Harper put earplugs in her dresser drawer so the siren song couldn’t enchant her, and she shoved a butcher knife under her pillow. She put a baseball bat under her bed, and they brought in the shovel from out back and put it in the front hall closet.

Their father had plenty of tools, like saws and even an ice pick, out in his work area in the garage. Harper considered bringing them in, but they felt too gruesome to fight with. She could still get to them if she needed to, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

In a way, all the prep work they’d done reminded Harper of Home Alone, like they were children setting up booby traps for burglars. Gemma went along with everything, but she seemed dubious.

The trouble was that neither of them knew what else to do. They hadn’t found a way to break the curse, so they were only left with fighting back. Harper would do whatever it took to protect herself and her family, and if she had to kill the sirens, she would.

Once the preparation was done, and Harper had stashed weapons everywhere she could think of without Brian finding them, an odd peace settled over her. She’d done everything she could. Now they had to wait.

Brian came home from work that night in an astonishingly good mood. His daughter was home safe and sound. Because of the holiday on Sunday, he had Monday off, giving him a three-day weekend. That seemed to set the tone for the whole night.

Harper was making spaghetti and meatballs for supper, and Gemma offered to help. Brian cracked a beer in the living room to watch TV and relax after work for a bit, leaving the girls in the kitchen to handle supper.

“Harper,” Gemma said, barely stifling a giggle as she held up a misshapen meatball for Harper to inspect. “What do you think of my balls?”

“You’re so immature.” Harper rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smirking at her sister.

They stood at the kitchen counter, making the meatballs. Harper seasoned the raw hamburger, and they rolled it into balls. She’d done it a hundred times before, sometimes with Gemma’s help, but this was the first time that Gemma had been unable to stop giggling.

“Oh, come on, Harper,” Gemma said, refusing to be deterred. “It’s funny. Admit it’s funny.”

“It’s really not.” Harper laughed, but only because Gemma’s laughter was contagious. She shook her head and motioned to the meatball Gemma was making. “That one’s lumpy.”

Gemma burst out laughing at that, and when Harper scowled at her, it only made her laugh harder.

“What has gotten into you?” Harper asked.

“I’m just glad to be home, I guess.”

Gemma tossed a meatball at Harper, and it narrowly missed her, landing on the floor with an unpleasant splat.

“Hey,” Harper said. “Don’t waste food.”

“Sorry.” Gemma grabbed a paper towel to wipe the meatball off the floor. “When was the last time we had a food fight, though?”

“I don’t know.” Harper looked over her shoulder to watch her sister. “When I was, like, six or something.”

“Exactly!” Gemma insisted, and leaned on the counter next to Harper. “We’re really overdue for another one.”

“I really don’t think we are.” Harper shook her head, but she smiled. “It’s a waste of food, and it’s a mess that I’ll have to clean up.”

“Harper!” Gemma threw her head back and groaned. “Let’s say this is my last night here—”

“It’s not.” Harper cut her off and looked at Gemma severely. “We’ll find a way—”

“No, Harper, listen to me.” Gemma cut her off. “I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying, what if? Because there is a chance that we might not have that many nights together as a family. I mean, even if we fix this whole curse thing, you’re leaving in a matter of weeks for college.”

“That’s your justification for wasting food?” Harper raised an eyebrow.

“No, I’m just…” Gemma sighed. She looked at Harper, smiling, and her honey-colored eyes were hopeful. “Let’s just have fun tonight, and worry about the mess tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Harper relented. “But I am not having a food fight.”

“Fine.” Gemma turned and started making meatballs next to Harper. “But will you at least laugh at my jokes about the balls?”

“Probably not.” Harper grinned. “Plus, we probably have enough meatballs by now.”

“You can never have too many balls,” Gemma said.

“That’s what she said,” Harper said, attempting to make a bad joke, and Gemma burst out laughing.

“It’s not even that funny,” Gemma said through her own laughter. “I just can’t believe you said it.”

“Hey, I’m trying,” Harper said.

She might’ve even laughed along with her sister, but a loud knock at the front door interrupted her thoughts. Gemma didn’t seem to notice, happy to continue giggling, but Harper went over to the sink to wash her hands. She wasn’t sure if the sirens would knock at the front door, but they’d done it before when they came to get Gemma, so she wouldn’t put it past them.

“Harper,” Brian said as he came into the kitchen. “Someone’s at the door for you.”

“Who is it?” Harper asked as she hurried to dry her hands with a towel.

Gemma had finally gotten her giggling fit under control and turned around to see Brian standing in the kitchen doorway.