The Siren's Song

Chapter One- Flip Flops And Sunshine

"Johnny," I call out through my open window, "it's my turn to sit in the back!"

The wind whips my hair and the sun shines down on my face as I wait for my little brother to answer.

"Five more minutes," Johnny shouts back to me.

"You said that five minutes ago!"

"All right, all right." He grumbles in defeat.

I grin victoriously. "Dad, can you stop the car?"

Over the sound of the wind blasting through the open windows, I struggle to hear my father's reply, but he pulls our black pickup truck to the side of the road.

"Thank you," I say to dad as I unbuckle my seatbelt and pop the left door open.

Since we're on the private road leading up to our new property, dad let us take shifts to sit in the very back of the truck on the way there. I haven't taken a shift yet, so I'm pretty excited.

I clamber out of the truck and into the back, while Johnny jumps into the seat I was in. The rumble of the truck coming to life shakes me slightly as I crouch down, and the truck starts again to roll down the gravel road.

The wind is stronger outside of the truck, and my fluffy hair is flying everywhere. I spit a few strands out, then I try to grab every last one and fasten them in a loose ponytail.

Now that my hair is out of the way, I can see the view from the truck.

On one side, the gravel road comes up in a sheer mountain, and on the other, it dips down in a cliff, and at the bottom of the cliff lies the ocean. The waves glow blue-green in the golden rays of sunshine, and the ripples look like sand dunes in the desert. In the bay, there are islands and rocky outcroppings- it's so beautiful here, like something out of a movie. I can't believe that I'm going to live here.

I shut my eyes tightly, relishing the sun on my face (I can feel the sunburn happening) and the wind in the loose curls that escaped from my ponytail. I can definitely get used to this.

And as quick as it had started, it all stops. The engine dies and my flyaway hairs stop blowing in the breeze. The exhilarating moment is over.

But I can always try to recreate it, can't I?

Yeah, I definitely can. The awesome house in front of me is proof. The house is big and blue, with many large windows and, yes, a hot tub on the patio. I don't see the tub at the moment, as it was covered up, but it's there nonetheless.

"Dad!" I say as I amble down from the back of the pickup. "Can we explore?"

"Can you help us unpack what we need when the moving van comes, and explore later?"

My father pulls his ginger locks into some form of man-bun, and rolls up his sleeves.

I'm really sad that I didn't get dad's straight red hair. Instead, I'm the only one to inherit mom's blonde curls out of all of the kids. Johnny, Eva and Bri are all gingers, and it's rumoured that they have no souls. I actually wouldn't be surprised. They act like they're being possessed by evil demons who want to take over the earth. But I want their hair as well, even if it means no soul. But no. I just have to be the only blonde.

Another problem about getting mom's curly hair is the adjective between mom's and hair.

You know that kid in the book Ramona The Pest? The one with the corkscrew curls that Ramona liked to boing? In my elementary school experience, I was the kid with the curls, and every single one of my classmates boinged them. Every. Single. One. The middle school experience wasn't the best either, but it was better than having my hair constantly pulled. But that still stopped no one from calling me 'Rapunzel'. In my opinion, that's the dumbest nickname ever, but no one cared. They were too busy being immature.