Playing with Fire (17 page)

She sighs. “I used to know that. I'm not really sure what I know anymore.”

I smile at her. “That's a good reason for you to start coming to church with me again.”

“Maybe someday, but not today.”

“I'll hold you to that.” I pick up my bowl and drink the leftover milk.

“Good. You do that.”

I go over to the sink to rinse my bowl, then put it in the dishwasher.

“Samantha?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't know what to do about your brother.”

I turn and look at her. “Huh?”

“I think I'm going to have to lay down the law with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'll have to tell him that he can't live here if he doesn't go to his meetings…continue his recovery…get a job.” She looks at me with misty eyes. “Is this unfair?”

I consider this. I mean, it's hard to imagine Zach living on the streets. But on the other hand, he's messing up pretty bad just living at home. “I don't think it's unfair,” I finally say.

“I called Zach's rehab place in Washington last night. I actually spoke to Ebony's brother.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I needed some advice.”

“What did he say?”

“That Zach probably needs tough love.”

“Like throwing him out?”

She frowns. “I don't like to think of it that way…but, yes.”

“Well, he's probably right, Mom. I'm sure he knows what he's talking about. Ebony says he's really good at this. He's seen a lot. He used to be an addict himself.”

“He said I should do it right though. He said not to get angry or turn it into a fight, like I did last night.”

“That makes sense.”

“He said if I turn it into a fight, Zach can just blame me. And Zach needs to realize that his being kicked out of the house is the result of his own bad decisions. I think that's exactly how Mr. Hamilton put it. He said Zach needs to feel his own consequences and own up to his poor choices.”

Okay, now I'm thinking about my dream again. The one with the snow and the burning cabin. And then the one where I was trapped in the burning building. I'm worried that Zach being out on the street could force him into an even more dangerous situation. And yet I do understand what Mom is saying. It's just confusing.

“So do you agree with me on this, Samantha?”

I blink and bring myself back into the conversation. “I think so.”

“Because I need you to back me up. Okay?”

“Sure,” I promise. “I'll back you.”

“I doubt that we'll see Zach before tonight. My guess is he'll show up pretty late, just in time to sneak in and go to bed. But I plan to be waiting for him, and I'll tell him that he can't stay here anymore.”

I try to imagine this. I mean, what if it's raining out? What if Zach is sorry? What if he refuses? “So you'll make him leave right then? Even if it's night and he has nowhere to go?”

Mom looks worried now. “Do you think that's too harsh?”

“I don't know…”

“Do I need to rethink this?”

“No, I think you're on the right track, Mom.” I consider the whole thing, wishing for a magic answer when there really seems to be none.

“Maybe I should just warn him. I'll tell him the rules have changed. I'll draw a firm line.”

“Yes,” I say eagerly. “That seems fair. Tell him he has to go to his NA meetings and actually stay for the whole thing, and he must meet with his mentor.”

“And he must find a job.”

“Yes. Maybe you should actually write those things down. Make it perfectly clear.”

“In black and white.”

“Yes. No wiggle room.”

Mom smiles. “Okay. I think we can do this, but it won't be easy.”

I glance at the clock above the stove. “I'd better go, or I'll be late for church. You sure you don't want to come?”

“Not this time.”

Okay, that's not exactly a promise. But somehow I feel that my mom has just gotten a couple of inches closer. And as I drive to church, I pray that God will keep working on her, that He will draw her back to Himself, and that she'll be so happy when she gets there, she'll wonder what took her so long.

A
s I'm driving home from church in my cute little green Bug, it occurs to me that the reason I have this cool ride is so I can help Ebony with police work. Specifically, at least for now, police work aimed at the drug problems in our community.

Okay, this seems incredibly ironic since I'm pretty sure my brother may be toying with some drug dealings of his own. Oh, I don't know this for sure. I mean, so far all I know is that he's been drinking, and I had a bad dream about him that seemed linked to drugs. But I also know that alcohol is often the first step toward other kinds of chemical use. Plus Zach's life isn't exactly on track at the moment. Not a good sign.

So I feel slightly hypocritical. I mean, I'm working with Ebony and the police while my brother is acting like a criminal? How is this supposed to add up? And what if I discover that Zach is involved in something serious? Would I turn him in? Ebony said my job wasn't to get my peers arrested but to try to find out who their connections might be. But what if one of their connections turns out to be my brother? What then?

Once again it seems my only recourse is to pray. I ask
for God to lead me, to help me, and to show me what's right and how to do it. Then I decide to drive around town a bit. Okay, I probably just want to drive, but suddenly I am curious about Tate. Something about this guy never seems to add up. I mean, he supposedly works, but he also has plenty of time to hang with my brother. Maybe I should check up on him. I make a mental note to look into this after school tomorrow.

I drive past where Felicity lives. I still feel haunted by the image of her lying unconscious on that red sofa. What did that mean?

To my surprise, I see a girl who looks a whole lot like Felicity about six blocks from her house. I slow down and take a better look, and when the girl gives me the middle-finger salute, I know it's her.

“Sorry,” she says when I stop beside her. “I didn't know it was you. I thought it was some jerk trying to pick me up.”

I sort of laugh. “Do you need a ride?”

She frowns, then nods. “Sure.”

“Where are you going?” I ask as I continue driving in the direction she was walking. I assume she was going home, but I don't want to admit I know where that is.

“I'm not sure.” She opens her purse and takes out a pack of cigarettes. “Mind if I smoke?”

I frown. “Actually…”

She rolls her eyes and throws the pack back into her purse. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You don't want to stink up your car.”

“I guess I'm kind of protective. I haven't had it for very long.”

“It's kind of cute, in an obnoxiously perky, happy sort of way.” Then she laughs. “You'd never catch me driving something like this.”

“Well, it was a good deal,” I say sort of apologetically.

“Yeah, whatever.” She leans back and lets out a big sigh.

“So where can I take you?”

“Anywhere…” She shakes her head. “I was going home, but I don't even know why. There's nothing there.”

I consider this. “Wanna get a coffee?”

She perks up a little. “Sure.”

“Lava Java?”

“That's cool.”

We drive in silence for a couple of blocks, and suddenly she asks me what I was doing in this neighborhood. “You don't live around here, do you?”

“No, I was actually on my way home from church.”

“That sounds about right,” she says in a sarcastic tone. “You seem like the type.”

“The type?”

“You know, a good girl.”

I feel like this is a rerun of the conversation I had with Mom this morning. But I control myself from giving her the exact same sermon. Although I do point out that God loves us all, just the way we are, and that if I'm “good,” it must be due to Him.

“Whatever. My mom used to be religious too.”

“But not anymore?”

“Now she's just depressed.”

“Oh…” I decide to change the subject. “So are you and Jack dating?”

“Dating?” She gets this blank sort of look. “We hang
together… That's about it. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything.”

“He seems nice.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Most people wouldn't agree with you on that.”

“I'll admit he can act pretty tough and scary, but I don't think that's who he really is.” Then I tell her how I remember him being a nice kid back in middle school.

“Everyone changes.”

“Maybe, but parts of us stay the same. We just learn to cover them up. Maybe as a safety device.”

“I'm curious, Samantha. That thing you told me the other night, when we crashed the party, was that legit?”

“Of course. Why?”

“It's just weird. I mean, you hardly know me. Why would you get a feeling like that about me? You're not a lesbian, are you?”

I laugh. “No. And if it makes you feel better, I have a boyfriend who I really, really like.” Then I tell her a little about Conrad'and how he took me for a burger last night and made me feel much better.

“Why were you feeling bad?”

I'm parking near Lava Java now and considering my answer as I carefully pull into the space. Should I tell her the truth? “It's kind of a long story,” I say as I turn off the engine.

“Hey, I got nothing but time.” She holds up her purse. “The fact is, I'm flat broke. You'll have to buy the coffee.”

“No problem.”

Once we're inside and seated with our coffees, she persists. “Seriously, Samantha, I want to know why you
were feeling bummed last night. It seems like you pretty much have it all going on.”

And that's when I decide to tell her about Zach. I figure it's a good way to find out more about
hex.
So, sparing few details, I explain about his meth addiction, his treatment, his recent drinking, and finally how my mom plans to kick him out of the house. “Well, she's going to give him an ultimatum first. He has to abide by her rules, or he's outta there.”

“He'll blow it.”

“How do you know?”

She smiles, but it's a devilish kind of smile. “I just know.”

I frown. “Really? You really think he'll blow it?”

“I think he's
already
blown it.”

“What makes you say that?” Okay, I'm getting a little irritated at this girl. I give her a ride, buy her coffee, and she sits here condemning my brother. Just who does she think she is?

“Because I think I know your brother, Samantha. Zach McGregor, right?”

I blink. I thought I was careful not to mention his name. I just kept calling him “my brother.” How can she possibly know him?

“Don't look so surprised. Brighton is a small town. I mean, two high schools, one mall—I know a lot of people. Your name is McGregor. You told me enough about your brother. It just adds up.”

“Really? You know him?”

“Zach is your brother, isn't he?”

I nod and take a sip of coffee. This is too weird. But then it occurs to me that perhaps God is at work here. “How well do you know him?”

“Well enough to know he's already blown it. He's fallen off the wagon, and I suspect your mom's ultimatum won't mean a thing to him. Oh, he might lie to her, and he might tell her that he'll abide by her stuffy old rules. But just wait. He won't.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It's just what is.”

“Oh…”

“Don't get all bummed, Samantha. You seem like a -smart girl. You must've known your brother had started using again.” She narrows her eyes and peers at me. “And what about your little intuitions? Don't you have them for your own brother?”

“Actually, I did. I guess that's why I was so worried last night.”

“Really?” She leans forward with interest. “What kind of feeling did you get for him?”

“A pretty bad one.”

“As bad as what you got for me?”

I can't tell if she's teasing me, but I decide to go along. Maybe I'm being a fool, but I'm doing it for God's sake. And for hers. “At least as bad, maybe worse.”

“You are just the freakiest girl, Samantha.” She laughs so loudly that other coffee patrons turn and look.
“Samantha!
I just remembered—that's the name of one of my favorite sitcom characters. Have you ever heard of
Bewitched?”

“Yes.” I try not to groan at this connection. “It's not like I live under a rock, you know.”

“Maybe you're like
that
Samantha. Maybe you're a witch like her and that's why you have these special powers to know what's going to happen to someone, and you—”

“I am not a witch,” I say in a stiff voice. “I'm a Christian. And any special power I have is a gift from God. And it's to help people.”

“Really?”
She doesn't look convinced, and I am getting irritated.

“And you're making me sorry that I even told you about it.”

“I'm sorry…” She actually seems somewhat sincere now.

“Well, I have feelings too.”

“Yeah, I know. I can be pretty mean sometimes. My shrink said it's because I've been hurt so much that I lash out to hurt others.”

“You have a shrink?”

“Not anymore. The state paid for a few sessions last year. Then the funding ran out, and I had to come up with new ways to deal with my anger.”