Envy (Fury) (35 page)

She ran smack into Drea. In jeans, a striped sweater, and her hooded peacoat, with a backpack on her back, Drea had obviously not dressed for the dance. Em felt a rush of relief; she wanted to throw her arms around her friend.

“They’re here, Drea,” Em said breathlessly, looking around for them as she spoke.

“I know,” Drea said grimly. “That’s why I came. The ritual has to happen now, Em. Before it’s too late.” She slung off the backpack and kneeled on the floor next to it, pulling out a pair of thick gardening shears. Em stared at them dumbly. “We need everyone out,” Drea said, still digging in the backpack. Then she found what she needed: a flashlight.

“Hold this,” she said, thrusting it toward Em.

Em didn’t move. She felt rooted in one position.

“Fine,” Drea sighed. “I’ll do it myself.” She turned it on and stuck it in her mouth so she could see and use her hands at the same time.

Em felt a new type of fear—a sharp, knowing dread—coil around her body. “What are you doing, Drea? What’s this stuff for?” she asked. Mr. Shields still droned on in the background, imploring the kids to simmer down. There was a commotion on the middle of the dance floor, near where some mirrors were set up. The coil of fear grew tighter around Em’s ribs.

Drea didn’t answer. Instead, she took a deep breath, opened the shears until they were gaping, then sliced them quickly closed, through a bunch of cables that were attached to the giant speakers that lined the front walls. Then she did it again. And again. She hacked away as Em looked on, mystified.

“What are you
doing
?” Em asked, even though the answer was clear.
Why are you doing it?
—that was the more important question. Static started to hiss through the speakers, overpowering both Mr. Shields and the music.

“Trust me, this is the fastest way to get everybody out,” Drea said, still sawing at the wires, the static growing louder and louder. And then the speakers went out entirely. Now the only sounds to be heard were those of increasing alarm. The fear in the room was becoming palpable.

“Drea, stop. This is crazy.” Em reached out to grab her. They needed to talk this through, to get on the same page, to come up with a plan. But Drea whipped around, holding the shears between them. The flashlight was still in her mouth, shining out at Em, blinding her.

At the same time there was a cracking noise, and then the clattering sound of plastic against the parquet floor. “The punch!” Em heard someone yell right before she saw the red liquid start to stream around her silver flats. Someone must have collided with the beverage table. A river of red was now flowing across the gym floor. When it pooled around the freshly severed wires, sparks started to pop from the frayed copper strands.

Em experienced a few seconds as though they were in slow motion. The sparks burst into the air, their yellow-orange light casting flickering shadows. Then a spark caught on one of the paper streamers. Then another, and another. At first they just smoldered. But then small flames began to rise from the decorations. They leaped and swelled exponentially; Em had the bizarre sensation of watching a story unfold in a flip book.
Flip-flip-flip-flip
, and with every page the image moves faster, gets bigger, unstoppable.

Within seconds the fire was racing along the streamers, crisscrossing in a grotesque pattern. Soon the flames jumped onto the banners that hung from the gym’s walls and ceiling:
2009 Field Hockey Regional Championships. Go Warriors! Congratulations to All-State Quarterback Chase Singer.

The wooden bleachers would be next.

People were screaming. Smoke was starting to billow through the room. Em heard someone shout, “We’re locked in!”

The door. It was locked, and all these people were inside, and
Drea had started a fire. Em scanned the room frantically, looking for a way out, or a solution, or—god, no, please—the Furies. Where were they? This was all their fault. . . . Were they just sitting back now, to watch and enjoy?

“Drea, come on!” Em yelled. “We have to get out of here. People are going to get hurt.”

But Drea stared past her, gaze wide and terrified.

Em turned slowly, just in time to see Ty appear. She wore a short, ruffled skirt and a red top that made her skin look even milkier than usual. Still, it was impossible to look at Ty anymore without seeing the ghastly creature that Em knew was underneath her facade.

“What are you doing here?” Em snarled. The smoke was getting thicker, and she began to cough.

“You’re not the only one who can make new friends,” Ty smirked. “Are you having fun at the dance?” She performed a small twirl. “What do you think of my outfit?”

“I told you to stay away from us!” There was the rage drilling through her again.

Ty just laughed, her lips curling into a wide, patronizing smile. “Don’t be mad at
me
,” she said. “Drea’s the one you should be worried about. Are you sure she’s on your side?”

Em shook her head, trying to keep her focus. “I won’t listen to you.” She moved toward Ty, who sidestepped her neatly.

Smoke continued to fill the already dark room, and the
shouting and banging intensified. Then Ty vanished behind one of the standing mirrors. Em darted after her, quickly becoming more disoriented. The mirrors were playing tricks with her eyes—was that Ty? She lurched forward, hands outstretched, and collided with a mirror; she’d made a lunge at her own reflection. The mirror toppled and shattered. Em screamed and jumped back.

“I’m over here,” she thought she heard Ty whisper. But when she looked, there was nothing but vapor. Em bent down and picked up one of the shards of mirror. She held it in front of her, a weapon.

“Drea!” Em called out. “Help me!”

But Drea either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her. Instead, Em saw her crouched on the gym floor, oblivious to the fast-spreading fire, laying things out on the ground in a circular pattern. As Em leaned forward to see what they were, she felt a force at her back, pushing her from behind. She stumbled forward, landing facedown on the floor. The wind was knocked from her ribs through her throat.

She planted her hands on the ground and pushed up, then rolled over. There was no respite. Ty was there, with one high-heeled foot on top of Em’s chest, pushing down. She leaned down and whispered in Em’s ear, “It’s starting. It’s going to work.”

“Drea . . . ,” Em repeated in a strangled tone.

“I’m almost done, Em,” Drea said urgently. “Hold on. This is going to save you. I promise.”

Em swiped upward, using the shard of mirror as a knife, slicing a small gash into Ty’s leg. They both gasped as a streak of blood oozed from the wound. Ty looked down, pale and suddenly shaken, and then into Em’s eyes. It was the first time Em had ever seen Ty look anything less than completely in control. She took advantage of the moment, wriggling out from under Ty’s weight and struggling to her feet.

And then—
whoosh
—Ty wavered like a candle flame and vanished in a wisp of smoke. She left a trail of cloudy white where her long legs had been. When her voice sounded through the blackness, it was angry and defiant: “Be careful, Em. Don’t get burned. . . .” Then nothing.

“Come on,” Em gasped at Drea. “We need to get out of here.”

Drea shook her head. “Not until we finish the ritual.” Over the past few weeks Em had seen Drea look fierce, angry, resolute. Sad. Sarcastic and disdainful, of course. But never like this. Never so singularly obsessed, never so fixated. Em got the feeling that even if Drea herself was on fire, she would still be crouching there, staring at Em with those wide, icy eyes.

Em struggled to a half-sitting position and spoke. Her voice came out ragged from the exertion and the smoke.

“The gym is on fire, Drea!” Em coughed. Several people brushed past her, nearly knocking her over again.

“No, Em. It’s working, don’t you see?” Drea gestured around
them. “The other ones—they’ve disappeared; the fire scared them off. Now it’s just you.”

“The
other
ones?” Em choked out. “You mean, the other students? Our
friends
?”

Drea was making a circle around Em now, and she had something in her hand. Between the smoke and the shadows, it was difficult to identify, but Em could tell it was a jar, and something was spilling out of it. “Pretty soon you’ll be yourself again,” Drea said. “You’ll see. This is going to work.”

Em took another gasping breath—the smoke was making her feel like her throat was closing up, like duct tape was being wrapped around her rib cage.

And then she smelled it. The sweet, oily smell of gasoline.

Drea was pouring gasoline around her.

The realization lit up in her brain like emergency flares. “Drea, stop!
Stop!
” She found herself screaming as she scuttled away from Drea, who continued to advance. She managed to get up on one knee, still shouting. “No! Drea, no! Stay away!”

She could see that Drea’s mouth was moving. Saying something. But she couldn’t hear—it was as though Drea was on mute. In fact, the whole world seemed to have gone silent. Em was inhaling smoke, she knew that, but it felt like there was smoke inside her too.

She was going to be burned alive.

And then, in one motion, with what felt like her last scrap of
strength, she lunged at Drea, almost slipping on her knees on the wet floor. She’d have to force her to get out of here if either of them was going to live.

Other people were screaming, racing out of the building, knocking things over as they ran. It was total chaos.

“Get away from me,” Drea growled as Em’s hands made contact with her shoulders. As soon as she touched Drea, she could feel a huge power surge between them. Drea clawed at her arms, trying to push Em away. “Em! Don’t fight me!” she shouted, turning her focus back on the gasoline she was pouring onto the gym floor.

But Em lunged again, determined to get in Drea’s way and grab her. They needed to flee! As she and Drea struggled Drea tried to elbow Em—Em blocked her arm and shoved her to the side. The shove was far more powerful than Em had expected—it lifted Drea straight off the ground. Em fell forward, coughing, as Drea slammed to the ground and cracked her head against the side of one of the dance floor mirrors.

And then Drea stopped moving, except to blink, once. A trickle of blood emerged from her hairline and traced a shivering path along her angular cheekbone.

“Drea!” Em cried. “No!”

She crawled across broken glass, coughing as smoke got in her lungs and throat and eyes. She could barely see, but she made her way toward Drea, who opened her mouth slowly and began
to speak with concentration, as if she was trying to translate commands between her brain and her body. “Em. You’re . . . turning . . .” Her muttering trailed off.

Em looked down at herself—her stained dress, her ghostly skin, her quaking hands and legs. The dizziness and smoke overwhelmed her. What had happened? What had she become? The gym was emptying now—people must have found a way out, because the screams and shouting had become more distant.

The smoke kept swirling—around her, in her. There was nothing to do but dance with it, sway with it, succumb to it dizzily. She felt herself falling. Then all went black.

•  •  •

Em was riding a horse.

No. That wasn’t right. It
felt
like she was riding a horse. Up and down, up and down, up and down. She turned her head groggily and was met by the peppermint smell of a clean white shirt.

She looked up. A scruffy chin, a pointy Adam’s apple, sprouts of mussed hair. JD. She was in JD’s arms. He was carrying her out of the gym while above them sparks rained down from the ceiling. She felt intense heat all around her.

The students must have gotten the gym doors open, or else they’d been busted down, because that’s how JD got her out—through the double doors and out into the cold parking lot.

Her lungs felt as though they were coated in ash. She heard sirens wailing in the background and the sound of shattering
glass. She took gulping breaths of air, trying to refocus.

Then it all rushed back to her—the power outage, the fire.
Drea
.

“No! Drea!” Em struggled in JD’s arms. “We have to get her!” JD kept moving. He held her tighter.

“The whole building is on fire!” JD yelled. “They’ve evacuated the gym.”

“But she’s still inside!” Em was too weak to struggle.

“I’ll go let them know. The firefighters are here,” he said, placing her down gently. “Everything’s going to be okay.” His face looked terrified, though.

In the parking lot the fire trucks were screeching to a halt, and firefighters were jogging toward the school, shouting orders to one another. The parking lot was bathed in flashing red lights.

Em watched the fire lick the sky. The walls must be on fire now. The bleachers. Everything. Firefighters entered the building.
Hurry. Hurry.

The students had gathered in the parking lot, shivering and sickly fascinated by the scene in front of them, not knowing if everyone had gotten out safely. Friends found each other and cried with relief. Across the lot Em saw Gabby standing with Lauren, Sean, Andy, and the rest of them, looking around wildly. Looking for Em, no doubt.

“JD, we have to go over there—” She started to point to Gabby, but she was distracted by a sudden change in the air. She felt it.

And then: “It’s gonna go!” She heard one of the firemen yell, and then they all started yelling it.
“It’s gonna go.”

Em tugged on JD’s sleeve. “What’s gonna go? What’s happening?”

He shook his head.

“There’s still a girl inside!” Em screamed hysterically, a sob welling in her throat. But in all the commotion, no one heard her or paid attention except JD.

“Shh,” he said. “Shh . . . They’re doing what they can.” She barely noticed that he took off his blazer and slung it around her bare shoulders. And then he kept his hands there, on her shoulder blades.

That’s how they were standing when the gym collapsed.

The ceiling folded in on itself with a giant, heaving moan. The fire-weakened walls crumbled in and down, raining rubber and pebbles into the burning gymnasium. Screams ripped into the night, and it took Em a moment to realize that she was screaming louder than anyone else.