Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2)

Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2) Page 36

That’s it. I turn to say something back, but I don’t have to. Lillia sets down her menu and says, “Rennie, you’re just pissed that we all got roses from our players tonight, and Reeve couldn’t even be bothered to show up for you.”

You could hear a pin drop. Rennie’s jaw goes slack. Everyone at the table turns to face Lil, who for a second looks as surprised as everybody else. Rennie’s face turns bright red, the brightest I’ve ever seen on a person. But then she waves her hand at one of the waitresses and says, “Can we puh-lease order,” in her most whiny, impatient voice. She takes a sip of her water, and her hand is shaking.

Lil doesn’t look at me. Or maybe I don’t give her the chance. I turn back to the counter, take my stuff, and walk out of there as fast as I can.

I go outside and Mary sits up. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling, because holy shit. “I’m good.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I’ve thought about quitting yearbook committee a few times, but I keep telling myself to stick with it, even though I haven’t gotten to do any photo collages yet. It’s hard, because the fun jobs are already taken, and even if you ask if you can help, they pretend not to hear you.

The only person who hasn’t totally ignored me is a sophomore named Marisa Viola. She goes over all the page proofs, looking for formatting errors or misspellings in the text. I pulled a chair up to her desk and read over her shoulder. She’s super fast, and she’s circling things in her red pencil before I can even notice them, but I think it’s still good to have a second set of eyes looking out for mistakes.

After our Monday meeting, I decide to pop over to the library so I can take out one of those grammar and punctuation books. That’ll definitely help me do a better job.

On my way there, I pass by the gym offices. Coach Christy’s door is open. She’s having a heated conversation with someone. And then I see Rennie, sitting on her knees in one of Coach Christy’s chairs. She ducked out of yearbook early. All Rennie does is obsessively look through homecoming pictures and leave early. I swear, I don’t understand why she even bothers.

As soon as I pass by, I press myself up to the wall and listen. “Rennie, you didn’t even show for the entire last month of our cheer practices,” Coach Christy said with a sigh. “You’re not exactly in good standing with me right now. You understand that, right?”

“Why do you think that is? Because of Lillia! How could I

be around someone who’d steal homecoming queen from me?” I hear Coach Christy’s chair creak, like she’s leaning way back. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Rennie. I counted the ballots myself. I was the only one to touch them. Lillia Cho won homecoming queen fair and square.”

I expect Rennie to back down, to listen to reason, but the exact opposite happens. With an unwavering voice, she says, “I won homecoming queen. I did. I’ve asked, like, everyone who they voted for, and like ninety-nine percent of the population said me. All I’m saying is that if we had a revote, you’d see. I’ll pay to get the ballots printed up myself!”

“Rennie, please let this go. You and Lillia have been friends for a long time. You don’t want to let something as petty as who won some cheap plastic tiara ruin your friendship, do you?”

Rennie laughs. She laughs and it sends shivers down my spine. “There is no friendship. And you can tell me all you want that perfect little Lillia had nothing to do with me getting screwed over that night, but I’ll never believe you. Also, you suck as a cheering coach and your routines are all tired and nobody likes the music you pick for the halftime routines!”

In a flash Rennie’s flying past me down the hall.

It scares me to know that Rennie knows the truth about what we did. But thank God there’s no way she can prove it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Monday afternoon I’ve gone up and down the length of the pool twice before Reeve even arrives. He doesn’t get in the pool; instead he stands there watching me, eating an apple. I don’t look up or acknowledge his presence. I keep doing what I’m doing. “You should point your toes,” he says, chewing loudly. “Make your body longer.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t think you’re allowed to eat in here,” I huff. “And aren’t you supposed to be wearing that walking cast?” He’s dragging it behind him.

“I’m building up my pain tolerance.” He tosses the apple into the trash can. A perfect arc. I don’t have to look to know it lands inside. Carelessly, he throws his towel on the bench where my stuff is. Then he dives into the lane next to mine, instead of the one on the far left the way he’s been doing. My whole body stiffens. “Well, then you’ll have no one to blame but yourself if you reinjure your leg.” I don’t need him critiquing me or giving me swimming advice. But I do try pointing my toes a little as I swim to the ladder, and I guess I can feel a very slight difference.

I scramble over to my towel because I’m freezing cold. I’m wrapping the towel around me like a blanket when he suddenly swims under the dividers and over toward me like a shark. He hoists himself out of the water, not bothering with the ladder. He hasn’t done a single lap.

Silently, I hand him his towel. He looks at me right in the eyes and says, “You know what? I wasn’t going to say anything . . . but yeah, Lil. Let’s talk about my injury.”

I’ve been bracing myself for this moment for weeks, this exact moment, and it’s finally here and yet still I’m not ready. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm.

“I know it was you who put something in my punch at homecoming.”

It feels like the floor is coming out from under me; my knees are weak, and I’m two seconds from passing out.

“Tell me why,” he says, his voice harsh now. His green eyes are boring into mine, and I’m looking back at him, trying not to flinch, trying not to give anything away, and forcing myself to maintain eye contact. Don’t they say liars can’t look you in the eye?

I try to shake him off, but his grip is too strong. “What punch? What are you talking about? Let go of me!”

He doesn’t let go. “You don’t remember giving me a cup of punch? We were sitting at the table. You were bitching at me for leading Rennie on. Then we ??? You don’t remember any of that?”