"Mom, we can't move!" I scream, my voice echoing through the house as I sprint down the stairs, chasing after my mom, who had just left my room after dropping the bombshell that we were moving in a week.
"We are, honey. I'm sorry," she replies, her tone firm yet gentle. She turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs and heads towards the kitchen. I follow her, frustration boiling over as I throw my arms into the air in exasperation.
"What about Beth?" I demand, a heavy sigh escaping my lips as I slump into a chair at the dining table adjacent to the kitchen. My mom pauses, glancing back at me with a sympathetic smile, her hands resting on her hips.
"Beth will survive without you, and we'll visit as much as we can," she says, turning back to the fridge and rummaging through its contents, looking for something to make for dinner.
I groan, burying my face in my hands. Most of my life, it's just been me and my mom. My dad left when I was little because of an accident I had at the beach.
When I was eight, we were out on a boat in the ocean, enjoying a sunny family day. The waves lapped gently against the hull, and the salty breeze played with my hair. My dad, in his usual carefree manner, had forgotten to put a life jacket on me. I was too young to notice or care, too excited by the adventure.
But then, in the blink of an eye, I lost my balance and tumbled overboard. The world became a blur of bubbles and darkness as I sank, panic gripping my small body. I had never learned to swim, and the water felt cold and unforgiving as it filled my lungs. I remember the terror, the helpless flailing. I died that day...or at least, a part of me did.
When I thought there was no light in sight something miraculous happened. I was brought back. I don't remember much of it, just a sensation of being pushed upwards, almost as if the ocean itself was rejecting me. I broke through the surface, gasping for air, and my mom's frantic hands grabbed me, pulling me back into the boat. Her face was a mix of relief and fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.
In my childish curiosity, I tried to understand what had happened. My research, though limited by my age and resources, led me to fascinating, and confusing, conclusions. I stumbled upon tales of sirens, mythical creatures of the sea. One story suggested that a siren could give some of their life force to a human, turning the human into a half-siren in the process.
And that's what I became—a half-siren. My best friend Beth is a full siren, and she's helped me navigate this strange new reality. I can do most things a normal siren can do: breathe underwater, swim with incredible speed, and even communicate with sea creatures. The only thing I can't do is use a siren song. Legend says I should be able to, but I've never managed to produce more than a whisper of melody.
That day in the ocean changed everything. I'm not just the girl who almost drowned; I'm a bridge between two worlds, human and siren. And though I can't sing the siren song, I've found a rhythm in the waves, a melody in the ebb and flow of the tides, and a sense of belonging in the vast, mysterious sea.
"Honey, I know you don't want to leave, but I got promoted at the hospital, and they are relocating me for the job," my mom says, taking a seat across from me. She reaches across the table, taking my hands in hers, her smile warm and reassuring.
"I know, Mom," I reply with a sigh. "I'm not upset that you got the job; I just—I just don't want to leave. I love it here."
"I know, dear. But Beacon Hills is a great town, and we'll love it there too," she replies, her smile unwavering. I nod slowly, a reluctant smile forming on my lips as I meet her gaze.
~~~
The week flies by in a blur, and before I know it, I'm standing at the airport, saying goodbye to Beth. Tears stream down our faces as we cling to each other in a tight embrace. The reality of leaving hits hard, and the pain is almost unbearable.
"I'll miss you so much," Beth sobs, her voice choked with emotion.
"I'll miss you too," I manage to whisper, my throat tight. We hold each other for a few more moments before my mom gently pulls me away.
"We have to go, sweetheart," she says softly, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. She leads me towards the security checkpoint, and I glance back at Beth one last time, memorizing her tear-streaked face.
As we walk, I wipe away my tears and pull my suitcase behind me, the wheels making a soft thudding sound against the airport floor. We pass through security, the process feeling mechanical and surreal. My mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and it's hard to focus on anything other than the ache in my chest.
We reach our gate, and I sink into one of the plastic chairs, trying to compose myself. My mom sits next to me, offering a comforting smile and a reassuring squeeze of my hand.
"We're going to be okay," she says gently, her voice filled with conviction. I nod, taking a deep breath, and try to believe her.
~~~
The plane touches down with a jolt, and a sense of finality washes over me. As the aircraft taxis to the gate, I peer out the window at the unfamiliar landscape of Northern California, my new home.
"We're here," my mom says softly, squeezing my hand. I nod, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak.
We gather our belongings and shuffle off the plane, merging into the throng of passengers on the jet bridge. The airport is bustling with activity—a sea of unfamiliar faces and hurried footsteps. I follow my mom through the terminal, clutching my carry-on bag tightly.
The walk to baggage claim feels endless, but we finally reach the carousel and wait for our suitcases. My mom chats with me about the new house and the neighborhood, trying to keep the mood light, but I can only muster half-hearted responses. My thoughts are still on the life I left behind.
Our bags appear, and we haul them off the conveyor belt. With our luggage in tow, we make our way to the exit. The sliding doors whoosh open, and a blast of warm air greets us. The unfamiliar scents and sounds of Beacon Hills hit me all at once, making my heart race with a mix of anxiety and curiosity.
"Ready?" my mom asks, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply, forcing a small smile. She nods, and we step outside, leaving the airport behind.
A shuttle bus takes us to the rental car area, where we pick up our vehicle. My mom navigates through the city streets with ease; her excitement is palpable. I stare out the window, taking in the new scenery. Trees line the roads, and the town has a quaint, welcoming feel.
I sit with my head against the rental car as I watch the landscape fly by. After an hour of driving, we made it to beacon hills. The first stop was the hospital, where my mom was going to briefly talk to the chief.
We get to the hospital, and she parks the car. "Okay, honey, I'm going to go in. You stay here." She says this before getting out of the car and walking to the front of the hospital.
~~~
Twenty minutes later, my mom is walking back; she's getting into the car and turning to me with an apologetic look.
"Honey, I need to let you know I'll be working night shifts for a while. That means I won't see you much since you're starting school tomorrow."
"Mom, do I really have to start school tomorrow? We still have to unpack everything," I protest as she starts the car again. Our new house is already picked out; it's small, with only two bedrooms.
"I'm sorry, but you have to. I don't want you to fall behind, and I start work tomorrow too," she says, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I sigh and turn my gaze back to the window, watching the unfamiliar streets of Beacon Hills pass by.
The drive to the house is short, only about five minutes from the hospital. That means most other things aren't far either. Still, I can't help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over me. Adjusting to this small town is going to be a challenge, especially coming from one of the more populated parts of Florida.
As we pull into the driveway, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. The house is quaint, with a small front yard and a porch. My mom parks the car and turns to me with a hopeful smile.
"This is it. Our new home," she says, trying to sound cheerful. I nod slowly, my heart heavy with a mix of emotions.
"Yeah, our new home," I echo, grabbing my suitcase and stepping out of the car. The air feels different here—fresher somehow. Maybe there's something to be said for small-town life, but right now, it feels like a daunting mountain to climb.
We start unloading the car, and as we carry boxes inside, my mom keeps up a steady stream of chatter about how we'll decorate and make the place our own. I listen, but my mind is already racing ahead to tomorrow, the first day at a new school in a town where I don't know anyone.
This is going to be hard, I think to myself. But I have to try. I owe it to my mom for everything she's done for me. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find a way to make this place feel like home.
YOU ARE READING
Sirens in Beacon Hills
FanfictionWhen I was eight, we were out on a boat in the ocean, enjoying a sunny family day. The waves lapped gently against the hull, and the salty breeze played with my hair. My dad, in his usual carefree manner, had forgotten to put a life jacket on me. I...
