Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2)

Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2) Page 59

As soon as I log in, I get a pop-up window that says I’m running out of available mailbox space. No surprises there. About a month ago my aunt Jackie discovered “electronic mail” and asked for my address. Now she forwards me at least ten messages a day. Poems about angels and cancer-prayer chain letters and articles about new research and treatments. She’s unhealthily obsessed with my mom’s death. She could seriously use an hour with Ms. Chirazo.

What I don’t see, unfortunately, are any e-mails about my early-decision application to Oberlin. I know they have until the end of January to get back to me, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed I hear something before then. Ms. Chirazo loved my new essay. She said it brought tears to her eyes. She was probably hot flashing or something, but it was all I needed to hear.

Later in the day, we have a drunk-driving assembly, which is a lovely way to help ring in the holidays. An older-looking woman in a police uniform is up at the podium, talking in the most sleep-inducing monotone while she clicks through carcrash slides from the 1970s that don’t even show you anything interesting, like gore or dead bodies. Just a bunch of wreckedup and dented metal. She might as well have taken pictures of our garage.

Anyway, somewhere along the line I fall asleep, and the polite applause wakes me up. I open my eyes right as the police officer trips across the microphone cord and nearly falls flat on her ass.

I can’t help but laugh. And look around at my fellow classmates to see who else enjoyed that early Christmas gift. Nobody else is laughing.

I meet eyes with Rennie, who has a big smile on her face. As big as mine.

I immediately look away. A sick sense of humor was one thing Ren and I always had in common.

Fuck. I guess we still do.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

The air smells piney and Christmasy from the tree and the cinnamon ornaments the church ladies are selling. It smells like it’s going to snow any minute. I hope it does. A snow day would be heaven.

There’s a nice turnout this year; it seems like half of Jar Island is here on Main Street for the tree lighting, even though it’s a weekday. Our school’s chorus is in front of the tree, singing “Winter Wonderland,” and they actually sound pretty good. They’re all wearing Santa hats and red-and-green-striped scarves, and the soprano section has bells. Mary’s in the back, and she looks so cute with her hair in braids and her Santa hat perched on top of her head. Alex is up there too, in the front row. His solo should be coming up soon. I catch his eye and wave, and he winks at me and tips his Santa hat.

The song finishes, and I clap and do a quick tuck jump. “Yay, Lindy!” I shout. In my head I add a quick And yay Mary.

I’m huddled together with Ashlin; Derek and Reeve went off to get us hot chocolates. Rennie’s at work, which is perfect. I don’t have to worry about her tonight.

“Lindy looks so cute up there,” Ash says, elbowing me. “Like a tall elf.”

I dig around my cross-body bag for a peppermint candy. “He does look like an elf.” And he does look cute in his camel peacoat and his Santa hat and his tartan scarf his mom probably bought him. His cheeks are rosy from the cold, and he has a big smile on his face. I can’t help smiling too. To Ash I say, “He has a good voice, don’t you think? I can’t wait to hear his solo.”

“Totes,” Ash agrees. Then she leans in close and whispers, “So what’s going on with you and Reeve? Are you guys, like, here together?”

I blink. And before I’ve thought it through, I squeal, “Ew! No.” Ashlin looks skeptical, so I add, “No way would anything ever happen with me and Reeve. Not in a million trillion years.”

Ash is about to reply, but then her eyes light up and she reaches her arms out and squeals, “Gimme, gimme!”

I turn around, and Derek and Reeve are standing there with the hot chocolates. I worry for a second that Reeve heard me, but he hands me the Styrofoam cup and his face doesn’t betray anything.

Then I see her, Kat, across the town square, looking over at us. It’s go time for step one.

Oh God.

I switch places with Ash so I’m standing next to Reeve and she’s next to Derek.

“It’s so cold,” I say, wrapping my fingers around the cup. I’m wearing a dove-gray fleece and skinny jeans and riding boots, plus my rabbit-fur earmuffs. I should have brought mittens, though (I left my ivory coat home, on purpose).

When Reeve doesn’t say anything, I tug his coat sleeve. “I’m so cold,” I repeat.

Reeve rolls his eyes at me. “Why didn’t you wear a coat?”

I creep closer to him, huddling for warmth. That’s why, Reeve. “Well, my fleece usually keeps me warm enough, but tonight it’s freezing.” I try to link my arm through his, but he flinches like I’ve burned him.

Then he steps away from me and shrugs out of his puffer jacket. He pushes it at me and says, “There. Now quit complaining. Let’s not forget you’re the one who bugged us about coming to this cornfest.”

Why is he suddenly being such a jerk? We had this close moment on Saturday, and now, three days later, it feels like he’s trying to push me away. Did he hear what I said to Ash, or is it something else? Maybe I should be relieved, but I’m not. I’m annoyed. “We’re here so we can support Alex,” I remind him. “He’s your friend too!”

Reeve makes some kind of snorty sound and goes back to watching the chorus with his arms crossed. They’re singing “Let It Snow.” Derek and Ash have migrated over to a tree and they’re making out. In public. So tacky. And a total waste of a hot chocolate. Their cups are on the ground.

It’s me and Reeve now. I glance around for Kat again, but I don’t see her. There are too many people milling around.

I sneak a peek at Reeve, and he’s standing there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. I take a sip of my hot chocolate. Maybe I’ve been imagining this whole thing and he’s already over it. “What’s up with you tonight?” I ask him, taking another sip. “You’re being such a grouch.”

He barely even glances in my direction. “Nothing’s up with me.”

“Is your leg hurting from standing on it too long? We could go find a bench or . . .” My voice trails off. He’s not even listening. I bite my lip. If he’s over it, then I’m going to be over it first. Whatever it is.

I jab Reeve on the shoulder. “Here,” I say, shoving his coat back at him. “I’m leaving. Tell Alex I had to go.” I start speed walking away from him and toward the church parking lot. I toss my cup in a trash can along the way.