Ashes to Ashes (Burn for Burn #3)

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

“I didn’t know that.”

“So it’s like most people don’t care how I’m doing, you know? How I might be handling this. And the truth is, I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I mean, should I be a hard-ass and pretend like it doesn’t bother me? Should I scream in their smug faces that I was way closer to Rennie than any of them ever were? It’s like a disgusting competition of who knew her best. And people think I’m last, when I should be in f**king first place.” I glance around, and my eyes land on a vase full of dried flowers on the corner of the secretary’s desk. I have the overwhelming urge to swat it off. I make a fist and bite down on it hard.

Ms. Chirazo seems to notice. A second later her hand is on my back, and she’s pushing me into her office and closing the door.

“Kat, forget what other people think. You don’t have anything to prove.” She points at her door. “There’s a reason why there are no students in this office today. People want to grieve with their friends, people who understand the connection, who don’t need to be brought up to speed. You should surround yourself with the friends who know you best.”

“I’ve tried that. My friends both blew me off.”

“Then try again,” she says matter-of-factly. “When you lost your mother, you were completely unreachable. It took time. It took people not giving up on you.”

I move my eyes to the birds flying past her window. I wonder how long it will be until I feel normal again. When Mom died, I was depressed for an entire year.

Ms. Chirazo stands up. “I’m going to go talk to Principal Tortola and see if I can’t get him to excuse your lapse in judgment in light of current circumstances. In the meantime, sit here for as long as you like. The secretary will write you a pass when you’re ready to go back to class.”

I don’t wait long. Just enough to scribble a note for Mary.

Yo. When you get this, find me.

I miss you. Hope you’re okay.

—K

I’ve just slipped the note inside Mary’s locker when I notice that it’s missing its padlock.

I open the door, hoping to see her jacket hanging inside, but the thing is freaking cleaned out. Not, like, the way some nerds do so they’re neat and organized at the beginning of a semester. It’s completely empty. Just my folded-up piece of notebook paper at the bottom.

I can think of two possibilities. Either Mary switched lockers or she switched schools.

No. There’s no way she left Jar Island without telling us. Even if she did find out about Reeve and Lillia, she wouldn’t dick out on me and not say good-bye. She knows I care about her. She knows I’m her friend.

At least, I hope she does.

Chapter Three

LILLIA

PEOPLE HAVE BEEN LEAVING FLOWERS in Rennie’s locker, poking them through the vents. I’m careful when I open the door, so the flowers don’t fall onto the floor. The inside of her locker door has pictures of the cheerleading squad, her and Ash, her and Reeve. None of us. The one of us down by the beach is gone. It was the summer after ninth grade, and we were wearing sherbet-colored bikini tops and making silly faces into the camera. I wonder if she ripped it up or if she just threw it away. I haven’t gone through any of our photo albums yet. I can’t. It hurts too bad.

Methodically I start separating her personal things from the textbooks I have to return to Mr. Randolph. I throw away a package of doughnuts, a spiral notebook with only one page of notes inside, half a pack of old gum, and a fuzzy black hair tie. I falter when I get to her favorite lip gloss and her black compact mirror—would Paige want to keep this stuff? Probably not, but maybe just in case? I put that stuff into the cardboard box Mr. Randolph gave me, along with a long cardigan, a scarf, and a few binders.

“I was starting to think maybe you died too.”

I turn around. It’s Kat, with her bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair is piled on her head in a greasy bun, and strands are coming out the back, and she has dark circles under her eyes. She looks terrible.

“Sorry, bad joke,” she says with a grimace.

“Hey,” I say. “Kat, I’m so sorry I—”

Kat waves her hand, like Forget it, and I’m relieved. She hitches her bag up on shoulder. “Yo, have you seen Mary today?”

I shake my head.

“I went by her locker to put a note inside, and it was cleaned out.” Kat chews on her fingernail. “Did you ever tell her what happened with you and Reeve?’

Biting my lip, I say, “I’ve been meaning to, but things have been so crazy . . .”

“Maybe she found out somehow and that’s why she’s been MIA.” Kat shoves her hands into her pockets. “What’s going on with you and Tabatsky now? Are you a couple?”

The derision in her voice makes me want to curl up and die. “No! We are definitely not a couple. We aren’t anything.”

“I’m not accusing you, Lil. I mean . . . it is what it is. I just want us to be real with each other.”

I look around before I take a breath and start over. “That stuff with Reeve, it’s over. It was just that one night and it hasn’t happened again. And I’m not purposefully avoiding you guys either. I’ve been at Paige’s every day with Ash and everybody, trying to get her to eat. She’s a mess. All she does is sleep and cry. It’s been really hard.”

“Well, at least you’ve got people around you. I mean, who the eff am I supposed to cry with? Pat? My dad? They don’t get it. I mean, sure, they feel sad about what happened to her. But nobody knew Ren the way we did.” Kat’s voice cracks on Rennie’s name.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Kat wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s fine. Whatever. I just needed to say my piece.” She grits her teeth and forces a smile, and it looks terrible. In a deadpan voice she says, “I feel better already.”

I reach out and give her shoulder a squeeze. I’m going to have to face Mary eventually. I owe her that. I close Rennie’s locker door and hoist up the box of her things. “Let’s go over to Mary’s.”

We take my car. As we get closer, Kat says, “Here’s what I’m thinking. If Mary’s home and it doesn’t seem like she knows about you and Reeve and what happened on New Year’s Eve . . . maybe you don’t tell her.”

I draw in my breath. “I can’t not tell her.” Can I?

“But like you said, it’s over, and it would only hurt her. So there’s no point, right?”