The Complete Burn for Burn Trilogy: Burn for Burn; Fire With Fire; Ashes to Ashes (75 page)

Since the first of the month, there’s been a mention every single morning about placing orders for the rose sale run by the student council.

Yellow roses are symbols of friendship, sold for a dollar a stem. Pink roses are for crushes, at three dollars a stem. Red roses mean true love and are sold for a whopping five bucks a stem. On the morning of Valentine’s Day, a student council person goes to each homeroom and delivers the flowers, and then the girls compare who got the most.

It’s, like, the biggest affront to feminism, like, ever.

Back when I was a freshman, anyone could buy whatever
color rose they wanted for someone else. But the “rules” have changed over the years as the girls have gotten more competitive. Now you can only buy red roses for a person of the opposite gender, unless you’re gay, because we are very progressive. It’s effing ridiculous, if you ask me.

Now, I’m not trying to shit on the very idea of Valentine’s Day. I’m a fan of love. I’m a sucker for romance. Truth be told, when I’m home alone, I usually channel surf to the sappiest movie I can find, one where the sound track is just violins and there are, like, big passionate kisses at the airport, or on some rocky beach. Or, best of all, in a hospital bed.

It’s Valentine’s Day played out inside our high school that’s utter bullshit. I mean, I don’t think I could find even one or two couples in the whole school who are really, truly in love.

Love is not a big show of spending fifty bucks on some bullshit flowers as part of a fund-raiser for school. I’ve seen plenty of girls get a red rose from their boyfriends, and then they’re screaming at each other ten minutes later in the hallway.

They don’t know what love is. They’re just hopped up on hormones.

I’m sure some people think I’m bitter because I’ve never gotten a rose. First off, none of my guy friends are going to waste their money on dumb shit like that. You can get better roses at the dang gas station for half of what our school
charges, and they won’t be wilted by eighth period either.

I’ve gotten my fair share of tokens of romance. Like my sophomore year, when Vincent Upton drew a heart on a pack of cigarettes and cut off my padlock with a hacksaw he’d stolen from the shop room so he could put the pack in my locker.

So whatever.

All throughout homeroom everyone’s eyes are on the door, waiting for the flower delivery person to come by with their cart. And when ours comes with a big white box, I pull my hood up over my head.

A few minutes later there’s a tap on my shoulder. I lift my head up, and there is the flower girl with a pair of cardboard angel wings on her back and an arm full of roses. I tug out my headphones. “Yeah?”

“Can you move back a little?”

I rock back in my chair, and she sets twelve yellow roses on my desk along with a card.

I look around. A few other girls have gotten a red rose or maybe two. But no one has a bouquet in any color.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I pick up the card. The delivery girl is standing expectantly, like I’m going to read it out loud or something. I give her a bitchy look and she leaves.

The bell rings, and then I gather up the flowers and the card and head to my locker. I stick them inside because I’m not
parading that shit around for everyone to see. And later, once the next period starts, I discreetly open my card.

Dear Kat,

It was hard to hear, but you were right—my Lillia Cho oeuvre was definitely junior high material. If not for your musical kick in the ass, I don’t know if I would have ever found the guts to quit writing songs about Lillia and just tell her how I really feel.

Here’s to having “No Regrets.” (See what I did there?)

Rock on,

Your friend,

Alex

Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.

B
ECAUSE IT’S
V
ALENTINE’S
D
AY,
I’
M
wearing a salmon-pink sweater and tomato-red cigarette pants. My mom says I look like something out of a 1960s Italian
Vogue
, and she insists that I wear my hair pinned up on the side with her pearl pin. I’ve always liked to dress up special for Valentine’s Day, but now everyone does it and it’s slightly annoying.

The student council starts delivering roses during homeroom. It’s part of it—you get your flowers in the morning, and then you carry them around all day for everyone to see. Red for love, yellow for friendship, pink if you have a crush on someone.
Rennie and Ash and I always send each other two yellow ones and one pink.

Last year I set the record for most roses ever received by a girl at Jar High. Twenty-four! A dozen from my dad, Rennie’s three, Ash’s three, one from Alex, one from PJ, one from my chem lab partner, Tyler, and three from a group of freshman guys I gave a ride home to once after school because they missed the bus.

I already know I won’t be getting a rose from Reeve, and it’s not just because we’re keeping things on the down low. It’s a point of pride for him—that he wouldn’t ever waste his money on something so cheesy and meaningless. I’ve heard him give the speech every year, how Valentine’s Day is complete bullshit. Also, in the past he’s always had more than one girl he was flirting with at a time, and it would have been drama if he’d sent a rose to just one girl or to all the girls. So his policy is to send none. Junior year, Rennie begged him to send her a rose, and he still refused “on the principle of it,” and she wouldn’t speak to him for days.

Jamie Cochran, a junior girl from the squad, comes into our homeroom with an armful of red roses.

Jamie stops at my desk first. She drops a dozen onto my desk and keeps moving. I open the card, and it reads,
Happy Valentine’s Day to my darling. Love, Daddy
.

Jamie goes back to her pushcart in the doorway and comes back with a big armful, all different colors. She walks around
the room, plucking out stems and handing them to the other students. And then she heads back to my desk.

Jamie hands me the last bouquet in her arms, three roses—two yellow and one pink—which I know are from Ash. She walks back to her cart and picks up an enormous bouquet of roses, all red. It’s so big, she has trouble carrying it. She stops in front of my desk and hands them to me, all of them. “Fifty red roses,” she announces loudly, and I hear people in the room gasp. “Looks like you win most roses again, Lillia!”

What!

As soon as Jamie walks away, I tear open the card.

I’ve wanted to say this for a long time, only I didn’t have the guts. But life is too short. So here goes. I’m in love with you, Lillia. Always have been, always will be.

Alex

Whoa. I can’t believe it. I put my hands on my cheeks, and they are warm. I always knew Alex had feelings for me, but never in a million years did I think he’d put himself out there like this. It’s just . . . beyond.

And I’m going to have to let him down.

As soon as the bell rings, I scoop up all my bouquets and race to my locker. I have to hide Alex’s roses before Reeve sees. I stuff them all inside as quick as I can. Some of the stems break, and a few petals fall out onto the floor. I stoop down and pick them up and put them in my purse.

*  *  *

PJ, Derek, and Alex are already at the lunch table when I get to the cafeteria. I spot Reeve in the lunch line.

I slide into the seat next to Alex. “Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” I whisper back. I mouth,
Thank you.

He mouths back,
You’re welcome.

I glance over at Reeve again. He’s picking out a Jell-O at the counter.

Alex leans in and touches my arm. In a low voice he asks, “Did you read the card?”

I nod and make myself smile. “Can we talk later?” I want to do this so carefully, and in private.

He nods, and I can feel my heart break a little bit.

Ashlin comes running up to the table just as Reeve sits down with his lunch. She throws down her lunch bag and shrieks, “I heard someone sent you
fifty
roses, Lil!” My mouth goes dry. “You lucky bitch! Who was it?” She sits down and reaches around PJ to whack Derek on the shoulder with her bag. “Derek only sent me five! Cheap bastard.”

“Um . . .” What do I say? My dad?

Ash giggles and swivels in her seat. “Was it you, Lindy?”

Alex is just smiling. I can’t even look at Reeve.

That’s when Jamie comes running up to the table with a single red rose in her hand. “Lillia, I forgot to give this one to you in all the craziness this morning.” She hands me the rose and a card and walks away.

“Open up the card!” Ash demands.

Everybody’s looking at me now. Slowly I open the little red envelope. The card says,
First time I bought a rose for anyone other than my mom. Congratulations, Cho.
I can feel my cheeks heat up. “It’s from my dad,” I say at last.

“Oh my God, you’re a horrible liar, Lil,” Ash says with a laugh. She reaches across the table and snatches the card out of my hands.

Desperately I say, “Give it back, Ash.”

The smile on her face fades as she reads. She puts two and two together immediately, her eyes moving from Reeve to me and back again. “Is this a joke?”

Beside me Alex has gone rigid in his seat. He looks from Reeve to me. “So you guys are together.”

I’m such a coward. I can’t even answer him. All I can do is look down at the table.

Then I hear Ash whisper, “Oh. My. God.” I look up at her,
and she’s staring at me with round disbelieving eyes. “Lil?”

I open and close my mouth. I don’t know what to say to her.

Rubbing his hands through his hair, Reeve says, “Um . . . yeah. We are. We didn’t want it to come out like this, but, yeah.”

Alex quickly gathers up his lunch tray and stands up. “Feel free to throw those roses away if you haven’t already.”

Reeve reaches out to him. “Hey, dude, listen—”

Alex doesn’t let him finish. He gets up and leaves and doesn’t spare me a second look.

The entire cafeteria has gone quiet. Everyone is staring at us.

“Tell me this isn’t happening,” Ash says. She’s talking only to me. “Tell me you and Reeve are not a thing.” When I don’t say anything, when seconds pass of me still not saying anything, she hisses, “Ren’s body isn’t even cold!”

I feel all the blood drain from my face.

Sharply Reeve says, “What’d you say, Ash?”

Ashlin shrugs a defiant kind of shrug, and Reeve narrows his eyes at Derek in warning. “You need to put a muzzle on your girl.”

Derek brushes him off and keeps on eating his sandwich. “Chill out, Tabatsky.”

Ash is shooting daggers at me, and PJ just looks dumbfounded. I feel sick to my stomach. I want to explain, but what can I even say?

“Anybody else have shit they want to say?” Reeve says. “If so, say it now to my face, because I’m not dealing with any whisper-behind-the-back bullshit.”

“This is sickening,” Ash spits out. Then she bolts up and leaves our table. Derek follows her. PJ shakes his head sadly, and he gets up too. Now it’s just Reeve and me at our end of the table. Reeve blinks. I know he wasn’t expecting that.

He pulls my chair closer and hugs me to him. I guess he can feel how nervous I am, because he says, “Don’t worry. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

We both know that isn’t true. If we weren’t doing anything wrong, why were we sneaking around all this time?

“I’d do anything for you, Cho.” Reeve squeezes my hand. “You’re with me, right?” There’s an urgency in his voice, a weakness I’m not used to hearing.

Am I with him? Are we really doing this? I’m scared what people will think, what my sister will think. My parents. Ash. But it’s too late to worry about all that now. There’s no going back. And I do want to be with him. So I let him hold me. But I still can’t get the look on Alex’s face out of my head.

I
’M HUSTLING OVER TO THE
cafeteria when I run right into Alex. He looks like he wants to murder somebody. Uh-oh. “Hey, Alex—” I say.

“I can’t talk right now, Kat,” he says, and steamrolls past me.

So much for no regrets.

In the cafeteria Reeve and Lillia are sitting at their table alone. She’s got one long-stemmed red rose on the table in front of her. I know Alex is gone, but where are the rest of their friends? There’s, like, three trays of uneaten food left behind. I plop
down in the seat across from Lil, where there’s a chicken sandwich and fries.

I help myself to a fry and glance over at Reeve. I don’t particularly want to dish about Alex’s feelings in front of him. “Hey, Reeve, can you get me a drink?”

He makes a disgusted face as I eat another fry. “There are five open sodas in front of you. Why don’t you mooch off one of them?”

Ugh. I turn my chair away from him and lower my voice. “Did shit just go down?” Pointing to the single rose, I say, “Is that from Al?” I was expecting something bigger. Though maybe he did a rose and, like, sang one of his songs for her or something.

Lillia shakes her head and hands me the card that came with the rose.

“Oh.” I say. “Wait. I thought you and Reeve were keeping things on the down low?”

Reeve looks from me to Lillia. “Wait a minute—DeBrassio knows about us?” I give him a Cheshire cat smile. “I thought we were keeping this a secret from
everyone
!”

Defensively Lillia says, “First off, I only told Kat, and I swore her to secrecy. And what right do you have to be mad at that? I’m not the one who sent you a valentine in front of everyone!”

I dip a fry into some ketchup and nod my head in agreement. “She’s got a point.”

Reeve lets out a frustrated sigh. “I thought I could send you a rose and it would get lost in all the other ones you get in homeroom and you’d be the only one who knew. I definitely didn’t expect it to be delivered in the middle of lunch with everyone around.”

“No. I mean . . .” Lillia picks up the rose and puts it to her nose. “I know it was an accident. I just wish you hadn’t been such a jerk to Derek.”