The Accidental Siren (15 page)

Mom asked, “Did you thank Mrs. Greenfield for
letting you borrow props from her store?”

“Thanks for the swords,” I said, “and the hat
and the funny-looking boots. We’ll try not to break your
mannequin.”

The woman batted her hand. “Dontcha worry
about Freddy! He used to be the display for the vintage dresses in
my store, but his poor leg broke and he doesn’t stand very
well.”

“They’ll be careful anyway,” Mom added.
“Won’t you James?”

I nodded, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Your mom tells me you lost nine pounds in
five weeks! What’s your secret?”

I shrugged. “Diet and exercise. And it’s ten
pounds now.”

“Good for you. You’re certainly turning into
a handsome young man.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Mom recognized my anxiety and sighed. “Go on.
Get back to work.”

“Okay...” I said. “But can I use one of the
twins to hold the boom mic? It’s just for a couple shots–”

Mom was already shaking her head. “I thought
we talked about this? I let you use the library on the one day a
week I’m allowed to relax, and we agreed that there would be
absolutely no twins on the roof.”

“But Ma!” I whined. “It’s totally flat and
there’s a brick wall and nobody’s gonna fall!”

“The ‘brick wall’ is only a foot tall and a
hundred years old. The answer is no.”

“Aw, Maaa...”

While Mom and I bickered, Mrs. Greenfield
kept her attention split between our argument and the girls with
the muddy makeup. “I’ve never heard of a boom mic in my life,” she
said, rejoining the conversation. “But if you need a hand, I’d be
happy to help!” Again, her cheeks flushed and pressed her eyes into
little slits.

I accepted her offer with some reluctance,
but she did manage to relieve some of my stress.

I climbed out the window, shuffled my feet
across the rolled tar, and uncoiled the boom cable. Whips of warm
air tugged my collar and wobbled the iron chicken on the steeple
only ten feet above my head.

The legendary Ryan Brosh–blue eyes, blonde
locks, and a slick veneer of crisp summer tan–jabbed the wind with
his sword, twirled a deadly three-sixty, then ruffled my hair.
“Hows it hangin’, little man?”

I shrugged and wiggled the cord into the body
of my camera. “Okay, I guess.”

“Your movie is gonna be killer! Don’t let
anybody say you’re not talented as all hell. You hear me?”

I was skeptical of the sudden praise from a
popular high-schooler, but thanked him anyway and checked the sound
level of the wind.

Then it happened; the inevitable “It” that
would provide the spark to every buddy-buddy friendship for the
rest of my life: “Hey dude,” Ryan whispered, “what do you think of
Mara?”

Maaaraaa. But of course!

“She’s cool,” I muttered. “Why?”

Ryan stretched his arms to both tips of the
sword, held it high above his head, arched backwards, and cracked
his sternum. “She’s cute, right?”

“She’s a little young,” I said.

“No way, bro! I started school early so I’m
barely a freshmen. That’s only two years different. Plus, she looks
old enough to drive, am I right?” Ryan’s crooked smile was
winning.

I choked down the one-two punch of newfound
jealousy and my sister’s impending heartbreak. I barely knew Ryan
Brosh, but facing those baby blues on the roof of my castle, I
wanted to stab him myself.

“I’m not usually shy,” he said, “that’s the
actor side of me. But maybe you could talk to Mara and see where I
stand? Ya feel me, bro?”

I looked to the tiny window in the massive
brick wall. Two foreheads hovered at the bottom of the frame, then
poked up like the Bop-a-Mole game at ShowBiz Pizza. It was Livy and
Mara. Their beaming cheekbones indicated smiles were hidden beneath
the sill. Their doe-eyes were trained, not on me, but on the evil
prince as he practiced his moves.

* * *

18 EXT. THE CASTLE OF THE EVIL PRINCE -
DAY

THE PRINCE HAS HIS SWORD AGAINST THE GIRL’S
THROAT. SHE’S SCARED... BUT THEN SHE REMEMBERS HER FATHER AND ALL
THE THINGS HE TAUGHT HER. RIGHT BEFORE SHE GETS KILLED, SHE KICKS
THE MAN IN THE LEG AND GRABS HER SWORD AND FIGHTS HIM TO THE EDGE
OF THE ROOF!

THEY FIGHT SOME MORE, THEN THE GIRL PULLS HER
ARM BACK AND SWINGS HER SWORD AS HARD AS SHE CAN AND HITS THE
PRINCE’S SWORD AND IT FLIES TO THE GROUND. SHE PUTS HER SWORD TO
HIS THROAT AND HE CRAWLS BACKWARD TO THE VERY EDGE OF THE ROOF.

“I know you have my father!” Mara yelled, the
tip of her fencing saber in the middle of Ryan’s chest. “Tell me
where he is!”

The boy held up his hands in protest, just
like we talked about. “Your father owed me taxes!” he exclaimed
with theatrical bravura. “He said he couldn’t pay!”

“Where did you take him?” Mara demanded and
forced him a step closer to the ledge.

Mrs. Greenfield held the boom like a pro.

Livy watched her boy from the sidelines.

Another gust of wind snapped at Mara’s skirt
and hair, adding serious production value to the scene.

“I didn’t take him anywhere!” Ryan pleaded.
“I... I...”

“You what?” Mara asked.

“I... I...”

“Tell me!”

“I killed him!”

I zoomed into Mara’s mud-crusted face and
focused the lens on her confusion.

“K–Killed?” she asked.

“Yes. I sent him to his death!”

Mara’s eyebrows pulled together at the bridge
of her nose. Her irises danced as she searched for truth. “Where
is... ‘death’? How do I find it?”

Ryan loosened a coy smile. This jerk was
good. “It means he’s dead, little girl.
And he’s never coming
back.
”

Mara froze. Her eyes settled into a blank
stare. The bewilderment on her muddy face could break a heart. Then
she lowered her brow in a terrible scowl and charged Ryan with the
tip of her sword.

“Cut!” I yelled.

Ryan burst out laughing. “Dang, little lady!
You’re crazy good! Have you done this before?”

Mara combed her fingers through her matted
hair. “First time in front of a camera.”

Mrs. Greenfield lowered her arms and blotted
a tear with the sleeve of her blouse. “You’re all so talented!”

Livy ran to set. “Ryan needs a touch up,” she
said and pulled out her powder.

Thanks to my role as Obnoxious Little
Brother, I rarely saw my sister’s genuine smile. But I saw it that
day; a pretty smile that brightened her face, enlivened her mood,
and bestowed her stance with confidence. (As she dusted Ryan’s
face, she couldn’t contain that smile if she tried.)

Mara noticed it too. Our eyes connected for a
split second, just long enough for the girl to flash me a look of
concern that she had intended to keep hidden. As she turned to
leave, Ryan stiffened his posture to better watch over Livy’s
braids.

I inhaled, held the air, then released. “All
right, everybody!” I said. “Let’s get the mannequin!”

* * *

19 EXT. THE CASTLE OF THE EVIL PRINCE -
DAY

THE EVIL PRINCE FALLS OFF THE ROOF TO HIS
BLOODY DEMISE!

The ladies of The Demi Moore Cigar Club
joined the filmmakers at the top of the dune. We visored our eyes
to better see Freddy the mannequin (in the garb of the evil prince)
dangling from Mara’s hands against the castle wall. Thirty feet
below, blankets, pillows and cushions provided a soft target for
the plastic daredevil.

Livy stood as close to Ryan as their
friendship allowed. Apparently, she was oblivious to the fact that
he was wearing blush, eyeliner, and a Michael Jordan basketball
jersey. Poor Livy... she didn’t know the futility of her
flirtation. “Sorry,” she said, tracing circles in the sand with her
hightop. “I know this movie is totally lame.”

“Are you kiddin’?” he said. “I get to watch
myself fall from the roof of a freakin’ castle! I’m wiggin’
out!”

Mom was behind me, chatting up Mrs. Bullard,
doing her best to explain the filmmaking process. “This is one of
the last scenes in the movie,” she said, “but they still need to
shoot a war scene that actually comes earlier in the story. James
can put the scenes together in the right order during the editing
process. It’s all very technical.”

“Why aren’t you all costumed up, Beth?” asked
the woman. “Shouldn’t you be queen of this castle?”

My back was turned, but I could feel the
flush in my mother’s cheeks. “Ha!” she said. “You’ll never catch
Bethany Parker in front of a movie camera. I’m strictly a
behind-the-scenes kinda mom.”

I scanned the roof and saw Mrs. Greenfield
with her hands on her hips. She asked permission to assist Mara
with the dummy; I said it was fine as long as she stayed clear of
the shot.

“
Testing, testing?”
Mara’s voice
crackled over the My First Sony walkie-talkie attached to my ear.
“Are you there, Mr. Director?”

I bent the mouthpiece to my lips. “Hear ya
loud n’ clear, Alpha Girl. How are we lookin’?”

“
Freddy’s in place and ready to drop.”
The mannequin wiggled against the wall.

“Sweet. Tell Freddy that we’ve only got one
shot at this, so make it good.”

“
Will do, Mr. Director. Tell Livy and Ryan
I say ‘hello down there!’”

I winced. “Will do, Alpha Girl. Over and
out.” I checked the frame one last time, then raised my arms.
“Quiet on the set!” I yelled. The ladies simmered. Ryan stepped to
my side.

The earpiece crackled.
“Dang, that was
loud!”

“Sorry, Alpha Girl. Forgot about the
headset.”

Mom covered her mouth. Livy inched closer to
Ryan as he bubbled with goofy excitement. On the roof, Mrs.
Greenfield ducked out of view.

I pushed record and held my breath. “Annnnd,
action!”

The dummy fell with disturbing grace, then
bumped the brick wall and reeled head first toward the ground. The
costume fluttered just enough to make him look real; I imagined
Ryan in his place.

Freddy hit the pillows with a pop and crunch.
The ladies gasped. Ryan raised his fists in the air and whooped,
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

I kept the camera wide on the castle wall
until Mara emerged with exquisite timing from the brick horizon, a
tiny silhouette with a billowing blouse, windswept hair, and sword
at her side. Slowly, I rotated the zoom, pushing into The Girl as
she stood above the rest of us like a true heroine, comfortable in
her place at the top of the world.

I yelled cut. The ladies cheered.

Mara dropped her sword, waved, then grabbed
the walkie-talkie.
“How’d it look, Mr. Director?”

“Awesome,” I said. “Nice work, Alpha–”

Mara jerked the headset off before I could
finish and Mrs. Greenfield appeared at her side. There was a burst
of jumbled laughter as Mara fumbled with the device, then found the
power switch and turned it off. My earpiece clicked silent and I
watched The Girl share the moment with my mother’s friend.

“Killer shot, bro!” Ryan blurted. “Mara
looked tight! Am I right? We’re gonna make so many movies together,
little dude.”

I didn’t respond. My jaw tensed. My molars
rubbed together in grinding figure eights.

I succumbed to a new primal urge that
afternoon... but my jealousy was attuned to the wrong threat.

In the coming weeks, I would find myself on
the outskirts of several serious conversations. Mom and Dad would
invite Mara to the living room for private chats. Girly whispers of
Ryan Ryan Ryan
would be “none of my beeswax.” I would begin
to notice Mara among my mother’s friends, lemonade in hand,
laughing with a wry smile and complimenting Mrs. So-And-So on a
successful perm, or Ms. What’s-Her-Name on new earrings. I would
notice an increase in face-time with Mrs. Greenfield; special
shopping trips, castle barbecues with her husband and
twenty-something daughter Samantha (during trips home from Michigan
State), and more offers to assist on the fairytale. I would ask Mom
about the renewed friendship and she would tell me, “The
Greenfields have an empty nest now, and they need to spend time
with friends. Hasn’t it been nice reconnecting with them?”

These secrets and odd conversations would
taint the castle’s usual homeyness with a can’t-put-my-finger-on-it
sense of dread. My attention, however, would be consumed with
jealous urges and the multitude of boys who promised to take her
away.

I didn’t know it as I swept up the dummy’s
remains, but it wasn’t Danny, Whitney, or Ryan Brosh that would rip
Mara out of my life... it was Mrs. Greenfield.

6.
FAIRYTALE, PART II: THE WAR

09 EXT. BATTLEGROUND WOODS - NIGHT

THE GIRL TAKES THE SWORD, TURNS FROM THE
DYING SOLDIER AND RUNS AS FAST AS SHE CAN RIGHT THROUGH THE MIDDLE
OF THE WAR! BOMBS EXPLODE ALL AROUND HER. HUMANS AND CREATURES
FIGHT EACH OTHER WITH STICKS AND SWORDS AND TORCHES.

A GROOM OF HUMANS STARTS RUNNING RIGHT BEHIND
THE GIRL WITH THEIR WEAPONS DRAWN. IT LOOKS LIKE THEY’RE TRYING TO
CATCH HER! BUT SHE TURNS AWAY JUST IN TIME AND THE CREATURES LEAP
OUT OF THE BUSHES AND ATTACK THEM.

8:40 PM.

A.J. gunned the four-wheeler down a firebreak
in the nighttime woods. The only illumination came from seven
strategically placed work lamps powered by sixteen extension
cords... and light from the crescent moon.

Saddled backwards, I squeezed the seat with
my thighs and clutched the camera with every muscle my fingers
offered.

Mara grabbed the ketchup-stained sword from
Whit’s extended hand and sheathed it.

“Run!” the solider shouted.

And she did, tearing through the forest
behind our motorized dolly. Her look of terror was amplified by the
rattling image and the surrounding commotion, and in the
background, Whitney clutched his chest, raised his hand to the
heavens, then died.