Fire With Fire Read online

  I force myself to look away.

  The girl taps the screen with her pencil tip and says, “I say we build the entire page around this shot.”

  Rennie shakes her head, takes over the computer mouse, and clicks onto another picture. One of the entire homecoming court. “This one is better. But, really, we should wait until we get all the pictures in before we make the final choice. We’ve got to be thorough.”

  “But the photo you want doesn’t show who won king and queen!”

  Rennie spins to face the girl. “Are you kidding me? The picture you want is going to make everyone remember the accident, okay? It’s going to be a trigger.” For the first time, I agree with Rennie. Actually, I wish they’d skip that page all together. “Not to mention that it’s completely disrespectful to Reeve.”

  Defiant, the girl says, “We’ve always featured at least one picture of just the king and queen in the yearbook.”

  Rennie shoots her a nasty look and then softens her tone. She crooks her finger at the girl, wanting her to lean in close. “Look, I didn’t want to say anything because it’s on the DL, but the homecoming queen title is still somewhat in dispute. Coach Christy is considering a possible recount. So let’s not settle on a photo until we know for sure, all right?”

  The girl nods, her eyes wide. “Okay,” she whispers back. “That’s a different story.”

  I get a squeeze in my chest. Could Coach Christy somehow figure out that Kat and I snuck into her office to mess with the homecoming ballots? I shake my head. Nope. No way. We were careful. We didn’t leave a trace.

  I take a seat near a group of students voting over which superlative categories to include this year. Best-looking, most popular, nicest eyes, most athletic. I force myself to think of a different boy, a boy who isn’t Reeve, for each one.

  * * *

  After the meeting, I’m heading home when I hear a shrill whistle coming from the school pool. Is Reeve still there? Even though I know it’s probably not the best idea, I can’t help but be curious. How much is Reeve improving? Is there a chance for him to maybe get those football scholarships after all?

  I sneak in and watch him. Reeve’s in the water in his swim trunks. His big black soft cast is up on the bleachers. The man is sitting up on the side of the pool, his legs dangling in the water. He’s not in a swimsuit. He has his track pants rolled up to his knees.

  “All right, Reeve, now I want you to hold on to the side here and kick your legs frog-style for fifteen-second intervals for the next three minutes.” He puts his coaching whistle back in his mouth. “Set . . .”

  Reeve lets out a groan.

  “Unless you can’t do it,” the man adds teasingly.

  And Reeve loses it. He snaps, “Of course I can do it. That’s not the issue.”

  “Then what is?”

  Reeve seethes, “The issue is, I can do it for sixty-second intervals.”

  “So?”

  “So why aren’t we in the gym, putting me on the treadmill?”

  The man blinks a few times. “You’re not ready for the gym yet, buddy. That’s why you’re in a soft cast, not a walking cast. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard as it is.”

  “You don’t know that. You haven’t even tried to push me. Trust me. I can be doing so much more than I am right now.”

  The man shakes his head. “Son, you need to accept your injury, not fight it. It’s going to take time to heal.”

  Reeve pulls himself half out of the water. Even though he’s dripping wet and shivering, his cheeks are bright, fiery red. “I found this article online about a guy who broke his fibula and five weeks after, he was running seven-minute miles. That’s the kind of ‘Eye of the Tiger’ I need you to have. That’s the level I want you to push me.”

  The man sighs. “Reeve, look. There’s no way you’re getting back on the football field this season. I want you to get that out of your head.”

  Reeve tightens every single muscle. “I know that! I know I’m not playing this season. But college camps start in February, man. I need to be able to hold my own. If I don’t play football, then I don’t go to college. End of story. It’s a wrap.”

  The guy calmly puts his clipboard down and folds his hands in his lap. “It’s a process, Reeve. One step at a time. If you get there, you get there. But you need to prepare yourself for the if.”

  Reeve recoils at the word, and then shakes his head, like he’s trying to forget he ever heard it. “You know what? I’m going to do this on my own.”

  “Reeve—”

  “Did you not hear me? You’re fired. Your services aren’t needed.” Reeve hoists himself out of the water. He tries to put a little weight on his leg, but can’t. So he ends up hopping over to his towel. Under his breath he mutters a few curse words.

  The physical therapist shakes his head and packs up his stuff. He walks out of the pool, right past me in the hallway.

  Reeve sits on the bench a while longer, dripping puddles of water on the concrete floor. I’m thinking he’ll pack it in and head home, but instead he slides back into the water and assumes the position at the shallow end. He does the exercise he was told to do, the frog kicks, but without stopping for a full minute. And then he does that five more times.

  It’s crazy, how similar we are. Here’s both of us, working through our stuff, trying to make something positive out of something really bad.

  * * *

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  LILLIA

  TRICK-OR-TREATING ON THE ISLAND ISN’T really a thing; there are too many dead spots—vacation houses that are empty all fall and winter. So the elementary school has an “alternative Halloween” that they call Fall Fest. After school, the kids go home, change into their costumes, and come back to find the entire school decked out all spookily. There are a bunch of fun Halloweeny activities, like apple bobbing and face painting and a candy scavenger hunt. Officially, the elementary school PTA runs it, but there’s always a senior liaison who is basically in charge of finding high schoolers to man booths and drum up support. This year it’s me. Rennie was supposed to cochair with me, but once actual planning meetings started, she bailed.

  It’s Friday, and we’re at the lunch table, and Ashlin’s begging Rennie to tell her what her costume is. “Come on, Ren!” Ash wheedles. “I told you mine.”

  Rennie shakes her head smugly. “You have to wait and see.”

  I stir my frozen yogurt around with a spoon. I’m too stressed out about organizing Fall Fest to be hungry. I’ve got my to-do list out, and there are still a bunch of to-dos not ticked off. I have today, the weekend, and then two days next week to get everything set. I’m still waiting to hear back on how many cupcakes Milky Morning is going to donate. And Sutton’s might not donate as much candy this year, so I need a backup plan if they don’t come through.

  But my biggest problem right now is that I don’t have enough booth coverage. I got Nadia and her friends to do the scavenger hunt, and I got the drama kids to do a campfire story hour, but I still need judges for the costume contest.

  And then there’s the face-painting booth.

  Ever since freshman year, Rennie and I have manned the face-painting booth. We’d paint butterflies and stars and tiger stripes on the little kids’ faces. It was our thing. I think it will be a perfect opportunity for us to talk, away from Ashlin and Reeve and everybody else. Just me and Rennie, like it used to be.

  I take a deep breath and say to her, “We’re still doing the face-painting booth, right?”

  Rennie scrunches her face up. “I don’t think I can. Sorry.” Except she doesn’t look sorry.

  “That’s okay,” I say, trying not to sound disappointed. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

  “I need time to get into my costume. Fall Fest is at what, five? And over at eight? There won’t be enough time, even if I rush home after school.” Rennie shrugs. “Plus, some of us are going to pregame at Ash’s before we head over to the haunted maze.”<
br />
  What? Everybody’s pregaming at Ashlin’s and nobody told me about it? I whip my head around to look at Ash, who’s suddenly preoccupied with her salad. “Does this mean you can’t do the dunk booth with Derek?” I demand.

  Her hair hanging in her face, she says softly, “No . . . sorry, Lil. Ren scored some spicy rum from her job, and she found this yum cocktail we can make with it and apple cider. You should come too!”

  “How am I going to do that?” I cry out. “I’m supposed to run this thing, and you guys said you’d help me!”

  “I’m so, so sorry,” Ashlin says, her eyes fluttery and regretful.

  From the end of the table Alex says, “Lil, I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks, Alex,” I say. In a louder voice I say, “It’s nice to know that I can count on somebody.”

  Ashlin pouts at me. “Forgive me, Lil.”

  Under his breath, Reeve mutters, “What are you apologizing for? If you can’t do it, you can’t do it.”

  I cast a spiteful look in Reeve’s direction. For the past three years he’s come to Fall Fest dressed up like Jason in Friday the 13th. Back when we were freshmen, the senior girls asked him to do it, and it became kind of a Jar Island tradition. Reeve wears a white hockey mask and chases the kids around with a chain saw. The kids love it. They love him. I’ve asked him repeatedly, but he won’t do it. Fine, he is on crutches, but he could at least show up in the costume.

  “If Fall Fest sucks this year, it’s on us,” I warn.

  “You mean it’s on you,” Reeve corrects me.

  I glare at him. “It’s on all of us. Including and especially you. You know how much the kids love your Jason routine. I don’t get why you can’t at least—”

  “What’s not to get?” Reeve snaps, pointing at his crutches.

  “How is he supposed to run around the gym chasing after kids on crutches?” Rennie asks, and then lets out a groan. “I mean, hello!”

  In a shaky voice I protest, “He exercises, like, every day!”

  Rennie leans over Reeve to say, “Yeah, in the pool and in the weight room! He can’t put weight on his leg, Lillia. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

  Reeve puts his hand on Rennie’s shoulder and she relaxes back in her seat, shaking her head in disgust. Then she turns away from me and starts talking about her costume again.

  That’s when it hits me. Rennie did this on purpose. She made it so no one would help me, so I’d be all alone. She convinced Ashlin to have people over when she knew I couldn’t make it.

  I finally understand what’s been staring me in the face. It’s not that Rennie’s mad at me. It’s that she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. She is officially through with me. And if Rennie’s through with me, she’s going to make damn sure that everybody else is too. How many times have I seen her do this exact same thing? Edge somebody out of the group because they pissed her off in some way? I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve stood by and said nothing, because I was afraid, and it was easy. Never ever did I think it would be me on the receiving end.

  Alex is looking around the table in disbelief. “Are you guys serious? We can’t help Lil out for one night?” When nobody answers, he tosses his fork down on his tray. “You guys suck. Lil, what can I do? Tell me what you need.”

  Keeping my head down, I gather my stuff together as quickly as possible. Quietly I say to Alex, “If you have time this weekend, will you come over and help me put some candy bags together for the prizes?”

  Alex nods. “I’ll come over tonight, straight from practice.” He says it really loud, and gives everyone else a look. He turns back to me and grins. “But don’t worry, I’ll shower first.”

  It takes a lot of effort to smile back, but I do. “You better,” I say.

  Then I sneak out to the parking lot and cry in my car. So this is how it all ends, after everything Rennie and I have been through.

  * * *

  Nadia, Alex, and I have an assembly line set up in the dining room. Nadia is Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Sour Patch Kids and Snickers; Alex is FireBalls, Lemonheads, and Starbursts; I’m Nerds and lollipops; plus, I tie the ribbon onto the bag in a bow. It’s the most boring Friday night ever, but I couldn’t be happier this task is getting done.

  I hold one up for inspection. “Does this one seem a little light on sweets to you?”

  “Alex didn’t put enough FireBalls in,” Nadia tattletales.

  “Snitch,” he says, poking her in the side. “It’s fine. I’m doing the kid a favor, less cavities. Besides, you already tied the ribbon, Lil.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I bite my lip, weighing the bag in my hand. “I don’t want the kids to feel cheated out of anything.”

  “Maybe we should open up the Starburst packs to make the bags look fuller,” Nadia suggests.

  I clap my hands together. “Perfect!”

  Alex gives her a high five and Nadia grins at both of us.

  “Alex, you be in charge of that,” I tell him, and he salutes me.

  “Oh, I talked to my mom, and she said she was going to call Joy tonight,” Alex says, carefully opening up a candy bag. His hair is still wet from his shower. He really did come right over.

  “Who’s Joy?” Nadia wants to know.

  “She’s one of the owners of Milky Morning,” Alex tells her. “My mom knows her from book club. She says she can get her to donate as many cupcakes as you need.” He hands me another bag.

  Suddenly I’m feeling so much gratitude and love and friendship for Alex, I can’t even. I don’t know what I would have done without him today. “You’re the best, Lindy,” I say.

  Alex gives an embarrassed shrug and says, “It’s nothing.” He points at me. “Hey, you’re slowing down the assembly line.”

  After he leaves, Nadia helps me clean up and pack away the leftover candy. She doesn’t look at me when she says, “Alex likes you, you know.”

  I open my mouth to deny it, but I stop myself. I can’t lie to Nadi, but I don’t know what the truth is anymore. So all I say is, “We’re friends.”

  Nadia makes a show of rolling her eyes at me. “So do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Do you like him?” The expression on her face—a little bit plaintive, but mostly trying not to care. It breaks my heart.

  “Do you?” I ask her.

  There’s a pause, I can see her thinking this over. “No,” she tells me. “He’s—nice. He’s so nice. But I don’t like him like that anymore. I did. For maybe a second.”

  I reach out and touch Nadi’s hair. It’s soft, like a baby’s. She lets me for a second before shrugging away. She says, “Be nice to him, okay? Don’t hurt him.”

  “I won’t,” I say. In my head I add, not again. That’s a promise.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TEN

  * * *

  MARY

  TODAY, WHEN WE RAN INTO each other in the hall, Lillia mentioned how she’d asked some of her guy friends if they could help her sort through the sound equipment and drive it over to the elementary school. It’s for her Fall Festival night, the event she’s running for the elementary school kids. But they all had practice.

  “And of course Reeve pretended like he didn’t even hear me.”

  I shook my head knowingly. “Of course he did.”

  Lillia looked ready to cry. “It’s going to take me forever to load up my Audi by myself.”

  “Lil! I’ll totally help you.”

  Lillia’s whole face brightened up. “Thank you so much, Mary.”

  So now I’m scurrying over to the side entrance by the theater. I’m not very strong, but with two of us it should go a little bit faster anyway.

  Instead of fighting the after-school rush inside, I cut across the back parking lot—which is when I see Alex’s SUV parked by the side door right behind Lillia’s Audi. He’s already there, taking boxes out of her trunk and loading them into his. The back door is open, and Lillia comes out the door, wearing an ivory-col
ored coat and a long scarf around her neck, struggling with a big cardboard box. Alex rushes over to help her.

  “Alex!” she says, looking up. “Oh my gosh.”

  I hang back and watch.

  Alex takes the box out of her hands. “Here, Lil. You don’t want to get your coat dirty.”

  “I’ve got it,” she insists, and he tries to take it from her, and they both laugh because she almost drops it. “You have to get to practice.”

  “Give it to me,” he says, but in a sweet way. Lillia finally lets the box go. I think Alex is surprised at how heavy it is. It almost falls out of his hands, but he adjusts his grip before it can.

  Meanwhile, Lillia scans the parking lot. I step forward and smile, but she waves her hand, like I don’t have to worry about it.

  “Thank you,” she says breathlessly, when Alex lifts his head. “There are only three more inside.” She turns to go back into the theater door, but Alex stops her.

  “Wait here. I’ll get them.”

  Lillia leans against the car. The wind has picked up, and her hair is blowing around her face. “I owe you one, Lindy!” she calls out. “Thank you so much!”

  I start to back away, and that’s when I notice it—about fifteen feet away to my left, Reeve, pulling up in his truck. He’s seen them too. He has a scowl on his face, and he puts the truck in reverse. He’s gone before they even notice.

  * * *

  When I get home, Aunt Bette’s Volvo isn’t in the driveway. And I hate to say it, but it’s kind of a relief.

  I wish I could tell someone about how strange Aunt Bette’s been acting. I’ve been meaning to have a conversation about her with my parents, but it’s scary. My mom is Aunt Bette’s sister, after all. I don’t want to get her mad, or have her confronting Aunt Bette over what I’d say. I’m just . . . worried about her.

  I set my book bag down in the kitchen and head upstairs, calling her name a few times in case she’s home. She’s so easily startled lately. I’ve been trying to be careful with her, give her space. I don’t want to make things worse.