Fire Girl Part 1 (7 page)

A large, meaty hand fell between us. “No
holding up the line. Keep moving forward.”

An angry lady with a hair net and a voice so
deep it could have been the Grand Canyon pushed me forward.

“You have to pick a dish, newbie, and you
have to pick it quickly. Otherwise, the whole time schedule the
district has us on will be shot to Aunt Jemimah’s house, if you
know what I mean.”

No, I did not know what she meant. Was she
talking about syrup? “I did this yesterday. I’m fine.”

Meaty rapped her knuckles sharply against the
metal counter in front of me. “Right, had time to go down the lunch
line and then try to burn us all up. Bell, give her some spaghetti,
she’s holding up the line.”

A scoop of spaghetti slopped onto my
tray.

Antone’s voice rang out behind me. “She is
fine. She is tragically sad right now, but after I show her the
beauty in life she will be happy, so very happy.”

Meaty hands pushed me forward. “Shari, give
her some turkey and gravy!”

Another scoop of some type of mashed
concoction landed on my tray.

“Stop!” I tried to pull my tray away, but
Meaty continued to walk next to me. She signaled more workers to
put things on my tray.

“I can pick my own lunch!” I protested.

She gave me a final push toward the cash
register. “Ring her up, Howie.”

I stared at my tray. It looked like the pig
slop Grandma dropped together after meals and stirred up before
heading to the pen behind the barn.

Howie shook his head. His wide-brimmed
glasses gave him a Harry Potter feel. Empathy shrouded his
features. “Don’t be holding up the lunch line.”

I shifted my gaze down, not wanting to look.
I’d been food assaulted.

Howie pressed buttons. “Ten dollars.” He
lifted a shoulder. “Give or take.”

“Ten dollars?” I looked down at my tray. “I
didn’t want all this food.”

I could hear Meaty already starting into her
next victim.

Howie stroked his not quite grown goatee.
“Yeah, they never do.”

“Antone will pay for your food. He could not
save you from being found out, but he can pay for your lunch.” He
whipped out a fifty dollar bill and handed it to Howie.

“No!” I shoved myself between Howie and
Antone and tried to juggle my full tray. Where in the heck could
Chance be? “I will pay for my food!” I managed to shove some money
at Howie.

Antone quickly paid for his own tray then
clasped his hand around my forearm. “Maadie, you need to get used
to Antone taking care of you. You will sit at my table.”

I let him drag me a few steps, then got an
idea. “Okay. Hey, can you take me somewhere in a few minutes?”

He winked at me. “Of course.”

Antone stopped in front of a table filled
with guys that looked like they enjoyed restoring cars and going to
shop class. Guys that had grease smudged underneath their eyes and
hands that looked like they never got all the way clean.

“Well, well, if it ain’t our own famous
arsonist.”

I turned to see one of the guys at the table
pull a toothpick out of his mouth. “What’s up, new girl?”

Anger roiled through me like the old, ancient
heater in my grandparents’ basement—hot and smoky.

Antone took both of our trays and put them
down. He flashed them a warning look. “You would be wise to keep
your trap shut, parasite.”

“I’m
not
sitting here.” I couldn’t do
this, be someone’s arranged bride or something, for a ride to the
bus stop.

Antone touched my forearm, his other hand
still on my tray. “It’s okay. Antone will work this out.”

I shrugged away. “It’s not going to work,
Antone.” I reached for my tray.

Antone clasped one side of it. “Wait, but we
both hate Sugar Valley. We both have been sent here to find one
another.”

I heard muffled laughing from the table and
knew the guys were lapping this up.

How did I explain to him that his friends
reminded me of the Sugar Valley version of mafia Huntdogs? And
he—he was freaking me out. “I-it’s not—”

But Antone already had this look in his eye,
and he’d already started to lean. He tilted his head to the
side.

I froze. Was this the kissing look Carrie had
told me about?

I clutched to my lunch tray like a sea swept
victim holding to a life vest. “Don’t.” It came out as a plea more
than a command.

“Crash and burn, baby! Boom! Man, she’s good
at the burning part!” A shout came from the table.

Antone stopped. The cartoon version of him
would have included smoke coming out of his ears. “But we are
meant
to be together.”

Out of nowhere, Trina popped her head between
us. “Back down from this, Antone.” She leaned over and whispered
something into Antone’s ear.

Shouts and laughs rose up from the Huntdog
table.

Antone’s dark eyes paused on me and skipped
back to Trina. He shoved past me with the determination of a
soldier being sent on his next mission.

She poked me hard in the soft area right
above my right collar bone. “I just
saved
you. You have no
idea.”

I didn’t trust her. “What did you tell
him?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

My palms were sweaty and the same blurriness
that had settled into my chest before I’d blacked out and Carrie
and Jimmy had taken me to the hospital pulsed through me in short
waves. That would
not
happen today. I would be leaving
this—this insane asylum.

I rushed away from Trina. I picked my way
through the tables, searching for Chance. I would just run. I would
run until I got to the bus stop.

I didn’t see the leg of the metal chair
sticking out until it was too late.

If the scene that followed were a movie, it
would deserve to be slowed down.

Tray flying out of hand. Tray catapulting
through the air. Tray landing on blonde curls.

Blonde, cheerleader curls.

Bonnie let out a shriek that would have made
people assume something really bad had happened to her; mugging,
dog napping, alien abduction.

I landed half-way between the table and the
floor. Not my most graceful moment. At this point, no one in the
room would have guessed that ballet lessons had been a serious part
of my dance repertoire between the ages of eight and ten.

One of Bonnie’s friends, a girl I had heard
them call Jessica, with the exact kind of kinky curls as Bonnie,
hunched over me. “You freak! Look what you did!”

I looked over at Bonnie, flat on her back,
spaghetti draped down the front of her.

“Ugh.” Bonnie moaned.

I pushed myself to a standing position and
felt the beginning of what, I knew, would be ugly yellow and black
bruises on my forearms by morning.

Bonnie jumped to her feet and gave me a look
that would have made the real mafia proud. “You-you—”

“You will pay for that!” Another cheerleader
popped up beside her like we were about to spar.

More cheerleaders formed an angry mob of
bobbing curls.

“Madds?”

Chance showed up beside me.

I recognized the mouth gaping, non-moving
thing he’d done that one time Uncle Billy had gotten a pitch fork
stabbed clean through his calf muscle. Needless to say, it had been
me that had run to get Grandma.

Tears filled Bonnie’s eyes. She let out an
immediate sob and threw herself into Chance’s arms. “She did
this!”

Chance gave me a look like I’d just kicked a
puppy.

“I didn’t—”

“Yes she did!” The first angry cheerleader
stepped next to Chance, a judge that would put me away for a long,
long time. “I saw her run straight for Bonnie!”

I knew by the look on his face that I should
just leave.

I swiftly zipped my backpack open and pulled
the letter out. I shoved it at him. “Give this to Grandma.” It
wasn’t even in an envelope, just taped to seal it shut.

He carefully took the letter and hugged
Bonnie into him. “Shh.”

I ran for the main hallway. I braced myself
against the first series of lockers as I came out and drank in
large breaths. That stupid cafeteria had never been good to me.

“You seem to have a knack for ticking
everyone off,
Fire Girl
.”

I wrenched back and slammed the side of my
head into the edge of a locker. “Ouch!”

Zac. He sat tucked into a corner, a large pad
of paper open on his lap. “The name’s kind of catchy, don’t you
think?”

I gave him the glare I’d practiced in front
of the mirror many, many times. My patented glare. “Nice paints.” I
tried to make it sound like a real insult.

The side of his lip turned up and I noticed a
small scar in the crease. “Wow, and she’s
amazing
at verbal
sparring too.”

I wanted to inflict pain on him. Very badly.
Thoughts of digging my fingernails into Chance’s arm when we were
younger ran through my mind. I fumed and swung my backpack wide
over my shoulder.

It didn’t matter, I reminded myself.

None of this mattered.

Sleek black and red lines leapt off the white
canvas and caught my eye. Two people, wrapped in vines that pulled
them apart were woven together and suspended in the air, with
nothing to ground them except each other.

He scowled ferociously. “What are you looking
at?”

I put back on the glare face, in case he’d
missed it, and gestured to the paper. “Nothing,
obviously
.”
What kind of football guy painted anyway? Especially a picture like
that.

His lips puckered in distaste, then went
instantly back to his previous mocking smile. “You’d be wise to
stay out of people’s business around here.”

I pointed to his picture, dramatically.
“
That
could not be classified as anything except a terrible
piece of art.”

Zac flipped the front of his hair back. The
gray in his eyes took on a bored film. “You can’t insult me.”

“And that’s
your
insult?”

He tapped the end of his paintbrush against
his lip. “Look, it’s hard not to miss a train wreck when you hear
it coming at you. And I’ve heard all about you. I’ve heard about
your parents and this last stint you had with mental problems.
And—”

“Shut up.” I said it too fast and hated that
he would know he’d gotten the better of me.

The edge of his lip turned up. “Don’t worry,
I know the best thing to do is never get near the track.”

My heart raced with fury. I dug my heel into
the waxed linoleum and turned. “Don’t worry, this train will never
get near you again.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He called out after me.

I bit into the bottom part of my lip. I hated
his smug smile. I hated his scar that creased into his lip. And I
hated him. I could not be happier to leave this place.

I made a beeline for the bathroom so I could
wipe off food splatters. I needed to get myself cleaned up and get
out of here.

I turned my bag to the side and dug for my
cell phone. It flew out and dropped to the bathroom floor with a
sharp, plastic crack.

I picked it up and pressed the on button,
annoyed at the crack in the screen. Five missed calls and one text
from Carrie.

Jimmy’s source backed out. Sorry! Will get
it soon! I promise! XOXO

Chapter 7 Stuck

I watched Ms. Love from the back row of the
choir room, estimating how much cash I could plausibly steal from
AJ’s Pharmacy. How much cash would really be in the register in
this town? I had to get out of here.

“Time is something that you don’t realize how
important it is, until it’s left you standing there without it.”
Ms. Love smiled.

I thought about Chance. I’d searched for him
between classes to recover the letter, but he hadn’t been anywhere
near his locker.

“You are all so young.” Ms. Love paused. “As
many of you know, I studied music in many different cities and
countries. I had the opportunity to sing with some of the best
musicians in the world. But, it wasn’t easy. It was something I had
to grab hold of and run with as hard as I could.” Tears glistened
in her eyes.

She
had
left Sugar Valley?

“The point of my lecture is to tell you that
if you have a dream, take it. Take it and never look back.” She
looked around the room. “Don’t forget to check the back wall for
partner assignments on your first project.”

A hand shot into the air from across the
room.

Him. The pit of my stomach churned.

Ms. Love nodded. “Zachary.”

“My partner dropped the class this morning.
It’s not a big deal, I just thought I would let you know.”

Ms. Love’s head twirled to me. “That works.
Maddie, you’ll be teamed up with Zac.”

***

The front office didn’t have the same homey
feeling as it had yesterday morning. Principle Schmidt set his face
into a grimace. “Maddie, I pride myself on being a good Principal.
In fact, in the last twenty years, I have never had a student light
anything
on fire.” His cheeks looked as if he were carrying
more water weight today, the white shirt and tie cutting into the
flesh around his neck. “I’m letting you be part of my student work
program
as a favor
. Your grandparents have been through a
lot in the last year.” He held out a vile piece of orange
clothing.

I shook my head. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Don’t be smart with me.” Principal Schmidt’s
eyes narrowed. “You better knock this attitude right out the door.
Look, I know you’ve been through a lot. I understand that. In fact,
the meeting I have with your grandmother at four o’clock is to
discuss just that issue.”

I rolled my eyes. Not this. Not the whole
‘let’s get her to talk’ routine.

“Your dad and I were good friends. Ya know
what he told me one time?”

I wanted to lash back with a quip, but I
didn’t.