.

“Okay. I trust you.” He smiles, and I give him a half-hearted smile back. I feel just a little bit guilty for lying to him – but only slightly. I don’t need to give up seeing Royce, because I know what I’m doing.

––––––––

After breakfast, Grandma Antje shows up in her best dress and she and my father make their way to the neighbors’ house to hitch a ride on the carriage. Sytse, Dani, and I cycle to Brandaris, chatting about the upcoming performances all the way to town. There’s supposed to be a collaboration of local Skylger artists on Sunday, but that will take place in Osterend, not the capital.

“Are you going?” Dani wants to know when Sytse brings it up.

“Of course. I prefer Osterend to Brandaris any day.”

“What about you?” Dani turns her head to look at me.

I hesitate. Normally speaking, I’d trawl the smaller venues on the island with her during the weekend. “Maybe I should stay in,” I reply. “I still haven’t done any work on that history assignment, and Buma wanted to see my outline on Monday.”

Dani chuckles. “So diligent.”

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have wasted all that time on reading a book I couldn’t quote as a source anyway,” I add, sounding a bit sour on purpose.

“You got that right,” Sytse says. “Whatever you do, don’t mention the book to Buma. He’s a true Current in the rough.”

He sounds so contemptuous that I raise my eyebrows at him. “You got a bone to pick with your former teacher?”

He shrugs. “Nothing personal. I just happened to know he used to work closely with the Skelta until he was recruited into the Currents’ army of historical revisionism. One minute he believed the Skelta was right about historical accounts being altered, and the next he was perpetuating the Brandaris Tower myth to the entire school. Guess who lives in a luxurious house close to Upper Brandaris now? Rumor has it he’s even connected to the Grid once every week, to buy his loyalty.”

“Really?” I give him a bug-eyed stare.

“Well, it’s a rumor. But there’s always a kernel of truth in those.”

Sytse’s words are still running through my head by the time we park our bikes next to the town hall. A gigantic stage has been erected next to the Brandaris Tower and a large crowd has gathered to attend the opening. I see kids from school, some teachers, neighbors from Kinnum and the nearby village of Baydunen. Further up, I see some Current journalists positioned right in front of the stage to take pictures of the mayor and the Skelta during their speeches. As expected, a huge number of Currents are seated on the bleachers to the left, under the big tarp that is presently blocking the sunlight instead of raindrops. Their loss.

I defiantly turn my face to the sun to soak up the energy that’s freely available to everybody, regardless of their background. Who knows – if Tesla ever got the means and resources to do proper research, maybe he’d find out how to harness the power of the sun one day so we could all equally benefit from that blazing fire in the sky.

When I open my eyes and stare at the Current grandstand once more, my eyes zoom in on a familiar dark-haired guy standing there, looking out over the stage. He is swarmed by pretty girls who are all flicking their hair, trying so hard to get him to notice them that it makes me feel angry with jealousy and deflated all at once.

How can he not like all that attention? Why does he flee to Stortum to sit there in solitude when he could have a fan club of drop-dead gorgeous girls to tend to his every whim? I don’t get it. I don’t believe that could be the truth. I should turn my attention back to the stage, and yet I find I can’t tear my gaze away from his handsome face. One of the girls takes his hand, and I remember what his hand felt like on my knee the other night. A pleasant heat rushes to my cheeks.

At that precise moment, Royce seems to feel the weight of my stare. He looks up from his casual conversation with the girl and his blue eyes land on me.

I swallow hard. He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t look away either. I ball my hand into a fist when I notice I want to raise it for a tentative wave. Stop being an idiot, my inner voice tells me. He’s not going to wave back.

And then my heart stops when he does give me a smile. It’s barely there, but it touches his eyes, and it is directed at me. Even though he’s still holding the blonde girl’s hand.

“Hey, little dreamer.” Sytse pokes me in the side. “What are you standing around like that for? If we don’t hurry, we’ll have the shittiest places in the whole square.”

“What about Dad and Grandma?” I say.

“Heit and Antje are sitting over there on top of the carriage, see? No worries. Come on.”

I see a gray and a dark-brown head sticking out above the crowd. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

My heart trips like a Current trance beat. It reminds me of that time I was hiding in the delivery quadrangle of the Electron once, after a late school party. The Current club is alongside the Longway leading to Upper, just three hundred yards away from the exit to Dead Men’s Caskets. Annie, a classmate with a rebellious streak, had taken me last year because she knew where to go to secretly listen to their music. Standing out there in the dark with her, I’d imagined what it looked like inside as Annie’s hoarse voice described to me how the Currents’ lean bodies writhed under flashing, colorful lights, sweaty with exhaustion. She knew, because she’d been inside once – using the back door to sneak in after dropping off a delivery from her father’s brewery. The thrumming of the ground underneath our feet and the wisps of hypnotic trance-like music drifting out through the cracks in the doorframe had reminded me of another world. A forbidden, dark, and sexual place.

Royce’s smile just now reminded me of that place. It makes my blood run hot and cold at the same time.

“What’s up?” Dani inquires as she pulls me along. “You look flustered.”

“It’s hot in the sun,” I mumble evasively.

“Well, you want to sit under the tarp, then?” she giggles. “Together with you-know-who?”

“I’m not going to hang out with him anymore,” I say. If Sytse is ever going to believe that lie, I should tell Dani the same thing. On our way here, she and Sytse agreed to go to Osterend together on Sunday, so it’s best if they both believe I’m working on my history assignment.

In truth, I’m keeping myself available on Sunday just in case.

Just in case that look passing between Royce and me meant anything at all.

––––––––

As expected, Mayor Edison drones on and on about the friendship between the Currents and the Skylgers, and the Oorol festival being a symbol of our harmony. Why is he always so insistent that we’re friends? We’re not even equal partners in this supposed union. The Currents don’t really need us. I’ve wondered for a while now why their beloved St. Brandan ever decided to set up shop here in the first place. Maybe Royce knows.

After Edison is done, the Skelta takes the stage. He reminds me of my late grandfather – tall and gray-haired, his face weathered from living in a coastal town all of his life. The wind, the sea salt, and the Nixen’s call will do that to you.

When he starts to speak, a hush falls over the crowd. Somehow, his presence is far more commanding than Edison’s. His voice is steady and gentle as he addresses the audience, but mostly the ones in the open air. “Dear islanders,” he says. “Oorol is a time for celebration and culture. It is a time to embrace our past and our future together. Let us not look at each other and fear the unknown. Let us stand side by side and respect our roots as well as what’s ahead of us. In sharing our music, we are sharing our souls. It’s time for the traditional Skylger choir to sing to our ancestors and pay tribute to the past, just like your Firekeepers appease the darker creatures that roam our waters with melody and light.”

The Baeles-Weards girls will perform later tonight, but I won’t be there to witness it. Their songs remind me too much of the actual Sirens’ song, but their voices seem to sing the haunting melodies in reverse, if that makes any sense.

Everybody applauds as the Skelta gives the floor to our traditional singers. They’re wearing folkloric costumes vaguely reminding me of the attire that the old people in the forbidden book were dressed in. I’ve never wondered about their outfits before, but now I wonder who picks their costumes and if there is any meaning behind the various shades of blue in the fabric.

A shiver runs through me when they start singing and the Skylgian language washes over the multitude. Half of the people here no longer know what the words mean, but I do, and so do Dani and my family. The song speaks of longing for a lost home, the call of the past, and our deepest respect for the sea. Nowhere does it mention terror or fear. Surely a song honoring our origins wouldn’t include the latter, but it suddenly strikes me as strange that the ancient hymns don’t mention anything negative at all. I’ve lived on this island my whole life, and everybody knows that the sea and its creatures can be dangerous. The Nixen aren’t just a part of our past – they are very much a part of our