Fire With Fire (5 page)

Rennie pretends I’m not there during Monday’s
cheer practice. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t speak to me. Not
a single word. Even when it’s me, her, and Ashlin standing in a
circle, discussing what cheers we should work on next. Rennie
keeps her eyes on Ashlin, only speaks to Ashlin.

Not that she knows about, anyway.
So even though she’s being a bitch to me, I still talk to her.
I mean, kind of. Like when I tell her, “I think Melanie is coming in late with her second roundoff.” Rennie doesn’t respond
to me, of course. But she does walk over to Melanie and tell
her to work on her timing.
In the locker room when we’re getting changed, Rennie
invites Ashlin to come to her house for dinner. She does it
right in front of me. Ash says, “Yeah!” and then, when she
remembers that I’m standing there, she frowns and asks,
“What about you, Lil? Come with?”
Rennie immediately turns her back to me and faces her
locker, so I know I’m not welcome.
“Can’t. I have to go to the stables.” I don’t really have to
go, but I’ve been meaning to for weeks. Nadia’s been riding
Phantom much more than I have lately. I don’t want him to
forget me. Plus, I don’t want to seem like I care. Monday is
pizza night at Rennie’s house, and I don’t love the place where
they order from. They put way too much sauce on, in my
opinion.
Rennie snorts at my excuse. She’s never liked Phantom.
She tried to ride him once, but as soon as she was in the
saddle, he started trotting sideways, because Rennie had her
legs squeezed around him and his bridle pulled left. I told
her to lift up on the reins, but instead she freaked out and
jumped right off him while he was moving! She fell hard on
the ground and skinned both her knees in the dirt. The stable
guys ran over to help her up, but they were yelling at her too,
because it is very dangerous to dismount a horse that way.
Rennie was so embarrassed. She went and pouted in the parking lot by herself while I led Phantom back to his stable and
got his saddle off.
I drop Nadia off at our house. At every stop sign I wait to
see if she’ll say anything about the way Rennie’s been acting,
if she’s noticed the cold shoulder, but Nadia spends the whole
ride texting her friends.
As I drive over to the stable, I can’t help but think that Kat
and Mary would never do something like this to me. Ice me
out of the group for no reason. I decide to call Mary’s house
and throw Kat a text, to see if they want to meet at the stables
and hang out a for a bit. I bet Mary will love Phantom. I’ll
even show her how to brush him.
Kat texts me back right away.
Horseshit?! I’m soooo in!
I
laugh out loud, and it already makes me feel better.
I call Mary’s house and her aunt answers. Her voice sounds
groggy, like she was sleeping. “Hello?”
“Hi, is Mary home?” I ask her.
There’s silence on the other end.
So I go ahead and say, “This is Lillia; I’m a friend of Mary’s.
I’m calling to invite her to the stables to go horseback riding
this afternoon.” More silence. “So . . . if you could give her
that message, that would be great.”
There’s heavy breathing. Then a click and a dial tone.
She hung up on me! I know Mary said her aunt’s kind of
weird, but geez. That was freaky. I swear, I’m getting her a cell
for Christmas.
I get to the stables too late to ride, so I head to Phantom’s
stall to groom him. He stands perfectly still while I brush his
coat. I whisper to him as I pull the bristles through, and he
shines like black velvet. When I get to his neck, he keeps trying to turn his head and nuzzle me.
When Nadia comes to ride Phantom, she always asks the stable
guys to brush him down and scrape the mud out of his hooves for
her. But that’s my favorite part of riding him. You have to build up
trust with your horse. And I trust Phantom completely. I know
he’d never hurt me. Even though I haven’t been here to see him in
weeks, he greets me like no time at all has passed. I used to be so in
love with Phantom I would have slept at the barn if my mom had
let me. When did that feeling go away? When I started cheering?
I wonder if Phantom noticed, if it made him sad that I stopped
coming around so much. The thought makes me want to cry.
One of the stable guys knocks on the door. “You’ve got
someone here to see you, Lillia.”
“Oh, great.” I peer out of the stall, down the length of the
barn. There’s Kat, her fingers pinching her nose closed. I wave
my arm at her. “Down here, Kat!”
Kat walks directly in the center of the barn, careful not to
get close to any of the stalls. “Dude. Can’t we hang out somewhere else? It’s rank in here!”
I take a deep, long breath. “Are you serious? I love the
smell of manure!”
Kat, looking skeptical, takes her fingers off her nose and
gives a sniff of the air. Then she starts to gag. “I’d stop telling
people that if I were you.”
“Fine. There’s a trail that runs down by the coast that’s
pretty. No one else is out riding. We can walk it.”
“Sure, whatever,” Kat says, gasping for breath. She turns
and runs back for the barn entrance.
I put Phantom’s finishing brush away and give him a kiss
before I leave him. Outside, it’s practically dark, and kind of
cold, but Kat and I start walking anyway.
“I called Mary,” I tell Kat. “But I’m not sure she got—”
“Guys! Wait up!”
We turn and see Mary, running toward us. “Sorry I missed
your call, Lillia. I fell asleep. I always take a nap after school.”
“Aww,” Kat says.
Delicately I say, “Is everything okay at home? Your aunt
was kind of weird when I called. I didn’t think she’d give you
the message.”
Mary sighs. “Aunt Bette’s on some kind of New Agey tear
lately. She’s more into books and crystals and stuff than interacting with actual people.” She shakes her head. “So what’s
up? Is everything okay?”
I guess the three of us have only ever hung out when we
were scheming up revenge plans. Or when we had urgent
business to discuss. Except all that’s over with now.
“Nothing much,” I say. “I just missed you guys.”
Kat eyes me. “How’s things with Ren?”
“Not great,” I say. And that’s all. I mean, I want to let it
all out. I want to tell them how much it sucks right now, but
I can’t. Kat went through exactly what I’m going through.
Even worse. So who am I to complain?
But Kat is surprisingly sympathetic. She pats me on the
back and says, “Don’t worry. Someone else will piss her off
and she’ll forget about it. Hey! It might even be me!”
“And you’ll always have us,” Mary says.
I smile at them both. “Thanks, guys.”
After that it’s kind of quiet. It’s not uncomfortable silence,
exactly. More like we don’t have much left to say to each
other anymore. Which maybe we don’t. It’s still nice being
with them, though.
CHAP
TER SIX

When the bell rings at the end of third period,
I head to the library instead of to calc, because the guidance
office is offering a workshop for seniors to help them fill out
their college applications.

I’m almost positive it’ll be a waste of time. I’m going earlydecision Oberlin, and the materials are pretty straightforward.
A basic application and a personal statement about who I am
and why I want to go there. It should be a cakewalk.

But after my less-than-awesome SAT scores this summer, I
need to pull out all the stops. It’s a fucking broken system. With
the SATs, there are tons of tricks about how to answer questions
that can bring your score up hundreds of points. That’s why rich
kids end up doing so much better than poor kids, because they can
afford special classes that shit where they teach you those secrets.

It’s not like I could ever afford a private tutor, so I got a
bunch of books out of the library. Some of them were super
outdated, and some dumb-ass had actually filled in the practice
tests in pen. I did the best I could, which clearly wasn’t enough.
I plan on talking about that in my personal statement, actually.
Oberlin is a super-liberal, progressive place. I feel like they’d
jive on my lower-class angst. Regardless, I’m going to have to
take them again next month, and hopefully improve my score
by a couple hundy.

If there are any secret guidance counselor tricks I can learn,
anything that will make my application to Oberlin rock freaking solid and stand out over all the others, I need to know them.
I’ll do whatever it takes to get off Jar Island forever. Ohio might
not seem like the coolest place, but it’s definitely where I want
to be for more than a few reasons.

The library is dead, so dead I wonder if maybe this thing is
happening in the guidance office instead. I walk over to the reference desk. The librarian there is on the computer. I hold my
yellow pass up and say, “Do you know where the—” but she
cuts me off with a big fat “Shhhh” even though there’s no one
in here but her. Then she points to the conference room next to
the computers.

There aren’t a lot of kids in the conference room. Maybe five
other seniors, some I recognize and some I don’t. I take a seat in
the back, unzip my bag, and pull out the application to Oberlin.
You fill it out online, but I printed a copy out so I could plan all
my answers beforehand.

Ms. Chirazo, the head of guidance, comes in as the bell rings,
in the flowy black pants and yarn neck scarf that seems to be her
unofficial uniform. I swear, the woman has nothing but that shit
hanging in her closet.

She frowns, I guess because she’s disappointed with the
lack of turnout. But then she sees me and her face brightens.
“Katherine DeBrassio! How are you, dear?”

I mumble, “Fine,” and stare down at my papers.
“We should arrange a time to sit down in private and properly catch up!” She says it way too cheerily, and it basically confirms my worst suspicions.
I had to talk with Ms. Chirazo when my mom died. Not
because I needed to. I wasn’t acting out in class or crying in
public or anything like that. But Ms. Chirazo saw the obituary
in the newspaper. She actually showed up to one of my classes
with it clipped out and asked me in this weirdly calm voice,
“Would you like to talk?” She wasn’t even a guidance counselor
at the middle school. She worked in the high school. But I guess
grief is her specialty.
I told her, “Nope. I would not.”
And then bitch made it a mandatory five sessions!
I know she loved it, getting to counsel a kid over the death
of a parent. I’d come in and she’d be smiling like a kid on
Christmas morning. Parental death is like gold to a school
counselor. That, abusive relationships, teen pregnancies, and
eating disorders. I barely said more than two words to her
each of the sessions. At our last one she gave me all these grief
workbooks and crap that I chucked in the Dumpster as soon
as I was dismissed.
“Well, this might be it for today,” she says, turning her attention back to the room. “Hopefully, you’ll spread the word to
your friends and classmates how valuable this resource is.” She’s
about to close the door, but someone stops her.
Alex Lind.
He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans, and a black-and-whitechecked shirt underneath a hunter-green sweater. “Sorry I’m
late.” Even though there are plenty of empty chairs, he slides
into the one next to me. “Looks like we’re officially losers,” he
whispers and laughs.
“Speak for yourself,” I say back. It comes out kind of bitchy,
so I tack on a little smirk.
Not that I even care if he thinks I’m a bitch. I’m over him.
Summer was a long time ago already. And, actually, I’ve been
thinking a lot about Ricky lately. He’s the kind of guy who isn’t
afraid to go after what he wants. And I’m pretty sure what he
wants is me.
Ms. Chirazo starts going off on her spiel, breaking down the
college application process into three parts. The questionnaire,
the recommendations, and the personal essay.
“Personal essay is the most important part. It’s the only time
you’ll have a chance to show the admissions board who you are,
explain what you’re all about. It’s your chance to stand out, to
let them get to know you, and proactively address any aspects
of your academic record that might not be up to snuff. This will
be the primary focus of our time together. Since we’re such a
small group, why don’t we partner up.”
I feel Alex’s eyes on me. I immediately turn in the opposite
direction, toward Gary Rotini, who’s sitting on my other side.
Unfortunately, he’s already partnered up with some chick from
my gym class. I’m surprised she’s here. Maybe they require you
to fill out an application for beautician school.
Alex puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.
“You’re up, Kat. Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets.”
I force a swallow. If Alex only knew what I’ve been up to this
year, he’d never talk to me again. Again, not like I’d care.
“You couldn’t handle it,” I say.
“Then I’ll go first.”
“You’re a vanilla wafer. Your boring ass secrets will put me to
sleep.” I look around the room for someone else to pair up with.
Alex turns his seat so he’s facing me. “Hey, I’ve got darkness
in me. I’m no vanilla wafer.”
I roll my eyes. “Prove it.”
He looks over both his shoulders. “One time, when I was
seven, I tried to make out with my babysitter when she put me
to bed.”
“Oh my God!”
“What? She was really pretty! Her hair smelled like cherry
Slurpee.”
I lean back in my chair. “Un-tell me that right now, pervert,
or I’m never speaking to you again!”
He puts his head down on the table, embarrassed.
I reach out to ruffle his hair, but then think better of it and
pull my hand back. I don’t need to confuse things between us. I
don’t need to be flirting with Alex Lind, even though it is kind
of fun. I can’t let myself get sidetracked from my ultimate goal,
which is to get the eff off Jar Island for good.
CHAP
TER SEVEN

After school, Ash called and guilt-tripped me
into coming over to her house. She kept saying how we haven’t
had alone time in ages. Which is true—we haven’t. I’ve barely
seen her outside of cheering practice.