Fire With Fire (14 page)

On Wednesday, I’m wearing my yellow polka-dot bikini, the
high-waisted one. Rennie calls it grandma chic, but it makes
me feel glamorous, a bathing beauty, like Marilyn. This one
doesn’t have a tie around the neck; it’s an underwire top, so it’s
more secure.

It’s silent in here, except for the sound of Reeve’s kicks and
splashes echoing against the tiles. I feel glum as I collect the
kickboard and climb down the ladder into the pool. Same as
yesterday. Yesterday we didn’t talk. Not really. And we definitely didn’t flirt.

I’m splashing and floating along toward the middle of the
lane when I decide that today will be my last day. I’ve given
it my all. Kat and Mary couldn’t ask for more. They’ll have to
understand that I’ve done my very best to get Reeve to notice
me, but I’m out. This is pointless. I didn’t promise to spend the
rest of my senior year on a kickboard.

I’m deciding all of this when Reeve’s bored voice calls out,
“Why are you here again?” He’s hanging on to the side of the
pool, shaking water out of his goggles.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” I say, resting my arms
and chin on the board.
He ignores that. “You know they’re not going to let you use
a kickboard in the swim test, right? At least that’s how I remember it. But I took it a long time ago. Like freshman year.”
“I know that,” I snap peevishly, and then I stop myself before
I can say anything else. Not very Marilyn of me. This is my
chance to make a connection, I have to make the most of it. I
take a breath, and in a sweeter tone I say, “I’m just . . . getting
used to doing laps.”
“What you need to get used to is putting your face in the
water,” he says, swimming toward me. When he gets close
enough, he splashes me right in the face.
“Quit it!” I yell, swiveling around to kick away from him and
holding on tight to my board. Oh my God, I hate him so much!
Reeve makes a lunging motion like he’s going to dunk me,
and I let out a scream. He grabs me by the waist, hoisting me in
the air. I’ve still got my fingers clenched around my board, I’m
kicking and splashing as hard as I can, but he doesn’t let go. “I
said stop!” I scream, and my terrified voice echoes throughout
the pool. Not because I’m afraid to be thrown. It’s his hands on
me where I don’t want them to be. It’s me telling a boy to stop
and him not listening.
It feels worse than drowning.
He lets go and I fall back into the water. When I come up to
the surface, he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. My heart is racing;
I’m breathing hard. Reeve swims back to the other end of the
pool and lifts himself out of the water. With his back turned to
me, he dries himself off with a towel.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” I scream.
He turns around and eyes me. “You’re going to have to get
your hair wet eventually. If I were you, I’d worry less about
my bikini and my hair and more about actually, you know,
swimming.”
My mouth drops open. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t own a swim
cap and a racer-back Speedo.”
He shakes his head at me like I’m some sad case. Then he
walks off, and with his slight limp it’s more like a strut. The
door slams behind him. And my heart is still racing.

That night, I’m digging around in my swimsuit drawer for my
black one-piece to wear to the pool tomorrow. Because black says,
I mean business. It’s not a Speedo—it has a halter neck and a little
keyhole—but it’ll give me better support than a two-piece, at least.

I’m sifting through string bikinis when I find it. Not the
black one. The red one. The one I wore that night, the night at
the beach house.

It’s Friday, and I’m wandering the halls with a bathroom
pass, trying to eat up some of sixth period, when I spot Mary
tucked underneath the first-floor stairwell with a book.

Mary looks up, startled, but relaxes when she sees that it’s
me and not a hall monitor. She smiles coyly. “I’m, um, taking a
break.”

“Like a bathroom break? Or a break like an I’m-skippingclass-today break.”
Mary drops her head. “Okay, you got me. I didn’t study for
my Spanish quiz. So last period I asked to go to the bathroom
and then came here to hide out until next period.” She lets out a
sigh. “My aunt is going to kill me when she sees my report card
this semester. I swear, the only class I’m going to pass is chorus.”
“Well, then you made a good decision to cut. But you need
to find another place to hide out, stat. The hall monitors always
check this spot on their rounds. Trust me, I know.” I glance over
both my shoulders. “In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t been
busted already. You should head to the nurse’s office and hide
out there. Pretend you have cramps or something.”
“Thanks,” Mary says, and stands up.
“How are things with your aunt? Any better?”
“A little bit. She’s started painting again, but she’s still not
speaking to me.” Mary shakes her head. “It’s funny. I never
remember fighting like this with my own parents. I feel so . . .
unwelcome in my own house, you know?”
I lean against the banister. “Hey, you want to do something
tonight? You and me?”
Mary brightens. “Like what?”
“How about we go for a drive.”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
“Cool. I’ll pick you up at none.” I’m about to walk away,
back up to the second floor, when I say, “Wait. Where’s your hall
pass?” I hold mine up. It’s a big wooden carving of the symbol
for pi, some ugly thing one of the remedial shop kids must have
made for the math department, probably for extra credit.
Mary bites her lip and says, “Uh-oh. My teacher last period
didn’t give me one.”
“Well, then don’t walk up by the science labs. I just came
from there and there’s a hall monitor sitting right past the doors.
Take the back door by the gym and walk past the library to the
nurse’s office.”
“Got it,” Mary says, and spins in the other direction. “Thanks.
I’ve never had detention before.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you haven’t, sweetie.”

I wake up to Shep licking my face. I leap off the couch and run
over to the window. It’s already dark out.
“What time is it?”
Pat checks his phone. “A few minutes after ten. Why?”
Shit! Shit shit shit!
“Where you off to?” he asks as I run through the kitchen,
looking for my boots by the back door.
“Out,” I say. Thank God the car starts. I drive so fast to
Mary’s house. What a jerk I am, to be late for a thing I invited
her to! Ugh. At a red light I try calling Mary’s house, but the
line is busy.
When I get there, she’s on the curb, waiting in the dark. She’s
got on the same dress she wore to school today, a little flowered
thing, underneath her parka.
“I’m so so sorry I’m late,” I say, jumping out of the car. I
open the passenger-side door for her gallantly, because I feel
like a total piece of shit. “I fell asleep watching TV. I tried calling
your house, but the phone was busy.” I wince. “Have you been
waiting out here long?”
She gives me a tiny smile. She doesn’t seem mad, which is
a relief. Mary might be the most forgiving person I know. “I
knew you’d come.”
Mary and I drive around for a bit and listen to music. After
a few laps around the island, I get hungry. The only place open
this time of year, at this time of night, is the Greasy Spoon, a
twenty-four-hour diner in T-Town. It’s never hopping, because
the food isn’t good, but there are a few not-too-god-awful
things on the menu.
I pull up and park around the side. The lot is strangely
crowded. Hopefully I won’t have to wait long for my food.
“You want anything?”
Mary yawns and shakes her head no.
I walk inside and order at the counter. Coffee, black with
two sugars, and a cinnamon doughnut. I’m waiting as the lady
punches in my order when I hear her voice. Rennie.
I turn my head and there she is, sitting at the end of a long
table in the middle of the diner. It’s like the entire Jar Island
football team is here. And all the cheerleaders, too. I see Lillia
huddled laughing with Ashlin and a couple of other girls on
the squad. Each of the girls has a long-stemmed red rose sitting
in her water glass. They’re all still in their cheering uniforms
except for Rennie.
I remember now. Tonight was the last football game of the
season.
I look back and Rennie is staring at me. We lock eyes, and
I immediately look away, because I don’t want to get into any
shit right now.
“Oh, look! It’s Kat DeBrassio!” she says it in a false whisper,
and everyone turns in her direction. “Hey, should we ask her to
come over and sit with us?”
I can tell by the way her words slide out of her mouth that
she’s been drinking. I bet she’s pissed that our team actually
did okay without Reeve. Alex sees me, they all do, and he tries
sticking a menu in front of Rennie’s face, to get her to look at
something. She swats it away.
I turn back to the counter and give sharp eyes to the waitress.
Can she pour my freaking coffee already so I can get out of here?
I wonder if this kind of shit will still happen after we’ve graduated. If whenever I come back home to visit, I’ll always have to
dread about running into Rennie on the island somewhere.
“Kat, are you like stalking me or something?” Rennie says.
“How many times do I have to tell you . . . I’m not a lesbian!”
Rennie cackles like a hyena. “Loser trash.”
That’s it. I turn to say something back, but I don’t have
to. Lillia sets down her menu and says, “Rennie, you’re just
pissed that we all got roses from our players tonight, and Reeve
couldn’t even be bothered to show up for you.”
You could hear a pin drop. Rennie’s jaw goes slack. Everyone
at the table turns to face Lil, who for a second looks as surprised
as everybody else. Rennie’s face turns bright red, the brightest
I’ve ever seen on a person. But then she waves her hand at one of
the waitresses and says, “Can we
puh-lease
order,” in her most
whiny, impatient voice. She takes a sip of her water, and her
hand is shaking.
Lil doesn’t look at me. Or maybe I don’t give her the chance.
I turn back to the counter, take my stuff, and walk out of there
as fast as I can.
I go outside and Mary sits up. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling, because holy shit. “I’m good.”
CHAP
TER T
WENT
Y - THREE

I’ve thought about quitting yearbook
committee a few times, but I keep telling myself to stick with it,
even though I haven’t gotten to do any photo collages yet. It’s
hard, because the fun jobs are already taken, and even if you ask
if you can help, they pretend not to hear you.

The only person who hasn’t totally ignored me is a sophomore named Marisa Viola. She goes over all the page proofs,
looking for formatting errors or misspellings in the text. I pulled
a chair up to her desk and read over her shoulder. She’s super
fast, and she’s circling things in her red pencil before I can even
notice them, but I think it’s still good to have a second set of
eyes looking out for mistakes.

After our Monday meeting, I decide to pop over to the
library so I can take out one of those grammar and punctuation
books. That’ll definitely help me do a better job.

On my way there, I pass by the gym offices. Coach Christy’s
door is open. She’s having a heated conversation with someone.
And then I see Rennie, sitting on her knees in one of Coach
Christy’s chairs. She ducked out of yearbook early. All Rennie
does is obsessively look through homecoming pictures and
leave early. I swear, I don’t understand why she even bothers.

As soon as I pass by, I press myself up to the wall and listen.
“Rennie, you didn’t even show for the entire last month of
our cheer practices,” Coach Christy said with a sigh. “You’re
not exactly in good standing with me right now. You understand that, right?”
“Why do you think that is? Because of Lillia! How could I

I hear Coach Christy’s chair creak, like she’s leaning way
back. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this,
Rennie. I counted the ballots myself. I was the only one to touch
them. Lillia Cho won homecoming queen fair and square.”

I expect Rennie to back down, to listen to reason, but the
exact opposite happens. With an unwavering voice, she says, “I
won homecoming queen. I did. I’ve asked, like, everyone who
they voted for, and like ninety-nine percent of the population
said me. All I’m saying is that if we had a revote, you’d see. I’ll
pay to get the ballots printed up myself!”

“Rennie, please let this go. You and Lillia have been friends
for a long time. You don’t want to let something as petty as who
won some cheap plastic tiara ruin your friendship, do you?”

Rennie laughs. She laughs and it sends shivers down my spine.
“There is no friendship. And you can tell me all you want that
perfect little Lillia had nothing to do with me getting screwed
over that night, but I’ll never believe you. Also, you suck as a
cheering coach and your routines are all tired and nobody likes
the music you pick for the halftime routines!”

Monday afternoon I’ve gone up and down the
length of the pool twice before Reeve even arrives. He doesn’t
get in the pool; instead he stands there watching me, eating
an apple. I don’t look up or acknowledge his presence. I keep
doing what I’m doing. “You should point your toes,” he says,
chewing loudly. “Make your body longer.”

“Excuse me, but I don’t think you’re allowed to eat in here,”
I huff. “And aren’t you supposed to be wearing that walking
cast?” He’s dragging it behind him.

“I’m building up my pain tolerance.” He tosses the apple
into the trash can. A perfect arc. I don’t have to look to know
it lands inside. Carelessly, he throws his towel on the bench
where my stuff is. Then he dives into the lane next to mine,
instead of the one on the far left the way he’s been doing. My
whole body stiffens. “Well, then you’ll have no one to blame
but yourself if you reinjure your leg.” I don’t need him critiquing me or giving me swimming advice. But I do try pointing my
toes a little as I swim to the ladder, and I guess I can feel a very
slight difference.