Fire Girl Part 1 (12 page)

I caught my balance, but the tiny dog teeth
tore into bone. I shook my leg. “Get off!”

“Maddie!” Grandma rushed back to me.

The older man grabbed the dog by its middle.
“Let go, Rosie!”

The dog released my flesh.

“Mr. Harris.” Grandma put her hand on her
hip.

The man clutched the dog to his chest. “You.”
He wore overalls and had the longest, mangiest beard I had ever
seen. An assortment of necklace looking things clanged around his
neck, reminding me of some ancient medicine man.

“Let me guess, you were up on that watch
tower of yours while you let your mangy dog attack law abiding
citizens.” Her tone was like a sharpened spear, one she wanted to
plunge into his chest.

I dabbed at the bite, surprised Grandma spoke
so harshly to him.

The dog kicked and squirmed.

He racked out a cough. “Well, Star Haven.”
The bearded man widened his overly tanned face. “I can’t say I’m
surprised to see the true perpetrator on my property?”

“Don’t you start in on me, Miles.” Her eyes
moistened.

I looked between them, even more
confused.

The man glanced back to me. “So, this is
Frank’s daughter?” The way he said it, made it sound like he knew
something he shouldn’t.

Grandma stopped. “Best stay out of it.”

He scowled at me. “She don’t look nothing
like him.”

Grandma took a step closer to Mr. Harris and
her whole, petite body looked poised for a brawl. “How dare
you!”

Mr. Harris let out a low gurgle of a
laugh.

Grandma pulled back, and the sound of her
slap echoed.

***

I listened to the dry shuffle of our feet
against the dusty road and tried to think about something else,
besides the sound of the smack, and besides the accusing way Mr.
Harris had looked at me like it had somehow been my fault.

I stared at the broken cell phone. Crap.
Carrie would not do well if she couldn’t get a hold of me.

We rounded the corner of the house.

“Mr. Harris has always been—hard to manage.
If you wouldn’t mention that little interlude to your Grandpa,
please.” Grandma’s voice came out extremely tired.

“Oh.” Something about the whole thing struck
me as hilarious. A small laugh escaped my lips. The irony that I
would be keeping a secret for Grandma.

Grandma stopped next to the pink lawn
ornament perched in the middle of the yard. “I know that living
with your Aunt Sylvie wasn’t easy on you.”

My laughter instantly dried up.

“Your grandfather and I thought it would be
best for you to be part of her life.”

I stepped back from her, my thoughts an array
of sticky spaghetti inside my head. “What was
best
for
me?”

Grandma let out an exaggerated breath.
“Maddie, what you don’t understand at this point in your life, is
that choices are never as clear as they seem. We thought we were
doing the right thing for you.”

I shook my head. “The right thing?” They
didn’t want me. It was that simple.

Grandma pinched the arch of her nose. “And
you couldn’t even be kind to poor Grace—”

“What?” My emotions whiplashed.

Grandma shook her head. “Poor, sweet
Grace.”

I ran for the stairs to the house. She could
believe whatever she wanted. I didn’t need this. I had to get out
of here. “Sweet is not what I would call her.”

“Stop, Maddie. Just stop.”

I stopped.

“Maddie, do you want to be here?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “What does Grace
mean?”

Grandma didn’t answer.

“Just tell me what it means.”

Grandma sighed. “Well, I think, I mean, yes,
that's it, it means God’s unmerited favor.”

I thought about that, and I still didn’t get
it.

“It’s—it’s the difference between all we can
do to go back to live with our Father in Heaven and what Christ’s
atonement makes up for.”

I didn’t get it even more.

Grandma searched my face. “Maddie, do you
remember when you were little and you’d follow me around like a
little possum with its mother. You were so happy and cute and I’d
call you my little partner in crime. You’d help me go all over and
visit people and check in on them. Do you remember that?”

Of course I remembered.

“And we’d do laundry and take it out to the
line and we’d crochet and we’d sweep and clean and cook and take
the guys lunch. You helped me gather up all the utensils and
napkins and took special care to pack olives. You loved olives.”
Her voice had taken on a thoughtful tone. “Things were so different
back then. You liked it. You did.”

“I guess people disappoint you.”

Grandma let out her breath. “I guess they
do.” Her voice was quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that we
disappointed you.”

I couldn’t give into this. She had no idea
what I’d done. She had no idea that I could never fit in here—ever.
“It doesn’t matter.”

“She has Huntington’s Chorea.”

I paused. “I know.”

“HD is another name for it.”

I didn’t know why that particular documentary
had stuck in my brain, but I remembered it. “I’ve heard of it.”

Grandma touched at the sides of her hair and
pushed back the bandana. “It’s usually something that is passed
down through families, but they didn’t know about it. There’s no
cure. There’s just experimental treatments. They don’t like to talk
about it, so please don’t say anything. Beth told me tonight that
Grace has her last appointment up north next week. If there’s been
no change, there’s nothing else they can do.”

“What do you mean, nothing they can do?”

Grandma pinched the center of her nose. “It’s
just a matter of when.”

A heavy and hard and horrible dread flared
inside of me. Everything was horrible. I threw my hands up. “I
can’t.
” I finished up the stairs.

“Sweetie?”

I pushed the door open. “I can't keep any
more secrets.”

***

I jumped into Chance’s truck with a
vengeance. “It’s no secret I’m ticked at you.”

Chance turned down his music. “What’s
your
problem?”

I pushed his shoulder. “You’re my problem.
You act like I
assaulted
him. Like I was the one who might
have started the fight. Like I am at fault.” I pushed him. “And,
then, when I expect you to step up and defend my honor you—”

“Let me guess—it hurts. Kinda like getting a
letter that said I would never see you again?” Chance threw the
truck into reverse. “
Man
, yeah, I can see how you’d be
upset.”

All my rage evaporated. “You
would
bring that up.”

Chance let out a hard laugh. “Yeah, you still
haven’t explained that little episode of yours. And,” he said,
pumping his eyebrows, “you
are
explosive. You can’t deny
that.”

“Am not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

I tried not to pout. “You don’t
understand.”

Chance flew down the road.

I saw Officer Justice in the side mirror.

“Ya know what they say?”

“Oh brother.”

“Your attitude determines how far you get to
the top.”

“The
saying
is that your attitude
determines your altitude.”

“And you’re
snooty
!” Chance poked me
in the shoulder. “If you want my opinion, part of your problem is
you walk around like you’re superior to everyone else.”

“I don’t want your opinion.” I grabbed his
finger and squeezed. “Don’t poke me!”

Chance yanked his hand away. “You should see
the way you walk around, your chin up, all stuck-up like. Bonnie
pointed it out to me the other day in the cafeteria.”

Bonnie.

“And I’ll poke you if I want to, especially
if I want to make fun of you.” He obnoxiously poked my shoulder
again. “Maddie and Zac, sittin’ in a tree . . .”

I smacked at him. “Shut up!”

He trigger laughed. “Honestly, I wouldn’t
have thought the two of you together, but he called for your number
last night.”

I tried to contain my embarrassment, an
embarrassment I resented. I knew I blushed.

“He told me how you ticked off his mom, left
everyone all upset. Aww.” Chance let out a breath. “I’ll just wait
for the cliff notes from this doomed romance.”

The light changed and he gunned it forward,
taking the turn with extra speed. “He wanted your number so he
could talk to you about some project or something?” He wagged his
eyebrows. “Sounds like a date.”

I whacked him hard in the shoulder.

He roared.

“You’re the delusional one!”

His truck lurched into the parking lot and he
pounded into his brake. “K-i-s-s-i-n-g!”

I threw open my door. “Shut up!”

He busted around the truck. “So you’ll be
there this afternoon, right?”

I started for the school and, purposefully,
ignored Officer Justice, who had slammed his cop door and jogged
toward me. “I can’t.”

Chance clamped a hand down onto my bicep.
“What part about the favorite cousin thing makes you think missing
any of my games is ever allowed?”

I evaluated his blue eyes. The familiarity of
them had always betrayed his every emotion like one of those magic
eight balls. A bubble of warmth filled me. He wanted me. He really
did. I tugged my arm away. “I told Grandma I would hang with Gramps
while she and Uncle Bill came.”

Chance grinned. “You did?”

The bell rang.

“Good morning, Ms. Haven.” Officer Justice
walked next to me.

I ignored him.

Chance laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

Chance gave me a wink. “I knew ya still
cared, Fire Girl.”

That name. Vexed annoyance surged through me.
I cocked my head to the side. "Really, you have to call me
that?"

Chance gave me a small nudge with his elbow.
"I like it."

“Whatever?”

“Fire—what?” Officer Justice kept pace with
us.

Chance trigger laughed again. “It’s like
you’re an anti-superhero.”

We pushed into the front door. I rolled my
eyes.

“An anti-what?” Officer Justice asked.

Chance poked me in the shoulder. “Yeah, and
you’re in training for something big like Luke Skywalker.” He poked
me, again. “Now you just need an Obiwan Kanobi.”

***

I nipped at the cheese pizza Grandma left for
us on TV trays and looked down at the recently activated phone.

Grandpa sat heavily into his recliner. “Good
heavens, you don’t need to babysit me, I feel the best I’ve felt in
my entire life.”

I continued to look at my phone. “That’s not
up for debate.” I listened to the black and white western on TV.
The sound blared out at a level that would frighten a small
child.

“Hmph. What are we watching, anyway?”

I glanced up. “Some cowboy show, Grandma
turned it on.”

Grandpa leaned over. “Is that the phone Bill
got ya?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up his milk. “I’m glad to see it’s
getting some use, finally.” He took a sip. “Good movies, these
ones. You see, Madds, the man always protects the
women
folk. Ya see that.” John Wayne stepped in front of a woman in a
white dress. “Watch and learn.”

I watched the villain go down with a couple
of cap gun sounding shots.

Grandpa snorted. “What did I tell ya? Protect
the women.”

I took a bite of pizza. “It’s not like that
anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

I reminded myself, again, how awesome it was
to be sitting with Grandpa on a Friday night. Could I seriously do
this for six weeks? “Women don’t need people to protect them.”

He let out a low, gurgle laugh and choked on
his milk. “See Madds, that’s where you’re wrong, everyone needs
protecting sometimes.”

“I don’t.”

John Wayne threw punches at another round of
bad guys.

Grandpa pointed to the screen. “Maybe not men
folk protecting women, but someone—everyone needs someone to have
their back.”

I watched Grandpa. He looked more like
himself today—cheeks rosy, bad hair oil in place, bossiness back in
full swing as exhibited earlier while he supervised the after
school chores. I smiled to myself. “Shh, I’m trying to watch.”

“What do you say to me all the time?” He
slumped his shoulders and did a pained face. “Whatever.”

The way he imitated me almost made me almost
laugh.

Almost.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Who the heck could that be?” He started to
stand.

“I got it.” I waved him down and pushed the
TV tray back. The fact that whoever had come for a visit had come
to the front door signaled it wasn’t a neighbor.

I opened the door. And wished I hadn’t.

Chapter 11 Visitors

Aunt Sylvie’s lips pursed into a straight
line. Her straight, blonde hair held in perfect place. Her clothes
ironed and fresh.

I braced myself against the doorframe.

“Thanks for calling me back.”

“No.” She couldn’t take me back to that
place. She couldn’t.

Sylvie’s glare cut into me like a knife into
flesh. “I see you found the necklace?”

I reached for it.

She looked like she wanted to rip it from my
neck. “I know it was from your mother. I wanted to make sure you
got it back.”

Grandpa appeared and nudged me behind him.
His laugh came out awkward, like a kid caught doing something he
shouldn’t. “Well, goodness, look who’s here. Sylvie—”

“I got a call today from social services that
said she started a fire and a report was filed with the state. That
would have been good information for me to have, Frank. Don’t you
think?”

Grandpa’s awkward pleasantness turned to a
deep scowl. “We’ve been busy, but we got it handled, Sylvie.”

“I should have been told.” She leveled a
glare at me over Grandpa’s shoulder.