Sirenz Back in Fashion (13 page)

He scrunched up his face. “I guess it's been about a hundred of your years.”

My heart sank. “A hundred years! If there was a way out, you'd have found it by now,” I said glumly.

“Not necessarily,” he mused, tapping on his chin. “Are you familiar with Eurydice?”

I brightened. “Yes! Meg told me about her. Orpheus played to get her out, and he wasn't supposed to look back, but he did, so she's still here. Maybe she can help. You know where she is?”

Caz hesitated. We were both probably thinking the same thing—
can I trust you?
He might think I was using him, and how could I be sure he wasn't doing the same thing?

I'd have to take my chances—and make sure I didn't get left behind.

“No, I don't know,” he finally answered. “And since no one will talk to me, I'll never find out.” He finished his drink and leaned back in his chair. “Look, I think we should work together to get out of here. Join forces.”

“Sign me up,” I said, staring at him steadily. “I've been here too long, and Meg is having serious trouble if she can't get a girl to try on a fur coat.”

Caz gave me a curious look, and was about to say something when my watch started chiming.

“Gotta go! I have to talk to Meg!” I rushed out, taking off my shoes to run faster. Luckily, the weird way Tartarus was set up, it seemed I was never far from the throne room; a few steps and I was back. I flipped up the box and waited. The watch chimed again. Our five minutes were running, but there was no Meg.

I waited.

And waited.

The watch chimed yet again.

Time's up.

Meg

Between Rock
and Hard Places

I didn't know where I was, but I liked it. It was outdoors, like a garden at night. The sky, a velvety black, was sprinkled with stars that twinkled and glittered. Flowers—roses, honeysuckle, jasmine—scented the sudden breeze that tickled my bare shoulders. I walked, my feet making little tapping sounds as if I were stepping on marble, not grass. Then I heard someone behind me and felt a warm hand on my bare arm. I turned and saw the outline of a tall person with broad shoulders and long, lean legs. I couldn't see his face.

Jeremy?

No, too tall.

Then who?

“Meg!” a voice whispered.

I strained to see the features, but the hand, at first so gentle, grasped my elbow.

“Wake up!” the whisper-voice grew louder.
Paulina's voice.
I was being shaken. “Time to wake up, Meg!”

“Stop!” I finally got the words out and opened my eyes. Paulina was bending over me, smiling, her glasses off.

“Time to wake up!” she sang in her low voice. At least she wasn't jostling me anymore.

“Back off!”

Paulina straightened and sauntered over to her side of the room. Annoyed, I kicked the blankets off.

“All I needed was five more minutes,” I grumbled, trying to recapture the moment. I should have been dreaming about Jeremy; tonight was the concert and I'd finally see him. But I was sure that the person in the dream was someone else.

“Sorry,” she said, but she didn't sound like she meant it.

“Bathroom,” I replied, scooping up my robe and shower bucket.

A puff of steam greeted me as I walked into the shower; the place was hot and humid. And dark; several of the overhead lights were out. I found an acceptable stall and ensconced myself behind the plastic curtain and turned the water on. Gingerly I stood on one flip-flop and worked my pajama bottoms off with the skill of a circus acrobat. One leg and then the other, then peeled off my tee while I waited for the water to warm up.

I stood for several seconds under the comfort of the hot stream before reaching for my mesh scrubby. I squirted on a generous amount of vanilla sugar scrub, lathered it up, and started scrubbing arms, chest, stomach—ouch! Something pinched!

I examined the shower puff to see if the plastic tag-holder was still on it. I turned it around and around in my hands, but came up with nothing. That made no sense, anyway—I'd had the scrubby since before Shar went to the deep south. I started scrubbing again, and winced.

I looked down, only to see a mound of suds on my navel. I moved cautiously into the stream of water—and had to clutch the sides of the stall to stop from falling over. Around my belly button, in a swirling circle, were rings of flesh-colored, thumb-sized scales. They spread out to the edges of my waist and then up, ending at the swell of each breast. They covered the tops of my thighs and my bikini area … I reached around. More scales circled across my back. I grabbed a small round mirror out of my bucket, and after several attempts at twisting and wiping away suds, I could see that there were rows upon rows of scales, covering my behind in a weird, Daisy Duke micro-mini.

There was only one explanation for this overnight transformation.

Hades!

I was more mad than scared. This was
not
part of the deal—he even said so. What other sneaky, nefarious tricks was he going to pull? Could this be a natural consequence of accidentally using my diluted Siren powers? But I'd been pretty prudent about giving orders … hadn't I? I tried to remember the details of the last few weeks, but couldn't think of anything significant said to anyone other than that one incident with Trey.

I rinsed off and carefully patted myself dry. I found out the hard way that rubbing the scales in the wrong direction hurt. Immensely. I donned my bathrobe and, tying it loosely, scuttled back to the room.

Paulina barely looked up when I slipped around the door. Digging Hades' iPhone out of my bag, I tapped out a blistering and badly spelled message:

Scals! WFT?

Then, grabbing the outfit I'd laid out on my chair, I stormed behind the screen. As I tried to dress, I realized with dismay that the clothes I'd carefully chosen to transit from school to concert wouldn't work. Undies, bra, tights—problem; the elastic banding squished the scales together in places and made them dig into my skin like tiny razors. Blushing furiously I tried to come to terms with the fact that I'd have to go
… free.

“Paulina,” I called, peeking my head around the screen and smiling, with teeth, “Can you hand me the dress on my bed and go in my drawer and get me my long socks? Please?”

She tossed over the dress first, then I heard her pull open a drawer.

“They should be on the top,” I said, craning my neck to see, but all I caught was a glimpse of her hunched over my dresser. A second later she strolled over to the screen and draped the socks over the top.

“Thanks!” I said, shaking them out and praying that they didn't prove uncomfortably warm. I pulled the first sock over my foot and slid it up my thigh. The top didn't reach the scales; they'd be doable. I pulled on the other thigh-high, then popped the dress over my head.

“Cute,” said Paulina when I stepped from behind the screen.

A buzzing sound came from my bag—a text message.

“It's probably Jerm.” She made a face, then turned her back to me so she could focus on the contents of her backpack, which she'd just dumped on her bed.

I frowned at her attitude as I got my phone. Sure enough, there was a text from Jeremy:

Can we eat B 4 show? 6?
XXX.

I needed comfort, not complications. I couldn't do six; I had to be at Pandora's at 6:55 to talk to Shar.
Of course
my big concert date with Jeremy would be on a Tuesday, the designated window day—I was convinced that all coincidences, inconveniences, bad grades, cramps, and hangnails were Hades' fault. I couldn't screw up the window; our last conversation qualified as a disaster. I'd almost been late, I'd called her a princess, and I'd made her cry. Still, I wanted more time with Jeremy. I typed in a reply:

Can't do 6 :( Can we meet @ 7:30 & grab something fast? XXX. Me.

A reply was not immediately forthcoming, so I toweled off my hair and smoothed it down with some gel.

“What's he doing?” I said aloud when he didn't get back to me right away. It was a simple question.

“Doesn't sound like he's worth your time if he can't reply to a message,” said Paulina absently.

“He might be in class or involved with something,” I snipped. “It's not an emergency. And besides, how do you know I'm talking about Jeremy?”

“I don't know if I should say … you might get mad and throw something at me again.” She continued flipping through her stuff without looking up.

I slumped and sighed. “I thought I apologized for that,” I said, “and you forgave me.”

The half-grin made its appearance. “I did. I'm just being preemptive.”

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Don't worry, Meg. I still love you.”

“Sure you do,” I retorted, trying not to smile. “Just answer the question. How do you know the text was from him?”

She shrugged. “First, you said ‘he.' Big clue. And he's the only one whose messages you get all girly over or talk about. And if someone hung on my texts that way, I'd be more attentive,” she said disdainfully. “Just saying.”

I wondered if I was really that obvious. Not that I cared what anyone thought; Jeremy was funny, sensitive, and beautiful. I was lucky to have him. “How do you know he isn't getting all emotional with my texts?” I challenged.

“He'd respond?”

“Funny, P.”

My phone beeped just as we walked out the door.

7:30 cutting it close, may miss opening act.
C u l8r.

Could a text
sound
angry? It was too easy to read into things, but I'd been putting him off, giving him short answers, and being unavailable for a month now … I'd fix all of this tonight.

Thanks sweet! <3 u.

I used my free period to go to the library, determined to catch up on all the homework and reading I'd fallen behind on since Paulina arrived. It was a disturbing amount. I had to get it done today, as I needed to use my other free periods this week to make up three Phys Ed classes; I'd forgotten my gym uniform and had to miss them. Again, I blamed Hades. He saw to it that any time I might have to myself—any time that might give me the opportunity to finish with him—was occupied.

Even though I didn't officially invite her, Paulina came along to the library, carrying a full backpack. She found a comfy chair near the cramped desk I was working at and buried her face in a book. But I managed to finish my reading for Social Studies, as well as the three sheets of problems that Laz insisted I'd forgotten to hand in.

After school, we hit the coffee shop by the dorm. As we stepped in, the aroma of dark roast immediately comforted me; I could feel myself de-stressing.

Paulina stood in line next to me, and when it was our turn she ordered my usual and a super-size mocha latte/full fat/extra whip cream, three cookies, a sandwich, and a piece of cheesecake for herself. She pulled out a credit card.

I started to protest, but she waved me off. “I got this.”

I didn't want her paying for me, but I didn't want to make a scene, so I stepped out of line and snagged a table. She joined me a few minutes later, settling herself in a low club chair.

“I think Jeremy should pay more attention to you and be a little less demanding,” she said, taking off her glasses and tucking them into the knot of her scarf. No stalling, no subtlety; it was as if she'd been waiting all day to say it.

“What am I, then, if I'm always all gaga over him like you say?” I countered. “Maybe I'm too clingy.”

“Good point.” Paulina nodded. “Maybe you should step back.”

“And maybe you should mind your own business,” I snapped.

“Just saying what I see. I think you could do better.”

“This conversation is over,” I said, returning her gaze steadily.

Was I being unfair? Paulina wasn't aware of the pattern of my and Jeremy's relationship, that we texted each other every day because we couldn't see each other. How could she know that Hades' assignment and her arrival had thrown all that askew? It was sweet that she was being defensive of my feelings and welfare, like a good friend, but she had no idea what she was talking about—and she'd crossed the line.

And she
wasn't
my friend. I couldn't be that close to her.

“No more trash talking Jeremy,” I said. “Got it?”

She nodded, picked up her cup, and took a long sip, all the while watching me closely. A sly smile crept over her lips.

“I know people at the Beacon,” she said. “There are always tickets available … ”

I tried not to look horrified; I didn't want to introduce Jeremy to Paulina. Really, what good would come of that meeting when she was suddenly going to disappear—once I worked out how to wrap her in the fleece? There might be questions, unlike last time. Arkady was a recluse; all his employees probably still thought that he was enjoying an extended visit at an exclusive health spa. I shuddered, remembering the brochure that advertised the benefits of sheep placenta on the skin. Paulina, on the other hand, though antisocial, was young, wealthy, and apparently a globe-trotter, and so more easily missed.

Besides all that, I wanted to see Jeremy alone. Of course the concert would be mobbed, but I couldn't—no, wouldn't—have Paulina hovering around with that lopsided grin of hers.

“No,” I said finally.

“Why not?” she asked matter-of-factly, pulling out her phone.

“C'mon P, it's a date.”

“I won't be near you,” she said, almost grudgingly. Then she teased, “I'll probably get better seats than what you have anyway, and backstage passes.” She leaned in close and winked. “I'm sure I can get something for you, too.”

“No thanks,” I protested. “I mean, that's nice and all, but … ” I trailed off.

Paulina said nothing but slid open her phone as if she was looking for a number. She hit the touchscreen with her thumb—she was going to do it!

I rose quickly from my place and leaned over the table, nearly knocking over both cups. I grabbed her wrist and lowered the phone from her ear.

“No, Paulina. Please. I mean, I can't stop you from going to see Elysian Fields, but you can't come with me.” Guilt nipped at my conscience; I didn't want to hurt her feelings. “Don't take it personally, okay?” I said when I saw her jaw start to clench. “Look, Spring Fling is the weekend after next and you can come with me,” I rushed on, before realizing—ouch—that Jeremy was taking me to that. They'd have to meet. But a lot could happen between now and then; she could be gone.

“Okay,” she muttered, but seemed to brighten. The promise bought me some time, for that night at least.

When we parted, Paulina headed downtown—good, as I was going uptown. Maybe she was going to see D'On again to work off some of that extra energy she used to run both her life and mine, and all that food. Man, she could pack it away.

I walked the short distance back to the dorm. The room seemed strange … quiet and lonely with no Shar or Paulina. I didn't like it, and started getting ready for the concert and my five minutes at the window.

After trying on a bunch of outfits that either pinched, squished, or pulled at my scales, I ended up in the same ensemble I'd started out with in the morning, except with glittery thigh-highs this time and motorcycle boots. Not wanting to stay in the room alone, I set out at 6:15, which was more than ample time to get to Pandora's.