The Secret Life of a Teenage Siren (7 page)

There's an old swing set by the back fence, creaking lazily in the evening breeze. I walk over to it and try to sit on the swing, but I'm not bending very well with this flute down my shirt. So I just lean against the pole and raise the beer to my lips. I take one sip and spit it out. Disgusting. Especially mixed with spearmint gum. I spit the gum out and it ricochets off the fence.

Rustling noises are coming from behind the garage. Probably just a couple getting it on. Too bad Natalie's not here to quench her gossip thirst. I hear a voice that sounds an
awful lot like Devin's. “I wonder if Zach's nerdy little date is gonna make it,” he says, not very quietly.

Oh my God. Are they talking about
me?
I tiptoe closer to the garage, trying to keep my flip-flops from click-clacking on my heels.

“Dude, she's not all that bad.” Is that Zach? “There's something … about her. About the way she's always staring at me and pretending not to.”

Devin says, “Shit, dude. No more beer for you. She's a BeeGee, for Chrissake.”

Now J.T. is talking. “I know what Zach means. Band geeks can be hot. Maybe she does that flute thing like that chick in that movie.”

Oh, yeah. Like
that's
original. We flutists will never live that down, thank-you-very-much,
American Pie.

“Shit, dude,” Zach and Devin groan in unison.

Then Devin says, “Hell, Zachster. You've got Eva wrapped around your little finger. No BeeGee in the world would make me give up
that
fine booty.”

“Yeah,” J.T. says, laughing. “No matter how many times she did the band camp
flute act for your viewing pleasure.”

Without warning, the jocks wander out from behind the garage and immediately spot me. My wrist goes slack and then I freeze, beer spilling on my feet, heart banging hard against my flute.

“Hello?” Zach finally says, a strange look on his face.

The other two are looking me up and down, down and up. Great. They probably see the flute bulge.

“For
-get
Eva,” Devin says under his breath.

“Who are you?” J.T. asks.

Why am I so surprised they don't recognize me? I mean, my own father didn't recognize me.

“I'm … a talented musician.” Oh God, can I be any lamer?

Zach's mouth—the very mouth I was dying to kiss only yesterday—is hanging open as wide as that
Scream
dude's. “Roxy?”

I've got to get out of here before I completely shatter this whole Siren vibe. Scurrying away in the overgrown grass as fast as possible in my flip-flops, I burst through the back door. I scan the kitchen, but Natalie's AWOL.

“Have you seen Natalie O'Brien?” I ask no one in particular.

“Who?”

“Who's she looking for?”

“Natalie O'Brien,” I repeat, louder.

“Never heard of her.”

I say, “She was the keg mistress only minutes ago.” Everybody stares back cluelessly. “Pretty girl, dark brown flippy hair. Wearing a black sundress …?” Nothing. This must be what it's like to play charades with a bunch of blind people.

Oh, God. Don't make me say it. Please don't make me do this. Ever so quietly, I
whisper, “She plays flute … in the band?”

Someone laughs, and more people join in. “A band geek?”

“There aren't any BeeGees here.”

“Hell, no!”

“As if!”

“Hey, we just kicked one out. Maybe it was her.”

Then I catch sight of Natalie, standing by the bay window with … a dude in a short-sleeved plaid shirt, long camo cargo shorts, and Converse high-tops. Alex?

I can't believe he's here. Did he come by himself? I've watched enough movies to know he's asking for trouble. It's like an unwritten rule that if you're a) uninvited and b) a
guy,
you may as well duck, 'cause you're about to get slugged by someone who lifts weights at least three times a week.

Devin follows my gaze and yells, “What is this? Band practice? Who invited
them?”

Who turned off the music?
I wonder.

A girl with a diamond stud in her nose taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, is that the chick you're looking for?” she asks.

Natalie shoots me a wide-eyed let's-get-outta-here look from across the room.

I take a step toward my friends and then
stop. Zach is standing right beside me, and he's smiling at me. At
me!

I feel like I'm in a gigantic taffy machine—being pulled in every possible direction. I'm surrounded by hard biceps, tanned skin, perfect teeth, great butts (one in particular) …

“You're at the wrong party, dude,” J.T. yells at Alex. I'm sure Alex heard him, but his expression stays neutral.

“We already kicked your girlfriend out,” the guy standing right behind me shouts. “But on second thought, she can stay. I hear she gives great—”

I stomp on the guy's foot as hard as I can, but he just laughs and slaps J.T. a high-five.

Natalie's meticulously made-up eyes tear up, and Alex leads her through a group of gawking partiers. Before I know it, the door bangs, and Natalie and Alex are gone.

I take a few steps toward the front door, but Darren Smith, Franklin High's up-and-coming senior class president, gets in my face and professes his undying love for me. His smells of beer and Axe bodyspray. “You're the most
gor-
geous lady I ever laid eyes on. Please take this as a token of my
love,” he slurs, holding out a wine cooler. Oh my God. How embarrassing! I take the bottle, mainly just to shut him up.

I feel like I've just gotten off the teacups ride at Disney World. All the partiers are spinning around the room, closing in on me. Making it impossible to breathe.

Where'd Zach go?

I dash down the hall (as quick as I can with a flute down my shirt) and bust through a bedroom door. It's dark and musky-smelling. I flip on the light switch. There's a guy and a girl on the bed doing something I really wish I didn't just see.

“Oh, God. Sorry! I'll just get out of your way … I'll just go.” I slam the door shut—and then remember I left the light on. I open the door again, flip off the light, and scuttle down the hallway to another room.

This one's dark and chilly and (thank God) empty. There's a queen-size brass bed on one end and an armoire on the other. It's a pretty, frilly room, probably for guests. I head over to the window. Sheer white curtains flutter in a waft of AC. I pull them back and look for my friends. They're nowhere in sight.

I should just go home. Zach obviously found something more exciting to do than
hang out with me. And the sooner I leave, the sooner I can take this freaking flute out. I'm probably getting a rash or something.

“Roxy?” Zach's six foot, three inch frame is blocking the doorway. My heart skips a beat. God, he's gorgeous. “Don't take this the wrong way, but were you always this hot?” he asks me.

The only sound I can make is a weird snort-laugh.

“You're beautiful. I can't stop staring at you. It's like you've got some kind of power over me,” Zach says, reaching for my shaking hand.

Oh my God. I can't believe this is happening. I look down at our hands. It's all so surreal. He's
touching
me. I'm in a bedroom with the hottest guy at Franklin and he's telling me that I'm beautiful.

He must be wasted. “You're drunk, Zach.”

He shakes his head. “Nope, but J.T.'s completely sloshed. Another beer or two and we're going to shave his unibrow.”

I crack up.

Zach bends his elbow, bringing me into his chest like a dance move. I step back, hoping he didn't feel the flute. Oooh, that smile.

“What's that?” He reaches out and touches my flute, right below my boob.

“It's my flute.” Kill me now.

He raises an eyebrow. “You couldn't leave it at home?”

“Well, I
could,
I guess, but it would get all freaked out and piddle on the rug.”

Zach chuckles, and I think I just might be in heaven.

Until Eva breezes into the room in her beaded sandals with the three-inch heels, completely shattering the whole heaven vibe. I mean, they don't allow the devil in heaven, do they? “Hey, sorry I'm late. I've had the worst night ever. My flatiron decided to die on me so I had to go over to Amber's and …” She stops talking, apparently noticing me for the first time. She sizes me up, squinting her left eye. Then she practically growls, “Who are you?” She's so close I can smell her shampoo. I don't know what kind it is, but it smells a lot better than the Suave I use.

“It's Roxy, from school,” Zach says, grinning.

Amber sidles up to Eva. I was wondering what was taking her so long. “Wow, you look amazing!” Amber says to me.
“Where'd you get your hair done?”

Eva steps in front of Amber. She raises one of her eyebrows, giving her the appearance of someone deep in thought. “Ah, yes. I remember you. You're the one who's always staring at Zach.”

Amber giggles and I take a deep breath. Time to play nice. “I like your dress, Eva. It's Marc Jacobs, right?” Normally, I wouldn't know the difference between Marc Jacobs and Old Navy. But Natalie saw Eva buying it at Nordstrom, and this dress matches Natalie's description to a T. I'm always learning what's in just by hanging with Natalie, via osmosis or something.

Eva taps her French-manicured fingers on her cheek. “Oh my God. Amber, did you hear that? The band geek knows something about fashion. Who would've thought?”

Amber laughs loudly, as cheerleaders do, and my blood boils. “It must've cost a fortune,” I say between clenched teeth. No more Miss Nice Siren.

“My mother's a prominent plastic surgeon, you know. I can afford it.”

“It's such a shame there's berry wine cooler all over it. I'm sure it's
ruined.”

Eva's supershiny lips part and she looks
down at her cream-colored dress. “There's not—” At that very instant, I pour the entire wine cooler down her front.

“You
bitch!”
she screams, seething.

Oh my God! Now what? I wish there were a TelePrompTer in here—something to give me my next line. I turn on my heels and dash for the front door, my flute jabbing into my stomach and thigh with every step.

Zach runs after me out into the yard, leaving the screaming girls in the dust. “Roxy, hold up!”

All right, Roxy. Time to show Zach Parker that a Siren is a force to be reckoned with.
I stop and turn around. “Is that why you keep in such good shape? So you can chase girls?” I ask, my hands on my hips. This feels so weird, flirting with Zach Parker. But I can do so much better than just flirt, can't I?

I reach between my boobs and slowly pull out my flute. His light blue eyes grow bigger and bigger. Ahhh. Much better. Note to self: Never stash flute in shirt again. Overall awkwardness score: eleven out of ten.

By the time I start playing, Zach is grinning from ear to ear. I play a few more notes, for good measure, and give him the Marilyn Monroe look.

A gust of wind whips past, and I can feel my long, smooth, beautiful hair floating up around my head. I curl my finger and he comes so close I can smell his Polo cologne and a slight hint of Fritos on his breath.

“I'd like you to ask me out for tomorrow night,” I whisper in my best Siren voice.

He nods. “Do you wanna go out tomorrow night?”

Oh, joy. Eva, Amber, J.T., and Devin are standing on the front stoop, gawking. How long have they been there?

Devin says, “Dude, did she just pull a flute out of her—”

“Zach?” Eva interrupts, storming over to us. “Did I hear you ask her out?”

Zach nods, still looking at me.

Amber says, “You and Zach aren't together anymore, remember?” and I swear steam comes out of from Eva's ears. Amber slaps her hand over her mouth and “Oh, God! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” leaks out between her fingers.

Eva snatches my flute and waves it around, the moonlight reflecting off of it. “What's this? You bring your …
instrument
to parties? Parties, I might point out, that you're not even
invited
to?”

My face is on fire. “Actually, I
was
invited. But it doesn't matter, because I was just leaving.”

Eva fixes me with her subzero stare. “Well, don't forget this.” She shoves my flute in my face and I grab it from her. “Bye-bye Roxy. See ya this fall at football games. I'm sure you'll be looking extra glamorous in your big fuzzy hat, marching around the field at halftime.”

Amber laughs hysterically, and when she realizes she's the only one laughing, shrugs. “Well. The party's inside, so, uh, let's go.” The Proud Crowd parades through the front door, all but Eva and Zach.

Eva grabs Zach by the collar and pulls him down to her level, gazing at him through her eyelashes. “I know we just broke up, but I'm ready to do a little makin' up. How about we go somewhere a little more … intimate?”

“Why?” he asks.

Not so subtly, she rubs against him. “You
know
why.”

Zach gently pushes her away, and I've never seen Eva the Diva look so mad. Is this how she looked when Amber got crowned Prom Princess? Man, I would've loved to see
that, but I had a bad case of No Date—itis. Grasping my flute, I smile to myself. I have a feeling Roxy Zimmerman will be going to next year's prom, no problem.

Eva storms back into the house and slams the door, the brass knocker clanking in response.

“So what do you say, Roxy? Wanna go out tomorrow night?”