Firegirl (7 page)

“Cool,” I said, reaching over to give the photo back.

Suddenly it was Rich’s turn to be the idiot. He said something so incredibly simple, but right away everything I had just been thinking began to fall apart.

“She looks like she’s maybe in fifth grade,” he said. “Is she in one of the downstairs classes?”

It was quiet for a moment. Everyone was quiet, waiting for her to answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jeff sitting facing away from us, his legs sticking out between the second and third rows.

Then Kayla asked, “Does she have Mr. MacDonald? My brother would know her.”

I gave Jessica the picture back finally. When I did, her hand sort of brushed against mine. It was rough. A jolt of something electric went straight down my back to my legs. It felt as if a skeleton had just tapped my shoulder.

She put the photo back in her pencil case, and then gripped the zipper with her thumb and first finger and pulled.

“Is she in his class?” Kayla asked, looking at each of us.

“She’s not here,” said Jessica. Her voice was unsteady.

I felt cold again. Seeing Jessica fumbling to close the pencil case, I just wanted the questions to stop now. But everybody was looking at her. When Rich spoke again, it was the end of it.

“Where is she?” he asked, glancing over at Jeff who was still leaning back, saying nothing.

Jessica pulled the zipper closed. “She died.”

The words were almost inaudible, but it felt as if all the air was pulled out of me when she said them.

Without waiting, she stood up and went to the teacher and said something to her.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Rich said to us. “That’s not fair. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just asked her where she was. I didn’t know anybody was dead. Who cares if her dumb sister’s dead? She better not say anything about me—”

But nothing happened. Mrs. Tracy didn’t even look over at Rich or Kayla or me or the others going back to their seats.

It was like it didn’t involve us. Mrs. Tracy nodded, and Jessica left the classroom.

Chapter 12

It was everywhere by the end of lunch … that Jessica Feeney had started a fire in her room while playing with matches and that’s how she got burned; but worse than that, the fire had killed her sister. And the reason why Jessica had to enter school after the year started was because people found out she killed her sister and they made her leave the town she lived in before.

It was totally bizarre. And it probably wasn’t even possible. People didn’t get thrown out of their towns anymore. That was something they did in the Old West or in Frankenstein movies. People with torches marching to your house.

Meanwhile, I found that all I could think about, all I could wonder about, was what Jessica looked like before.

If her sister was so cute, was
she
cute, too? It was hard to get straight in my mind exactly what she might look like. When I thought about all the stuff I had dreamed up about Courtney, I realized that most of it was because of how beautiful she was. But what if Jessica was like that, too? I couldn’t hold it in my head without feeling like I was going to cry.

But the talk kept up all afternoon.

After lunch, the class split up into French and Spanish language sections in different rooms, and by the time we all got back together in our right seats, the story seemed to have gone through ten more versions with every new off-the-wall idea added into the mess.

Now there were curtains involved, and candles, and matches, a dog (who also died), a curse whispered on the prettier sister, and a big flowery tablecloth — with blood stains.

It was as if everybody’s worst fears about why Jessica looked the way she did were suddenly turned loose, and it was okay to say them. It was okay now because the fire had all been her fault. What started as a real possibility for us to be normal again turned into a nightmare.

The big turning point — all that talk I had hoped for when I first saw the photo — had come, all right. But it was all wrong. I had wanted it to be about tennis and beach clubs and summer, but by last period it had turned into a freaky murder story.

In some versions of it, Jessica and her (now) genius sister had had an argument — some people said over a boyfriend, some said over dolls — then Jessica got mad and set the dolls on fire. Her sister didn’t make it out of the house (neither did the dog), and Jessica was saved only because the firemen chopped through the walls to get to her.

Which they probably shouldn’t have, someone said.

And now her family had to keep moving because she was running from the police, who suspected the real story and were close to proving it.

“That’s why she cut herself out of the photo,” said Eric LoBianco in the lavatory before health class. “So the police couldn’t use it to identify her.”

I sighed. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. Jessica’s at our school because she has to go where the good burn hospitals are.”

“That’s what she says—”

“Like New Haven,” I said. “And how is she running from the police if she’s in school where everybody can see her?”

Ignoring that, Eric said, “Feeney sort of sounds like a made-up name, doesn’t it? Jessica Feeney? Jessica Phony, more like it.”

The sound of Rich’s laughter came from inside a stall just before the toilet flushed. “Jessica Phony Baloney!”

“No, wait, you guys,” I said, my throat suddenly hot. “Nobody knows —” I wanted to say that nobody even knew what happened. It was just a picture of her sister that started all the rumors. But I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say and I couldn’t seem to get it out right.

“Maybe we should call the police,” said Joey Sisman, back in the classroom, where we set up the AV equipment for health. “Tell them that she’s right here in our school. She left today because we found out her secret, but maybe they can send cars and catch her before she moves.”

“We should at least tell Mrs. Tracy that we’re afraid,” Kayla suggested. “I mean, I guess we’re scared, right?”

“Scared?” I said. “You’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” said Eric.

“Me, either,” Rich added, puffing himself up. “I can handle killers okay. Except don’t make me touch them.”

The afternoon just dragged on and on. The worst of it came when someone said that Jessica should be the dead one, and not her innocent, kind, TV-beautiful, tennis-playing genius of a sister.

I felt so mad. I was really mad. What people were saying was all so idiotic and pointless and hurtful that it made me sick. I tried lots of times to say something, but it sounded just as lame as the things they were saying. “Nobody knows what happened! It’s just a picture!” I finally nearly asked to go to the nurse.

I only stayed because the day was almost over anyway, and I didn’t want to miss any work. And it wasn’t everybody. It was actually just a few kids, and some of them, like Kayla, didn’t think anything was real. They just wondered if this was true or that was true. I must have said it was dumb to Joey and Ryan and Rich about a thousand times before the end of the day. Finally, I just stopped. I didn’t like the feeling of being the only one and alone, like she was alone. That wasn’t fair, either. By last period, it had almost died down anyway.

Jeff had been pretty quiet the whole afternoon. The Cobra thing was supposed to happen the next day, but he hadn’t said a word about it all week, so I wasn’t sure his uncle was even coming. Then, while we were packing up our books to go home, but before the buses were called, he turned to me.

“Maybe I should go to public school,” he said.

I wondered if he was doing that thing again. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“My father would sure be happy,” he said. “And my mom would probably get off my case about grades.” He looked right at me with a face that seemed cold. “Besides, if I did go to public school, I wouldn’t have to be here and see her and all this —”

He swore under his breath.

Even though he didn’t mention the fire or the supposed murder, a spike of something jolted through me. He was really close to being mean about Jessica again, and I didn’t want to hear it.

“Is your uncle coming over tomorrow?” I asked, trying not to make it seem like a big deal. “You said he was, right?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Next week for sure. I gotta go to my father’s dump again. My mom’s working the whole long weekend. Can you believe it?”

That’s right. It was Columbus Day on Monday. My family always took a long car ride and looked for pumpkins up in the country. “That stinks,” I said. I shrugged a little and tried not to make it any worse. I knew something was going on.

“Here’s
The Human Torch,
” he said, digging into his backpack, then holding up four or five comics. “I thought they’d be better from the way my dad talked about them. Anyway, they’re only okay. This one’s the best. You can have them. I have some more at home, too. I don’t have to go to the city until morning. You coming over now?”

I took the comics but didn’t feel like going. I was tired and didn’t want to hear Jeff say anything about Jessica, and then find myself laughing five minutes later at some doofus thing he did.

“I can’t,” I said, trying to think of something. “I’ve sort of got stuff to do…. I have this church thing of my mom’s after school. She signed me up to help.”

“Are you kidding? What are you going to do there?”

I shrugged. “I don’t even know.”

When they started calling buses, and Jeff went into the hall to his locker along with some other kids, Mrs. Tracy called me up to her desk.

“Would you please take Jessica’s homework to her?” she said. “And her math book? She left before I remembered to send the assignments home with her. I want her to have them for the long weekend.”

Talk about off-the-wall. I guess I looked surprised. “What?”

“You’re just a few houses away from where she lives, aren’t you?” she asked, waiting. “Or are you busy after school? Do you have something to do?”

I couldn’t tell her the church thing because she’d know there was no church thing. “Um … okay,” I said finally. “I mean no, I don’t think I have anything. I guess I can take it.”

“Great. Would you find her math book while I write a note?” She sat down to write while I went to Jessica’s desk and reached under the seat.

“You’re taking stuff to Jessica?”

I looked up. It was Courtney. She had paused on her way to the lockers.

I was surprised. “Yeah. I live nearby.”

“Right,” she said. “Nice.”

Nice? What was this? And right? Did Courtney even know where I lived?

“Don’t forget the workbook,” she added.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” I dug out the math book and the workbook underneath it. When I looked up, Courtney had already gone. Jeff was standing there instead.

“Church thing, huh?”

“Well, yeah, but Mrs. Tracy…” I wanted to say something more, but Jeff turned and went straight back into the hall. The office secretary announced our bus over the PA and I got Mrs. Tracy’s note and quickly followed everybody out.

Chapter 13

On the bus, Jeff swung into a seat up front that already had someone sitting by the window. I went to our usual seat in the back. When his stop came, he ran off to his house without looking back. One stop later, I got off and headed straight to the condo development where Jessica lived.

It was small, as developments go; just five houses tucked into what were probably originally people’s backyards. Each house was divided into two side-by-side units with two different families living in them.

As I approached number seven, I noticed a man standing in the side doorway near the garage. He was dressed in a flannel shirt and was reaching up inside over the door, moving his arm from side to side. It was the man in the picture who I had seen taking Jessica to and from school.

When he lowered his hand, which had a wet rag in it, he also lowered his eyes and saw me.

“Yes?” he said, holding the rag still, and looking through the door screen with a blank expression.

“I just came to give her her homework,” I said.

The guy looked at me.

“Jessica, I mean. I have her homework.”

He kept just looking.

“It’s because she left school early today,” I said. “So the teacher said because I live not too far away I should give her the assignments. And these books.” I lifted my arm slightly to show the books. Finally, I added, “My name is Tom Bender.”

Another moment of staring, then the man relaxed. “Oh, right, sure. Sorry, I’m Jessica’s father. Of course. Who else would I be? Come on in. Careful of the bucket.”

He swung open the screen and I stepped into a small hall off the kitchen. There were dishes stacked in the sink and on the table. They were caked with the remains of some kind of hardened green vegetable and dried ketchup.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Mr. Feeney said in a tired voice. Still holding his rag, he took me through the kitchen and dining room to the stairs and stopped. “Jessica —”

Suddenly, there she was, coming round the corner of the living room and nearly bumping into us.

“Oh!” she whispered.

She looked right at me with her face right there.

I felt as if I must have leaped back a foot. I was ashamed at how it probably looked. Somehow I managed a smile and said, “Sorry, you scared me.”

That didn’t sound right.

“I mean, coming around so fast,” I said. “Out of nowhere. Uh, I have the homework.” I held up the books again.

“Thanks,” she said, not reaching for them. “You can come up if you want.”

I glanced at her father, but he was already heading back to the kitchen. Jessica went past me quickly, her hair practically brushing my face. She went up the narrow stairs to the second floor. She was still in the same clothes she’d worn to school, still in those thick tights. At the top of the stairs, she took a left.

There was nothing I could do. I had to follow her. It smelled a little like a doctor’s office as I hit the landing. The smell was antiseptic. But there was something else, too. Something sweeter. I stepped into her room.

I was surprised to see how girly the room was. The walls were painted a sort of medium blue color. The bed was all puffy, and there were several big pillows at the top. On the floor were a bunch of slippers and a stuffed green frog. A poster of a band was tacked on the wall. All of the guys were striking different poses to make themselves look tough.