The Complete Burn for Burn Trilogy: Burn for Burn; Fire With Fire; Ashes to Ashes (83 page)

Clearly I screwed up. Forget Oberlin. I should have applied to some random school in the Caribbean to study marine
biology so I could see this sunset every damn day.

Everyone else is below getting ready for dinner. I’m in my black bikini, cross-legged on one of the white sunbathing beds on the main deck. It was starting to get cold, and my suit was still wet from this afternoon—when me and the guys were taking turns jumping off the bow. Luckily, one of the boat staff brought me out a drink and set a super-soft blanket over my shoulders.

I’ve done jack shit for the past few days besides swim and sun myself, and my legs are almost as brown as the whiskey in my glass. I have to keep reminding myself to sip it slowly, because it’s the smoothest, most quality shit in Uncle Tim’s bar, and it goes down dangerously easy. I fear I’ll never be able to drink cheap whiskey again.

Down on the deck below me, I hear the boat staff setting the dinner table for us, the clinking of glasses and silverware. We’ve eaten outside every single night, a gourmet meal with fresh seafood, on a big banquet table draped with white linen tablecloths. There’s a chef working all day for us, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and desserts, while we fuck around.

I thought it would take some getting used to, this kind of life. But it hasn’t. Like the whiskey, it’s going down really, really easy. And I’m kind of bummed that this is my one and only spring break trip.

“Yo, Kat. Look what we found!”

I turn my head and see PJ walking over in a button-up shirt and board shorts, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes. He’s holding a wooden box. Jonah, one of Alex’s chorus friends, comes up beside him and lifts the lid, like a game show hostess showing off a prize. Inside are neat stacks of brown cigars, each one encircled with an ornate gold foil band.

I stand up and pull on my cutoffs. “Holy shit. Are you serious? Another box of Cubans?” I haven’t smoked a cigarette for three weeks now, but I’ve made a spring break exception for a Cuban. Several spring break exceptions.

“Uncle Tim must have just come back from Havana,” Derek says. He takes out two, cuts the tips with a silver clip monogrammed with Uncle Tim’s initials, and passes around a lighter. “Yo, Al! You want one too, right?”

Alex comes up from the kitchen, followed by one of the hired boat staff carrying a tray in his hands loaded with four tumblers of whiskey and perfect square ice cubes. I quickly drain the glass I’m holding and then trade my empty for a fresh one.

“The chef is making some sick crab cakes! Should be ready in an hour, guys,” he announces. After taking a few big gulps of his whiskey, he says to us, “What do you say we never go back?”

Though he’s smiling, I know there’s truth behind those words. This has been an escape for Alex, to not have to see Reeve and Lillia together.

In a way it’s been an escape for me, too.

Right after we set sail, I regretted saying yes. First off, sailing on any boat when
Judy Blue Eyes
is gone depressed the shit out of me. And, as I expected, it was awkward on board for the first few days. We were definitely divided along class lines. Alex’s chorus friends mostly hung out up on the deck, while the rest of us were in the lounge. Jonah spent the whole first night shuffling his magic cards, and Ivan didn’t do much but stare down at his bongos and pat them quietly. Brianna, the girl who did the Christmas duet with Alex, has followed him around like a lovesick puppy. It was basically my worst fears come true.

But things took a turn when the captain found us a cove between some tiny sand islands, and the water was warm like a bath. Everyone took turns jumping off the bow into the water, even Ashlin, which impressed the shit out of me.

That was really all it took for us to be cool with each other. That night everyone hung out on the deck together. Ivan played his bongos, and PJ and Derek made up a rap, which was pretty decent for a freestyle and had me laughing my ass off. Ashlin had Brianna putting braids in her hair. And Alex, bless his heart, kept sitting between me and Jonah, because dude had his eyes on my boobs, like, 24/7.

All in all, not a bad time. In fact, it’s been pretty great.

So my escape? I’m always so quick to shit on things . . .
people, experiences, different points of view. I get it set in my head that things are a certain way, and then I shut out anything that might contradict that perception. Except I couldn’t pull that shit on this boat, and I’m better for it.

*  *  *

I go downstairs to shower and change for dinner. Ashlin is in the room, getting into this flowy caftan thing, and Brianna has on a 1950s housedress. I don’t have anything dressy to wear for our last meal, so I put on my black tank dress. I should seriously get new clothes before I head to Oberlin. I mean, if I get in. That acceptance letter better be waiting for me when I get home.

Ashlin comes up behind me with a scarf. It’s got a cool trippy pattern on it. She ties it around my head like I’m some kind of seventies rock star.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You should totally wear a look like this to prom! Something vintage.”

Prom. See? Another one of those things that I’ve shit on. Why shouldn’t I go to prom? I’m a freaking senior, after all.

Ash looks over at Brianna. “Did you buy your dress yet?”

“Um, not yet,” Brianna says. “I’m not sure if I’m going.”

“That’s crazy! You have to go.”

“I’m in this show at the regional playhouse, and I had to
buy my own costume. So I doubt I’ll have the money.”

“Oh,” Ash says, and I can tell she feels like a dummy. “Well, that stinks.”

“It’s no big deal,” Brianna says, lowering her eyes.

“Wait,” I say. “Prom tickets are that expensive?” If they are, I probably can’t go either.

“They are this year,” Brianna explains. “It’s going to be at some club in Boston.”

“That’s a dumb idea.” I turn and look at Ash. “Who’s making these bonehead decisions?”

Ash points her finger at me. “Don’t even. You have no right to complain. If you care, then come to a prom committee meeting. Don’t just bitch about it.”

Damn. Ash has some fire in her. “Okay, okay. Down, girl.” I smile at her, and she smiles back.

It’s crazy, the things that have happened this year. How much I’ve changed. How everything that I thought was set in stone isn’t. It makes me excited for the future and all its possibilities. Anything can happen.

Suddenly I have the overwhelming urge to talk to Mary. I want to tell her how much better life gets, if you give it a chance. I want to tell her to let go of the Reeve drama once and for all. I want to tell her that I miss her.

I
N THE CAR ON THE
way to the restaurant, I smooth down the skirt of my silk dress and say, “Daddy, please be nice to Reeve.”

He and my mom exchange a look. “I’m always nice.”

In the backseat Nadia and I exchange a look of our own. “Not true, Daddy,” she says in a singsong voice. “When you met James, you gave him the third degree about drinking and driving. And, hello, we don’t even have our licenses yet! Now James is afraid to come over to the house.”

My dad hides a smile.

I give Nadia a grateful look, and then she remembers she’s supposed to be giving me the silent treatment, and she turns her head back toward the window.

When we pull into the parking lot, Reeve’s sitting on a bench in front of the restaurant. He’s wearing a tie and khakis, and even a navy-colored sport coat that he must have borrowed from one of his brothers, because I’ve never seen him wear it before. He quickly stands up from the bench and shakes my dad’s hand. “Dr. Cho,” he says. “Good to see you again, sir.”

“Daddy, this is my friend Reeve,” I say.

“Hi, Reeve,” my dad says. The two of them are almost the same height. Reeve’s just an inch or so taller.

Reeve kisses my mom on the cheek. “Stunning as always, Mrs. Cho,” he says, which of course she eats up. My dad looks amused by this. To Nadia he says, “What’s up, li’l pup,” which she acknowledges with a wave.

When we get to the table, my dad pulls out the chair for my mom, and Reeve tries to pull out my chair, but he jerks too hard and it makes a terrible squeaking sound, and everyone turns around to look. I’m so tense, I feel like I’m going to give myself a stroke, but Reeve looks as relaxed and at ease as always.

My dad orders a bottle of sake, and when he offers some to
Reeve, Reeve picks up his glass and accepts with both hands. I shoot him a panicked look, like
What are you doing?
and Reeve says, “Dr. Cho, I read that in Korean culture it’s rude not to accept alcohol from an elder.”

My parents exchange impressed looks. “Absolutely correct,” my dad says.

“And I’m supposed to drink it like this?” Reeve turns his head to the side and takes a small sip.

My dad hoots with laughter. Daddy never hoots. I can feel my stomach start to unclench.

“Wait, why is he drinking it like that?” Nadia asks.

“You aren’t supposed to drink in someone’s face, because it’s considered disrespectful,” my mom says. “You’re supposed to turn your head slightly. Reeve, where did you learn about this?”

“I read a few articles, and I watched a YouTube video on drinking with elders,” Reeve says.

“Oh, that’s darling,” my mom exclaims. “What else did you learn?”

Reeve sits up straighter. “Never pour your own drink. Never let someone else’s glass sit empty. Always accept a drink with two hands.”

My dad turns to me. “Do you know about all this, Lilli?”

“I know to accept with both hands,” I say.

“What about you, Nadi?” my mom asks.

“I don’t need to know about it because I’m not old enough to drink anyway,” Nadia says with a frown, spearing a cherry out of her glass. We both like to drink Shirley Temples when we go out to eat.

My dad laughs. “Well, it’s good to know anyway.”

Though he doesn’t say so, Daddy is also impressed by how much sashimi Reeve eats. My mom keeps putting more on his plate and he keeps eating it. It turns out he’s also fine with chopsticks. When my dad asks him about his postgrad year, I get nervous again, but Reeve is prepared. He tells him he’s been accepted to Graydon, that he’s already training again.

“Where is Graydon?” Daddy asks him.

“It’s about an hour outside Boston,” Reeve says. “In Connecticut.”

“Hm,” my dad says, but he doesn’t say anything else. He leans forward and says, “A colleague of mine’s son did a postgraduate year. He ended up playing a year of football at UVA before he injured his knee. Then he had to transfer because his grades weren’t good enough. What are your plans, Reeve?”

My mom gives Daddy a sharp look, which he pretends not to notice. I say, “Daddy, Reeve is really smart. He broke 2100 on the SATs!”

Reeve laughs an awkward laugh. “Lillia, you don’t have to talk me up like that.” To my dad he says, “I don’t have any
illusions about playing in the NFL or anything. I just want to go to a great college, and football is my way in. I’d like to double major in business and communications, sir.”

That’s news to me. I can tell my dad is satisfied by the answer too.

Then Reeve tells a story about how he sold seashells to tourists when he was a kid, and everyone laughs, even Nadia.

*  *  *

On the way home my mom winks at me in the rearview mirror.

I
’M WAITING IN
L
ILLIA’S BEDROOM
for her to come home from the dinner celebration with Reeve. I watched him all day from a safe distance, playing around in the pool with Lillia, saying “I love you,” trying so hard to impress her family at their special dinner.

I could have stopped it at any time. Crushed his perfect day. I wanted to so badly.

But then I thought,
Why?
Let him have it. That way it’ll hurt all the worse when I take everything away. I’ll be so much stronger, and way more powerful, if I wait a little longer.

Tomorrow. That’s it. Tomorrow’s going to be hell on earth. My day of reckoning.

I’ve been in Lillia’s room before, but tonight I really take time to look around. Lillia has so many pretty things on her vanity. Bottles of lotion and tubes of lipstick and a pink hairbrush from France, plus a big glass jar where she keeps her hair ribbons. Her closet is like you see in a fancy boutique—stacks of cashmere sweaters, rows of blouses and skirts and dresses, everything arranged by color, from light to dark. Even though I’ve hardly seen Lillia wear the same outfit twice, so many of them still have the tags on. There’s one dress hanging on a special puffy hanger, and it’s cloaked in plastic. I know as soon as I see it that it’s her prom dress.

Lillia gets everything she wants. The boy, the college acceptance letter. She has a dream life. But not tonight. I’m going to ruin her dreams tonight.

I walk toward her dresser. Her necklaces hang on a silver tree, but she also has a jewelry box. There’s a picture frame with a photo of a young Lillia and Nadia riding on the same merry-go-round horse. They both have their hair in pigtails, and Lillia is hugging Nadia so tight it looks uncomfortable.

I hear the family come home. Not one but two sets of footsteps hurry up the stairs. So I dart behind the chaise.

Lillia comes in first. Her dad calls out, “Good night,
college girl!” and she calls back, “Night, Daddy!”

Nadia comes in right behind her. She flops down on Lillia’s bed as Lillia unzips herself out of her dress and slips on a soft gray nightie.

Lillia carefully takes off the necklace Reeve gave her this afternoon, hangs it on the necklace tree, and then takes a seat at her vanity and asks, “So, what do you think? Did Daddy approve?” She pulls open a drawer and takes out a couple of cotton balls.

“Are you kidding?” Nadia says. “I think Daddy loved him. That Korean culture stuff, Daddy ate it up! Reeve was so smart to do that.”

Lillia smiles into the mirror. “I feel bad. I basically scared Reeve into his best behavior. I was so sure he’d do something . . . I don’t know. Something that Daddy wouldn’t like.”

I shake my head. Reeve knows how to charm everyone. That’s part of why he’s so dangerous. It can happen, even when you don’t want it to. Even when you are trying your very hardest to resist. Lillia should know that better than anyone else. She’s known him for years. She’s seen the way he treats people. And yet she doesn’t recognize it. She refuses to see his true colors.