Fury's Fire (6 page)

“It doesn’t hurt,” Gretchen said.

“You’re in shock.”

Gretchen followed obediently as Mafer drew her away from the door. “Just down the hall,” Mafer said before Gretchen could ask the question. They walked to a small door, and Mafer pulled it open. A bored-looking overweight woman looked up from her desk.

“This girl probably needs to go to the hospital,” Mafer said. “She’s got a bad burn.”

“What?” The nurse hurried over to Gretchen. Her large hands were gentle as she pulled away the red sweater wrapped around her arm. The sleeve of her orange shirt was charred. Gingerly the nurse peeled the fabric away from Gretchen’s arm.

The skin was pink, completely unharmed. The nurse pushed the fabric up further, and Gretchen held up her whole arm. There was no sign that the fire had ever touched her.

Gretchen looked at Mafer, whose eyebrows lifted slightly.

“You’re lucky,” the nurse said after a moment. “You put it out in time. It just caught your sleeve.”

Gretchen stared at her charred sleeve. How had she escaped getting hurt?

“So … should we just head back to class?” Mafer asked. “I mean, she was just on fire.”

The nurse looked at her sternly. “You can go back to class. This one has to fill out an injury form.”

Mafer put a gentle hand on Gretchen’s shoulder. When Gretchen looked up, they locked eyes for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I guess,” Gretchen said. She didn’t really know the answer.

Mafer nodded. “All right. Take it easy. Go home after this. It’s just the first day—you won’t miss anything.”

“She can’t just go home,” the nurse said primly.

“Oh, come on.” Mafer shook her head and walked out the door.

The nurse frowned after her, then stood up and turned toward a large black filing cabinet. “Name?”

“Gretchen Ellis.”

The nurse flipped to the
E
’s and pulled out a folder. She flipped it open, then frowned. “This isn’t complete.”

“It isn’t?”

With a snap, the nurse pulled the paperwork from the file. “Your parents forgot to fill out some of their medical history.” She handed it to Gretchen. “Please bring this back to me tomorrow, along with the signed injury report.” She sat down heavily in the office chair and pulled a blank form from a drawer.

Gretchen looked down at the paperwork in her hands. Her mind swam, and she had to lean back on the table.

“Are you all right?” the nurse asked.

“Not really,” Gretchen replied.

The nurse came over and touched Gretchen’s hair. It was a kind gesture, almost motherly, and it left
Gretchen feeling tired. “Maybe you
should
go home,” the nurse said after a moment. “You’ve had a scare. Do you have a ride?”

Gretchen nodded. She had her car. Not that she wanted to face the journey over the bridge alone, not with the howling wind outside. Besides, she didn’t want to strand Will at school. She let out a sigh. “It’s the first day,” she said at last. “I think I’ll stay.”

“Hey.” Will smiled at her warmly and indicated the seat across from his.

A few hours had passed, but Gretchen was still getting over her scare from the morning. It was good to see Will, though. Peace settled over Gretchen as she took the seat by the window. Outside, the rain had quieted to a steady patter, the clouds lining the sky with a smooth blanket of gray. The weather didn’t seem menacing anymore. Here, tucked in the corner of the crowded cafeteria with Will, it somehow seemed cozy to have a dreary day outside.

“So, how’s the first day going?” Will asked.

“Oh—not too bad.” Gretchen pressed her lips together in something she hoped resembled a smile. “Although I’m starting to wonder why I’m taking all of these AP courses.”

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment?” Will suggested.

“It’s starting to look that way.”

“Hey, guys!” Angus descended on them with his usual ton-of-bricks suavity, dropping into the seat
beside Will and letting his tray clatter on the table. “So, what’s all this about catching fire?”

Gretchen hid her face in her hands as Will let out a strangled
“What?”

“It’s nothing—my sleeve got caught in a Bunsen burner.”

“So!” Angus pulled a notebook out of his back pocket. “Are you going to sue the school, or what?”

Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Get serious.”

“I am! Word on the street is that you want to take the school district to court for unsafe building practices and faulty lab equipment.”

“That is a complete fabrication.”

“No comment,” Angus said, writing on his pad.

Will glowered at his friend and twisted the notebook out of his hand.

“Hey!” Angus protested.

“Find another story.” Will swiveled in his seat and tossed the notebook into a nearby trash can.

“You know, that had my homework assignments in it,” Angus told him.

“It’s only the first day of school, Angus,” Will pointed out. “See if you can remember.”

“Seriously, Gretchen, would you consider doing an interview with the paper?” Angus asked. “Even just a first-person I’m-so-lucky-to-be-alive kind of deal?”

“Angus, I’m already the new girl—I’m not looking for attention,” Gretchen said. “I just want to blend in a little.”

Angus laughed. “Good luck.” He nodded over at
someone sitting in the corner, peering at Gretchen over the top of a notebook.

“Kirk doesn’t count.” Gretchen’s voice was soft. Kirk smiled at her with a sweet, innocent grin. He reminded her of a pet, or a little brother, or something.

“Yeah, he’s always had the stares for you,” Angus admitted.

Will shuddered. “God, he gives me the creeps.”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Gretchen said as Kirk went back to sketching.

“Except that he’s crazy and potentially dangerous,” Angus said brightly.

“He isn’t dangerous,” Gretchen protested.

“You don’t know that. He’s unstable, at least.” Will looked at her closely. “I don’t want you hanging around him, Gretchen.”

“Ah, news flash, Will.” Gretchen’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “You’re not my dad.”

“No, because your dad wouldn’t even try to make any rules, would he?”

“What are you saying about my father?” Gretchen demanded. She realized that she must have looked pretty intimidating just then, because Angus leaned forward.

“Okay, let’s not bring parents into any of this,” he said. “Let’s just all take some nice, cleansing breaths—”

“Shut up, Angus,” Will snapped.

For a moment nobody knew what to say. The silence was broken by the bell signaling the end of lunch.

“I’ve got to get my stuff for my next class,” Gretchen
said, jamming her lunch into the bag. She pushed back her chair and started toward the door. “See you, Angus,” she called over her shoulder as she joined the general exodus from the cafeteria.

“Nice going,” she heard Angus say to Will.

Gretchen’s mind was fogged with irritation, and it took her three tries to open her combination lock. It finally gave way with a yank, and she slammed her books inside.

“I don’t want to have to report you to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Literature,” said a voice.

Gretchen looked up. Mafer was leaning against the metal locker beside hers, grinning.

“Be nice to the books,” Mafer said.

Gretchen sighed. “I’m just—”

“Pissed at someone?” Mafer guessed.

Gretchen’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “How could you tell?”

“Lovers’ quarrel?” Mafer asked.

Gretchen felt her face flush hot. “What?” She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. “No!”

Mafer shrugged. “Okay.”

“Don’t say okay like that. Like you know something. Which you don’t.”

“Okay.”

Gretchen breathed out an exasperated sigh.

“Boys and girls can be friends, right?” Mafer said brightly. “It always works like that.”

“It can,” Gretchen said.

Mafer looked down the hall, where Will had
reappeared. He was drifting slowly toward class beside Angus. “He’s that boy …” Her voice went soft, almost dreamlike. “The one who went crazy when his brother died. What was his name?” She closed her eyes. “Timothy Archer.”

Gretchen stared at her. “Will didn’t go crazy.”

“No?” Mafer opened them again, her dark eyes frank yet languid.

“He’s not crazy. Not at all.”

“Let me tell you a little secret.” Mafer leaned in close enough so that Gretchen could smell the slight almond scent of her hair, the mint of her breath. “Everybody around here’s a little crazy.” She pulled back and looked Gretchen full in the face.

Gretchen didn’t know what to say. Her head was spinning.
I’ve been locked in an asylum
, she thought.
Trapped with the lunatics
.

“So, when can we get together to talk about our project?” Mafer asked. Just like that. As if they had been passing the time or talking about the weather. It took a moment for Gretchen’s thoughts to realign.

“Project?”

“Hoover assigned a report, due before our lab next Wednesday. It’s about matter. When can you get together?” Mafer chewed on the end of her blue pen.

“I—I don’t know,” Gretchen stammered. “Tomorrow afternoon?”

“Perfect.” Mafer scribbled a note on the back of her hand. “See you in class, lab partner.” And then she walked off down the hall just as the first bell rang.

Lockers slammed and students began to race toward classes. Gretchen glanced around at the other normal-looking kids and wondered where Kirk had disappeared to.

Everybody around here’s a little crazy
, Mafer had said.

Gretchen was starting to believe it.

She turned and found herself staring right into the front of Angus’s blue-checked button-down shirt. He smiled at her, shoving his floppy curls to one side. “So you’re hanging with the witch now?”

“What?”

“Bayshore Regional’s very own resident witch,” Angus said with an indifferent shrug. He leaned in to whisper dramatically, “She’s got
powers
,” then waggled his eyebrows in what Gretchen guessed was supposed to convey significance.

“Like what?” Gretchen demanded.

“Like Abigail Noyes stole her boyfriend last year.” Angus studied his fingernails. “And ended up with a broken arm.”

“Mafer broke her arm?” Gretchen was having trouble imagining the petite girl getting violent.

“No, Abigail broke it in cheerleading practice,” Angus admitted. “But she said it was because Mafer worked some voodoo shit on her.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Gretchen said simply.

“And in the eighth grade, there was some intense Ouija board debacle at Sarah Gutten’s birthday party.
The girls swear Mafer was moving that thing with her mind, and Sarah thought she saw the ghost of her dead grandmother.”

“Now there’s a
new
dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Keep it up, Angus, you’re going for a record.”

“I’m telling you, she sees dead people.”

“So now
you’re
trying to tell me who to be friends with? Are you and Will some kind of committee?”

“Oh, no way! I think she’s cool. And really good-looking.” He grinned. “And my opinion is that if she’s a witch, it’s way better to have her as a friend than as an enemy, am I right? I’m just telling you that she has a rep, because who else is going to tell you?”

Gretchen shook her head, but she actually found a laugh buried in her chest. She put a hand on Angus’s arm. “Okay, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Angus said.

The bell rang, releasing them, and Gretchen headed off to her next class, more certain than ever that everyone around her really was insane, after all.

“What do you want? What can I get you?” Johnny ran his hand through his mop of dark hair, then rubbed his long sideburn. “You want soup? I can go to the store.”

“I’m not sick, Dad.”

Johnny responded by pulling a blanket over her. Bananas hopped onto the couch beside Gretchen, then started worrying her claws on the throw pillow. “You’re no help,” Johnny scolded the cat.

Bananas flicked her orange and white tail.

“I could go rent some movies. Maybe something funny.”

Gretchen sighed.
Why did I give him the accident report?
she wondered. It was nice that her dad cared about her, but it was times like this that made her wish he had a regular job, so he could go off to work and leave her alone for a while. “Maybe I’ll make some tea.”

“Lie back.” Johnny pointed at her. “I’ll make the tea. What kind do you want?”

“Mint something.”

“Do we have that?”

Gretchen started to haul herself off the couch. “I’ll make it.”

“No! Sit.” Johnny picked up the remote control and clicked on the television. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He bustled off to the kitchen.

Gretchen settled back onto the couch, and the cat stepped gingerly onto her lap, kneading her stomach with soft paws. Gretchen scratched her behind the ears, and Bananas settled down and began to purr.

Drawers opened and banged closed in the kitchen, which made Gretchen smile. Johnny was having trouble finding the tea. He was a coffee guy.

The television blared on, showing a couple as they remodeled their bathroom. Gretchen clicked it off.

Johnny hadn’t taken the news about the Bunsen burner well. He’d had a haunted expression on his face as he signed the release form and he’d made her show him her arm right away. He wasn’t reassured by the pink skin. It was as if all he could see was the
blackened shirt sleeve, the measure of how bad the accident could have been.

The rain had died away, leaving a gray sky above and wet asphalt below. The air was calm, almost holding its breath, and beyond the window the orange and yellow leaves seemed to pop against the sky. He’d put his arm around her and pulled her into a hug. “You must have been so scared,” he’d whispered into her hair.

Gretchen had shaken her head. “I wasn’t.”

Johnny had looked at her, then pulled away and peered deeply into her eyes, as if he were searching for something.

“Mint Magic,” Johnny said as he walked back into the living room, carrying a steaming mug. He had chosen one with a reindeer on it, a Christmas gift from Gretchen to her mother long ago. Yvonne had left it behind when she moved out. “I hope it’s strong enough.”