The Accidental Siren

2.4 Mara

“Why did you invite me here?” I asked. “Those things you said...”

Mara gave me the first cracker. “I felt bad,” she said. “I wanted to tell you that I didn't mean any of it.”

I nibbled the snack politely. “Then why--”

“It's what she wanted.”

“Your aunt is weird. She sounded normal on the--”

“She's not my aunt.”

“Grandma?”

“She just wants me to call her that.”

“Why? Who is she?”

“We sleep in the same room.” Mara nodded to the window, then popped a cheese-covered cracker in her mouth.

“She's in there now? How did you sneak out?”

“I found a walkman on the ground a few months ago. It had a tape of me singing, so I kept it. When I play it while Aunty sleeps, she doesn't wake up. Sometimes I leave it on her pillow and sneak downstairs to watch I Love Lucy on Nick at Nite.”

“Cool.”

“Every Sunday she pulls out her wedding album and tells me the same stories over and over.”

“Stories?”

“About her husband. He left.”

“Oh. Are all the pictures ripped like the picture in the frame?”

“You're the first boy I've ever seen in the house. Aunty hates them.”

“Them?”

“Boys.”

“Oh. Do you hate boys too?”

Mara dipped her finger in the cheese. “No. They're just... gross.”

Gross. I've heard a million girls use that word, but “gross” from Mara's lips carried a dark undertone and stern authenticity. I thought about the boys in the trees. “Zombies...” I said.

“I call 'em 'ferrets.'”

“Aren’t ferrets fast? Those boys were practically saying ‘braaains’ with their arms out in front of them."

She shrugged, then wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Maybe a little of both.”

The wind picked up and rustled the leaves. A strand of hair loosened from Mara's ponytail and my insides ached to brush it back behind her ear.

“Have you heard the radio commercial for Great Lakes Family Diner?” She searched my eyes for comprehension, but I couldn't stop staring at the fallen strand of hair. “You know... the one where the Dad asks his kids where they wanna eat and the little girl says, 'How 'bout Great Lake Faaaaaamily Diner!'”

The catchphrase snapped me back to the conversation. “Yeah!” I exclaimed. I stuck out my jaw and squinted my eyes. “Hop in yer pick-up and bring in the kids for the best darned chicken in West Michigan! When you want good food, make it--” Mara chimed in, “Great Lake Faaaaaamly Diner!”

She grabbed her tummy and keeled with laughter. “That's me!” she said. “The little girl!”

“No way! That's totally rad!”

The bout of giggles unhitched another strand, giving her face a golden frame. I sat on my hands to keep them away.

“They said I did a good job--”

“I love that commercial!”

“--but Aunty says I can't do 'em any more.”

“What a geezer.”

The tips of Mara’s unkept hair were moist from brushing against her lips. Another gust of wind twirled the strands and they lashed her cheeks.

“Hey,” I said, “you should act in my movie! I need a girl for the lead!”

Mara shook her head. “She won't let me.”

“Why the heck not? I wrote the screenplay and everything!”

“Do you go to school?”

“Duh,” I muttered and forced my gaze from the taunting hair to the sky. “Who doesn't go to school?”

“I was supposed to be in sixth grade this year, but I didn't go. Do you think I'll still hafta take it, or will I go right into seventh?”

I looked back to Mara with wide eyes. “You skipped the sixth grade? That. Is. Awesome!”

“I got in trouble last year. It wasn't really my fault, but Aunty wouldn't let me go back.”

Another strand. The new ribbon of hair fell in a beautiful arc across her brown eyes. I was certain she would see it--

I leaned forward and freed my hands. I swept my fingers across Mara's brow and tucked the strands gently behind her ear. “I-- I just-- You're just-- Holy cow, I'm so sorry. I just had to--”

“Thanks,” she said. She smiled.

I realized I was holding my breath. I exhaled loudly, then sucked in the cool air.

Mara didn't seem to notice my gasps. “I keep telling you stuff about me,” she said. “Tell me somethin' neat about you.”

“Well...” I cleared my throat. My life was full of interesting tidbits that Mara might enjoy, but that stupid camera came to mind first. I didn't want to stutter like a moron, so I went with it. “I like to make movies. I was gonna direct one this summer but...” I paused. How much should I tell her?

“But?”

“But I lost my camera.”

“That stinks.”

“I lied. I didn't lose it...”

“Oh?”

I would discover later that Mara's powers did not include coaxing people to tell the truth... but the magical, mystical, otherworldly attraction was already working its--

Another gosh-darned strand of hair dismounted her perky ear with obnoxious timing and I blurted the truth. “I traded my camera to Danny B. for a picture of a naked girl because he's a bully and he was gonna show his friends and I felt sick even though I didn't know the girl and my parents asked about it so I lied!”

Mara's eyes were bigger than the moon. She brushed the hair from her face, but it fell right back.

“Now your aunt gave me a new camera but I have to buy film for it and film is really expensive and you have to send it in to get it developed and-- God, Mara,” I crooned, “you're so pretty.”

I reached for that last strand of hair... but when the tips of my finger brushed her cheek, she leaned forward and I leaned forward and the tips of our noses touched.

That trifling moment of nuzzled faces and near-kisses unlocked within me a treasure chest of new understanding. It finally happened. The mystery was solved! Butterflies, explosions, and white-hot elation spurred my very first girl-inspired stiffy, and I squirmed in my seat to squash it.

If my body and mind had been developed enough to be naturally excited by an accidental Eskimo kiss, the feelings that followed might have been ordinary. But looking back, I was at least a year away from the awkward stage of wet bed sheets and curly tufts of hair. My arousal was premature. The thirstiness in my gut was not the usual first-love infatuation... but something unnatural, foreboding, and stronger than a life debt.

Mara pulled away and smiled. “More crackers?” she asked.