The Accidental Siren by Jake Vander Ark Read Free Book Online

Okie-dokie?
Uhg.
    She giggled.
    A wooden platform was wedged between three
branches where the trunk split. It was barely large enough for the
two of us, but our knees would have to touch in order to fit, so I
didn’t mind the squeeze.
    The basket was open when I reached the top.
Mara removed a flashlight, a box of Ritz crackers, and a circle of
brie, then placed them on the particleboard between us.
    “Cheese and crackers,” she said. “It’s all I
could find.”
    “Looks good. I’m starvin’.”
    “Meee too.” She un-crinkled the crackers and
took out a knife.
    “It’s awesome up here,” I marveled, then
glanced up and noticed that our ceiling was a cluster of dead
twigs. The nearby trees still created a lush ring of leaves, but
the branches on our tree were bare. I followed the black
curve of the sickly trunk, then grabbed Mara’s flashlight and
switched it on. The beam made a circle on the tree’s rugged skin
and illuminated the letters “M” and “L” cut repeatedly into the
bark. I traced the beam from the base of our platform up to the
highest twig... thousands of jagged initials spiraled the trunk and
choked the tree in an onslaught of “M.L.M.L.M.L.M.L.”
    “My middle name is Lynn...” she said, her
eyes turned down as she spread cheese on a Ritz.
    I turned off the flashlight, accepted the
snack, and tried to ignore the eerie presence of our strangled
sanctuary.
     
    * * *
     
    “Why did you invite me here?” I asked. “Those
things you said...”
    Mara gave me the first cracker. “I felt bad,”
she replied. “I wanted to tell you that I didn’t mean 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 real 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.
“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!”