Firecracker (22 page)

T
he plan failed. It went nothing like I thought it would. When Summer Wonder, dressed as Talia Pasteur, stood in front of the microphone and opened her mouth, the voice of Talia Pasteur did not come out. Instead, the assembled crowd heard someone else. I still think my idea about tricking people with microphones was a good idea. I still think it would have worked in a different situation. But in this instance, nope. Nobody thought the voices coming out of the speakers belonged to the girl onstage. Everyone who didn't know what was actually happening was more confused than anything else. They were expecting to hear a song from
The Little Mermaid
. Everyone working for me expected to hear Talia's confession. Instead, the confession they heard was Pierre's.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Just a little after noon, Noah—a man temporarily with one arm—stepped out from behind the tree. When he saw Pierre waiting for him, he didn't immediately figure out what was happening. That was okay because it took me a moment to figure it out too. Noah assumed that this was just part of the plan, that I had asked Pierre to come along. But it was Pierre he was supposed to be waiting for the whole time.

Pierre was the one who had sent those emails to Dean Rein. Pierre got me kicked out of Bristol. Pierre wanted to see me fail.

Why did he do it? Well, everyone knows that now. As soon as Noah realized that Pierre's presence wasn't part of the plan, it was the first thing he asked, and it was the first thing the crowd heard over the loudspeaker. “It was you. Why would you do that?” Noah said. “Why would you do that to her?”

And then they heard Pierre say: “The first time I saw her, she was across the dining room. She was sitting in the corner by herself. I sat down next to her. I said, ‘I see you are here all alone. Can I offer you some of my company?'

“She said something similar to ‘Please leave, or else I will throw my food at you.' I could not help it. Love is something you cannot control. Perhaps if I had a choice, I would love somebody else. But I do not believe I have had a choice. Instead, I have spent years hoping there would be a way for me. That was why I did this. Maybe you cannot understand something like that, but it was the only way. She had to leave this school. Because she will never love me the way that she is. You know how she is. You know her too. She was always too good for everything in the world. She was too good for me. She said things like that. But if she wasn't too good for everything, then
maybe
, I thought. Maybe if I—what do you call it?—take her down all the notches. If I punished her, maybe she would be able to see me. It was the only way to do it. You understand. You must understand.”

There was silence for a minute, and everyone wondered what was going on when they couldn't hear anything. Then Noah finally spoke. “I don't believe a word you're saying. I mean, I believe the events you describe, but your story, it's meaningless. It's stupid, and you're wrong. You say you love her. You don't love her. You love how being in love feels, maybe. You love telling people that you love her. But you couldn't love her. If you loved her, you would want to see her be great. You would want to be there when she does great things. You would be there for her when she doesn't. You don't deserve her. You don't understand her. You don't love her at all. And she knows that. She's much smarter than you. She's much smarter than me. I hope you're happy now. You did all of this, and it didn't even work.”

I could hear Pierre smiling. I could hear it because he makes a noise like he's having trouble breathing out of the sides of his mouth when he smiles. He said, “But, don't you know? It did work. It worked for me. See, it is okay that she cannot love me. I never needed that. It is not what I asked for, and it did work. She didn't tell you? She is my girlfriend now. I hold her hand. I kiss her at the end of the night. She is my girlfriend. It did work. It worked better than I had hoped.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

I was standing at the back of the crowd at that point. I was basically invisible. Everything was happening in front of me. I caught Dean Rein's eye. He shook his head. I shrugged.

Dean Rein said, “How did I know that somehow today was going to be about you?”

“It could have been worse,” I said.

“I'm not sure. I don't know what's going to happen next.”

“I think I do,” I said and looked toward the chapel.

“Are you okay, Astrid? Your face is red.”

“Yeah, it's, like, burning. It's been happening.” I started to run to the other side of campus. There, two boys were talking about me. One of them I actually cared about. The other one was my boyfriend. My face felt hotter and hotter. It was a familiar feeling, one I didn't like at all. I was out of place. Everything was blurry. The last thing I could make out was Noah, just before I fell into his head. Again.

BAM!

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

When I woke up, a few people had gathered, and both Noah and I were on the ground.

“They were like this,” Pierre said. “I did not touch him. I did not put a hand on him.”

I pulled myself up into a kneeling position and scooted over toward Noah. He was dirty, and there was a scrape on his head, but he was breathing and blinking. One of his arms was clutching a tree root. The other was still hidden in his jacket.

“I did nothing,” Pierre said. “Nothing.”

“Go away, Pierre,” I said.

“Astrid.”

“Don't look at me. Ever. Don't talk to me. Ever. Go away!” It wasn't just a demand. It was a scream. Everyone could hear me.

Pierre wasn't sad or anything. For all the bullshit he liked to say about what a caring, loving person he was, he didn't look heartbroken. He looked angry. His jaw was tight. His face was red. He said, “I wish you didn't say that.” I wasn't sure what he was going to do next.

I heard Noah moving in the dirt. He shifted and slowly pulled himself up. Pierre squeezed his hand into a fist. Noah turned to me, standing then. “Remember when I told you why I don't fight back?”

“Yeah,” I said.

And then Noah ran at Pierre and yelled something like, “AHHHHHH!”

There was this blur of motion. I never expected it to turn into a fistfight because Pierre was wearing a shirt that had actual shoulder pads and Noah was . . . you know, Noah. Though at that moment, Noah didn't look the same. He was scraped and filthy, and his arms were just pounding into Pierre. Sometimes Noah was a feather of a person, but at that moment he seemed stronger. It was nice to see someone stand up for me. I hoped he didn't hurt himself, but I couldn't remember another time when I hadn't had to stand up for myself.

Pierre was on the ground, and little bits of blood were leaking from his nose. Finally I grabbed Noah's shoulder. “Enough,” I told him, and he pulled away.

“I did care about you, Astrid,” Pierre said.

“You don't care about anything,” I said.

“If that is true, at least it means we are the same. You only care about yourself. It is why we are so right for each other.” Pierre let that sit in the air for a moment.

I turned back to look at Noah. He held his palm up as if to push Pierre, even though they were ten feet apart. “You should go,” he said.

Pierre had no response. He just stood up and ran away.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

“Are you okay?” I asked Noah.

Noah mumbled something I couldn't understand, and then he said, “Was that true?”

“Was what true?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Noah said.

“It's true, Noah,” I said. Yes, I was letting Pierre call me his girlfriend. Or, if I was being honest with myself, I was Pierre's girlfriend. Maybe he tricked me into it. But I fell for the trick, so that was the reality, and there was no reason to lie about it. “At least, it was true until ten seconds ago. Not anymore. Can I explain?”

“You don't need to explain.”

“I need to explain it to you.”

“Did you care about him?” he said.

I shook my head.

“I don't think you two are the same,” he said. “I don't think you only care about yourself. Maybe I'm just naive, but I think you care a lot. Your grandfather thought so too.”

Noah came into my life as a confederate, a liar, and a spy. But there we were, and I didn't really care about any of that stuff anymore. With Noah, I don't know—standing there in that moment, I could pretty much tell who he was and what really mattered. He wasn't lying to me anymore. And I knew that whatever I decided I wanted to do, he would probably stand with me on my way there. I could tell that right then. I was good at figuring out what people were good at.

This is the part of the story where I should have told Noah something like,
I love you. I think I've always loved you. I didn't realize it until this moment, but we are made for each other.

But that part didn't happen. Why? Because I wasn't a stupid moron. At that point, I had known Noah for almost no time at all. And for most of that, I didn't actually know too much about him. I had only known that he was older than I thought he was and that he was sent to Cadorette for me. I was way too sensible to let myself feel something like love for someone I knew so little about. Maybe some people can't buy a sandwich without falling in love with three people, but those people are weird. What I felt right then was a big deal for me. I did feel something very strong and very different, and it was the sort of feeling I frankly hadn't thought I was capable of having.

“Noah,” I said, “I think I like you very much.”

He smiled. It was enough for him and enough for me.

He put his hand on my shoulder. His hand was cold, and I was feeling strangely warm and thirsty. I had kissed boys before, but it was always because I wanted something or I couldn't think of something better to do. That moment was different. All I actually wanted was the kiss. Our faces moved closer, and our lips touched, and boom. We were two people attached by our lips. (Which, if you really thought about it, wasn't that romantic and was actually a little gross.) A kiss is treating a person exactly as intimately as you would treat licorice or a stamp. But how it looks is different from how it feels. I liked how it felt. It felt soft, and it made my mouth tingle, and my breathing changed entirely. It felt like receiving a pretty fantastic gift (a katana sword? Or a baby elephant?). There was something about the whole thing that felt like it was the right thing to do at that exact moment. It had been a long time since I'd done something that felt exactly right at the exact right moment.

I can't say how long the kiss took. It honestly could have been just a few seconds. Kisses are the sorts of things that shouldn't go too long or you kill the moment and your jaw starts to hurt, and your lips get chapped, and you look at the person you kissed and think,
Why the hell did you do this to me?
But this one couldn't have gone that long because not a lot of time could have passed before we started smelling the smoke.

It made both of us cough. We turned away from the kiss at the exact same time and hacked and gasped and beat each other's backs. You know, romantic. Swoon.

At first it was an invisible smell. Then we were surrounded very quickly by this grey cloud. I could feel the whole place getting much, much hotter. Right in front of us was the chapel. And the chapel was on fire.

N
obody should ever say that they love fire because that's just a crazy thing to say. People will look at you like you said,
My hobby is stabbing
, or,
Let me tell you another interesting thing about my pet ferret
. But even though nobody wants to admit they love a fire, everybody—and I mean everybody—will come out to watch something burn.

The chapel was ON FIRE IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. Maybe seven fire trucks showed up. They were able to do nothing but make sure the rest of the school didn't also burn down. The chapel was done for. It was built in the 1880s. It was made of brick and, apparently, some really dry wood. Everyone at Boat Days stood as close as the firefighters allowed and watched the building become this giant, red-and-orange, smoky monster.

When people remember that day, they won't think about Pierre, Talia, my grandfather, Lucy, Noah, or even me. That's because the day ended in a fire. And a fire beats everything. You know why they don't call the game Rock Paper Scissors
Fire
? Because not only would fire win in every situation, but it would be no fun playing a game where your friend could set your hand on fire.

Fire is fierce. Fire is angry. Fire does whatever it fucking wants. I am a big fan of fire.

When the firefighters rolled up their hoses, it was about one in the morning. It had been a long day, and almost nobody had left. It was something pretty great to watch. I only left because I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Dean Rein. He said, “You. Come with me. Now.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Talia Pasteur and Pierre were already sitting in chairs outside Dean Rein's office. I could feel them both eyeing me as I crossed the room. I did what I always did in situations like that one—I pretended that I knew exactly what I was doing there. But to be honest, I had no idea.

I'd been called to Dean Rein's office probably a thousand times before. It wasn't always Dean Rein who called me in, but it was always someone like Dean Rein. It was a headmaster, a teacher, a lawyer, the head of security at the Berlin Zoo (in Germany they call lions
Löwen
. It's a scarier word). It was all pretty much the same. I knew what to do. But Dean Rein wasn't planning on fighting that night.

He looked like he'd had a long day, and it was turning into a long night. Whatever happened before I got there had made him impatient. He was holding a pen and tapping it really fast on his desk. With his other hand, he slapped an alternate beat. I wasn't sure what kind of music Dean Rein listened to, but I could tell that I wouldn't have liked it. “Let's talk turkey,” he said. “I won't insult you by playing games.”

“I love playing games,” I said. “I'm surprised you don't know that about me.”

He shook his head. “I have headaches, Astrid. All sorts of headaches. This fire—this is not good for me. And if it's not good for me, it's not good for anyone.”

“It was good for the firemen. They probably made a lot of money on that one.”

He sighed. He really
wasn't
interested in playing games. “That's not how firemen get paid.”

“They should. It would make them work harder. If there had been something to gain, maybe they would have put that thing out a little sooner. But why do they care? A paycheck's a paycheck.”

Dean Rein leaned in close like he was going to tell me a super-private secret. “Listen, I know there are things you want. I know you could be happier at Bristol. What would you say to getting your own room back? How about a class schedule a little more to your liking? I'm sure there are some other things too. Everything is negotiable.”

“Okay. It's a deal. Once again, a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Not so fast. This is where I tell you what I want in return.”

“Oh.” I rolled my eyes. “Great.”

“You'll like this too. I happen to know there are some people you'd prefer to not have around here anymore. If I was to guess, I would say your life might be improved if perhaps the young lady and the young man sitting outside that door no longer attended this school.”

“Yeah, those guys. They're the worst. The absolute worst.”

“I'm glad to hear you're thinking that way. So, let's say you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.”

“Oh, I hope you don't mean that literally. I imagine yours is all sweaty and hairy.”

“Enough.”

“It's probably got red blotches.”

“My back is fine.”

“It's not a fair trade-off. My back is great. It's soft and slender—”

“You know what I mean. You know it's a figure of speech. Let's just get this conversation over with, okay?”

“So what do you want, exactly?”

“Just tell me what you know. I know you know who started the fire. Just tell me.”

“I'm not a rat.”

“Who's calling you a rat? Think of yourself as a businesswoman. This is just a negotiation.” He opened a drawer and took out a key. It wasn't just any key, of course. I knew it very well. It was the master key to the school.
My
master key. And it was beautiful. “It was in the chapel door. The firemen found it. I'm positive you know which of those two used it to get in there and set the fire.”

I didn't say anything. Not yet.

“Come on,” he said. “Just tell me. Who was it?”

The truth was, I had no idea who set the chapel on fire. Pierre had been angry after he walked away from Noah and me. Talia Pasteur was in love with Pierre, and she just heard him tell the whole school once and for all that he loved me. I'm not sure what the purpose of the fire was, but then, I had never been one for destruction for destruction's sake. I'd always needed things to have a purpose, and the chapel fire, well, it just had no style. It was a tacky move, and I hated tacky.

But the more important question was, what did I actually want from Dean Rein? What did I want at all anymore? What was I fighting for? I tried to evaluate my life for the next six months of my senior year at Bristol and I didn't like how it looked. It wasn't me. Not anymore. That world was for the Pierres and the Talia Pasteurs. Those two deserved each other. They deserved to be miserable, and they were destined for a special misery that I didn't need to control. They had the rest of their ordinary lives right ahead of them.

And whatever my life was, I didn't want any more of it to be at Bristol. I knew that there was only one way to answer Dean Rein. And when I made the decision in my mind, it felt right. I felt a wave of positive emotions coursing around in my head. I started grinning uncontrollably. I was happy.

“It was me,” I said.

“What?”

“That's my key. I used it to open the chapel. I walked inside, and I lit a match, and I burned it down. That's what I did. If there is a fire to start, I will always start it. That's what I do.”

Dean Rein didn't look mad or anything. He was truly confused. He really thought that I was no longer a person who would do anything like that. I guess that was one point in his favor—which made our score nine hundred ninety-nine to one.

“You know I have to expel you, Astrid. Again.”

“I figured.” I was almost laughing at that point, which confused him even more. I couldn't control being happy. It was all out there, and it was hilarious.

“But this isn't just about Bristol,” he said. “You may very well be in serious trouble. I have to call the police, of course. You may have to go to jail for this.”

“I've been to jail,” I said. “It's surprisingly not that bad at all.”

Dean Rein leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. It was dark outside, so he was looking at absolutely nothing. “Why?” he asked. “Why did you do it?”

I leaned in close to him as if to impart a secret. “The world turned and flung me,” I said. And then I winked.

Dean Rein's mouth made what could only be described as a smile in return. “I've heard a lot of excuses. That's an interesting one.” I may have made his life miserable, but I was certainly entertaining. “Do you have anything else to say, Astrid?”

“I like how your toupee looks,” I said. “It's very believable.”

“I don't wear a toupee,” he said.

“I know. It's
very
believable.”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

I walked out of his office, and a crowd of people were waiting. Some I knew. Some were the kids who had come that day to help me. They were my friends.

I found Noah and told him, “I think I understand why people do good things.”

“Okay. I'll bite. Why?”

“I think it's something about people,” I said. “You know, the more that people surround you, the more good you want to do.”

“Are you talking about yourself?” he said.

“Do you think I'm a good person?”

“You're a great person,” he said.

I happened to always think I was a great person. I never doubted that part for a second. A good person? Well, I'd never been sure. But that was only because it was hard to do good things, and it wasn't always fun. In fact, it sometimes sucked—but when you did it enough, it was in your DNA. It became who you were.

When you get to your last year of high school, everyone you've ever met in your entire life asks you,
What are you going to do next?
Noah and I had an understanding that he would never ask that question again. We talked about things. We talked about jobs and cities and directions, but I had no plan. I had no idea what was going to happen next. I was actually okay with that.

We both knew that the moment we were in was temporary. (At least I hoped so. Wouldn't it be horrible to spend eternity next to a smoldering building at your school?) The year would eventually end, and we would both go on to other places. Maybe for me, it would be an airport or a train station or a college dorm. Maybe I would step out of Noah's terrible car, and he would let go of my hand.

“Take care of yourself, Astrid,” he would say.

And then I would say, “I always do.”