Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3)

Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3) Page 2

I see her everywhere. The first-floor trophy case, where we’d hang out freshman year when it got too cold to sit outside by the fountain. The janitor’s closet, where we’d hide notes for each other between classes. Her locker, sophomore year.

I feel the tears come, but I don’t want to cry anymore.

I’m at my locker when Ash comes running down the hallway, pushing her way past people to get to me. “Lil,” she moans, and she throws her arms around me, sobbing hysterically. I have the uncharitable thought that it’s like she’s in a movie about a girl who died in a car accident. Other people in the hallway turn and look at us.

I let her cry in my arms for a minute, and then I break away from her. “I’m gonna go get a juice at the vending machine,” I say. “Do you want anything?” I’m not trying to be cold, but I can’t deal with her right now. It’s just too much.

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.

Chapter Two

KAT

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 f**king tacky-ass vase.