Sound of Sirens, Jen Minkman [digital e reader .TXT] 📗

trails behind him to apologize some more, I pin my father with a dark gaze full of resentment.

“Why did you allow Sytse to risk his life like that?” I spit. “And why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“Enna.” His eyes fill with a dull pain. “I was just trying to protect you. You’re too much like your mother – too emotional, and far too prone to Sadness. So susceptible to the Nixen’s call. I was afraid that all this knowledge about the injustice in our world would cause you to snap and do irresponsible things.”

“But Sytse is doing them,” I point out in frustration.

He shakes his head and the lines around his mouth harden. “No. Your brother is far too level-headed to be reckless. If I could still walk properly, sweetheart, I would have joined the resistance too and fought for my wife and for our people so we could live in a better world some day. Nothing would have made me more content after your mom’s horrible death. But I can’t. Sytse is my eyes and ears. He walks this path for me.”

That shuts me up. This, too, is a way for my dad to feel like he still matters. We all cope differently with death and disease and misfortune.

“I’m not reckless,” I mutter stubbornly.

“Yes, you are. You let your heart run ahead of itself. You don’t think things through.” He smiles. “It’s what I love about you, Enna. You’re like the fire warming this house inside and out. The beating heart of our family – but sometimes, it makes you unstable.”

I bite my lip. “Thank you.”

“Ik hab dy jeaf, Enna,” he says in Skylgian.

“I love you too, Heit,” I tell him. “Sorry I got mad.”

At that moment, Dani comes back in and our conversation is over. It would have been anyway - neither of us likes to waste too much time on saying we’re sorry or openly expressing our love. In that respect, we are very much alike.

“Shall we sit down?” she proposes gingerly. “So we can look at the Oorol program? I brought a flyer.” She waves it in the air.

“Sure.” I smile faintly. Now that Sytse is gone with the book, there’s no point talking about all the new things we’ve learned. It will only bring up a ton of questions that nobody can answer – yet.

We look at tomorrow’s line-up. Of course, Mayor Edison will kick off the festival with a long-winded speech about the precious unity between Currents and Skylgers and how Oorol symbolizes our friendship, yada yada. The Skelta is up next. He usually keeps things short, giving way to the Skylger Choir singing the ancient songs to honor our ancestors and the creatures of the sea. Afterwards, there’s an appearance of the Maidens of Brandan from the convent belonging to the Baeles-Weards on the main stage, and some folk singers from both sides on the two smaller stages near the park.

“I think I’m going to stick with Adrian Lymes,” I say, pointing at the announcement for the concert in the park. “I liked his songs last year. Remember you learned how to play his songs on guitar so you could play them at my birthday?” Dani has an uncanny memory for melodies. Maybe she developed that skill in the absence of shellac records featuring the latest songs composed by Current artists on the island. They never bother to sell their songs to us. A wasted opportunity, if you ask me.

“Lymes it is,” Dani agrees. “Oh, look, there’s an after party. You going?”

“Nah.” I’m meeting up with Royce at ten, but I’m not telling her that. She’ll assume the worst, but she doesn’t need to worry. All I want is to show him I’m not scared of him.

“And your music buddy is taking center stage on Monday, see?” Dani teases me light-heartedly, though with a slightly accusatory undertone. “Hey, you know that band performing after him?”

“Twarres,” I read out loud. “Not yet, but Sytse says they’re from Fryslan, so that’s a pretty big deal. Alke knows them too.”

Dani’s eyes start to glisten. “Musicians from the mainland? Wow. You think they have anything out on shellac?”

“They should. Alke said he owns a few records.”

“And they sing in Frisian?”

I frown. “No idea. It’s not all Anglian and German these days anymore, though. I can’t wait to see their show.”

We babble on about the festival until it gets dark outside. That’s when Sytse returns from Stortum. He’s taken a while – probably been talking on that radio thing. Dad comes back to the living room and makes us all some tea and cookies. “Will you be all right going home by yourself?” he asks Dani, casting a look outside.

“I’ll walk you,” Sytse offers before Dani can reply. “I need to visit someone on your street anyway.”

“Thanks.” Dani shyly smiles at my brother. She looks flattered – a bit nervous, even. That’s when I remember she used to have a thing for Sytse before he joined the fleet. Well, he made it perfectly clear what he thinks about age difference. Guys like him shouldn’t be hanging with young girls like Dani, according to him. I’m sure he means nothing by it.

After my friend is gone, I tell my father I’ll be out for a while to watch the stars. In order to drown out the call of the Nixen, I usually take my record player with me.

The portable device built into the leather suitcase is heavy. The handle cuts into my hand as I clamber up the dyke, but I don’t mind. I need some music to accompany me in my secret hideaway.

Nobody knows where I take refuge whenever I sit at the seaside, not even Dani. There’s a small cave tucked away between two large boulders sticking out into the sea five minutes from here. It’s impossible to go into the cave when the tide is high, but when the sea retreats I can go down the steps I found in the woodlands near the beach and safely get inside via a tunnel.

It was truly exciting when I found it by accident a few years ago. Since our island is so flat and sandy, I suspect the entire cave was man-made. It’s more like a grotto, because the interior is decorated with shells and mosaic in all shades of green and blue. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s a shrine for the sea gods, but to my knowledge we never worshipped them in temples or sanctuaries. If this place once belonged to someone who built it to honor the Nixen, I’m sure he or she quickly abandoned it after they turned against us.

Fortunately, the acoustics in my private cave are outstanding. Playing my records here boosts the volume at least twofold, if not more. In here, I like to listen to classical music by Chopin, Debussy, and Rachmaninov by soft candlelight while gazing at the stars outside.

The alcove I used to hide my big candle in has kept it safe and dry. As I touch the match to the wick, a soft breeze stirs my hair and makes the flame flicker. I can’t stay too long or I’ll be washed away by the sea – the waters are already rising. But I needed to get out of the house and away from all the shocking revelations floating through the air and my mind. I’ve always felt that our world wasn’t entirely fair as it was, but I never dared to dream that it might be changed – that we stand a chance of turning things around for ourselves.

Could I live to see a day in which I’d be allowed to befriend a Current guy? Show my dad the island in an electric car? Listen to my favorite music without being punished?

I play my old records and close my eyes for a while, wishing for time to speed up and life to change around me as though I were an old, gnarly tree seeing the years flash by in the blink of an eye. So I can escape the Sadness and fast-forward to a bright future.

But then I push those melancholy thoughts aside. I want to be a part of this change. I want to join the fight, in my own, small way, and I know exactly how to do it.

I am not going to give up my secret friendship with Royce.

12.

The next morning we all sleep in. By the time I get up, the albatross is nowhere to be found near the house. It probably gave up on me today. I smile to myself in the mirror as I get dressed in my cobalt blue, short-sleeved blouse and flared black pants. It might be a bit too cold outside to wear short sleeves, but I don’t care. I want to look different than usual.

I touch some lip gloss to my lips and accentuate my brown eyes with a bit of dark-green eyeliner and mascara. Then, I braid my dark hair and stick little white flowers into the end. As a finishing touch, I spray on some rose perfume. And all the while, I am humming a Jyoti tune, trying to deny that I’m sort of wondering whether Royce will like the way I look. Thinking back to our strange and awkward goodbye two nights ago makes my stomach lurch a little bit.

“Wow, don’t you look dashing today!” Sytse exclaims when I step into the kitchen. “All tarted up for the Oorol opening, are you?”

I grin amicably. “Only happens once a year, so I’ve gone all out.”

“Go big or go home,” Sytse agrees with an even wider grin. “What do you think of my new suit?”

The neat brown jacket and pants turn him into a different person, too. “It looks good on you,” I reply. “You almost look like...”

I stop. To look like a Current is a thing some people aim for – even if they’re not willing to admit it – but I’m sure Sytse aspires to no such thing.

“Like a married man,” I finish lamely. “You know, all grown up and stuff.”

He smiles faintly. “Not ready to tie the knot just yet,” he replies softly. “If I marry someone, I’d like for her to build a life with me in a world without injustice and discrimination.”

“Yeah, I get that.” A little bit subdued, I walk over to the counter and turn on the stove to fry some eggs and sausages for breakfast. There’s still some smoked mackerel left from last night, so I dump some of that on my plate too. By the time Dad comes out in his best suit, the kitchen is filled with mouth-watering smells of food and sweet herbal tea.

“So, are you going to tell the Skelta that it was me who stole his book?” I inquire a bit anxiously once we’re all sitting down for breakfast.

Sytse shakes his head. “I’ll tell him Alke borrowed it and it was a misunderstanding. I don’t want you involved.”

My mouth drops open. “Alke?” I manage to utter.

He shrugs. “Yeah. He’s a part of our organization, too. I trust you can keep that secret.”

Well, that explains the flustered look on Alke’s face when I mentioned Twarres to him. “Of course.”

“And I expect you to stay away from that Bolton guy from now on,” Sytse continues, his face darkening. “The arrogant