Out of the Ashes (8 page)

Even though it was dark, it didn't take long to discover the source of the fire. As I was passing a house I could see an orange glow, like the beginning of a sunrise, on the next street over. After all the fires in the
early fall, it gave me a creepy feeling, but I was curious too. I rounded the corner and hurried toward it. At the same time I could hear sirens in the distance.

I got there just before the fire truck raced to the blazing building. It was the Lawfords' big double garage that was burning. The first thing I noticed was that the doors were open and there were no cars inside. The house was dark and quiet too, and I figured the family was out for the evening. I wondered what would have happened if there had been a car in there when the fire started, if the gas tank would have blown up or not.

I stood back when the firemen leapt from the truck and fastened hoses to a nearby fire hydrant. They were amazingly fast, and it seemed that only seconds passed from the time they got there until powerful streams of water were pulsing into the flames.

People were gathering on the sidewalk, and even in the dark you could see that their expressions were grim and anxious. I backed away a little more, watching the crowd and wondering if the person who'd set the fire was in its midst.

Thankfully, the firefighters got the blaze out before it spread to any other buildings. The police were there by then too, and were keeping everyone back away from the scene. I knew they had to make sure that no one disturbed any evidence that was there. No one seemed inclined to leave though, they just hung back and watched, even
though the fire was out and all that was left to see was a soggy mess of charred wood and smouldering debris.

Walking away, I couldn't help but think that it was starting again! My stomach felt sick thinking of how the town was going to react, how the gossip would rise up again and swallow the truth, how people would feel afraid not knowing where the fire starter might strike next. My steps were slow as I considered these things, which is probably the only reason I noticed a dark splash on the snow just around the corner from the fire.

It was one of those things that jump out at you because they don't fit. We'd had a fresh snowfall that morning, and everything was hidden under its soft white covering. The dark patch didn't belong, and for that reason I went over to see what it was.

I couldn't quite make it out, because of the way it was lying in a crumpled little heap, so I leaned down and picked it up.

“A mitten,” I said out loud, feeling foolish at the discovery. “It's just a mitten.” For a second I'd felt like a detective finding an important piece of evidence, only to realize it was nothing at all. I was going to toss it back on the snow so its owner might find it again. My mom used to get annoyed when I was little because I was always losing mitts and gloves.

Then I noticed an unmistakable smell and lifted it to my nose, just to be sure. Yes, it was gasoline! I knew
I should turn right around and take it to the police, and it was probably stupid not to. But by then I'd realized something else about it.

It was probably the upset of the evening, first Nick not coming back and then the fire in the Lawfords' garage, that had kept me from making the connection right away. Something about the mitt had seemed familiar, but it hadn't registered immediately.

It had the same strange design as the pair of mittens Greg Taylor had been wearing when we'd been building the snow sculpture at my place at Christmas. This one was different colors, navy with gold and green, but the pattern was identical.

I'm not sure how long I stood there before I could finally make my legs move again. So many thoughts ran through my mind that my head was starting to spin.

“
My dad knitted them
.”

Greg's words echoed in my brain. I felt like crying. Mr. Taylor was such a nice man, and yet there, a short distance away from the latest scene of a fire, was a mitten that he had made.

It was still in my hand when I got home, and I knew there was no way I could take it into the house without Mom finding it. She has a nose on her like you wouldn't believe, and she'd have noticed the smell and sniffed it out inside of ten minutes. I had to hide it somewhere else.

The storage shed out back would have been a good place, but Dad hadn't shovelled it out today. If I took it there my footprints would only make him ask what I'd been doing out in the shed. Hiding a piece of evidence in a crime was bad enough, I didn't want to have to start lying to my parents too.

Finally, I shoved it under the back step, thinking I'd find a better place for it later on. Or maybe I'd end up taking it to the police and telling them that I'd found it near the fire. It would be hard to explain why I hadn't turned it in right away, but I didn't want to think about that right then.

It was way past eleven by then, and I was hoping the folks would be asleep. No such luck. Dad flung open the door before I even had a chance to touch the knob. His face was worried and relieved all at the same time.

“Shelby! At last! Where on earth have you been, child?”

“I was at Nick's place, helping him with an essay. I told you after supper, remember?”

“Yes. But your mother called there around ten and Mrs. Jarvis told her you'd left. I drove over to their house and back, but there was no sign of you. And now your mother has gone out on foot looking for you.”

“Uh, there was a fire a few streets away. I went over to see what was going on. I didn't realize how late it was.”

He frowned, but I could tell he'd already heard something about the fire. Or maybe he'd heard the sirens. Either way, he knew I was telling the truth.

“That's still not a very good excuse, dear. You know better than to be out this time of night without letting anyone know where you are.”

“Sorry.” I just wanted the conversation to be over with so I could go to my room and get to work on the science project. It wasn't that easy though. Mom had come back in and, after hugging me, she kept me there for a good ten minutes giving me one of those lectures that says the same thing over and over in about four hundred different ways. To be honest, I hardly heard a word she said. When people lecture me I usually find that I've tuned them out after the first minute or so. Not that I'm rude or anything, it just seems a waste of energy to keep on listening after the point is made.

When she was done I apologized again and hurried up to my room. I heard Mom close their bedroom door a few minutes later, but I waited for nearly half an hour before turning my light back on and booting up my computer to get information for my project. Mom would hit the roof if she knew I had spent the evening helping Nick when my own schoolwork wasn't even done.

It was nearly two in the morning when I finished the project, and I have to admit it wasn't what you'd call impressive. The best I could hope for was a passing
mark, which meant I was going to have to work really hard for the rest of the semester if I wanted a decent grade in science.

As tired as I was, it was hard to get to sleep. And when I did, I dreamed that Nick was laughing at me while I knitted mittens.

I was really tired the next morning, which almost caused an argument between Betts and me. Of course, she was wound up over the new excitement of another fire, and she took my yawns personally.

“Do you have to do that?”

“What?”

“Make it so obvious that you're not interested in what I'm saying.”

“Honest, Betts, it's not like that at all.” I told her how I'd been up late working on my project, without going into anything about what had happened earlier in the evening. If she knew I'd been to Nick's place, she'd want all the details. I wasn't about to admit to her or anyone else that I'd written an essay for him while he was out all evening. I couldn't tell her I'd been at the fire either, because she'd interrogate me mercilessly.

As far as the mitten went, I had no intention of telling anyone about that. At least not yet. Maybe somewhere deep inside I was hoping that Mr. Taylor was still innocent, and I didn't want to be the one who caused him trouble for nothing. It was hard to convince myself he wasn't involved when a mitten he'd knitted was near the scene — and had gasoline on it. The best I could do was to try not to think too much about it right then.

She seemed to accept my explanation that the reason I was yawning was just because I'd been up so late and continued talking about the fire.

“This is so creepy,” she whispered, as if the culprit could be right behind us listening in. “My parents were saying that they're going to get a security system with a really loud alarm. Who knows where the next fire will be?”

“Maybe it's just a coincidence that the Lawfords' garage caught on fire. I mean, they haven't finished investigating yet. It could have been caused by something other than someone setting it on purpose.”

“Yeah, right. And it just happened that the fire started when no one was there. Like all the others.” Betts sounded more than skeptical at my theory. To be honest, I didn't think it was a real possibility myself.

“All I'm saying is that it could be that way.”

The bell rang before we could discuss it any more, and I have to admit I spent a pretty miserable morning
in class. Being tired made it hard enough to concentrate on what the teachers said; with everything else in my head, it was just about impossible.

Lunch finally came, and I was glad for the break from trying to pay attention to math and history. Betts met me at the lunchroom, and we picked up where we'd left off. Then I saw Nick walking toward us, and I wanted to crawl away somewhere. It was only a matter of seconds before he'd get to the table and say something that would tell Betts I'd been at his place. She'd be furious when she found out I'd kept it from her. I jumped up quickly, saying that I'd be right back, and headed toward the girls' bathroom.

Nick caught up with me on the way.

“Shelby!”

I turned and faced him squarely without saying a word. I guess he could see I wasn't too happy.

“I'm so sorry about last night. I feel like such a jerk.”

“Yeah?” I wasn't letting him off that easily.

“I swear I thought I'd be home right after practice, but something came up. I can't explain it right now,” he reached out and touched my hand, “but please trust me. I didn't mean to leave you there alone all night.”

I felt my anger dissolving with his hand on mine and his eyes all sad and full of regret. He really did look sorry.

“It's okay. I just didn't know what happened.”

“I wish I could tell you, but I can't. A friend needed my help for something personal.”

“Forget it.”

He smiled then, and I found my knees going to rubber as I smiled back.

“The essay was awesome by the way. Thanks a lot.”

“You're welcome.”

“I guess you heard about the fire last night.”

“Everyone has.”

“Yeah.” He paused like he was about to say something else, but he didn't.

“Well, I have to go.” I hoped he'd tell me to wait, maybe suggest that we do something together on the weekend to make up for last night. Instead he just gave my hand a quick squeeze, said thanks again, and wandered off.

I spent a couple of minutes in the bathroom so Betts wouldn't get suspicious, then I went back to our table.

“What did he want?” she asked before I even had a chance to sit down again.

“Who?”

“Nick! I saw you talking to him in the hall.”

“Oh, nothing much. Just something about the fire. Everyone's talking about it.”

“Did he see anything?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“You know, the fire.”

“Why would he have?”

“I just thought, since he was out last night, he might have noticed something.”

“How do you know he was out?”

“I saw him. My uncle was over at our house, and I can't stand him, so I went out.”

“Oh, yeah? Where'd you go?”

“Nowhere really, just around. Oh, there's Graham. I have to ask him something. See you later.”

She flew off then, leaving me to finish my lunch alone.

I could hardly wait for the afternoon classes to end so that I could go home and get some rest. Then I saw the e-mail notification on my computer screen, and when I checked there was a message from an unfamiliar sender.

“Meet me at The Scream Machine at 6:30 P.M..” There was no name given, but the sender's e-mail address was [email protected]. I looked around for my school newsletter, which had a page for students to list their e-mail addresses, but couldn't find it.

It had to be Nick, I thought. Who else could it be? The J must be for Jarvis. I smiled then, remembering how he'd looked as though he wanted to say something else when we were talking. Maybe he was nervous because of last night and couldn't bring himself to ask me out when we were face to face.

Instead of taking a nap as I'd planned, I rushed through my homework, promising myself that I'd put
more effort into my schoolwork from now on. Then I told Mom where I was going and headed out.

I was a few minutes early. Nick hadn't arrived yet, so I slid into a booth to wait. To my dismay, in walked Greg.

“Hi Shelby,” he paused by my table. “Anyone sitting here?”

“I'm waiting for someone,” I said shortly. He wasn't going to ruin things for me this time!

“I'm working tonight,” he said, not taking the hint. “I have a half hour break for supper so I thought I'd grab a bite here.”

“You'd better hurry then.” “

It's been pretty quiet at work this week,” he went on. “Last night I spent most of my time cleaning because there were hardly any customers. It was so slow that Mr. Broderick closed at nine instead of ten.”