Fire With Fire, Page 2

  * * *

  ONE

  WEEK

  LATER

  * * *

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  MARY

  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. 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. I’m nervous about seeing Reeve; I’m nervous about . . . something bad happening again. And then there’s all the 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 in our 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 kind of thing 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 shout. “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 look through 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.

  “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 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.

  * * *

  By the time I reach the bike rack at Jar Island High, the sun has disappeared, leaving the sky cold and wispy. 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.

  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 shyly, and lock up my bike. 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 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 been so crazy; it’s probably good that the three of us are lying low.” She says it, but she still sounds sad. “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? I read in the paper his leg is broken.”

  Lilia presses her lips together and then says, “He’s okay. But 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?

  He’ll be arriving soon. I speed walk into school. Almost every classroom has big, gaping holes sawed into the walls, for the electrical work. 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 homeroom and take a seat on the radiator by the window, with the skirt of my corduroy jumper tucked underneath me. I 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.

  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. Alex 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 today 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, holds on to the door, 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.
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br />   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.

  It’s just like always. Everyone wants a piece of Reeve. Most of them will never get it.

  But I had it once.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  LILLIA

  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. 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 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 nod, 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. “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 doctor’s 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 ran into each other in the girls’ bathroom. I’m not sure if it was good luck or maybe even fate that brought us together. Whatever it was, I’m so glad it did.

  * * *

  We’re all at the lunch table, and people keep coming over, trying to sign Reeve’s cast. The Reeve I know would have lapped up the attention; he would have loved every second. But not this guy. This guy couldn’t care less. All he wants to do is talk about his physical therapy plan with Rennie. They’re huddled together on the other side of the table, his cast up in her lap.

  “While I have the hard cast on, I’m focusing exclusively on my upper body. Chest, biceps, triceps, back, core. Bulk up from the waist up. Then three, maybe four weeks and I’m in the soft cast. Boom. Hydrotherapy.”

  I’m mesmerized as I watch him tear through two steamed chicken breasts and a huge ziplock bag of cut-up carrots and spinach. He’s inhaling food like he’s a vacuum.

  “I ordered you a buoyancy belt last night,” Rennie says. “It should be here by the end of the week.”

  Alex keeps leaning over and trying to convince Reeve to come to the football game on Friday, but of course selfish Reeve isn’t having it. Alex says, “Come on, Reeve. You know it would be huge for morale. The guys are scared shitless about Lee Freddington quarterbacking for us again.”

  “That’s ’cause Freddington can’t throw for shit,” Derek says, his mouth full of pizza.

  It’s true. We had our first game without Reeve last Friday, and it was a complete disaster. We lost big-time to a team that’s second to last in our division.

  PJ pipes up, “We miss you, man. And, I don’t know, maybe you could give Freddington some tips or whatever.”

  “Yeah,” says Alex. “You don’t have to suit up or anything. Just be on the sidelines. I really think it’d make a big difference.”

  Reeve gulps down his Muscle Milk. Wiping his mouth, he says, “You guys are on your own now. I can’t carry you anymore. I’ve gotta worry about myself. If I don’t get my shit straight, I don’t play next fall.”

  “You’re still a captain of this team,” Alex reminds him.

  “I have to focus on my recovery,” Reeve says. “I’m in bed by nine and up by five thirty to work out. You think I have time to go to a football game?”

  “Just think about it,” Alex says. “You don’t have to decide today. See how you’re feeling on Friday night.” It gives me a stomachache to see Alex be so patient with Reeve’s temper tantrum. If I were him, I’d tell Reeve to forget it.

  Shaking his head regretfully, Derek says, “Damn, man. I can’t believe this happened to you. I was looking forward to watching you throw TDs on ESPN next fall.”

  Reeve jams a forkful of salad into his mouth. Chewing forcefully, he says, “You’re still gonna see me on ESPN. Don’t count me out.”

  “Yeah, Derek,” Rennie says, glaring at him. “From here on out, this is a no-negativity zone. Only positive thinking allowed.”

  Reeve heaves himself out of his seat and up onto his crutches.

  “Where are you going?” Rennie asks him.

  “Bathroom.”

&nb
sp; He lurches off, and Rennie watches him like a hawk, ready to spring into action if he needs her. When he’s gone, she looks around to make sure no one else is listening, and then she says to Ash, “He’s being so strong. He practically cried in my arms the other night when he heard Alabama was out. That was one of his safety schools! And there he was, begging the coaches to redshirt him for the first season.” She closes her eyes and rubs her temples. “They don’t think he’ll ever get back to where he was. I can’t wait until he proves those idiots wrong.” Rennie takes a sip of her soda. “Sure, he might not end up at a D-one school after this is all over, but any division two or three school would be lucky to have him.”

  “Did you spend the night over at his house again?” Ash whispers.

  Again? They’re doing sleepovers now? I fully believe that Paige would let Rennie sleep over at a guy’s house, but Reeve’s parents have always seemed pretty traditional to me. They go to church every Sunday, and Reeve calls his dad “sir.”

  Running her hands through her hair, Rennie says, “I’m basically the only thing keeping him going right now.”

  “Did you guys finally DTR?” Ash asks her.

  “What does DTR mean?” I wonder aloud.

  “Define the relationship,” Rennie says, rolling her eyes like I am a moron for not knowing. But she doesn’t look at me. “And no, we didn’t. Not yet. He has too much on his mind right now. I just want to be there for him. That’s all he needs.” Rennie stands up and gathers her things. “I’m going to go look for him.” She leans down and gives Ashlin a peck on the cheek. “Bye, Ash. Bye, Peej, bye, Derek.”

  Without even a glance in my direction, she takes off. No one seems to notice that Rennie said good-bye to everyone but me.

  It’s been like this since homecoming, and every day it gets a little worse. I’m pretty sure Rennie’s mad at me. Like, really mad.