Fire With Fire (23 page)

During Monday’s free period, I head to the computer
lab to check e-mail. I have to wait until I’m at school to do it,
because our computer at home is slow as shit. It’s old to begin
with, and then Pat downloaded a bunch of games, aka porn,
and now the thing’s got more viruses than a prostitute.

As soon as I log in, I get a pop-up window that says I’m
running out of available mailbox space. No surprises there.
About a month ago my aunt Jackie discovered “electronic
mail” and asked for my address. Now she forwards me at least
ten messages a day. Poems about angels and cancer-prayer
chain letters and articles about new research and treatments.
She’s unhealthily obsessed with my mom’s death. She could
seriously use an hour with Ms. Chirazo.

What I don’t see, unfortunately, are any e-mails about my
early-decision application to Oberlin. I know they have until
the end of January to get back to me, but I’m keeping my
fingers crossed I hear something before then. Ms. Chirazo
loved my new essay. She said it brought tears to her eyes.
She was probably hot flashing or something, but it was all I
needed to hear.

Later in the day, we have a drunk-driving assembly, which
is a lovely way to help ring in the holidays. An older-looking
woman in a police uniform is up at the podium, talking in the
most sleep-inducing monotone while she clicks through carcrash slides from the 1970s that don’t even show you anything
interesting, like gore or dead bodies. Just a bunch of wreckedup and dented metal. She might as well have taken pictures of
our garage.

Anyway, somewhere along the line I fall asleep, and the
polite applause wakes me up. I open my eyes right as the
police officer trips across the microphone cord and nearly
falls flat on her ass.

I can’t help but laugh. And look around at my fellow
classmates to see who else enjoyed that early Christmas gift.
Nobody else is laughing.

I meet eyes with Rennie, who has a big smile on her face.
As big as mine.
I immediately look away. A sick sense of humor was one
thing Ren and I always had in common.
Fuck. I guess we still do.
CHAP
TER F
OR
T
Y - THREE

The air smells piney and Christmasy from
the tree and the cinnamon ornaments the church ladies are
selling. It smells like it’s going to snow any minute. I hope it
does. A snow day would be heaven.

There’s a nice turnout this year; it seems like half of Jar Island
is here on Main Street for the tree lighting, even though it’s a
weekday. Our school’s chorus is in front of the tree, singing
“Winter Wonderland,” and they actually sound pretty good.
They’re all wearing Santa hats and red-and-green-striped
scarves, and the soprano section has bells. Mary’s in the back,
and she looks so cute with her hair in braids and her Santa hat
perched on top of her head. Alex is up there too, in the front
row. His solo should be coming up soon. I catch his eye and
wave, and he winks at me and tips his Santa hat.

The song finishes, and I clap and do a quick tuck jump. “Yay,
Lindy!” I shout. In my head I add a quick
And yay Mary.
I’m huddled together with Ashlin; Derek and Reeve went off
to get us hot chocolates. Rennie’s at work, which is perfect. I
don’t have to worry about her tonight.
“Lindy looks so cute up there,” Ash says, elbowing me.
“Like a tall elf.”
I dig around my cross-body bag for a peppermint candy.
“He
does
look like an elf.” And he does look cute in his camel
peacoat and his Santa hat and his tartan scarf his mom probably
bought him. His cheeks are rosy from the cold, and he has a big
smile on his face. I can’t help smiling too. To Ash I say, “He has
a good voice, don’t you think? I can’t wait to hear his solo.”
“Totes,” Ash agrees. Then she leans in close and whispers,
“So what’s going on with you and Reeve? Are you guys, like,
here together?”
I blink. And before I’ve thought it through, I squeal, “Ew!
No.” Ashlin looks skeptical, so I add, “No way would anything
ever happen with me and Reeve. Not in a million trillion years.”
Ash is about to reply, but then her eyes light up and she
reaches her arms out and squeals, “Gimme, gimme!”
I turn around, and Derek and Reeve are standing there with the
hot chocolates. I worry for a second that Reeve heard me, but he
hands me the Styrofoam cup and his face doesn’t betray anything.
Then I see her, Kat, across the town square, looking over at
us. It’s go time for step one.
Oh God.
I switch places with Ash so I’m standing next to Reeve and
she’s next to Derek.
“It’s so cold,” I say, wrapping my fingers around the cup. I’m
wearing a dove-gray fleece and skinny jeans and riding boots,
plus my rabbit-fur earmuffs. I should have brought mittens,
though (I left my ivory coat home, on purpose).
When Reeve doesn’t say anything, I tug his coat sleeve. “I’m
so cold,” I repeat.
Reeve rolls his eyes at me. “Why didn’t you wear a coat?”
I creep closer to him, huddling for warmth. That’s why,
Reeve. “Well, my fleece usually keeps me warm enough, but
tonight it’s
freezing
.” I try to link my arm through his, but he
flinches like I’ve burned him.
Then he steps away from me and shrugs out of his puffer
jacket. He pushes it at me and says, “There. Now quit complaining. Let’s not forget you’re the one who bugged us about
coming to this cornfest.”
Why is he suddenly being such a jerk? We had this close
moment on Saturday, and now, three days later, it feels like he’s
trying to push me away. Did he hear what I said to Ash, or is
it something else? Maybe I should be relieved, but I’m not. I’m
annoyed. “We’re here so we can support Alex,” I remind him.
“He’s your friend too!”
Reeve makes some kind of snorty sound and goes back to
watching the chorus with his arms crossed. They’re singing
“Let It Snow.” Derek and Ash have migrated over to a tree and
they’re making out. In public. So tacky. And a total waste of a
hot chocolate. Their cups are on the ground.
It’s me and Reeve now. I glance around for Kat again, but I
don’t see her. There are too many people milling around.
I sneak a peek at Reeve, and he’s standing there with his arms
crossed and a scowl on his face. I take a sip of my hot chocolate.
Maybe I’ve been imagining this whole thing and he’s already
over it. “What’s up with you tonight?” I ask him, taking another
sip. “You’re being such a grouch.”
He barely even glances in my direction. “Nothing’s up
with me.”
“Is your leg hurting from standing on it too long? We could
go find a bench or . . .” My voice trails off. He’s not even listening. I bite my lip. If he’s over it, then I’m going to be over it first.
Whatever
it
is.
I jab Reeve on the shoulder. “Here,” I say, shoving his coat
back at him. “I’m leaving. Tell Alex I had to go.” I start speed
walking away from him and toward the church parking lot. I
toss my cup in a trash can along the way.
“Wait!” he yells.
I don’t slow down, I hurry faster, but Reeve catches up with
me. Breathing hard, he whirls me around so I’m facing him. His
green eyes are bright; he fixes them on me. He doesn’t blink
once. In a low, urgent voice he says, “I like you. I’ve been holding it in, for Lind’s sake. But I like you. I can’t help it.” He
watches me, waits for me to say something. Do something. “No
more games, Cho. You and me—is this real?”
My face is flaming. I know I’m supposed to say yes. Say
yes and kiss him. That’s the plan. Except the thing is that, deep
down, I
want
to say yes. I want so badly to say yes. But I’m
afraid. We’re so real it terrifies me.
Seconds pass, and finally Reeve’s gaze drops and he isn’t
looking at me anymore. He’s looking down. He’s going to back
away, he’s going to leave, and it will all be over.
“Yes. It’s real.”
Reeve’s head jerks up. “Then—then why did you tell Ash
you weren’t here with me?”
I don’t know what else to tell him except the honest answer.
“Because I’m scared.” My voice breaks. “I don’t want to hurt
anybody.” You least of all.
I stand there, shivering. Reeve puts his coat on my shoulders,
and then I let him help me into it. He pulls me toward him, and
then he slides my arms around his neck. “Okay?” he whispers.
He’s shivering too.
I nod, my heart beating so fast and so hard I can hear it. I
think I can hear his, too.
And then he kisses me, and I stop thinking altogether.
CHAP
TER F
OR
T
Y -F
OUR

Reeve’s kissing her, so soft and gentle, like she’s a porcelain
doll that will break in his arms if he’s not careful. She’s never
looked prettier. Like an angel. Roses in her cheeks, her shiny
hair whipping around them. It’s like a movie. Two teenagers,
kissing in the parking lot, Christmas carols in the background,
the tree all lit up behind them.

And then there’s me. In the background. In the shadows.
Watching.
Step one.
It worked. He loves her now for sure. The way he’s looking
at her right now, like she’s the girl of his dreams. He can’t believe
his luck. It’s all unfolding exactly the way it’s supposed to.
So why am I hurting so bad? This is what I asked Lillia to do.
I’m getting what I wanted. I should feel glad.
Why does it feel so terrible?
I’m clenching my fists so tight my fingernails leave red crescent moons on my skin. I feel a surge, a heat roar up inside me.
As bad as I’m hurting now, he’ll hurt ten times worse. That’s the
only thing that keeps me going.
CHAP
TER F
OR
T
Y -FIVE

I’m sitting on the ground, the cold seeping
through the butt of my jeans, in the middle of the damn treelighting crowd. I rip off my mittens with my teeth, fold down
my combat boots, and check my ankles for blood.

You know, there is such a thing as concert crowd etiquette.
Common-sense rules to abide by so that everyone in the audience
has a good time. It’s true even for punk shows, where people in the
pit beat the piss out of each other. So it should definitely be true
for this shit show.

I learned about the rules at my very first show at Paul’s
Boutique. Kim and I were up in the sound booth. She had a
bouncer’s flashlight with her and kept beaming it on different
offenders so I could watch their transgressions live.

It basically boils down to this.
One: Never pretend that you have a friend close to the stage
just so you can push up close. People will call out fake names, like,
“Hey, Jimmy! I’m coming!” and then weasel their way to the front.
It might fool one or two people in the very back, but ultimately
you end up at the stage, clearly by yourself, and people get pissed.
Two: Even in the tightest of crowds, you must always respect
people’s personal space. Like, it’s fine to brush up against someone
once, but that’s it. And if you carry a purse or a bag, you hug it to
your chest so you won’t knock people with it.
Three: If you’re super tall, don’t be a dick and stand in front of
a short person.
Now, even though it’s never come up at any of the shows I’ve
been to, there has to be a rule about how to navigate a crowd when
you’re pushing a double-wide stroller packed with two screaming
babies through a crowd of people like a damn snowplow.
I stare daggers into this Mother of the Year as she coyly spins
around and gives me the most pathetic
I’m sorry!
face. Meanwhile,
her wailing kids are drowning out the whole damn choir.
I get back to my feet and look for Lillia and Reeve in the crowd,
but they’ve both disappeared. That dummy Ashlin and her meatbag Derek, too.
I spin around and stand on my tiptoes and try to see where
everyone may have run off to, but the crowd is so thick, and
the family standing behind me is giving me weird looks, so I
turn back toward the concert. Lillia will give us the juicy stepone details later. I know she’ll make it happen.
Anyway, I’m interested in hearing Alex sing. I’ve been trying
to get him to play me one of his songs, but he never does. I told
him that tonight could be like a practice for his USC audition. He
still hasn’t sent in his application, as far as I know.
After two boring songs, the band kicks in to “Baby, It’s Cold
Outside.” Alex steps forward, along with some other girl I recognize as a drama geek. He’s got his guitar with him, and he starts
playing along.
I feel myself smiling. Forget this drama girl. She’s coming off way too Broadway, especially since “Baby, It’s Cold
Outside” is a sexy song. Alex is doing it right. Like how a
boy would talk you into something. Sweet, but with something hungry underneath. And he does have a great voice.
Clean and bright, and very confident. If he could be as confident in regular life as he is when he’s singing, dude would
go far in life.
After he’s done, he steps back up on the risers and blushes at
the applause. And people are applauding. Not the polite stuff.
Like they’ve seen something . . . special.

Meanwhile, Alex is looking around the crowd, I guess for his
friends. But they’ve all left him.
Poor guy. I don’t get why no one in his circle of friends can see
how great he is.
Alex’s eyes find me. I wolf-whistle and then throw up the rock
sign with each of my hands. Like he’s a rock star. Or at least on his
way to being one.
He breaks into a smile, and despite being freezing, my whole
body warms.
I look to give the same rock signs to Mary, because I’m freaking proud of her for getting up in front of everyone like this, but I
can’t find her, either. Where the hell has everyone gone?
The mayor steps up to the podium and signals for the Christmas
tree to turn on. And it does, for a second, before it flickers out.
And all the other light too—the streetlamps, the shop windows,
the traffic lights—until it’s completely dark out. Then everything
starts flashing, on and off, like there’s some kind of issue with the
power.
Damn, does this whole island need to be rewired?
I’m about to run for my life for the second time this year, but
then everything clicks back on, good and strong, and everyone in
the crowd applauds like it’s a true freaking Christmas miracle.
Which, hell, maybe it is. But I’m bouncing out of here either
way, to be safe.
CHAP
TER F
OR
T
Y -SIX