Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2)

Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2) Page 76

I keep concentrating on cutting my lettuce into tiny pieces and dipping each one into the dressing.

Derek plops down with a tray full of french fries and says, “Yo! Did you guys hear about how Mr. Dunlevy got a DUI over the weekend?”

“Yeah, I heard,” Rennie says. “Coach Christy was pissed. I mean, he gets paid extra to teach us driver’s ed.”

I take another bite of salad. Chew. Chew. Chew.

“Lil, weren’t you and Reeve in driver’s ed with him last year?” Alex asks. “Did he ever smell like booze?”

I shrug. Reeve shrugs too. Neither of us says anything.

“Huh,” Alex says, and there’s this slight edge in his voice. He’s looking at me, and then he jerks his thumb in Reeve’s direction. “You were so chummy-chummy at your party on Friday. And now you can barely stand to look at each other. What gives?”

I almost choke on the piece of hard-boiled egg in my mouth. It tastes like dust.

Lazily, Reeve says, “Lil and I remembered that we don’t actually like each other,” and Rennie smiles a cat-that-ate-thecanary smile, which makes me see red.

Across the table, Reeve’s and my eyes lock for a second, and it’s like the rest of the cafeteria goes silent; it’s only us looking at each other. And then it’s over. Reeve shakes his head and chuckles. Like he couldn’t care less.

After lunch, I’m walking to my next class when a sophomore girl comes running up to me with a thick manila envelope.

“Lillia, you don’t know me but . . . I was hoping you could give these to Rennie for me. She said she wanted them right away, but it took me a while to get my friends to print them out for me. I haven’t seen her yet today, and I don’t want her to think I’m slacking.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, and take the envelope. It’s heavy.

“Thank you!”

I quickly duck into the bathroom and open it. It’s stuffed full of pictures from homecoming. Sophomores arm in arm posing, sophomores on the dance floor. Sophomores shooting the homecoming court from the gym floor.

Yeah, Rennie’s on yearbook committee, but only to make sure no bad pictures get in of her. What would she care about these pictures of other people? You can see Rennie’s sparkly silver dress in a few of the shots, see us all in the background, but mostly we’re just blurry.

I shove the envelope through the slats in her locker door, not even caring if some of them rip.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

It’s Wednesday afternoon, last period, and I’m standing in the parking lot in front of Reeve’s truck, concentrating with all my might.

But it’s hard, because I’m so happy. Seeing Reeve these past few days walking around school, pretending like he doesn’t care when I know the truth because I can see right through him. He’s miserable, and I’m loving every second of it.

The door doesn’t move. I concentrate harder. If only I knew what the inside of a car lock looked like, then maybe I could picture it clicking open.

Openopenopen. I need to get inside Reeve’s car before school lets out, so I can leave him a gift. It’s my daisy necklace, the one he gave me on my thirteenth birthday. Once upon a time it was my most prized possession; I never took it off, not even to take a bath. I found it the other night when I was packing. I hadn’t seen it since homecoming night. The perfect parting gift.

I want him to see it hanging from his rearview mirror and think of me. I know he won’t make the connection, that I am the reason he is hurting right now, that I am the one who is behind it all. But I hope there will be a flicker, a shadowy hint of an idea, an idea that will grow and fester long after I’m gone: You are suffering right now for of all your past sins. This is what you deserve.

Either way, I’m done with it. I don’t want it anymore. I slide my hand into my coat pocket, take the daisy charm into my hand, and squeeze it as hard as I can. As hard as it takes to turn coal into a diamond.

Click.

Both truck doors, the passenger side and the driver’s side, spring open hard and fast, like they are spring-loaded. It makes the entire chassis rock. Reeve’s car alarm wails. I don’t have much time.

I climb into the front seat and loop the chain around Reeve’s rearview mirror. I give it a flick, so the daisy charm swings back and forth like a pendulum, dead center in the middle of his windshield.

Then I slide out and walk away, without bothering to close the doors, as the high school begins to empty out.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

It’s one more day until Christmas break, and school is basically a joke. I’ve seen a movie in three of my classes today. Not that I’m complaining.

I take my lunch to the library to check e-mail, which is my new routine since sending in my early-decision application. You’re technically not allowed to eat or drink in the library, but I’m stealth about it. I have my chicken wrap tucked up the sleeve of my flannel shirt and an open soda inside my book bag, which I keep upright by anchoring it between my feet.

I’ve got two e-mails. One forwarded warning about violence against puppies from my aunt Jackie, and one from Oberlin.

I stop breathing and click, and my eyes pop all over the screen. “Oh God. Oh f**k. Fuck f**k f**k f**k.”

The librarian rushes over immediately. I think she’s been

waiting for weeks to catch me on some rule break, so she can toss my ass out of here. I swear, the woman wants this damn library all to herself. “You cannot use that language in here, Ms. DeBrassio. I’m going to write you—”

I don’t even wait for her to finish saying whatever the f**k she’s saying. I push back my chair, hoist my bag up on my shoulder, and book it to Ms. Chirazo’s office. I burst in without even knocking.

She’s with another student. A pudgy freshman in a striped polo shirt. They both turn and look at me, shocked. I don’t realize right away, but a steady stream of upended soda is dripping out of my bag.

“Fuck!” I scream out at the top of my lungs, because that’s the only word I can think of. And then I start crying like a baby.

Ms. Chirazo isn’t even fazed. If anything, she’s a guidance machine. “Kat, take a seat right now,” she says in a voice like a drill sergeant. I collapse into the empty chair next to the pudgy kid, wrap my arms around my head and moan. Ms. Chirazo turns to the boy and says, “Billy, I’ll come find you later.”

I shoot Billy whatever-his-name-is dagger eyes. “You didn’t see this,” I growl.