The Complete Burn for Burn Trilogy: Burn for Burn; Fire With Fire; Ashes to Ashes (88 page)

Alex twists in his seat so he can see the clock on the wall.
“Okay. Well, we’d better get started.” Alex opens the meeting by using his empty soda bottle as a gavel. “Let this meeting of Jar Island prom committee officially come to order. It looks like we’ve got someone new with us today. Would you care to introduce yourself?”

Lillia laughs, and I roll my eyes. Alex is so corny sometimes. “Shut up, Alex. Look. Basically I’m here because I think it’s a stupid-ass idea to have prom at a freaking nightclub all the way in Boston. I think we should have it here, on Jar Island, like we do every year.”

PJ shrugs his shoulders. “I doubt we’ll be able to get a new location. It’s already crawling with tourists again. This stuff needs to be reserved a year in advance.”

I fold my arms. “Well, then no one’s going to come.”

Ash sighs. “I hate to say it, but Kat might be right. Nobody’s buying tickets because they can’t afford it.”

Lillia says, “Even if we did find another location, we don’t have any funds to reserve it. We’ll lose our deposit on the club for sure. They made us sign a contract and pay them in full.”

“What about our gym?” PJ suggests. “I bet the school would let us use it.”

No one says anything. Me either, actually, because a high school prom in our ugly gym sounds lame.

Lillia, being a good sport, clears her throat. “I mean, sure. I
guess we could ask the janitors to clear out the mats and light some scented candles to get rid of the smell.”

Ashlin moans, “OMG, this is going to be the most low-rent prom in history. Even worse than the time they had prom at that nursing home rec room a couple of years ago. Remember it smelled like Depends? I wonder if they’re booked. . . .”

I glance across the table at Alex. “What about your house?”

“Huh?” He snorts. “My house is big, but we can’t fit the entire senior class in it.”

“Then we’ll rent a big tent and pitch it in the backyard. Didn’t your uncle have his wedding there?”

“Third wedding. Yeah. And he invited a ton of people.” He cocks his head to the side. “This could work. My mom loves to put on an event. She was talking about throwing me a big graduation party. Maybe she could do this instead.”

“All right, cool,” I say. “But we’re going to have to kick planning into high gear to get everything ready. I’ll take the lead.” I open up my notebook and start delegating work and subcommittees and all that shit for the next thirty minutes straight, and everyone’s nodding their heads, totally on board with me taking over.

A few weeks ago I planned on graduating without ever attending prom, and now I’m basically running the show.

The bell rings, and we head out. Ash drops her makeup bag
on her way out of the room, and Lillia picks it up and runs it to her. Ash takes it and quietly says thank you, but it’s not exactly warm.

If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that life’s too fucking short. I wasted too much time being angry and bitter. I wish I could go back in time and say a thousand things to Rennie. It’s too late for that, but it’s not too late for Ash and Lillia.

K
AT TEXTS ME ABOUT AN
emergency prom committee meeting at Ash’s house, seven p.m. It makes sense. We’ve got so much to do. It’s already April.

So after dinner I drive over to Ash’s. I must be the first one to arrive, because there aren’t any other cars in the driveway. Their housekeeper, Sheila, lets me in, and I go straight up to Ashlin’s room. The door is closed, so I knock. She doesn’t answer, so I poke my head in. She’s asleep under the covers. Ashlin has always loved an after-school nap. I clear my throat. “Ash?”

Ashlin stirs and rolls over. “Lil?”

I stand in the doorway awkwardly. “Sorry I woke you up. Is anyone else here yet?”

Groggily Ash sits up. She’s in one of her big cheerleading T-shirts and pink-and-green polka-dot underwear. Her fluffy blond hair looks like chicken feathers in the back. She looks so—Ash. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until this moment. She checks her phone. “What are you talking about?”

“The emergency meeting.” That’s when I realize—this is Kat’s doing. She’s trying to bring Ash and me back together. I can’t believe it. I step in and perch at the edge of her bed. “Sorry. I guess I heard Kat wrong.”

Yawning, Ash eyes me. “So is it true you and Reeve are done-zo?”

I nod. “The whole thing was a mistake from the start.”

“I don’t blame you for breaking up with him. You think you know somebody . . . I mean, bullying a girl so bad she kills herself?” Ash shakes her head.

“I know,” I say quietly. “Who told you?”

“Some girl from yearbook. She went to school with him at Montessori.”

My heart is beating wildly. “What’s her name?”

“I don’t remember. She has blond hair. Pretty. Kinda soft-spoken.”

Chills tickle my spine like piano keys. It’s Mary. It has to be.

Ash continues, twirling her hair around her fingers. “When Reeve transferred back from Montessori, he seemed totally fine, like no big deal. You’d never have known a girl had just died because of him.”

“He was young,” I say, my voice thin. “And I think it hit him a lot harder than anybody knows. He just didn’t let anybody see.”

“True. That’s how he deals, right? He doesn’t.” She leans back against her pillows. “When Ren died, I don’t think I saw him cry once, and he knew her the longest of everybody. He just keeps things locked up inside. Like, I think that being with you might have been his way of not dealing with his pain.”

“We never should have been together in the first place.” Saying it out loud makes me feel like crying, but I know it’s true.

“I don’t know. I still think what went down was a betrayal to Ren. Like, no matter what, it was effed up, what you guys did. But I think you and I both know that Reeve never saw her that way. They never would have ended up together. And he’s always had a thing for you, and Ren knew it.”

“No, he hasn’t,” I say. “He hated me.”

“Maybe so, but freshman year he told Derek that you were the hottest girl in our class and he wanted to hit it.” Ashlin scratches her neck. “You’ve always had a love-hate thing. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I wonder if Rennie’s dying isn’t what finally brought you guys together.”

I let this idea roll around in my head for a second. “What do you mean?”

Slowly she says, “Well . . . I don’t know. I mean, you guys knew her best. So maybe it was a natural thing for you to reach out to each other when she died. Maybe that’s why it was so intense and crazy.”

The thought never occurred to me. Because Reeve and I started having feelings for each other before Rennie died. But now I’m starting to wonder if things would’ve gotten so serious with us if Rennie hadn’t died. We were both grieving for our friend, and then everybody was shunning us and all we had was each other. It was us against the world. I never knew Ash had such a perceptive side. But she’s making sense.

My eyes well up. “I miss you. I know I messed up. But, Ash, high school’s almost over, and I don’t want to leave it like this, with you hating me.”

Ash looks down at her comforter. “I don’t
hate
you.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I’ve missed you, too,” she admits. “Spring break wasn’t the same without you and Reeve. Kat was so annoying. It’s like, okay, we get it, you’re a badass. You can stop walking around the boat in a wifebeater with a cigar hanging out of your mouth. But I did have fun with that girl Brianna.”

I wipe my eyes with the back of my arm, and Ash offers me
the corner of her comforter. “Kat’s actually really cool when you get to know her,” I say. “The badass stuff is just a front.” And then I say, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me and Reeve. I didn’t want to keep it a secret from you. Things just got so complicated.”

Ashlin nods. “You want to get nachos at Greasy Spoon?” And just like that, our fight, and this conversation, is over. It’s so her. And I’m grateful for that.

I
APPEAR IN THE DOORWAY
to shop class and set my sights on Reeve. He’s off to the side of the room by himself, sitting on a stool in front of the table saw, his shoulders hunched, staring at a pile of sawdust on the floor near his feet. His project, a birdhouse, is only half completed. It’s missing a roof and a perch.

“Reeve!”

Reeve slowly lifts his head and looks over at the shop teacher, Mr. Werther. Everyone else in class has finished with their birdhouses. The projects are in a line on Mr. Werther’s desk, and he’s
going through and assigning them each a grade.

“What?” Reeve says snottily, without looking up.

“You’ve got twenty more minutes before you get a zero.”

Reeve shakes his head and sneers, “Like I care about a fucking birdhouse,” barely under his breath. Then he turns on the saw blade by stepping on the floor pedal with his foot.

The students look at each other and murmur. Mr. Werther looks momentarily stunned that one of his students would be so rude. He shouts over the sudden burst of noise, “That’s ten points off for operating the saw without your safety goggles.”

“Awesome,” Reeve deadpans.

He presses his foot down more on the saw pedal, and the blade whirls so fast, it turns into a silver blur and lifts up the hair away from his forehead.

I stroll over and lean in to Reeve’s ear.

In a singsong voice I say, “You deserve everything that’s happening to you, Reeve. Every single terrible thing.” I know he can hear me. “You are not a good person. And now nothing good will ever come to you. I will make sure of that.”

Reeve closes his eyes. He hears me. I know he does.

“You’re a murderer.” I walk around the table so that I’m directly in front of the saw, lick my lips, and say, “You killed me. You’ve got blood on your hands.”

Reeve’s eyes pop open. I can see the hair on his neck stand
up. I smile and say it a little louder. “That’s why Lillia left you, Reeve. She saw the real you. She knows you’re a monster. And she couldn’t ever love someone like you.”

Reeve takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to push my voice out of his head.

I skip around the room, all around the room. “Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.”

Reeve presses harder on the pedal, and the saw whirs louder. But not as loud as me. I keep skipping, keep taunting him. I can do it forever.

Reeve reaches over the top of the whirling saw blade to grab his piece of wood. His hands are shaking. He tries to line up a cut, but he can’t concentrate. Not with me screaming. He squeezes his eyes shut.

And suddenly Mr. Werther comes running over. I try to stop him, but he pushes right through me, grabs Reeve by the back of the shirt, and pulls him away from the saw.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mr. Werther screams.

“I’m building my damn birdhouse!” Reeve shouts back, but he’s clearly shaken. Reeve shrugs Mr. Werther off him. As he does, his arm flails and he hits one of the saws behind him. “Shit!” he shouts, and pulls the hand in close to himself. He’s cut his finger, not too deep, but it lets out a slit of the darkest, deepest red. I swear I feel it. The warmth of his blood.

Mr. Werther has had enough. “Forget the birdhouse. You’ve got yourself a failing grade for not following safety protocol. You’re practically falling asleep! Now get out of here and down to the nurse.”

Reeve picks up his birdhouse and bleeds all over the wood. On his way out of the shop class, he throws it into the trash can.

I can hear the other kids whispering as he stalks down the hall. I know Reeve can hear them too. He pushes through one of the metal doors and heads toward the parking lot.

“Are you going to cry?” I ask him. “Go ahead and cry, then. Cry your freaking eyes out. But it’s not going to change anything.”

Reeve straightens up, and it’s almost like he hears me. He goes over to his truck and gets in. But he doesn’t turn the key in the ignition. He just sits there. Then he drops his head onto the steering wheel and cries, just like I told him to.

*  *  *

Later that night I’m there when Reeve falls asleep. As soon as he does, I’m in his dream.

It’s always a surprise where I find myself when I land there. Sometimes it’s a memory of Lillia, sometimes it’s him and Alex in happier times. Tonight he’s apologizing to Alex. The two guys are in Alex’s pool house, playing video games. Reeve reaches for a soda and says, “I regret it, man. I really do. And
I know you’ve loved her forever. But I have too.”

Then he looks up and sees me there. He’s scared.

“Please.”

I grab his hand, and we’re at the top of the lighthouse. I’m not Mary. I’m Big Easy. And Reeve’s a seventh grader. I’m perched on the cap, just a few feet above where Reeve is, on the catwalk surrounding the part of the tower that holds the bulb.

I bring him here, every night, and tell him there’s nothing left to live for. That everything he loves is gone. I repeat it like a script, like a play I’m acting in.

Eventually he’ll hear me. And then he’ll do what’s right, what he should have done the first time he came here. He’ll jump.

T
HE SPORTS BANQUET WAS SUPPOSED
to be a night for all of us, but especially for Reeve. He was the star. Just like Rennie was.

I didn’t think he’d show up. I thought for sure that he’d skip it. I hoped he would, because every time I see him, it hurts. But there he is, sitting at the end of the banquet table, wrinkled shirt untucked, sipping from a water bottle. Whatever’s inside, I know it isn’t water. Reeve is drunk. And I have this sinking feeling something bad is going to happen.

I’m at the other end of the banquet table, between Alex and
Ash. Alex and I are accidentally matching—I’m in a pale pink silk dress, and he’s in a pink tie. When we saw each other, we laughed.

The girls on the junior squad present us senior girls with roses, per tradition. Coach Christy presents a plaque for Rennie, and all the girls on the squad cry. I do too.

Wiping tears from her eyes, Ash whispers to me, “I can’t believe everything’s about to be over.”