On Fire (9 page)

“Try King Koffee, then,” the driver said. “I'll let you know when to get off.”

King Koffee was an amazing place. There were rows and rows of coffee beans for sale in jars behind the counter with geographical names like Java and Sumatra and Tanzania. And the machine they made coffee in was so big it took two people to operate it.

At the Hot Spot, Frank just said, “Coffee, please, Allard,” and Allard poured some into a cup. At King Koffee I couldn't even see the word coffee on the menu board. It was full of words that looked like they came from a foreign language. Latte. Cappuccino. Frappuccino.

“Do you like a dark or a light roast?” the guy at the counter asked me. The
barista,
he was called. A sign on the counter said, “Your barista is Chuck.”

“I don't know,” I said, with reference to the light or dark question.

“Okay,” Chuck said. “How much bite do you like in your coffee?”

“What? Bite?”

“I'm talking about how much you want to actually feel the coffee in your mouth,” Chuck said, “instead of just tasting it.”

My shoulders started shaking and I felt like I was going to lose it, which I've said I hardly ever do in public. I think he noticed because he told me, “Hey. You know what I think you'll like? A caramel macchiato frappe deluxe.”

“Fine,” I said. I was relieved to have the ordering thing over with.

I had a story made up in case he asked to see my ID, but he didn't ask. That surprised me because according to what I'd heard at school, caffeine is addictive. It even has a half-life like certain radioactive materials. Not that I knew exactly what that meant to the workings of the body, or thought much about it.

I also didn't know how caffeine addiction compared to alcoholism. But Allard Grass had never made someone sleep off eight or ten cups of coffee on the bed in the jail at Blackstone Village before they hit the road home, so I suppose that should have told me something.

When there was a jail in Blackstone Village. When there was a Blackstone Village, at least the way I'd always known it.

At the King, they have round tables out in front with red sun umbrellas over them. I sat down at one and glanced at a newspaper someone had left behind. I was trying to look like a regular person drinking what turned out to be very sweet cold coffee, when Bee Laverdiere walked by.

She had her hair fixed in a long braid down her back. She wore shorts and sandals that had a strap going up between her big toe and the little ones. She was still beautiful, but maybe not in quite as perfect a way as the cheerleaders. Especially the golden one.

“Hi, Bee,” I said. I twiddled my fingers at her and then wished I hadn't because she walked on by. I was sure she saw me. She probably just didn't want to.

At the last minute, though, she stopped and came back. “Hi,” she said.

“It's Matti,” I told her.

“I know.” But there was relief in her voice so I think she actually didn't remember my name. “Everybody's gone from the village, I guess?”

“We had to evacuate. What about Cato City?”

“We're all down here now, but not for the same reason.”

“Oh,” I said. I was so lame at that kind of conversation that Bee surprised me when she sat down.

“Are you staying at the high school?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I said.

“That must be exciting.”

“Not really. It's crowded.” A few hiccups tried to get out of my mouth after she sat down. I swallowed them.

“My little sister and I are at our grandmother's,” Bee said. “There's only the one bedroom so we're crowded, too. Virgil showed up a few days ago, but we sent him to his friend's. You know my cousin, Virgil, don't you?”

“I know who he is,” I said.

Bee got up and poured herself a drink of water and ice from a clear plastic pitcher on the table where the sugar and cream and stir sticks were kept. They didn't go in for real utensils at the King.

When she came back to the table Bee said, “My mom's with us now.” She took little chips of ice into her mouth each time she drank and crunched on them. “She's sleeping in her tent out in back. She doesn't like being in small spaces with other people, even if it's her own family.”

“I get that,” I said.

“Mom was out cooking for New Mountain, but they got chased out by the fire.”

“New Mountain?”

“Reforesters. Virgil worked for them when they started up last year but he didn't last long. He said he had to carry fifty or sixty pounds of tree seedlings around on his back and work twelve-hour days.”

Bee's teeth made crisp little clicking sounds as she crunched more ice. “But then Virgil doesn't like working too hard or being told what to do.”

She stood up a few minutes after that. “I should go,” she said.

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Probably not. It's expensive.”

“I'll buy you a coffee.” I held up my bank card, which was a very uncool thing to do.

“That's okay,” Bee said. She smiled. “See you sometime, though.”

Marsh was parked in front of King Koffee when I came out. He had a cigarette with a long ash on it in his hand and his eyes were closed. I went out into the street and rapped really hard on the driver's side window.

Marsh's eyes flew open and he dropped the cigarette down into his crotch, which I understand is a no-no area for burns where a man is concerned. He grabbed the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray, which was open and already overflowing. Then he rolled his window part way down.

“Matti! What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” I asked him. “You and Frank both promised me you'd quit smoking after Mom died. Now look at you. Do you want to end up with lung cancer like her?”

It was a good thing he had the doors locked or I would have jumped right in, found his cigarettes and broken each and every one in half.

“I started again because I'm under stress,” Marsh said. “Anyway you're not my mother. Now please get out of the street before someone side-swipes you.”

I moved in tighter to his truck but otherwise didn't budge. “Can't you keep even one promise?” I asked him. Not that I had any room to talk.

Marsh turned to look at me. His eyes were red. I didn't know what I'd do if he started to cry. “I promised you I'd take you with us when the kid . . . ”

“Dan,” I said.

“When we took Dan to the hospital. And I would have kept that promise. He didn't run off because of anything I said. If you don't believe me . . . ” He reached in his pocket for his cigarettes. Then stopped and put his hands in his lap.

“How did you find me?” I said.

“I followed the bus route, and I saw you get off here. I'm supposed to tell you that Mrs. Stoa has gone to her nephew's, right up the hill. She wanted me to move your stuff along with hers but I said not until I talk to you. If you'd talk to me.”

I turned and leaned my back against the truck door. “How did Mrs. Stoa get mixed up in our lives?” I asked.

“Heaven must have sent her,” Marsh said.

I turned around again to look at him and he seemed so miserable I couldn't stay mad any more. “She'll want to know everything I'm doing,” I said.

“She will.”

“Well, I'm not moving again as long as you're still living in the parking lot.”

“I am.” Marsh smiled when he said that, but it was a really weak one.

“Isn't it uncomfortable sitting up to sleep?” I asked. I knew Marsh slept in his truck a lot, but up until then I hadn't really thought about how he did it.

“What makes you think I sit up?” he asked. “I've got my sleeping bag in the back. I can roll the top back on the canopy if I want and look up at the stars. There was a meteor shower last night.”

“Did you make a wish?”

Marsh shook his head. “I'm past that,” he said.

4
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B
Y THE END OF THE FIFTH
evacuation day, the light supper had gotten a lot lighter. Only plain chips were still available. None of the flavoured ones. There were no seconds on sandwiches. The fruit was cut into pieces and the edges of the apples especially were brown from standing a while. Still, the food was better than one of Mrs. Stoa's casseroles.

I took my sandwich and a bag of chips outside and sat on the bleachers to watch some kids playing soccer. I put the chips down next to me while I got the plastic wrap off my sandwich and right away someone sat down next to me and turned my chips into something Mrs. Stoa would love to sprinkle on top of her next tuna delight.

“Hey!” I said. I turned to look and saw a big man wearing sunglasses and a black baseball cap with Chief printed across the front.

“Surprise!” he said.

“You need to trim your eyebrows, Frank,” I said back. I'd been planning on giving him the icy shoulder for saying Dan had to go to the hospital and for generally neglecting me, but that was the best I could do. When he put his arm around me for a minute and squeezed my shoulder, I even let him.

“I was looking for you this afternoon,” he said. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, the usual. Riding the bus. Spending my allowance on coffee.”

“You think that's a good idea?”

“I just found out about decaf,” I told him.” I might be switching. Or they have lemonade.”

“I'm talking about the bus,” Frank said. “Be serious.”

I shrugged. “No one bothers me. And you know I can handle myself.”

Frank took what looked like a tiny radio out of his pocket and studied it. “It's a beeper,” he said. “In case anybody needs me.”

I guess they didn't because he put it back in his pocket.

“You won't be crowded in here much longer, Matti,” Frank told me. “I'm trying to find a place for you.”

“I have a place. It's called Blackstone Village and I want to go back there.”

I suppose I would have known by then what the fire had done if I'd been listening to people talk. But I'd been tuning everybody and everything out. That's not so easy to do with Frank. He takes up a lot of room.

A fire, he told me, can eat its way through a whole forest and leave one clump of trees still standing. It can treat a town the same way.

Most of the newer buildings in Blackstone Village were burned up, including some of the big expensive summer homes I didn't like anyway. Our house was okay. And the Hot Spot.

But lots of other places weren't. The jail was gone. Our Gas and Grocery. The church. The school.

“I guess you're getting the picture,” Frank said. “There isn't much to come back to, yet.”

We sat for a while and were quiet. Frank had to be the first one to speak. I was just trying to hold myself together. “We should probably have a talk,” he said.

“What about?” I asked, although I thought I knew the direction we were headed in. It wouldn't be an angry talk from my point of view. I was more sad than angry by then. But I thought Frank might have a few choice words for me about my behaviour.

He surprised me though. “We need to decide where you're going to school this year. And where you're going to stay while you're there.”

“I thought you told me our house was okay.”

“It is. But didn't you hear me say the school's gone?”

One of the kids scored a goal just then. We stopped talking and watched while he high-fived the others on his team.

“How would you feel about going to this school?” Frank asked. “They have grade nine here.”

“This one?” I knocked on the bleachers with my knuckles. “Kingman Collegiate?”

Frank nodded.

“I'd just as soon you shot me.” I went on about how I felt for a while and he let me. Then I changed my strategy.

“Our house is still there. And I'm sure you're going back to the village. You've probably got plans for how you're going to rebuild already.”

“You know me,” Frank said. “Bigger and better.”

“Why couldn't I do that thing where you study at home then?”

“Distance learning?” Frank asked.

“Sure,” I said. School stuff always seemed pretty far away to me anyhow. “It's a possibility. But you don't like writing and there'd be a lot of that.”

“I'd handle it, though. If I had to.”

“I don't know how long it will be until we get that high-speed cable in now. We won't even have electricity for a while. I suppose you could fax in your assignments when we have a generator.”

Frank took off his glasses and looked at me. “You realize it's a disaster area in the village right now. It could be a discouraging place to live for a while, especially for you. Noise. Plenty of confusion.”

“I'll tough it out,” I said.

“If Mrs. Stoa went on staying with us, she could help you. How are you getting on with her by the way?”

“No comment,” I said.

We sat a while longer. The kids were gone and the field was empty except for a few gulls looking for garbage. You didn't see ravens in Kingman like we did at home. Too much civilization, I guess.

“Anything you want to tell me?” Frank asked finally.

“Like what?” I said. I was trying to play it cool.

“Up to you.”

I waited for a while to get my courage up, but in the end I just wasn't ready to talk to Frank about Dan. It still hurt too much.

Frank didn't spend the night in the gym. He said he was staying in an emergency services facility out on the edge of town, but he came in and saw where I was sleeping. “Deluxe accommodations,” he said.

He also told me he'd think about my school idea. And he'd try to get back tomorrow. “Onward and upward,” he said when he left. I had no idea what that expression meant.