Fire With Fire (6 page)

So imagine my surprise when I pulled into her driveway and
saw Rennie’s Jeep. I almost turned right around and drove back
home, but I didn’t want to hurt Ash’s feelings. And, deep down,
maybe I hoped that Rennie was in on it, that maybe she wanted
to make up.

But when I rang the doorbell and she opened the door, she
looked like she wanted to slam it in my face. She didn’t, but I
could tell she wanted to.

Now here we are in Ash’s rec room watching TV and doing
our nails on the beanbag chairs she won’t let her mother throw
away. We had to come down here because her mother doesn’t
like the fumes; she says they give her migraines.

Ash is trying to get a conversation going, but nobody’s really
talking. We’re all concentrating on our nails.
“Pass me the nail-polish remover,” Rennie orders. Dutifully,
Ashlin hands it over.
I’m painting my toenails mint green. Ash has the best colors
of all of us. I’m on my second coat when Ash asks, “Have you
guys started on your college apps yet?”
“Hardly,” I say, unwrapping a fun-size Snickers I found in
my purse. Even though she has the best nail-polish colors, Ash’s
house never has any good snacks. Her mom’s on a gluten-free
diet. “I’ll probably spend every weekend until January first
working on my personal statement.”
Ash turns toward me. “Are you still applying to Boston
College, Lil? ’Cause I’m thinking I might apply too, for my
reach school. If I get in . . . roommates?”
“Duh!” I say. “Matching comforters and everything.”
Ash is a total pig, and there’s no way I would ever, ever
room with her. Plus I doubt she’ll get in. But I don’t care,
because Rennie’s looking at us with narrow eyes.
Doesn’t feel good to be the odd one out, does it, Ren?
Ashlin squeals and claps her hands together. “Yay! Would
you want to live on campus or get an apartment off campus?”
This is too easy. “I think on campus, at least for the first year.
That way we won’t miss out on all the fun stuff. You know, latenight study sessions and, like, flirting with boys on our hall and
ordering pizza at four in the morning. We’ll want to have those
experiences together, you know? Then we can move off campus
sophomore year.” Instantly I feel mean and petty and small for
saying this in front of Rennie. I feel like . . . Rennie.
“What about you, Ren?” Ashlin asks. “Are you done with
your application?”
“Yup. My app took me, like, two seconds.”
I guess the Jar Island Community College application is
extra easy. I wonder if she even had to write an essay. The way
Rennie used to talk about going to the community college,
she was sour about it. She’d say how she was the only one that
was going to be stuck here. But today she doesn’t look sour at
all. In fact she’s practically humming to herself.
She’s putting on top coat, her hair falling in her face, when
she says, “There’s no point in me even applying to a four-year
college right now. Reeve and I won’t know where he’s going to
play until his leg is healed, and he’s talking to recruiters again.”

I want to say,
Oh, and there’s just the small matter of how
your grades suck and you have no money for college,
but I bite
my tongue.

“I’m going to do a semester at JICC and get straight As and
transfer to wherever he’s at.”
Ashlin pipes up, “You and Reeve are so gonna get married.
You pretty much saved his life by carrying him through this
whole tragedy.”
Tragedy? A tsunami devastating an entire village is a tragedy.
Reeve is a jock who broke his leg. He’ll be fine.
“He’d do the same thing for me,” Rennie says, and I can’t
believe she can keep a straight face saying it. As if Reeve would
lift a finger for anybody but himself! “Oh, and speaking of that,
I’m not going to be at practice for the rest of this week. Reeve’s
got a few appointments off island to see a sports-medicine specialist.” She smiles to herself, pleased. “He’s getting his hard cast
off tomorrow, right on schedule.”
My head snaps up. “Why do you have to miss practice for
that?”
Rennie ignores me and says, “Ash, can you be in charge?”
Ashlin casts an uneasy look my way. “Sure. Lil and I can do
it together—right, Lil?”
Incredulously I ask, “Are you quitting the squad or something?”
“No, I’m not quitting the squad,” Rennie snaps. “That’s not
what I said.”
“Well, you have missed, like, three practices already,” I say,
and my voice shakes a little as I say it, because I’m scared. I’m
actually calling her out on her BS for once.
Rennie’s cheeks heat up. “When I signed on to rep Reeve’s
number, I signed on for the whole season. I’m not abandoning
him now.”
Ridiculous. Abruptly, I stand up. “I’m going to get a soda.”
Rennie doesn’t look at me as she says, “I’ll have a Diet Coke,
no ice.” Like I’m a waitress and she’s placing her order with me.
Ash gets up too. “I’ll help you, Lil. I hid some ice cream
behind my mom’s soy pops. It might still be there if my dad
didn’t find it.”
As soon as we’re in the kitchen and out of earshot, I go into
the fridge and grab two cans of Diet Coke and say, “I wish
you’d told me Rennie was going to be here.”
“But then you wouldn’t have come,” Ashlin whines.
“Exactly,” I say.
Ash hops up on the kitchen island. “I hate that you guys
aren’t getting along. That’s why I invited you both over here
today.”
I know she doesn’t mean it. There’s nothing Ash likes better
than playing the middle. “It’s not that we aren’t getting along.
It’s that Rennie’s being a total bitch to me for something that’s
not even my fault.”
“She’ll get over it,” Ash says. “I know she misses you.”
“Did she say that?” I ask.
“Not in so many words. But I can tell.”
Hmph. I take a sip of soda. “Are she and Reeve, like, together
now?”
“Basically,” Ashlin says. “She’s his ride-or-die chick, you
know? I think the accident is what made him realize how much
she’s been there for him all these years.”
“I’m happy for her,” I say, and I mean it, I really do. If Rennie
and Reeve are officially a thing now, maybe she’ll finally get over
what happened at homecoming and things can go back to how
they were before. And at the very least, they deserve each other.
CHAP
TER EIGHT

It’s Monday afternoon and I’m in chemistry,
working on a lab with my group. The two boys do most of
the work, while another girl and I record the results in our
notebooks. This arrangement is fine by me; I’ve never been so
great at science. We’re standing around the table, waiting for
some concoction to come to a boil, when I overhear two junior
girls talking behind me.

One girl whines, “I’m so ready to quit yearbook. All we’ve
gotten to do is make photo collages of freshmen. That’s not
what I signed up for.”

What I immediately think is: Yearbook is the sort of thing
Kat was talking about! I have to put myself out there, find my
own happiness. I’ve had a lot of good days, full days at school
where I’ve seen Reeve and haven’t gotten upset. And I’ve had
no issues with, um, my issues.

Also, I
love
making photo collages.
I can’t remember the last time I did one, but I used to all the
time, back when I was a kid. I’d never throw out a magazine
unless I cut out the pretty pictures first. I’d spend hours arranging them like puzzle pieces; then I’d glue them to a piece of
poster board and hang them up in my room. We didn’t take them
with us when we moved off Jar Island. I wasn’t in any state to
pack, obviously, so it was up to Mom and Dad. I wonder if they
threw them out, or if they might still be in the garage someplace.
I draw circles in my notebook and keep listening.
“I know,” the other girl says with a huff that makes the flame
on her Bunsen burner flicker. “But we have to hang in there if
we want a chance at editor-in-chief next year. You know how it
is. So political.”
Yearbook committee. There. I’m joining yearbook committee.
After class, I pack up my textbooks and head to guidance to
ask where and when the yearbook meetings are held. I end up
spotting a flyer stapled to the bulletin board outside the offices. It
has a picture of a camera on it and the words
YEARBOOK IS A
SNAP! MEETINGS EVERY MONDAY IN THE LIBRARY!
Today is Monday. I feel lucky, like this is some kind of sweet
serendipity. It’ll be good, I think, to have a club to put down on
my college applications next year. College apps are all Lillia and
Kat talk about these days, and they’ve definitely got me thinking about the future. It’s not that far off, honestly. Junior year is
almost half over.
I need to start thinking about what I want to be when I grow
up. My mom said she always knew she wanted to be an archivist, ever since she was a little girl and found a bunch of old
Zane family papers tucked away in the attic. She cataloged them
and put them into a special binder between layers of acid-free
tissue paper. And this was when she was seven.
By that logic, I might be destined to be a veterinarian. It’s
what I’ve always wanted to be. One time, Montessori arranged
a field trip to a zoo and I got to watch a vet give antibiotics to a
sick baby penguin. It was amazing. After that I used to pretend
with my stuffed animals, giving them shots and wrapping up
their legs with bandages I found in our medicine cabinet.
I debate calling Aunt Bette to say that I’ll be home late, but
decide against it. I don’t need her on my case about where I’ve
been and what I’m doing. I swear, she starts up as soon as I
come home from school.
I’m halfway across the courtyard when someone almost
knocks me over.
Reeve.
I’ve been actively avoiding him these last few weeks. It’s like
he’s some kind of magnet that’s always pulling me toward him.
I manage to step out of his way in the nick of time. Thank
God he doesn’t see me. Actually, he doesn’t seem to notice
any of the people darting out of his way as he catapults himself forward on his crutches. He’s too busy growling into his
cell phone, his forehead wrinkled and tense. He has the phone
cradled between his ear and his shoulder, since he can’t use his
hands, not with his crutches.
Only one thing has improved—his big white leg cast is off.
Now he’s got a black Velcro thing. A soft cast, I think it’s called.
I end up following him. Not on purpose. He’s just walking in
the same general direction that I am. Even though I give him a
ton of space, I can still hear what he’s saying into his cell phone.
“I keep telling the dude I can do
more
, Ren,” he says passionately. “Yeah, well, if he can’t get with our program today,
he’s fired. I’ll take over my PT my damn self. I’m almost a week
behind where I should be according to our schedule.”
Reeve abruptly stops at the chain-link fence, the one that
runs along the football field. Practice is underway. The team
stands in a big circle at midfield, stretching out together, clapping on beat every time they switch positions. Alex is in the
center. I wonder if he’s the captain now.
None of the guys notice Reeve watching them. They don’t
see him standing there, and they don’t notice when he walks
away.
Don’t feel bad for him,
I tell myself.
Don’t feel anything for
him.
Reeve slips off the path and heads toward the pool building. There’s a guy standing near the door, an older man in a full
windbreaker suit. I don’t think he’s a teacher here; I’ve never
seen him before. He’s got a clipboard with him and a duffel bag
slung over his shoulder.
“Reeve. Hey, pal. You ready to get to work?”
After clapping Reeve on the back, the man tries to get the
door for Reeve, hold it open for him. Reeve gives the guy a
cold hard stare. “I’m
always
ready to work. Are you?”

The yearbook committee turns out to be a pretty popular
club, especially for girls. I guess because if you’re on yearbook
committee, you can make sure no bad photos of you get put
in. That is a bonus. The library is filled with people sitting in
small clusters, working on their tasks. Some are sorting through
pictures in envelopes; some are working through page layouts;
some are contemplating cover treatments and working out the
costs per person.

There are a few boys here too. I get the sense that they’re
more into the technology aspect, because they’ve already
claimed spots at the computers. The girls mostly stand behind
them and point at where they want things to go.

I see the girls from chemistry, sharing a chair with frowns
already on their faces, sorting through piles of color pictures.
They point and laugh at some of them, making gross-out faces
and snickering to each other. “Let’s put in this one of Carrie
sneezing,” one girl says. I sort of hope these girls do quit.
They’re so mean. If I’m lucky enough to work on any collages,
I’ll make sure not to let any unflattering photos in of anyone.
Even people I don’t like.

It’s intimidating, though, to see that everyone already has a
set job. What’s a newbie like me supposed to do? I lean against
one of the library shelves near the back of the room and try
to think of things I can say to the adviser, Mr. Kraus, when he
arrives and the meeting officially gets started. I should probably introduce myself, maybe tell him about my collage experience, if I can even call it that. I wish I knew how to use some
of the fancy school-owned digital cameras that kids are passing
around the room, so I could help out with the photography,
too. Maybe he’ll offer lessons on that sort of thing.

A few more people trickle into the library after me. One of
them is Nadia Cho. She’s in her cheerleading practice clothes,
and she hangs out near the door, like she won’t be able to stay
long. She has a big envelope with her. Probably full of pictures
of her friends.

I like Nadia. She looks sweet, like a young Lillia, but with
bigger eyes and freckles.
I think about going up to her and saying hi, since we’ve never
officially met each other. But then Rennie comes in behind her.
Rennie’s not in her cheering workout clothes. Oh my gosh. Has
she quit the squad, now that Reeve isn’t playing anymore? I
could totally see her doing that.
Rennie wraps Nadia in a hug. It’s a tender one and it lasts for
a few long seconds, definitely longer than the ones I see girls
give each other between classes. Rennie peels herself away a bit
and fusses with Nadia’s bangs while she tells her something I
can’t hear. Nadia smiles up at Rennie and nods pertly. She hands
Rennie her packet of pictures and bounds out the door.
At the stables, Lillia mentioned to Kat and me how weird and
tense things have been between her and Rennie since homecoming. I press my lips together tight. It worries me to see Nadia
being so chummy-chummy with Rennie. She’s not a good influence. Not at all. Plus Lillia is Nadia’s big sister. Nadia should be
loyal to her, not to Rennie.
Mr. Kraus comes into the room. He’s an art teacher, so it
makes total sense that yearbook is one of his responsibilities. “All
right, everyone! Listen up!” The room quiets, but only a little
bit. Most people keep talking. “We need the homecoming spread
done this week, as well as foreign language clubs and fall sports.”
He scans the room briefly. “If you’re new today, find someone and help them with their project.” He says all this without
stopping, and then disappears into his office and closes the door.
Oh. Okay.
So it looks like yearbook is pretty much left up to the students.
I meander my way over to some girls who are uploading
photos directly from the cameras, hoping I might pick up some
pointers. I end up within earshot of Rennie. She’s working on
the homecoming spread with another girl.
“We got more homecoming pictures today,” Rennie says,
dumping out Nadia’s envelope. She shuffles through the photos
slowly, her eyes lingering on each one.
The other girl doesn’t bother to check any of them out. She
keeps her eyes on the computer screen. “I doubt we’ll need
them. You’ve collected, like, more homecoming photos than
senior pictures. It’s only a one-page spread.”
“We want to make sure we get the perfect shot,” Rennie
insists, her voice sharp.
“I think I have,” says the girl, with a smile. There’s a picture
of Lillia and Reeve in the center of the computer screen. Them
dancing, up onstage. Him holding her tight, gazing at her with a
big grin. Before he saw me. Before I went . . . crazy.
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
superlatives 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.