The Complete Burn for Burn Trilogy: Burn for Burn; Fire With Fire; Ashes to Ashes (67 page)

She shakes her head. “I’ll come with you, though.”

“No, stay here. I’ll be right back,” I say. I give her a peck on the cheek and dart away. I’m halfway down the hall, thinking maybe I’ll just keep walking, maybe I’ll walk right out of here and go back home, when someone grabs my arm from behind me.

Alex.

“Lil,” he says. “You hanging in there?”

“Yes.” Just barely.

Alex doesn’t look so good either. He has shadows under his eyes, stubble on his chin. He rubs his eyes and looks around and then says, “I keep expecting to see Rennie. It feels . . . really empty here without her. It’s like nobody knows what to do anymore without her here to tell us.”

That’s exactly how it feels. Exactly. And it’s such a relief that someone gets it. I let out a breath that comes out more like a gasp, and Alex reaches for me and I let him hold me, and it feels like his arms are the only thing keeping me upright.

I don’t know what, if anything, Alex knows about the things that went down between Reeve, Rennie, and me on New Year’s Eve, but I’m so thankful that he’s here right now. This is who he’s always been to me, the person who knows what I need, without me having to ask. Even when I don’t deserve it.

I
BLOW OFF FIRST AND
second period, and Mr. Turnshek, the school safety officer, finally catches me during third. I’m smoking a cigarette underneath the stairs, where I found Mary ditching a test that one time. I was hoping she would be here. I came to school early this morning and waited for her at her locker. I wanted to hear her excuse for why she never called me or stopped by my house. By this time, she has to know that Rennie’s dead.

But Mary never showed.

Mr. Turnshek looks at me, aghast.

“I know, I know,” I say, letting go of the smoke in my lungs before standing up. “Principal’s office.” I put the cigarette out on the wall. It leaves an ashy circle on the cinder block.

I’ve been going through nearly two packs a day since Rennie died. I can’t even taste my food anymore, and the skin between my pointer and middle fingers is starting to turn yellow. I know it’s bad; I should quit before I really get addicted. I tell myself that anyway, right before each cig I light up.

“You’d better believe it, DeBrassio,” Turnshek says, his arms folded.

I guess part of me wanted to get caught. I don’t know. This whole day has annoyed me. Everyone mourning, crying over Rennie. Everyone with arms around each other. It’s like the whole school is propping each other up. Except no one’s doing that for me. Most of the underclassmen don’t even know that Rennie and I used to be best friends back in the day. They assume that I don’t care that she’s dead.

Or worse, that I’m happy.

I nearly lost it when I overheard one freshman cheerleader bitch mutter something under her breath when I passed her in the hall. I spun around and walked straight up to her, put my nose up to hers, and dared her to say whatever it was to my face. She practically crapped her designer jeans.

I shouldn’t expect that dummy to understand what I’m going
through. But Lillia and Mary—they know my history with Rennie. Just because we weren’t friends for the last few years of high school doesn’t mean that her death isn’t freaking ripping me apart. It doesn’t mean that I don’t need to talk shit out, have a good cry. After all, I was the last person to see Rennie alive. And at the end we were on good terms.

Not like her and Lillia.

I’ve texted Lil a bunch of times, but she hasn’t written back once. She’s probably been camped out at Rennie’s condo with the rest of that crew, drying each other’s tears. Either that or she feels guilty because I know that she left with Reeve that night. I’m trying not to think this way, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she quit talking to me. Actually, she
should
keep a low profile. People must be wondering why the hell Rennie left her own damn party in the first place. If they found out why, shit would surely hit the fan.

I just hope Mary doesn’t know. But her knowing is the only reason I can come up with to explain the fact that Mary has basically gone MIA on me too. I was so desperate for someone to talk to, I even drove by her house a couple of times. I never stopped, though. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t ready to answer questions about Reeve and Lillia. That’s on Lillia.

Mr. Turnshek writes up a pink slip and sends me to the principal’s office. But instead of walking there, I go see Ms. Chirazo.

The five guidance counselors are huddled around the
coffeepot. They made an announcement over the loudspeaker today, inviting anyone who needed grief counseling to come down. But the office is empty.

Ms. Chirazo spots me and steps away from the group. The rest of them give me dirty looks over their mugs. They know me as a troublemaker, I guess. But Ms. Chirazo never looks at me that way.

“Kat. Is everything okay?”

I hold up the pink slip. “I just got busted for smoking in the hallway.”

“Oh, Kat. Why? I thought we were going to be on our best behavior, at least until we heard back from Oberlin.”

I shrug my shoulders, because whatever. At this point I don’t care if I get expelled. What’s done is done. Picking at my nails, I say, “I used to be Rennie’s best friend. For, like, my whole life. Until high school started, anyway. And then we hated each other.” I realize that I’m gritting my teeth while I say it. Probably because I can’t make sense of the idea that Rennie Holtz, who was always larger than life, was reduced to a pile of ashes in a fucking tacky-ass vase.

“I didn’t know that.”

“So it’s like most people don’t care how I’m doing, you know? How I might be handling this. And the truth is, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I mean, should I be a hard-ass and pretend
like it doesn’t bother me? Should I scream in their smug faces that I was way closer to Rennie than any of them ever were? It’s like a disgusting competition of who knew her best. And people think I’m last, when I should be in fucking first place.” I glance around, and my eyes land on a vase full of dried flowers on the corner of the secretary’s desk. I have the overwhelming urge to swat it off. I make a fist and bite down on it hard.

Ms. Chirazo seems to notice. A second later her hand is on my back, and she’s pushing me into her office and closing the door.

“Kat, forget what other people think. You don’t have anything to prove.” She points at her door. “There’s a reason why there are no students in this office today. People want to grieve with their friends, people who understand the connection, who don’t need to be brought up to speed. You should surround yourself with the friends who know you best.”

“I’ve tried that. My friends both blew me off.”

“Then try again,” she says matter-of-factly. “When you lost your mother, you were completely unreachable. It took time. It took people not giving up on you.”

I move my eyes to the birds flying past her window. I wonder how long it will be until I feel normal again. When Mom died, I was depressed for an entire year.

Ms. Chirazo stands up. “I’m going to go talk to Principal
Tortola and see if I can’t get him to excuse your lapse in judgment in light of current circumstances. In the meantime, sit here for as long as you like. The secretary will write you a pass when you’re ready to go back to class.”

I don’t wait long. Just enough to scribble a note for Mary.

Yo. When you get this, find me.

I miss you. Hope you’re okay.

—K

I’ve just slipped the note inside Mary’s locker when I notice that it’s missing its padlock.

I open the door, hoping to see her jacket hanging inside, but the thing is freaking cleaned out. Not, like, the way some nerds do so they’re neat and organized at the beginning of a semester. It’s completely empty. Just my folded-up piece of notebook paper at the bottom.

I can think of two possibilities. Either Mary switched lockers or she switched schools.

No. There’s no way she left Jar Island without telling us. Even if she did find out about Reeve and Lillia, she wouldn’t dick out on me and not say good-bye. She knows I care about her. She knows I’m her friend.

At least, I hope she does.

P
EOPLE HAVE BEEN LEAVING FLOWERS
in Rennie’s locker, poking them through the vents. I’m careful when I open the door, so the flowers don’t fall onto the floor. The inside of her locker door has pictures of the cheerleading squad, her and Ash, her and Reeve. None of us. The one of us down by the beach is gone. It was the summer after ninth grade, and we were wearing sherbet-colored bikini tops and making silly faces into the camera. I wonder if she ripped it up or if she just threw it away. I haven’t gone through any of our photo albums yet. I can’t. It hurts too bad.

Methodically I start separating her personal things from the textbooks I have to return to Mr. Randolph. I throw away a package of doughnuts, a spiral notebook with only one page of notes inside, half a pack of old gum, and a fuzzy black hair tie. I falter when I get to her favorite lip gloss and her black compact mirror—would Paige want to keep this stuff? Probably not, but maybe just in case? I put that stuff into the cardboard box Mr. Randolph gave me, along with a long cardigan, a scarf, and a few binders.

“I was starting to think maybe you died too.”

I turn around. It’s Kat, with her bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair is piled on her head in a greasy bun, and strands are coming out the back, and she has dark circles under her eyes. She looks terrible.

“Sorry, bad joke,” she says with a grimace.

“Hey,” I say. “Kat, I’m so sorry I—”

Kat waves her hand, like
Forget it
, and I’m relieved. She hitches her bag up on shoulder. “Yo, have you seen Mary today?”

I shake my head.

“I went by her locker to put a note inside, and it was cleaned out.” Kat chews on her fingernail. “Did you ever tell her what happened with you and Reeve?’

Biting my lip, I say, “I’ve been meaning to, but things have been so crazy . . .”

“Maybe she found out somehow and that’s why she’s been MIA.” Kat shoves her hands into her pockets. “What’s going on with you and Tabatsky now? Are you a
couple
?”

The derision in her voice makes me want to curl up and die. “No! We are definitely not a couple. We aren’t anything.”

“I’m not accusing you, Lil. I mean . . . it is what it is. I just want us to be real with each other.”

I look around before I take a breath and start over. “That stuff with Reeve, it’s over. It was just that one night and it hasn’t happened again. And I’m not purposefully avoiding you guys either. I’ve been at Paige’s every day with Ash and everybody, trying to get her to eat. She’s a mess. All she does is sleep and cry. It’s been really hard.”

“Well, at least you’ve got people around you. I mean, who the eff am I supposed to cry with? Pat? My dad? They don’t get it. I mean, sure, they feel sad about what happened to her. But nobody knew Ren the way we did.” Kat’s voice cracks on Rennie’s name.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Kat wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s fine. Whatever. I just needed to say my piece.” She grits her teeth and forces a smile, and it looks terrible. In a deadpan voice she says, “I feel better already.”

I reach out and give her shoulder a squeeze. I’m going to
have to face Mary eventually. I owe her that. I close Rennie’s locker door and hoist up the box of her things. “Let’s go over to Mary’s.”

We take my car. As we get closer, Kat says, “Here’s what I’m thinking. If Mary’s home and it doesn’t seem like she knows about you and Reeve and what happened on New Year’s Eve . . . maybe you don’t tell her.”

I draw in my breath. “I can’t not tell her.” Can I?

“But like you said, it’s over, and it would only hurt her. So there’s no point, right?”

“I guess so.” I don’t want to hurt Mary. That’s the last thing I want. And this thing with Reeve really is over. Maybe Kat’s right.

I park in Mary’s driveway, right behind her aunt’s Volvo. It doesn’t look like anyone’s shoveled the snow; it’s melting in patches. When I get out of the car, the bottoms of my boots crunch on broken glass. Kat and I look at each other, uneasy.

We go up to the front door and ring the bell, but no one answers. I have this weird feeling, like someone is watching us. It’s the prickly-back-of-the-neck feeling I get late at night when the whole house is asleep and I go downstairs to get a glass of water. I always run back to my room fast.

Kat starts knocking on the door, hard.

“This is creepy,” I whisper.

Kat keeps knocking until her knuckles turn red. “Shit.” She presses up close to the window. “It looks like a tornado blew through there.”

I press my nose up against the glass. Oh my God. The dining room chairs are knocked over; the entryway table is on its side. “Kat, Mary could be in serious trouble. We have to call the police!”

“The police?” Kat repeats. She’s craning her neck, trying to see up the stairs. “Why don’t we just break in ourselves and see what’s what?”

“Because there could be an intruder in there! Who knows what we’d be walking into!” I grab her by the arm and drag her back to the car, where I take out my cell and dial 911.

I
T’S A FREAKING HALF HOUR
before a cop car rolls up to Mary’s house. So much for a goddamned emergency.

Lillia jumps out of the car and walks down the sidewalk to meet the officer at the walkway. I’m a few steps behind her when Eddie Shofull climbs out of the squad car like a damn cowboy.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I say.

Officer Eddie Shofull is all of twenty-two years old. He looks way more like a boy dressed up in a cop uniform than an
actual
cop. He used to be friends with Pat back in high school. Scratch that. Eddie used to smoke weed with Pat back in high
school. After graduation, too. Basically until he joined the Jar Island Police Force. His father is a deputy sheriff. Jar Island nepotism at its finest.

Eddie glares at me. “What’d you expect, Kat? A detective?”