The Complete Burn for Burn Trilogy: Burn for Burn; Fire With Fire; Ashes to Ashes (32 page)

Instead I hear Reeve whisper to me at the homecoming
dance. Big Easy. Like an echo, over and over and over.
I ball my fists, fighting to push the memory of what happened next out of my head. But it doesn’t work. It never works.
I remember the other times too. Like when Rennie fell off
the cheering pyramid. Did I make that happen? Or did she
slip?
Same with the locker doors that slammed closed all at once.
Could it have been the wind? Or was it me?
If it was me, how did I do it? Was it telekinesis? Telepathy?
Some kind of power transference?
The scary thing is . . . I don’t know. And if I don’t know
what it is, how am I supposed to know how to control it, so it
won’t happen again?
A cloud pulls away from the moon, like a curtain in a play.
Light reflects off the wet rock and makes everything glisten.
I catch the caps of waves rippling against a cove down below.
Above it there’s a ledge where a couple of beer bottles lie empty
in a pile. There’s some graffiti, too. And the ashy remains of a
small campfire. Someone else was looking for a place to hide.
I didn’t go to school today. Truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll
ever go back.
It takes me a minute to figure out how to get down to the
landing. But then I trace a path where the rocks stagger down
the side of the cliff in crooked stairs. When I was a kid, I’d
scamper along the rocks in bare feet, searching the pools for
hermit crabs or seashells, without any fear of falling. Tonight I
feel clumsy, stiff, unsteady. I pat around with shaky hands for
places to hold on, but everything is slick and cold. But I manage to scamper all the way down. The waves in the cove are
still a good bit below me, and they beat against the rock and
fill the air with mist.
If only I could talk to Kat and Lillia. But what would I say,
exactly? That I’ve got some kind of power? That the strangest
things are happening to me and I don’t know why?
They’d think I was crazy. That it’s all in my head. They’d
show me the article from the Jar Island newspaper, how the
inspectors determined it was an electrical fire. An electrical
upgrade had been in the works for a long time, but our principal was more interested in getting the swimming pool redone.
He’s probably going to be fired for it.
But I don’t care about that guy. I care about Reeve. He’s the
only thing I care about.
That’s how truly, truly pathetic I am.
Suddenly there’s a gust of wind and a splash of water. It
nearly knocks me over the edge. I fall to my knees and crawl
backward to the path, my heart in my throat.
And that’s the real reason I can’t talk to Kat and Lillia.
Because I’ve got an even bigger, more shameful secret than
what may or may not be going on inside me.
I love Reeve.
I love him in spite of everything he did to me. I love him
even while I hate him. I don’t know how to stop.
And the worst part is that I don’t even know if I want to.
CHAP
TER ONE

When the Monday morning sun streams through
my window, something tells me to get out of bed instead of
rolling over toward the wall like I’ve been doing for the past
week. It’s funny. I’ve known I should go back to school for
a while, but I couldn’t quite muster up the energy to make it
happen. So I stayed in bed.

But today feels different. I’m not sure why. It’s just a feeling
I have. Like I need to be there.
I braid my hair and put on my corduroy jumper, a button-up shirt, and a cardigan sweater. Sure, I’m nervous about
seeing Reeve; I’m nervous about . . . something bad happening
again. And I don’t want to think about how much schoolwork
I’ve missed. I haven’t even tried to keep up with my assignments. My books, all my notebooks, have stayed zipped away
in my backpack, untouched, in the corner of my room. I pick
it up by one strap and hoist it over my shoulder. I can’t worry
about how I’ll catch up right now. I’ll figure something out.
But when I put my hand on my doorknob and try to turn
it, it won’t budge.
This happens a lot in our old house. Especially in the summer, when the wood swells up with the humidity. The doors
are original and the hardware is too. It’s a big glass doorknob
with a brass metal plate and room for a skeleton key. You can’t
even buy that stuff at the store anymore.
It usually takes a little jiggling to get it to work, but I try
that and it still won’t move.
“Aunt Bette?” I call out. “Aunt Bette?”
I give the door another try. This time a much harder shake.
And then I start to panic. “Aunt Bette! Help!”
Finally I hear her coming up the stairs.
“Something’s wrong with the door,” I say, breathless. “It
won’t open.” I give it another shake, to show her. And then,
when I don’t hear anything happen on the other side, I sink
down to my knees and press my face up to the keyhole, to
make sure she’s still standing out there. She is. I can see her
long, crinkly maroon skirt. “Aunt Bette! Please!”
Finally Aunt Bette springs into action. I hear her struggle
with my door on her side for a second, and then it swings open
fast.
“Thank goodness,” I say, relieved. I’m about to step into
the hallway when I spot some stuff on the floor. It looks like
white sand, or a chalk of some kind. To the left I can see it was
laid in a thin, perfect line, but directly in front of my door it’s
been totally messed up by Aunt Bette’s footprints.
What in the world?
I think about stooping over and touching it, but I’m a little
spooked.
Aunt Bette has always been into weird things, like smudgings and crystals and channeling different energies. She used
to always bring back trinkets and lucky charms whenever she
went overseas. I know that stuff is all harmless, but I point
down at the chalk and say, “What is that stuff?”
Aunt Bette looks up guiltily. “It’s nothing. I—I’ll clean it
up.”
I nod, like
Okay, sure,
while stepping past her. “I’ll see you
in a few hours.”
“Wait,” she says urgently. “Where are you going?”
I sigh. “To school.”
With a thin, frayed voice she says, “It’s better if you stay
home.”
All right. I haven’t had the easiest week. I know that. I’ve
done a lot of moping around the house, a lot of crying. But
it’s not like Aunt Bette’s been doing so hot either. She hasn’t
been sleeping much. I hear her in her room at night, puttering
around, sighing to herself. She hardly ever goes outside. And
she’s not painting much anymore, which might be the most
worrisome thing of all. When Aunt Bette paints, she’s happy,
simple as that. It’ll be good if I get out of her hair for the day.
Give us both a some space.
“I can’t stay in the house forever.” I have to follow my gut.
Something inside me is telling me to go. “I’m going to school
today,” I say again. This time without smiling. And I walk
straight down the stairs, without waiting for her permission.
If Aunt Bette is afraid that I’m not strong enough to handle it,
well, then this is proof that I am.

By the time I reach the bike rack at Jar Island High, the sun
has disappeared. The sky is cold and wispy. And the parking
lot is empty, except for a few teachers and the electrician vans.
Our school is being completely rewired after the homecoming
incident. It looks like they’ve hired every electrician on the
island, men working around the clock to get it done.

I’m glad to be here early, before most of the other students.
I need to ease myself back into this carefully. In case there is
something really wrong with me.

To my surprise, Lillia runs up beside me. She has her jacket
zipped up tight and the hood over her head. Every day it’s getting colder.

“Hey,” I say, and lock up my bike. I realize it’s the first
time we’ve seen each other since homecoming. “You’re here
early.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so glad to see you, Mary.” When I don’t
answer right away, she frowns and says, “Are you mad at me
or something? You haven’t called; you haven’t reached out. I
looked up your aunt’s number in the phone book and tried
calling, but nobody picked up. And Kat’s stopped by your
house a few times but no one’s answered the door.”

I sigh. I guess it was stupid to think Lillia and Kat wouldn’t
notice that I’ve been avoiding them. But I haven’t wanted to
see anyone from school. It’s nothing personal. “Sorry,” I say.
“It’s just been . . . a lot.”

“It’s okay. I get it. And things have so been crazy; it’s probably good that the three of us are lying low.” She says it, but she
still sounds sad. Maybe she misses us too. “Hey, I don’t know
if you’ve heard, but Reeve’s coming back to school today.”

I have a hard time swallowing. Is this why I had the feeling
that I needed to be here? Because Reeve was coming back too?
“How is he?”
Lilia presses her lips together and then says, “He’s okay.

But his leg. It’s broken. I think he’s out for the rest of the
season.” I guess she sees something in my face, because she
quickly shakes her head. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to
be fine.” She walks backward, away from me. “Let’s talk later,
okay? I miss you.”

Reeve’s broken. I broke him.
I got what I wanted.
Didn’t I?
I speed walk into school. Almost every classroom has big,

gaping holes sawed into the walls, for the electrical work. And
I need to be careful where I walk or else I’ll trip on bundles of
new wires running along the hallway floors.

I go into my homeroom and take a seat on the radiator by
the window, with the skirt of my corduroy jumper tucked
underneath me and leave a textbook open in my lap. I’m not
studying. I don’t look down at the pages once. I peer through
my hair and watch the parking lot as it fills up with students. I
breathe deeply, in and out. Nice, calming breaths.

The temperature dipped down past the freezing mark for
the first time this weekend, and I guess the janitors didn’t
waste any time shutting the courtyard fountain off. It’s only
the smokers and the cross-country runners who can handle
the cold. Everyone else is hustling inside.

I pick up the sound of bass thumping through the window.
Alex’s SUV pulls into the school driveway. He parks in the
handicapped spot, close to the walkway. He gets out, walks
around the front of the car, and opens the passenger door.

Everyone in the courtyard turns to look. They must know
he’s coming back too.
Reeve plants his good leg on the ground. He’s wearing mesh
basketball shorts and a jar island football hoodie. Alex extends
his hand, but Reeve ignores it and holds on to the door instead
and swings his other leg out. A white plaster cast stretches
from his upper thigh all the way down to his toes.
Reeve balances on one foot while Alex gets his crutches out
from the trunk. Rennie hops out of the backseat. She grabs
Reeve’s backpack from the passenger-side seat. Reeve motions
like he wants to carry his stuff himself, but Rennie shakes her
head, swishing her ponytail from side to side. He gives up
and starts hobbling toward school as fast as he can with his
crutches, which is pretty fast, actually. He leaves his friends
trailing behind him.
A couple of kids rush up to Reeve, smile, and say hello. But
everyone’s staring at his leg. One guy tries to crouch down
with a pen, so he can sign the cast. Reeve doesn’t stop. He
lowers his head, pretends not to notice them, and keeps going.
My breath catches in my throat. How am I supposed to face
him, now that he knows Big Easy is back in town? What if he
starts up on me again?
I try to get control of my thoughts. I can’t worry about
that stuff right now. I need to keep going, second by second,
minute by minute. That’s it. That’s the only way I’m going to
survive.
CHAP
TER T
W
O

I’m in the middle of my calc equation when
there’s a knock at our classroom door. It’s the school
secretary, Mrs. Gardner, wearing a totally unflattering navy
blazer. It’s way too long, way too boxy for her, with buttons that
are huge and gold. It looks like she stole it from her husband’s
closet—in 1980. Short women should never wear blazers, in my
opinion. Unless they are cropped and super fitted with, like,
three-quarter sleeves.

Anyway.
I go back to my worksheet. We’re solving derivative problems.
It’s not even hard. All everyone said last year is that calc is the
hardest thing ever. Umm, seriously?

But then Mrs. Gardner drops a yellow slip of paper on my
desk.
Lillia Cho
is written on the first line. Then it says
Report
to guidance office
. There’s a line for the time I’m supposed to be
there. It says
Now
.

Inside me, everything tightens up. Today is Reeve’s first day
back. Could he have said something to someone?
I push my hair over my shoulder and pack up my stuff. Alex
looks at me on my way out the door. I smile and shrug my
shoulders, carefree, like,
Weird. What could this be about?
I take a deep breath and walk quickly down the hall. If I
were in trouble, if someone figured out what I did to Reeve at
the dance, I’d be sent to the principal’s office. Not to guidance.
Mr. Randolph has been my guidance counselor since freshman year. He’s not old. His college graduation diploma is dated
ten years ago. I checked on that once. I bet he was cute, back
then, but he’s started to lose his hair, which is unfortunate. His
parents own the stables where we board my horse, Phantom.
There are equestrian plaques and medals all over the place,
from when he used to compete.
I wait for a second in his doorway. He’s on the phone, but he
waves me inside.
I sit down and rehearse in my head what I’ll say, in case he
does confront me. I’ll scrunch up my face and go with something like,
Excuse me, Mr. Randolph? Why would I ever, ever
do something like that? Reeve is one of my closest friends. This
is, like, beyond ridiculous. I don’t even know what to say.
Then
I’ll fold my arms and stop talking until I get a lawyer.
Mr. Randolph makes an annoyed face and rubs his balding
head. I wonder if that’s why he’s balding prematurely, because
he’s so stressed and he rubs his head all day. “Yeah, okay, yeah,
okay. Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and lets out a deep
breath. “Why so nervous, Lillia?”
I force myself to smile. “Hi, Mr. Randolph.”
“I haven’t seen you at the barn much lately. You aren’t thinking of selling that horse, are you?”
“No! I’d never sell Phantom!”
Mr. Randolph laughs. “I know, I know. But if you ever
change your mind, you know who to call first, right?”
I smile, but there is no way. I’d never make that phone call.
I’d never, ever sell Phantom. “Right.”
“So . . . I was going over your transcripts. They look really
good, Lillia. Really good. You might even have a shot at salutatorian.”
Relief washes over me. “Wow. That’s amazing. My dad will
be happy.”
Mr. Randolph opens up a file with my name on it. I’m
wondering if he’s going to tell me my class rank, but then he says,
“However, I did notice that you still haven’t taken the swim test.”
“Oh.” Ever since Jar Island had the indoor pool built, it’s
mandatory that all students pass a swim test. It’s part of graduation requirements.
“Unless that’s a clerical error?”
I wriggle back in my seat. “No. I haven’t taken it.”
He rocks his head from side to side. “All right. Well, you do
understand that passing the swim test is required for graduation.”
“Unless I get a doctor’s note, right?”
He looks surprised. Surprised and disappointed. “Correct.
Unless you get a note.” He closes the file. “But don’t you want
to learn to swim, Lillia?”
“I know how to
not drown
, Mr. Randolph,” I assure him.
“But actual swimming is just not my thing.”
He gives me a look like I’m being ridiculous. “It’s a good life
skill, Lillia, especially for a girl who lives on an island. It could
save your life one day. Or someone else’s. Promise you’ll think
about it.”
I will think about it. I’ll think about how to ask my dad to
write me a note. If he won’t, I’m sure I could get Kat to do it on
his stationery.
As I walk back to class, someone’s stapling paper pumpkins
on the big bulletin board, framing the October calendar. It’s
only been a little more than a month since Kat, Mary, and I met
down by the docks, which seems crazy. It sure feels like we’ve
been friends for longer than that.