Chapter 9 [The Siren]

“What about this? Oh! Or this? Oh but this is so cute…”

“Pam, I can’t choose from your whole bloody wardrobe.”

I picked up a blouse from the mountain of clothes that hid her bed. Pam took out another dress from who knows where and put it in front of her body. She made a face at the mirror and threw it onto the Everest of clothes on her bed, nearly taking me out along the way.

“I know, I know. But I want to choose the right thing! I don’t want him to think I’m–“

“Clinically insane?”

“Exactly!”

“Then I’d suggest you stay away from that.”

She deflated, a white dress with a flamingo print and pink fluff on the shoulders in hand. She tossed it onto the pile and plonked down on the bed, causing the mountain to topple onto the floor. 

That’s going to be fun to clean up.

I kneeled in front of her, fist under my chin to mirror her. She giggled a little at the extreme pout I gave her.

“If this guy can’t handle how you dress, how is he going to handle you?”

“Well I don’t want to scare him off like the last guy.”

“He was a wimp and you know it.”

“Yea, but where’s the line between showing who I am and getting him to like me?”

“Sweetie, if he didn’t like you, why would you go on a date with him?”

“Because he’s cute…?”

I closed my eyes and sighed. Oh sweet Pam, why do you do this?

I looked back up at her, a small, half smile on my face.

“Don’t be afraid to show who you are.”

Pam snorted. “Yea, coming from you.”

“Hey! Ok fine. But a doctor rarely heeds their own advice. So!”

I stood up and walked over to the heap on the bed, rummaging through until I found what I was looking for.

A pastel pink, oversized sweater with little pom poms on the front, and a shimmery black pencil skirt.

“This,” I said as I handed the clothes to her, “and those creepy baby doll earrings you have.” 

“Oh I do love those earrings.” said Pam, her usual bubbliness returned in an instant. “Oh and my suede boots! Es perfecto...unless I should wear my heels...dónde están las tacones…”

I laughed and sat back on her bed, eyeing the spillover of clothes on the floor that were soon joined by various pairs of shoes.

“Just wear your bloody boots, Pam! I am not helping you clean this shit up!”

“Hello ladies. I see hurricane Pamela visited town.”

Jaime’s head peered from behind the door, smirking as he eyed the mess in our room. 

“Don’t talk now or you’ll be dragged into cleaning it up.”

We both looked at Pam who had a stiletto on one foot and an ankle boot on the other. She turned around with her hands on her hips, her sweater and skirt magically on her body. 

“Which one?” 

“Boot.” “Heel.” Jaime and I said simultaneously. We looked at each other and burst out in laughter.

Pam released a groan which made us laugh harder.

“Boots, Pam. Boots.”

“Yeah,” Jaime laughed. “Whatever she says.”

With lightning speed she pulled off her heel and slammed her foot into her other boot, fiddling through her jewellery box for her tiny baby dolls to wear on her ears.

Not wanting another boot fiesco, I grabbed her small black sling clutch and filled it with her phone, wallet and keys.

“You’re the best!”

Pam kissed my cheek before doing one final look over in the mirror. I noticed Jaime had a soft smile as he looked at her. I suppose one could never really get rid of romantic feelings for their best friend entirely.

Pam grabbed her lipstick and travel sized perfume. “Ok, I’m off! I’ll text you when I’m there! Adióoooos.”

Pam gave Jaime a quick side hug and scurried out the door.

Jaime and I looked at the disaster that was her room and came to a silent agreement.

Nope.

I grabbed my phone and walked out the door to where Jaime was waiting, closing the door behind me. That was a mess for future me to deal with.

We walked down to the mess hall, chatting about our ideas on what the week’s menu would be. It changed every Friday, though how much of a change really depended on their mood. There was always a selection of cuisines to cater to the multitudinous cultures that the school possessed since the students literally came from all around the world to study here. 

And despite the high-tech facilities and constant need for construction (I’m looking at you Isaac), the fees were no more than your average private school funds, inclusive of a range of financial aid schemes for different levels of necessity. Where they got the money from I had no idea, but the school was still standing, so it was probably from some poor rich bloke that was swindled into believing that they were donating to a good cause and changing lives with his money. I guess he was, though with my Uniqueness, it didn’t really make much of a difference to me what sort of school I went to.

But there was a certain charm AIU possessed that set it apart from what I guess would be considered a normal school. It was that faint aura of magic that coated the atmosphere whenever someone did something with their Uniqueness, the air of mystery when you see a new student and wonder what made them Unique. And when you think you have seen it all, with water benders and shapeshifters and that one kid who can make you really high by kissing them (it was the weirdest experience because I was tripping balls as we made out and he turned into a tree and– never mind. Just take my word that it was weird), you see something and you cannot help but watch in awe as you are once again surprised by the marvels life can throw at you. 

There were all sorts of characters here, along with a medley of different cultures. Somehow, despite the human need for sorting and segregation, we managed to look past colours and sex and religions, and concentrate on grouping by personality and social prowess, which I guess was a better alternative than the fucked up outside world (for most people anyway). 

And that melting pot of diversity was reflected in the dining hall where little stalls of cuisines from all over the world were lined up in a neat row for our choosing, if they ever changed their weekly dish.

“Nice! The falafels are back.”

Jaime walked over to the falafels as I continued along the row of stalls, contemplating my meal. After a short debate between my stomach and my head, I ignored the health conscious nagging in my mind and headed for the end of the row to get a burger. With fries. And a cookie milkshake. Maybe cheese fries.

The cheese might be too much…but cheesefries…but if i get the milkshake it might make me feel sick…a bit of cheese isn’t going to make a difference–

“Hey.” 

I jumped a little, the voice shocking me out of my food fuelled stupor. 

I turned behind me and found myself face to face with The Hawk. 

That obviously was not his real name, but with brown feathered wings like a hawk on his back and his 20/20 vision, the nickname was arguably appropriate. I was jealous – you would think that being special and all I could have avoided myopia

Michael flashed me a smile as he leaned on the wall, his feathers ruffling slightly. 

Now when people smiled and leaned on walls it usually meant one of two things: 1. They were about to pull some nasty shit on me like tear my books or trash my clothes, or 2. They were going to ask me out. For the sake of Molly, the very nice janitor who had just mopped the floor we were standing on, I hoped it was the latter (though both options are equally as bad).

“How’re ya?” he asked in his softened Scottish accent. “Still ‘ave the robot preaching literature at ye?” His signature smirk formed on his lips as he wrapped his arms around his torso. 

The Robot, as we so fondly call our 11th Year Literature teacher we so fortunately shared, earned her name with her A.I.-like voice and monotonous lessons. Thankfully, she went on maternity leave halfway through the year so we were not tortured for long.

I looked back to the queue and stepped forward.

“Nope.”

“That’s good.”

We fell back into silence as the queue moved forward once more. He was taller than I remembered, his features more defined, though his leather jacket and band tee stayed the same. His wings grew too by the looks of it, barely concealed by his body despite being folded in. He cleared his throat and I turned around again to face him. He tried his best to look nonchalant, but his constant weight shift said otherwise.

“So I jus got me a new car, bough’ it m’self with the money I saved from helpin’ old folks run errands,” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Pulling out the caring heart card. Typical. “An’ I was jus thinkin’, maybe you’d wanna come with me for a drive sometime? Maybe get breakfast?”

I opened my mouth to answer him, but shut it just as quickly, turning around and moving forward in the queue as I swallowed my habitual ‘No thank you’ that was on the tip of my tongue. It wasn’t the first time someone tried to ask me out. If it was, I would have made the mistake of blushing and feeling worms in my stomach, shyly saying ‘o-okay’ while not realising that later that night I would have his tongue down my throat and his hands in my shirt. 

That guy was disgusting. Yet I went out with him for nine whole months before he got tired of my lack of...sexual expertise, and I did not realise until much later that it was definitely him and not me. 

But there was something about ‘breakfast’ that seemed so...innocent. If there was any hidden malice, I could not see it, but history told me to be wary. 

I grabbed my tray and ordered my dinner, turning back to see Michael waiting for my answer. No catcalls, no pressuring me into it. It was almost too appealing. 

“I’ll...have a think about it, and I’ll let you know.”

“A’ight. Ye ‘ave ma number, yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I still have it.”

“Cool.”

I turned back to my now filled tray, balancing its contents to avoid spilling my milkshake. I found Jaime in the corner of the hall, happily munching on a plate of at least ten falafels and other Mediterranean goodies. I sat down and looked back to find the winged boy, noticing him on the other end of the room, walking towards the table with the rest of AIU’s boating team. 

“What do you think of Michael Wilson?”

“Hawky? He’s pretty chill, absolutely trashes it on the basketball court.”

I reached for a fry and frowned. Stupid hot guy, distracting me from getting my cheese fries. 

“Why though?” Jaime asked with his mouth full of Tabouli. 

“He just asked me out.” 

“Oh?” Jaime smirked as he stuffed another falafel in his mouth. “What happened to ‘I’m not interested in dating’?”

“That's because everyone who asks is a dickwad.”

Jaime snorted. I picked up my burger and took a bite, relishing in the juicy beef that melted in my mouth. 

“So what did you tell him?”

“I said,” I paused to swallow my food, “I’ll think about it.”

“What about you know who?” 

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if I’m getting anywhere with that, not that I’m expecting to. Since that trip to the park, all we’ve done is text, even before she left for that special Lacrosse trip to Singapore.”

“Well, he seems like a cool dude to me–“

“Everyone’s a cool dude to you until they do something truly horrible.”

“Point taken. But I’d go for that date. It’s a rare opportunity for you, no offence.”

“Pff, none taken. Watch your food.”

Jaime plopped the falafel into his mouth, saving it from a one way trip to the floor. 

“All I’m saying is you should give it a go. And I’ll be there if you need assistance in kicking his arse.”

I snorted and had a sip of my milkshake.

“But if you want proper advice, we should probably wait for Pam to get back.”

“You mean wait for her to stop gushing about her date.”

“Or ranting.” 

We laughed and continued our meal, taking a few jabs at some of Pam’s less amiable exes.

“What about you?” I said with an eyebrow raised as I put the last of my fries in my mouth.

“What about me?” 

“Don’t think I don’t notice you looking at her.”

We stood up and cleared our plates, then headed out of the dining hall doors. 

“Fancy a drive?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Nevertheless we walked towards the carpark to the second hand hatchback the three of us shared. 

“The two of us were a long time ago.”

“Two years isn’t that long, Jay.”

“I guess. But I’m not looking to get back with her or anything. It took a lot of effort to move on and I don’t want to ruin my hard work.”

“I never said anything about getting back together, I just want to know if you’re ok.”

We got in the car, Jaime opening the door for me. A gentleman, as always. 

I sat in my usual seat at the front and plugged my phone into the cable. I thumbed through my phone, looking for my Jam’s Jams playlist that held mutually loved songs between the speedster and I. 

‘I need the sun to break’ by James Bay echoed through the car as the engine roared to life. Jaime gripped the steering wheel, but made no move to push down the handbrake. He stared straight ahead and sighed.

“Sometimes I wonder why she broke up with me.”

It was a familiar setting, the two of us in the car, talking about our life’s issues. Just like his music that calmed my soul, our night time talks were something I looked forward to. Just the two of us, lamenting our deepest fears, no restraints, no secrets, and nothing leaves our lips once we come back through those gates. 

It was a moment of serenity, when we could take a break from the chaos of the world and just enjoy each other’s company. He made me cry, I made him think. And it was trust that bonded us more than anything. Trust that we could be honest, that we did not have to hold anything back. Trust that I spent a long time learning to build up again, and I am ever thankful that he was the one I built it up in – the boy on the other side of the wall who sang sweet songs and strummed away my turmoil.

“You know it was for the best. And look at you guys now: all chummy and not tearing each other apart.”

“I know. But it’s not something you get over that easily. She was my first, she will always be my first and the hardest to...let go.”

He pushed down the handbrake and the car slowly inched forward, gradually gaining speed as we left the school gates. 

Behind the school was a forested road with trees surrounding each side of the gravel. But if you drive long enough, and know just where to turn, you will find a road that leads you to the top of a nearby hill. 

We drove in silence, soft strumming and singing keeping us company. I looked over at Jaime who had his brows furrowed as he navigated up the hill. I put my hand on his shoulder and ran my thumb along the seams of his jacket. His father wore it when he worked his first job at a printing factory, where he got lucky enough to come across the opportunity to open his own shop. Ironically he opened up a restaurant with his wife, and had four kids in a span of ten years. I guess I should thank him for relocating his restaurant to my town all those years ago.

We parked at the top of the hill and left the car, taking our usual seats on its roof. I sang softly with the music flowing from my phone, feeling myself start to relax.

Jaime took out a water bottle, filled with a dark golden liquid. That was part of our tradition, bringing whiskey that mysteriously made its way into our school (Thanks Jing Hui) along to our little heart to heart. 

He took a swing, then passed the bottle to me. I lifted it to my lips and felt the warm liquid flow through my throat and into my stomach like lava in a frigid snow. I pulled up my hood in an attempt to tame my wild hair that slapped my face in the wind. 

“I guess that’s why you didn’t really let go.”

He looked at me as he took the bottle from my hands, taking another long swing. 

“I tried. But you can’t let someone like Pamela Romero go. She’s...she’s just…”

“Je ne sais quoi“ I said in a terrible french accent, gesturing my hands in front of me. Because that was Pam, indescribable, but you love her for it anyway.

“But I'm at a good point now, you know? I can’t deny there’s still some part of me that still feels for her, but it’s such a small part that I don’t need her romantically anymore, you know what I mean? I’ve moved on, but I have an eye out in case I ever need to turn back.”

I hummed in agreement, closing my eyes to feel the wind brush past me, listening to crickets chirp around us. 

I opened my eyes to see Jaime take another swing, eyebrows still furrowed as it was before. Clearly he was still thinking about the minefield his heart was lying in, contemplating which direction to go, deciphering the maze of mines so as to not take a wrong step. 

“It'll be good for you, you know? That date.”

I guess we were done with the subject of Pamela. 

I took back the bottle from him, taking another drink. 

“I know. I need to get out there again, face my fears blah blah.”

“Learn to not think everyone just wants to fuck you.”

I gave him a side eye and he lifted his arms in surrender. 

“Your words, not mine.”

“Yea, well,” I took another drink, “it’s more or less true, innit?”

“S’pose. Though I’m sure Hawky wouldn’t mind a little action.” 

Jaime sniggered as I slapped him upside the head. But the thought of letting someone render me so vulnerable, though I undoubtedly could control the situation, was still a scary thought. 

It had been a while since I let anyone see me in anything less than a swimsuit, let alone touch me in intimate or scathing ways. The amount of emotional, for lack of a better word, trauma that came along with my sexuality was what drove me into the shell that I am barely peeking out of today. 

I am on the road to embracing my Uniqueness and natural sexual attractiveness, as well as building up my courage and ability to shut down self-deprecating thoughts. 

It was progress, but I am far from healed.

But Jaime was right, without embarking into grey territory once more I would get too comfortable with where I am, too used to predictability and control over the world I surrounded myself with. 

I took another swing of the drink before Jaime took it from my hands and set it on the space beside him. He opened his arms and I found my way into them, hugging him tightly as I realised the presence of droplets falling from my eyes.

Even I was surprised by the willingness I had towards physical displays of affection. Any touches of an intimate nature were so repulsing, yet hugs and hand holding were so welcome. I was confused by my odd desires for physical platonic affection, but I guess it made sense having been starved of it for so long.

“You’re getting there, Leila. And we’ll be here the whole way through.”

I leaned back with a smile on my face. I ruffled his hair and let out a short laugh, which was echoed by his own chuckle. 

We sat there for a while, drinking and thinking, before setting off once again to our second home.