Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3)

Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3) Page 26

Mrs. Hillman gazes at me incredulously. “You didn’t pay attention at all in my class, did you? You’d just zone out like this. We did an entire week on tides.”

I don’t bother answering her. What does it matter? My boat, the beautiful Judy Blue Eyes, is no more.

*  *  *

We have a senior assembly last period. A few former Jar High graduates are back home for spring break, and they’re talking to us about their first-year experiences in college or some shit. Lil’s sitting in the back, by herself, with an empty seat next to her. Reeve’s, I guess. The rest of their friends are down front. Before the thing gets started, I shoot up there and steal the seat.

“How’s it going?”

“Ash hasn’t said two words to me. And Alex, he won’t even look at me. But I think Derek and PJ are coming around. I mean, obviously Reeve and I didn’t set out to hurt anyone.”

I give her the eye. “Come on, Lil. Yeah, you didn’t set out to hurt anyone but you knew exactly what would happen if people found out. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been sneaking around.”

“That’s fair.” She bites her lip. “But I can’t help the way I feel.”

I shrug. “Then f**k everyone. Who cares? You’re almost out of this place anyway.”

Lillia nods like I’m making sense, which I am, but then she sinks low in her seat. “I hate feeling like Alex hates me.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Yes. But he just walked away.” She hangs her head.

“Then try again!”

“I feel like maybe I should give him some space?”

“Lil, don’t do that thing you do where you just pretend that shit is fine and dandy. Remember, you got off easy because Mary isn’t around anymore.”

“I’m not!” she says emphatically. “He’s just so mad, Kat. I’ve never seen him this mad before.”

“Well, think about it. The girl he’s loved forever and his supposed best friend have been secretly together under his nose.”

“You’re not making me feel better.”

“Sorry. Your hair looks very shiny today.”

Lillia pouts at me. And then she concedes, “It’s a new conditioner.”

As soon as I see Reeve making his way across the auditorium toward us, I stand up. “Later, Lil.” I love Lil, and I do have her back, but I also can’t help but think she and Reeve are just a bad idea.

Chapter Twenty-Four

MARY

I’VE IMAGINED WHAT REEVE’S BEDROOM might look like so many times. At first I’m almost afraid to move. I just stand and look at everything, take it all in. I’ve never been in a boy’s room before. Not ever.

Reeve’s bedroom is in the attic of his house. I can tell by the pitch of the roof over my head, because it looks like I’m standing underneath the top of a triangle. On either side of the room there’s a small circular window. I can see the bare branches of winter treetops outside, dancing in the wind.

His bed is a queen, and it’s neatly made. There’s a weight bench in a corner, right in front of a large mirror. On the floor there’s a range of dumbbells in two neat rows, from smallest to largest. And on the walls are a bunch of pages ripped out from exercise magazines. The pictures are of exercise routines, but also of football players in splashy poses, and some models. I wrinkle my nose at one he has of a brunette in a hot-pink bikini drinking beer from a big frothy stein. At least it looks like it’s been up there for a long time, because the clear tape is yellow and peeling away from the wall.

Reeve’s bedroom isn’t completely clean. Dirty clothes spill out over the top of an overstuffed laundry hamper into a pile on the floor. His desk is covered in paper. And every single drawer in his dresser has been left open.

Reeve’s at his desk. He hasn’t started his homework. Instead he’s just staring at a framed picture underneath his lamp. It’s of him and Rennie, probably from freshman year. He’s in his Jar Island football uniform, and she’s in her cheering outfit. He’s holding her like a strongman.

Reeve lets out a sigh. He picks up the frame, walks past me, and puts it into his very top drawer. He pushes it closed, but only halfway, and walks out of his room.

I tiptoe over to look inside the drawer. There are a few pairs of boxer shorts inside, but mostly it’s random trinkets. There are army dog tags for someone named William Tabatsky. A couple of silver dollars. An article from the newspaper when Reeve was sports player of the week. And now the picture of him and Rennie. I feel something weird underneath the frame. Something vibrating. Humming. Warm. I’m not sure if it’s a real noise or something only I can detect. I use my hand to guide away the picture frame, and then I find it.

The pocketknife.

*  *  *

He looked so bummed that morning on the ferry, I knew something had happened. I sat next to him and asked him what was wrong. Reeve just shook his head at first; he didn’t want to talk about it. So I let him sit in silence, and we shared the pack of Pop-Tarts I’d bought from the snack stand.

Mom always fixed me breakfast, but I used to take some change from her change plate each morning so I could buy Reeve and myself a pack of Pop-Tarts to split. One time Reeve said that I should lay off the Pop-Tarts, that I’d probably lose weight if I didn’t eat that kind of junk. I’d still buy them after he said that, but I’d only eat half of mine.

As we got close to the mainland, Reeve told me how his older brother Luke had taken back the pocketknife Reeve had stolen, the one Reeve had used to carve his name in the ferry seat. I didn’t totally follow the story, but Reeve was upset. It had been their grandfather’s. “Grandpap said he wanted me to have it,” he told me. “But Luke said I was lying. He told me to quit being such a baby. And when I wouldn’t, he told my dad and I got the belt.”

Before, Reeve had told me stories about how his older brothers picked on him, but they always ended with some comeuppance, some prank or sneaky thing Reeve did to settle the score. But on that day there was no such happy ending, and that was usually the case when Reeve’s dad got involved. He was a drinker and he had a temper, and it seemed, to me anyway, that Reeve got the worst of it. I couldn’t imagine my parents giving me the belt. Ever. I turned to look at him, and he was wiping his eyes. Reeve was crying.

That night I asked my mom if I could have some of the money from my savings account. They’d started it when I was a baby, and every time there was a holiday or a birthday, I had to put at least some of the money in there for safekeeping. I didn’t understand why, but Mom said that one day I could use that money for college, or for a trip to Europe or something.