The Complete Burn for Burn Trilogy: Burn for Burn; Fire With Fire; Ashes to Ashes (19 page)

Or does it? That day in the hallway, when I was chasing down Reeve, I wanted so badly to get his attention. The lockers . . . did I make them all slam shut?

I inch back in my seat and sit on my hands. No. There’s no way. It’s an impossible thought.

While everyone else stares at the field, I turn and face the shed that’s at the very top of the bleachers. An old man takes a seat behind a microphone. The cord of the microphone is plugged into a mixing board, which is hooked up to speakers mounted underneath the eaves of the roof. He takes a sip of water, clears his throat, and says, “These, ladies and gentlemen, are your Jar Island Fighting Gulls!”

He opens up the folder in front of him and traces his finger down a list of names. The list Kat and I put in the announcing booth early this morning, before anyone got to the stadium.

“Let’s give a warm welcome to our seniors, who are taking the field for their last season.” As the words echo out of the speakers, Reeve, Alex, and the rest of the senior boys pull apart from the pack and face the bleachers. The senior cheerleaders step forward too and stand behind them.

“Quarterback and captain, number sixty-three, REEVE TABATSKY.”

Hearing his name, Reeve hops up onto the team bench and waves to the crowd. They scream for him rock star style. Rennie turns a bunch of back handsprings the entire length of the bench.

“Your kicker, number twenty-seven, PJ MOORE!”

Everyone cheers for PJ as he steps up onto the bench with Reeve. He pulls his leg back and then swings it forward, simulating a kick. Lillia leaps up and does a toetouch.

The applause dies down, and I suck in a breath, because I know what’s next.

“Wide receiver, number forty-six, ALEX LIMP.”

A few people clap, but mostly there’s just snickers and people whispering, “What did they just call him?
‘Limp’
?”

Alex drops his head to the side, like he maybe didn’t hear right. His face is red, redder than it is normally with his skin issue. Redder than I’ve ever seen a face get. The blond girl who’s Alex’s cheerleader has her pom-poms up over her head and, she’s about to lean into a handstand. But she doesn’t. She freezes.

I guess because Alex doesn’t climb up onto the bench, the announcer says his name once again. “ALEX LIMP!”

This time everyone hears.

Reeve pitches forward laughing. PJ too. One of the players standing behind Alex taps him on the back. When Alex turns around, everyone in the crowd sees it. The back of his jersey doesn’t say “Lind.” It says “Limp.”

Lillia’s brilliant idea. She swapped out his old jersey with this new one, bought from an athletic store online that makes jerseys in our school colors. She sent them a money order so the order couldn’t be traced to her, and then she had it overnighted.

“Oh my God,” the girls in front of me squeal. “Alex Limp? Eww! That’s so gross!”

I watch Lillia. She’s covering her face with her hands, pretending to be shocked. Her sister had started jumping around and clapping when the announcer first called out Alex’s name, but now her hands are dropped to her sides. She takes a few steps backward, and hides behind the other cheerleaders standing around the bench.

Alex starts turning in circles like a dog chasing his tail, trying to see or get his hands up on the back of his jersey. I burst out laughing, because it’s just too funny.

Reeve eventually hops down from the bench and tries to help Alex, even though he’s laughing at him pretty hard. Well, maybe that’s what Reeve wants to do. But I guess Alex just sees his
friend laughing at him, because he lowers his head, drops his helmet, and rushes Reeve, wrapping his arms around Reeve’s waist. He tackles him down on the ground with a big thud.

No one in the stands is applauding anymore. The whole team swarms around the boys wrestling on the ground, and the coach puts his whistle into his mouth and blows it a bunch of times, rapid-fire. The announcer keeps announcing the names of the other senior boys, but no one’s getting up onto the bench. They’re all trying to pull Alex off Reeve, to stop him from punching Reeve in the face. I see Alex get a real good shot in, right against Reeve’s jaw. My hands fly to my face.

Kat and her friends run up to the fence, shouting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” Kat climbs up onto the fence a few links, trying to get a better look.

Finally Alex gets pulled off. Reeve is there in the grass, lying on his back. One of his teammates holds out a hand to help him up, but Reeve swats it away and gets to his feet on his own. It takes him a second, though. His jaw is red and swollen. And his jersey is dirty.

Alex is standing a few feet away, with Derek trying his best to keep him from lunging at Reeve again. Alex is shouting something I can’t hear from where I’m sitting, and he’s jabbing
his finger at Reeve over Derek’s shoulder. Reeve isn’t even listening. He turns his back on Alex and walks down the sideline. Rennie’s trying to get to Reeve, to see if he’s okay, I guess, but Ashlin is holding her arm. She won’t let her go. Two of the coaches run up, looking concerned, and check Reeve’s throwing arm. No one goes to Alex to see if he’s okay. But the head coach does storm over and scream at Alex so hard, spit goes flying out of his mouth. Derek forces Alex to sit down on the team bench before he walks away too.

“What is Alex thinking?” one of the girls in front of me cries. “Reeve is our QB. Alex could have just ruined our whole football season!”

“I bet he’s still pissed at Reeve for that Red Ribbon thing.”

“Poor limp Alex,” the third girl says, and the rest of them laugh.

The game starts shortly thereafter, and if Reeve was shaken by the whole Alex fight, he doesn’t show it. It only takes two or three plays before he lobs a touchdown pass into the end zone. By then everyone’s back to cheering for Reeve again, as if the fight never happened. Alex is on the bench, looking upset.

At halftime I get up to buy some Diet Coke, but the line’s too long. Kat’s already gone. I saw her and her friends leave not long
after the fight. I wonder if I should stick around or not.

I walk past the cheering bench. The girl who cheered for Alex is a few steps away from the other girls on the squad, pleading with Rennie and Lillia.

“Come on, you guys!” she whines. “Isn’t there someone else I can cheer for?”

“Are you serious?” Lillia says, folding her arms.

“Please! Every time I do my player cheer, people are yelling ‘Go Liiimp!’”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rennie says. “He probably won’t even get to play tonight.”

The girl gasps. “What if he gets kicked off the team? I won’t have anyone to cheer for!”

At that moment Nadia comes over. Quietly she says to Rennie, “If Wendy doesn’t want to cheer for Alex, I will. We can trade. I don’t mind.”

Lillia’s mouth drops open. She crosses her arms. “No one is changing players. Rennie put a lot of thought into the assignments.”

Nodding, Rennie says, “Lillia’s right. What I say, goes. Wendy, you made a commitment to Alex. You’re going to honor that. If you don’t like it, quit.” She grabs a mirror out of
her duffel bag on the bench and fusses with her hair. “There are five college scouts in the crowd for Reeve tonight, and I need to be bringing my A game for him, not worrying about this nonsense. We’re done here.”

Rennie turns and walks away from Nadia and the other cheerleader. Lillia follows her, and as she passes me, she gives me a nod.

I give one back. Mission accomplished. And not a moment too soon, because honestly, I can’t wait until we start in on Rennie.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

KAT

R
ICKY
, J
OE, AND
I
DITCH THE FOOTBALL GAME AT
halftime. Football is so unbelievably, mind-numbingly boring. We go get cheese fries and coffee from the Surf Diner, drive around for a bit more, and then I tell the guys to drop me off.

Even though it’s Friday night, I end up doing my homework just to get it out of the way. But I think a lot about Alex too.

I bet he got in trouble for the fight with Reeve. His mom probably sent him to his man cave without supper, took away
his phone or some other ridiculous attempt at a punishment. The way she fawns over Alex, buys his clothes, it’s clear she wanted a girl. She’d be mad about the fighting, for sure. She’s pretty Waspy, and Alex was an animal.

I never would have thought Alex was capable of being so raw. And I definitely didn’t expect him to throw a punch at Reeve. It wasn’t graceful, that’s for sure, but he aimed in the right place, and he did hit the mark. I debated calling Alex and telling him to lean into his punches a little more next time. If he had, I bet he could have knocked Reeve out cold.

But I won’t call him. And I won’t answer his texts, or his e-mails, either. Not until I’m sure he’s learned his lesson. That I am not someone to mess with. That he was an idiot for hooking up with Nadia when he could have been hooking up with me.

That night, I come up with the idea of asking Ricky for a ride to school on Monday. Because there’s nothing like another guy in the picture to make boys wish they had you back. Or, in my case, the illusion of another guy.

It’s how my mom ended up with my dad. They dated for a few months, and when he wouldn’t get serious, she showed up at his favorite bar with her gay friend, Albert, with a roll
of quarters for the jukebox. It only took one slow song before my dad tapped Albert on the shoulder so he could cut in. My mom was slick like that.

Not that I’m trying that on Alex. I’m just living my happy life, while he lives his miserable one.

It’s not hard to imagine Alex standing alone in the parking lot. No one to talk to, all his friends totally shunning him for the fight he had with Reeve. Rennie would pick Reeve over him any day. I know it. He’ll be a lost puppy, a friendless little kid. And then I’ll come roaring in on the back of Ricky’s bike. I’ll take off the helmet and shake my hair out, slow-mo.

And, boy, will he be sorry.

I bet he walks right over. Either then or when I’m at my locker. He’ll beg for my forgiveness, tell me Nadia meant nothing to him. That there’s no girl in this whole school like Kat DeBrassio. And once you go Kat, you never go back.

*    *    *

On Monday morning Ricky picks me up on his motorcycle. I’m glad it’s the Japanese import he tricked out with racing shocks so he can jump sand dunes. That’s the one I said I wanted to ride. Not his mint-green Vespa. No one’s going to
think I look hot climbing off the back of a mint-green Vespa.

He flips up the visor in his helmet as I come out the front door. “Damn, Kat.”

I bound down the walk, and my hair bounces, shampoo commercial style. I curled the ends this morning. Not enough to where someone might think I was trying to look good. More like I went to bed with it wet last night and I woke up with sexy bed head. I’ve got on my skinniest black jeans, a black tank, and my mom’s black stilettos. The heels might be a touch too much, but who cares. And anyway, there’s a senior assembly today with some college admissions counselors. I could always say I dressed up for that, if anyone says anything.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” I say, and climb onto the back of the bike. First I put my arms around Ricky, but then I think better of it, lean back, and hold on to the seat. It’s a slightly more badass pose.

“No worries. My first class isn’t till nine thirty. Here,” Ricky says, twisting around to pass me his helmet. It’s a racing one, sleek with red stripes and a blacked-out visor. “Wear this. I forgot to bring an extra for you.”

I wave him off and say, “I’m cool.” After all, the high school
is less than a mile away. And I don’t want my hair to be flat.

“Kat, come on.” The way Ricky says it, I know he’s not going to drive me anywhere until I do.

I put it on, and he peels out down my street. The bike is loud. Way loud. The muffler is made that way. I smile, because everyone’s going to hear us coming.

“Faster,” I tell Ricky, and put my arms around his waist. He’d be cute if he wasn’t such a pothead. I feel Ricky tense up, and then he revs us forward. He switches lanes, into oncoming traffic, so we can blow by a slow-moving bus on the way to the high school. Faster. It’s one of those words that guys love to hear.

Ricky pulls into the parking lot. He says, “I can’t believe I let you bring me here twice in the last three days.”

I see Alex’s SUV. “Over there,” I tell Ricky.

I get off the bike exactly like I planned. One hop. Then I pull the helmet off and shake out my hair.

That’s when I see Alex, leaning against his car door. But he’s not alone. He’s talking to Reeve and Rennie. Actually, Rennie seems to be the one doing most of the talking. She’s using her hands a lot, and she keeps pointing at Reeve and then tenderly rubbing his shoulder. I bet she’s trying to convince Alex that Reeve had nothing to do with the pranks we pulled.
She seriously can’t stay out of anyone’s business.

I’m not sure Alex is buying it. He’s not making eye contact with either of them, but when Rennie is done, he slaps hands with Reeve, and then they walk into school together.

Reeve doesn’t have a bruise on his face where Alex clocked him, which bums me out. But not as much as knowing they’re still friends. And the fact that Alex totally missed my bomb-ass entrance.