Angst in D Minor
by Jenn Reese

 

My moms get up early each morning, usually before dawn, and comb their hair, preen their wings, practice their scales.  All that matters to them is how muscled the men are, or how hairy, or how long it takes to cook them over the fire.  (At least three hours for maximum tenderness.)  I wanted more out of life.  I had to get off the island, or I'd grow up to be just like them.

And then, one day, a backpack washed ashore.  I ran my fingers over the waterproof blue fabric and opened each of the zippered compartments.  Books!  And pens!  And notebooks!

Last year, my moms lured a scientific boat onto the rocks, and one of the surviving men taught me to read before we ate him.  (In strips with dipping sauce.)  I pulled out one of the books and flipped through page after glorious page of tiny black words, and my heart filled with hope.

In the end, I didn't give my moms a chance to argue. They didn't want me to leave the island preserve, but I insisted.  I refused to sing on the cliffs with them each morning.  I stopped eating men, regardless of how they were prepared.  I spent all my time with the backpack and its contents.  My mothers had no choice but to let me go to the mainland, to let me go to school and make my own way in the world. 

*           *           *

Bulfinch High wasn't like other schools.  Instead of the normal run of mortal boys and girls, we had minotaurs and gorgons, nymphs and even a cyclops.  (The cyclops wore glasses, so they called her "Two Eyes.")  I was, apparently, the school's first siren.  The principal made it clear that I shouldn't even think about joining the chorus or performing in the school musical.

"We frown on using our gifts on other students and teachers," she'd said, wagging her long, bony finger at my face. "Automatic detention."

I said all the things the Principal wanted to hear, grabbed a stick of gum from the bowl on her desk, and headed back out into the fray.

The first day of school felt like a feeding frenzy.  Later, I learned that every day of school was like that.  It reminded me of the time a whole boatload of male models washed ashore on our island.  (I'd gained fifteen pounds that week alone!)  The boys dragged their eyes across my body, starting with my yellow bird feet, climbing up my feathered legs, and finally resting on the breasts hidden beneath my shirt.

Only one of them made it to my face.  I could tell by the blond curls and quiver of arrows on his back that he was in the love business.  (Also, that'd he'd taste best served with a side of olives.)

"I'm not hungry," I blurted.

"Huh?"

"I'm Callia," I said, extending my hand.  Thankfully, he took it and shook.

"Pedar," he said. "I'm a--"

"Cupid?"

"--music major," he finished.  (Argh!)  Pedar grinned and rolled his eyes towards the quiver.  "Among other things."

I smiled back, blushing.

"Hey, you must know a thing or two about music," he said. "Maybe you can help me out sometime.  You know, after classes, or something."

I blushed more.  If I sang for him, even a little, we'd have sex and the school would be short one music major in the morning.  I couldn't help it.  Singing got me hot and hungry.  It was in my blood. 

But, still.  Pedar was really cute.

"Sure," I said.  "Sometime sounds good."

The bell rang.  I grinned and headed for my first class.  I didn't realize I'd been humming until I got to history and a stream of fifteen guys (and two girls!) tried to file in after me.  Well, crap.  Not even an hour into the day, and I'd broken the Principal's rule.

Luckily, my history teacher seemed occupied scrawling his name on the blackboard, and the sixteen students shook their dazed heads and wandered back into the hall while I made myself busy with a hangnail.  As soon as they were gone, I dug the stick of gum out of my backpack and started chewing.  Couldn't chew gum and hum at the same time, right?  Right!  I took a seat in the back row, so my wings wouldn't block anyone's view of the teacher, and settled in for my first real lesson.

I woke up an hour later, a thin strand of drool connecting my lower lip to the desk.  The bell must have rung, because everyone was filing past me and out into the chaos of the hallway.  Two girls snickered as I wiped my mouth and tried to fix my sleep-mashed hair.

It was only when I tried to stand up that I felt the wad of gum that someone had stuck to my chair.  I lost two tail feathers before I escaped its pink evil. 

If I'd been back on the island, I'd be sitting on smooth outcroppings of rocks and letting the sun and wind blow my hair.  I'd be listening to gulls cry and the ocean pound itself against the rocks.  I'd hear my moms' voices, glorious in their three-part harmonies, echoing out over the waves.

At least my next class, math, was interesting.  I'd helped my moms with cooking conversions before (How much salt to use for every pound of man, etc.), and it was a relief to have such small, solvable problems on my mind instead of the big, insurmountable ones that generally lived there. 

Languages followed math, and Argonautics followed languages. The rest of the day was occupied by home economics (I aced the cooking practice), mytho-biology (We're going to dissect pigs donated by Circe!  Ew!), and phys ed.

Gym sucked.  I got picked first for kickball because the stupid minotaur boy thought I could use my wings to fly.  (Which I can't.)  To make matters worse, some of the other girls were jealous that he noticed me.

"I heard he's hung like a horse," one of them -- a nymph -- said in the locker room after class.

"No, stupid," said another, "He's hung like a bull!"

They both laughed, and then the nymph spit in between the toes of my bird feet.  Bitch.

Days passed in a blur of chewing gum (both in my mouth and stuck in my feathers), homework, and hostility.  Also, I was really starting to crave meat.  Boy meat.  (And I didn't even care how it was prepared.)  Maybe that's why things went so poorly when I saw Pedar the next time.

"Hey, Callia!"

I stopped pulling at the wad of gum stuck to my leg feathers and looked up.  Grinning, Pedar wove his way through the cafeteria to my table.

"You sit in something nasty?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.  "Guess I'm just clumsy or something."

Pedar dropped his books on the table next to my tray and sat on the bench.  "Naw, you're not clumsy.  I overheard some of the guys talking about it after school yesterday.  They just like watching you touch your thighs."

My mouth fell open.  "They're doing it on purpose?" I sputtered.

"Yup, seems that way," Pedar said.  He grabbed one of my fries and held it up with a question in his eyes.  I nodded.  He tossed it in his mouth and chomped down.

"But that's so . . . it's just so . . . ."

"Mean?" he offered.  "Heartless?  Cruel?  Infantile?  Welcome to Bulfinch High, kid.  Glad you could finally join us."  He grabbed another fry and held it up.  I shoved the whole tray at him.  His eyes lit up.  He looked so amazingly handsome that my stomach growled.

"Let's meet after school today," he said between mouthfuls.  "At the peacock fountain?"

My stomach was still going crazy, and before I could come up with an excuse, I said, "Yeah, sure.  I'll be there."

Oh, crap!

So there I was, on my own for the first time and determined to leave the world of my mothers, and what do I do?  I brush my hair and preen my feathers and think about how best to attract a boy.  The olive sure doesn't fall far from the tree!  

When I got to the fountain, Pedar was already there, a dreamy, cream-colored acoustic guitar ready and waiting between his (muscled but still tender-looking) thighs.  The quiver of cupid arrows still poked up over his shoulder, near the blond curls on his head that taunted my fingers.  He let loose with that classic slayer of women, "Hey."  The feathers on my legs rustled.

"Hey," I said, and claimed a seat on the fountain's stony lip.  "How's it going?"

Pedar grinned.  "Not bad, lady siren, but I'm in your hands now."

I gulped.  Oh, I really did want him in my hands.  "W-w-well," I said, "let me see what you've got."  I studied his body, well-aware of many of his more prominent assets.  "Sing something for me," I added.

He said nothing, but lowered his head and started to play his guitar.  The first few chords were comfortable and warm, and his fingers found them with great confidence.  When he opened his mouth to sing, I expected the gods themselves to weep.

Instead, I almost did.

"Stop!"

Thankfully, he complied.

"What is it?"

I looked at his face, so openly handsome and devoid of cruelty, and I tempered my words.  "Pedar, you really suck."

For a second, he said nothing.  His tanned face remained still, his gaze still locked on mine.

"Of course, I do," he said, smiling.  "That's why I sought out the expert!  I'll never be in a band or get my own gigs without you."

"Your own gigs?"  My stomach churned, its appetite lost.  "We'd better get started.  Let me hear you do this scale."  I opened my mouth and sang a few notes.

Everyone in the courtyard stopped.  Turned.  Stared.  The boys even took a few steps towards me.  I looked back at Pedar to apologize, and saw only adoration in his gorgeous blue eyes. 

I shut my mouth, stood up, and ran.

*           *           *

The principal gave me a week of detention for my "fountain stunt," and I took it gladly.  It kept everyone safely away from me and hid me from Pedar.  I put my pen down and rested my cheek on my notebook hoping, belatedly, that the ink was dry and wouldn't transfer a mirror-image of "I will not sing at school" onto my skin.

Why, oh why, had I ever wanted to leave my island?  Life there was simple but predictable.  I never felt like this, like I wanted to die.  Is this what the real world was all about?

The boys in school avoided me now.  They wouldn't even stare at my breasts (except when I wore almost see-through blouses and it was cold).  The girls, however, hated  me.  They talked behind my back, and even Two Eyes wouldn't sit with me at lunch.  But Pedar was the worst.  I just couldn't face him.  He'd been so nice, even from the start.  How could he ever forgive me?

The look in his eyes . . . I'd seen it in so many men.  Then my moms had hauled off their prey to a dark cave, had some fun, then had some fun again, but of the deadly variety.  Was that my destiny?  A lot of other students had tried to escape their parents -- that poor Oedipus kid had transferred to another school and was living with foster parents now -- but had anyone really succeeded?

The detention bell rang, but I stayed in my chair until the sun set.  Monsters didn't deserve to walk in the light.

*           *           *

Days trickled by in an endless stream of social torture.  I spent all of my time studying in the library -- I was behind everyone except one of Circe's pigs (who had transformed into a boy just before his dissection).   We got the day off for Zeus's birthday, since half the student body trekked up to Olympus to celebrate with "Dad."  All I wanted was to finish my history paper and practice my algebra, but Lidio, Prometheus's brat, had other plans.

Six times now, I'd shared detention with the whiny loser.  He hated going to a private school, and was always trying to steal stuff and give it to the mortal kids so they'd accept him.  (He took the school mascot, our cerberus, once, but the dog bit him on his hand, his leg, and his ass all at the same time.  The principal found him bawling just outside the gates and dragged him back inside.)

Today, however, it was fire, and apparently Lidio had decided to make it in the chemistry lab next to the library.  (His dad had already done the "regular" fire thing.  Lidio wanted something a bit more impressive.)  There I sat, chewing my gum and printing numbers in my notebook, when something exploded.  A heartbeat later came the screams.

I started to salivate.  (I couldn't help it!  I'd grown up associating screaming men with my next big meal.)  But I didn't belong to those urges; they belonged to me.  I left my books and my backpack and my little stack of chewing gum, and I headed for the lab.

Smoke filled the hallway -- a thick, greenish smoke that smelled of burned hair and skin.  (More salivating--Urgh!)  I choked, but ducked my head and stumbled towards the door. 

Fire filled the chemistry lab from floor to ceiling -- a deadly curtain of flames trapping Lidio and three other boys against the wall.  If they didn't get out, they'd burn to death. 

And one of the boys was Pedar.

He had sat down and shoved himself against the far wall.  The tips of his golden curls were singed, but not currently ablaze. 

"Come here," I yelled.  "Quick!"  There was a weak section of fire in the middle of the curtain.  They'd be burned, but not too badly if they ran.

But the boys were lost.  I saw it in their blank stares, their trembling limbs.  All they could do was watch the fire as it ate its way towards them. Unlike the others, Pedar's gaze was locked on his guitar, which blazed beside him, wrapped in a fiery halo.  There must be something in the fire -- in whatever chemicals or magic Lidio had used to make it -- that dulled their minds.  In a few minutes, they'd all be dead.

I was hungry, but not for this.  I sucked in smoky air through my nose, opened my mouth, and sang.

Normally, it doesn't matter what we sing.  We could be saying, "If you come to us, we'll just kill you and eat you," and it wouldn't make any difference.  Men don't care about content nearly as much as they care about packaging, and the siren's voice -- my voice-- is beyond compare.

But even though it didn't matter, I sang of the sea.  I wanted them to feel, even on just a subconscious level, the ocean's cool embrace urging them forward, welcoming them to safety.  And they came.

Lidio crossed the fire first, his eyes glazed and only for me.  Two Eyes grabbed him as he came across and put out the fire on his pants, kept him from touching me.  I was grateful to her, but did nothing but continue singing -- of the sea, of my homeland, of my moms.  I felt tears form in my eyes, and I didn't know if they were from the smoke or something else altogether.

Another boy came, and another.  Two Eyes pulled them off me with her incredibly strong cyclops arms, and I looked for Pedar.

There he sat, on the other side of the growing flames, still staring at his damn guitar.

My voice faltered.

"Pedar!"

He didn't move, didn't even look up.

"Oh, hell."

I bolted through the wall of flames.  Heat licked my body.  Leg feathers caught fire and I patted them out as fast as could, burning my hands in the process.  I didn't want to see what my wings looked like.

"Pedar, get up," I yelled.  His precious guitar was just a pile of smoldering ash.  He looked at me.

"Callia.  What are you doing here?"

"Shut up, stupid, and take my hand."  I offered it to him and, in a show of uncharacteristic brilliance, he took it.  I hauled him to his feet, threw him through the fire, and plunged in after him. 

We ended up in a heap of burning feathers and clothes on the other side.  Someone grabbed me by the wings and pulled me out into the hallway.  All I could do was choke, salivate, and try to breathe.  Unfortunately, I didn't do so well on the last one.

*           *           *

"Gay?"

"As a three-headed hydra," Pedar said.  He took my hand--the one without bandages--as we walked to the fountain and sat down.  The Principal had let us both go after a lengthy discussion on the hazards of fire.  I'd been expecting a lengthy run of detentions, too, for using my voice, but she'd only smiled and said something about arranging a "special" detention for Lidio.  ("Like father, like son," the principal had said, then, "I wonder where can I rent a vulture?")

I sat on the fountain's edge and dragged the fingertips of my burned hand through the cool water. 

"So you'll give me some real singing lessons, now, right?" Pedar asked.  "After I get another guitar, of course.  Maybe I'll get one with a cutaway this time."

"Yeah, sure," I said.  I could sing as much as I wanted to around Pedar!  It was so strange -- a boy I didn't have to worry about attracting.  A friend.  "I'm really happy that I don't have to eat you," I said, grinning.

"I'm pretty pleased about that, too," Pedar said.  "But we could, you know, get dinner sometime.  Something vegetarian."

"Vegetarian?"  I scrunched up my nose.  Well, I guess there's always a price for thwarting destiny.  I just didn't think it'd be so high.