Free Siren's Song by Heather McCollum Page A

helps, you know.” He reaches inside and flicks on the porch light. I blink at the piercing brightness. Dad looks at me. “You okay? You look kind of…dazed.”
    Dazed? Try frickin’ shocked, floored…thrilled? My mouth finally works enough to smile. I shrug and walk inside. “How’s Mom?”
    Dad’s parental concern melts into a smile and he nods. “Eating. Better. What made you think about getting her to sing?”
    â€œI haven’t been singing, you know. Mom said not to. And I’ve felt…bad.” I shrug again. “When I cut my foot the other day, I sang to take my mind off it.” Dad looks at my foot. I forgot I didn’t tell him. “It’s nothing. Pre-med Carly patched it up. But when I sang, I felt so much better. I thought it couldn’t hurt for Mom to try it.”
    Dad steps up and envelops me in a hug. I’m stiff at first, wondering if he can smell Luke on me. He kisses the top of my head. “Thank you.” He pulls back and smiles into my face. “It really helped. Her oxygen levels and blood pressure are normalizing again. Her doctor is going to make sure she sings a concert every day.”
    â€œWill she come home soon, then?”
    Dad nods. “If she continues to improve physically and doesn’t…well, say anything that makes the doctors wonder, she could come home the week after next.”
    â€œLet’s take her a lot of milk shakes.”
    Dad’s smile broadens. “That’s the plan.” He glances around and spots the two glasses. “Did you have company?”
    Crap . “Um, Carly stopped by.” Dad seems too happy to press further. “I’d better go upstairs and get ready for bed.” Before his euphoria wears off and the overly intelligent, “can’t hide anything from me” Dad resurfaces. “Five-fortyfive comes early.”
    He turns toward his computer. “I’d better check my homework, too,” he says as he boots it up. “I left the lab pretty early today.”
    I heft my book bag and trudge upstairs. Once the door clicks shut I flop onto my bed and let my chin drop open. OMG! Luke kissed me! And not just some grope-in-the-dark, fumbly, slimy, tongue-down-the-throat kiss. I sit up and go to my full-length mirror, push back my hair and stare at the spot his lips traced below my ear. I can still feel the feather-light movement along my jaw. God, what would have happened if Dad hadn’t ended it with his mere presence?
    I grab my cell and punch speed-dial #1.
    â€œHey, Jule. What’s up?”
    â€œGod, Carly, you won’t believe what just happened!”

5
    â€œO, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.” ~William Shakespeare
    The sun shines low on the horizon, promising a beautiful day. It’s Friday, the last day of the first week of school. What a week. I smile as I tip my head out the window and let the wind blow-dry my curling hair. I sing a few lines of the song on the radio while Carly’s stopped at a light.
    â€œIt’s green, Carly,” I say to break her from her daze.
    â€œIf you’re going to sing, Jule,” Carly says, shaking her head and hitting the gas a little too hard, “you’re going to have to drive.”
    I laugh. “Sorry.” Is it ridiculous to feel so happy when life is still so utterly insane? Can a kiss have such impact? Apparently, yes. I smile wide into the breeze and feather my hair out the window. Long curls twist and shine a glowing brown as I run my fingers through the wild mane. My mom says that the fresh, wind-blown look complements my pixie-like face. Lately I’ve been too much of a control freak to let my hair dry naturally, but today I’m taking the risk. Ooooh, I’m living on the edge.
    When I round the corner to my locker and Luke’s