Soul Fire (16 page)

We were sitting down to dinner like any normal family, with the exception of my grandmother’s menacing presence. Everyone was unusually quiet. Sensing something coming my direction, I was madly trying to figure what it could be when Mom said innocently, “I talked to the principal at John Huntley High School today. Nice fellow. He agreed that it would be a good idea for you to leave Mount Olympic under the circumstances.”

“The circumstances?” I asked suspiciously.

Mom picked her fork and poked at the cod on her plate. “I explained the problem to him.”

“
The problem?
You mean you told him everything?”

“I simply told him you were being bullied, beaten, and tormented to the point where it was no longer safe for you to be at Mount Olympic. He was appalled by what was happening and agreed with me, so I went ahead and registered you at Huntley. Don’t look at me like that, please, Ashla. You’ve missed so much school. You can’t afford to miss anymore.”

That was true, but I dreaded the thought of starting a new school, especially when it was only about ten miles north. Not far enough. “Sooner or later, everyone will figure out who I am and the whole thing will start all over again.”

Dad said, “Maybe. Maybe not. The ideal solution, beyond moving to the other coast, would be home schooling, but we can’t do that right now. So, John Huntley it is. We can be positive about it and hope you get a fresh start.”

My grandmother was staring at me.
Bombs away
, I thought
.
She steepled her fingers and put them on her bottom lip.
“You should be grateful for such caring parents.”

“What makes you think I’m not?” I snapped back.

“Because you’re spoiled and self-centered.”

I stood abruptly. “You’re describing yourself,” I retorted.

She jumped up, dumping Crossbow off her lap. The cat let out a rancid retort and fled. My grandmother’s skinny frame bent angrily toward me. “Don’t talk to your elders like that. Have respect!”

“For you? You must be kidding—“

“That’s enough. Both of you.” Mom stood and put her arm around the older woman, pushing her gently toward the door. “We talked about this, remember, Mom. You were going to stop making inflammatory remarks…”

Dad looked up at me. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

I sat down despondently. “I’m not getting stonger, so it’s definitely going to kill me. How do you stand it, Dad?”

“There are worse things and people.”

“Really?”

Anika hadn’t stopped eating. “She should go back home,” she declared between bites. “She makes us unhappy.” She put her fork down and looked sadly up at me. “Too bad Mommy loves her.”

Afterward, we gathered in the living room to try to have a normal family-style evening. My grandmother was in her room, thankfully. Dad was on his tablet and Mom was trying to finish reading the last pages of a paperback. Anika had talked me into a game of
Don’t Fish
before bed.
Don’t Fish
was an Anika version of the original game. We were one hand away from her winning. We made the play and counted the score. “Forty-five,” I announced triumphantly. “You win, Anika.”

She squinted her eyes at me accusingly, “You cheated, Ashla.”

“But you won!”

“You let me!”

“Why do you say that?” She could be a frustrating child sometimes.

‘Cause. I’m the little kid. You’re the big one. You should win. Not lose.”

I was definitely losing this round. “Okay. We’ll play something you can lose next time.” What was I thinking? She was five going on fifteen.

She nodded her curly head and picking up the cards with chubby little hands, she stuffed them into their case. Mom watched her. “Give everyone a kiss, Anika. It’s bedtime now.”

Anika put the cards back on the bookshelf. “Can’t give
everyone
a kiss.”

Dad reached for her and said, “No, but you can give
us
, a kiss.” Anika ran to him, snuggling into his arms. “I don’t like kissing, Gramma. She’s prickly.”

Looks flew amongst us. I received a big kiss, hugged her, and then she reluctantly trailed Mom out of the room. Alone now with Dad, I looked up at him. He seemed to grow thinner each week. His shirt was three sizes too big and his slacks were folded over under his belt. Was it because he’d lost his job or was it me? “What wrong, Dad?”

He rested the tablet on his knee and looked down at me. I was still sitting cross-legged on the rug. “How do you mean?”

I got up and sat next to him on the couch. “I mean, why have you grown so thin?”

He rubbed his chin uncomfortably, gave me a sidelong glance, and exhaled in defeat. “Ashla,” he said quietly, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. I wanted to do this sooner, but I held out, hoping to give you better news.” The pause went on too long.

“Dad?”

He reached for my hand, his thumb rubbing my knuckles. I sat frozen. My brain shut down. Eventually he said, “I have cancer, Ashla.”

The couch tilted.

Cancer.

The word terrified me right through to my soul. It stole hopes, dreams, friendships, loved ones, and life itself. I realized he was speaking to me.

“Things didn’t look too bad in the beginning. A few tests, a procedure, chemo, some improvement, and we waited for news of a remission.” Another painful pause.

I swallowed. My mouth and throat felt like dry cotton. “Is there…good news, Dad?”

He hesitated. “Not yet. But there may be some down the road. A few more weeks of radiation and we’ll know.”

Mom had silently re-entered the living room and sat down on my other side. I felt a volcano of emotion threaten to erupt and to prevent that from happening, I jumped off the couch and whirled around to face my parents. “You should’ve told me. I’m nearly seventeen. I’m part of this family. I shouldn’t be excluded.
No holding back,
remember? That’s our family dictum. What happened to that?”

Mom replied, “Yes, Ashla. What happened to that?”

I stared. Her re-question sent the message home. At a complete loss, I walked over to the living room window and parted the drape. As usual, it was pouring rain out there. The street light in front of our house revealed sheets of it beating the slick sidewalk. It sure was raining on our house this year. “You’re right,” I told them with my back to them. “I’ve lied to you…and I’ve been deceitful…and I’m sorry.” Turning slowly, I cast a side-glance their way. They were staring at me. In that fleeting moment, I saw the fear in their weary eyes. And then I felt it in my heart.

I wanted to comfort them, to hug them, and tell them, “It’ll be okay,” but I could not. No more lies. I walked over to my dad and knelt in front of him, taking hold of his right hand. “Is that why the company let you go?”

“I missed a lot of work early on.”

“Did you tell them why?”

“I told them, but maybe that was a mistake. After that, they saw me as a liability.”

“You’re kidding. You were there over twenty years.”

“Apparently that didn’t count for much.”

“But all those years of extra hours, weekends—“

“In fairness, it wasn’t Bill Jameson. It was the new partner. These are hard times. He brought new money to the firm. Bottom line—he wanted me out. They called it,
re-organizing.
”

“So, they dumped you? Cancelled your health benefits and everything else you worked for all those years?”

He shrugged.

My heart cried out for him. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He didn’t deserve cancer either. I squeezed his hand. “I don’t know what to say to you, Dad. All I know is that you’ve got to fight the cancer. You can’t let it beat you, like it did Grampa. You’re doing everything you can, right?”

He pulled me up next to him. “Carrots,” he said using his pet name for me, “I’m doing everything, believe me.”

I was upstairs, in my private space, mulling over our new bad situation. My insides were like a block of ice. I couldn’t bear to lose my dad. He was my cornerstone, my center, my mentor, my friend, but most of all, he was my dad! He had to beat the cancer. He just had to. I became aware that I was pacing back and forth in front of my window and forced myself to stop. How could so many things go wrong all at once?

I was so focused on my mounting problems that I almost missed hearing Brenna’s voice downstairs in the hallway. I wiped my eyes and cheeks, and then turned around as she walked through my doorway. Her wet hair was plastered to her scalp, her eyes were bugged, and her lips colorless. The quiet, sweet Brenna we all knew and loved was obviously stressed to the max. “With that look, you'll fit right in here,” I declared, pulling off her wet jacket and taking it to the shower to drip. I brought out a towel so she could dry her face and hair. She toweled slowly, her thoughts elsewhere. “Didn’t you hear?”

Oh, no.
“Hear what?” I asked, wishing I hadn’t.

“It’s all over the school. Mako had a car accident. Had to go to the hospital. Apparently, he was driving his junker down Westlake Road when something bit his ankle. It was so sudden and so painful his pickup went off the road and hit a pole. Word is, he’s in a bad way.”

I was temporarily at a loss for words. “What bit him?”

Brenna shrugged. “They don’t seem to know except that it was venomous and…”

“And?”

“Well, he’s not dead, but his buddy, Crip says Delta did it and he’s going to make him pay big time.”

“Crip. That jerk. Why does he think Delta did it?”

Brenna flipped me a look that said,
who else?

“Either way, Crip will have to find Delta first.”

“He’s looking. Actually, they all are. You know how the Tarantulas are. Any excuse will do, so they’re out in their cars right now cruising around like a bunch of freaking gangsters with guns.”

“Oh, no, not guns.”

“Yes. Guns. Maybe they're real or maybe they're not, but they are all driving around, windows down, waving them around like it’s the wild west or something.” Brenna was shaking. I reached for one of my sweaters and handed it to her. She slipped it on and wrapped it tightly around herself. ‘This is so bad, Ashla. If they find Delta, he’ll be goners.”

Our house phone rang. Being low on funds, I hadn’t replaced my cell since the accident, so no one could call me directly. I saw Celeste’s number on the display, but Mom picked up. “Ashla,” she called up the stairwell, “Your call.”

I waited for the click that told me Mom had hung up. “Hey.”

“Did you hear?” Another stressed voice.

“Brenna’s here. She told me.”

“All of it?”

“All of it?” I looked over at Brenna. Her eyes grew wider.

“I’ll be right over,” Celeste said.

Celeste hadn’t bothered with a jacket so when she flew into my room, her wet t-shirt was stuck to her, along with her long hair. I handed her my other bath towel and waited nervously.

She took her time, dried her hair, threw on my robe, tied it, and composed herself. Brenna and I knew there was no point in hurrying Celeste. When she was stressed, she took a breath. Wish I could do that. Finally, she straightened up and said, “Someone put something poisonous in their junkers. They were all out driving around like the Mafia and bang, bang, bang.”

“Gun shots?” Brenna questioned.

“No. Bites!”

“Bites? You’re kidding me.” I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

“Uh-uh.”

“What bit them?” Brenna asked.

Celeste shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“How’d you hear about all this?” I wanted to know.

“Tara. Remember her cousin at King News? He heard it on the scanner and called her. She called me. Cops are freaked.”

Uh-oh. Delta needed to know, if he didn’t already. I picked up the phone and speed dialed his number.

“Hey.” His voice was placid.

“It’s me,” I said, “In case you haven’t heard, the Tarantulas think you did in Mako.”

“Hmmm.”

“So, you’re on their hot sheet.”

“Hmmm.”

“Brenna says they were out looking for you, but apparently something venomous put an end to that.”

“Interesting. How’re you doing, Ashla?”

I paused, warning bells going off. “I’m okay, but I’m worried about you.”

“No need.”

I tried to decode that, but couldn’t, so I left it and turned the conversation to a more normal topic. “I’m starting a new school tomorrow. John Huntley.”

There was silence. Then, "Give it about a week. The minute it starts up, get out.”

I felt deflated. He had just told me what I feared. “Why do you think it’ll start over?”

“The web.”

He was right. The web was going to be my undoing. I sighed, unable to deal with that problem right now. “How’s your mom?”

Another long pause. His voice became hushed. “I’m with her right now. Can’t leave her. Could be anytime.”

I could hear the pain in his voice and stepped out of the bedroom. “Dell, I’ll come, if you want me to.”

“No, not now.”

“Will you call me?”

“Maybe.”

Mr. Independent. “Please, call me.”

“I’ve got to go, Ashla. Talk to you later.”

I stood in the hallway thinking of Dell at his mother’s bedside as her final moment approached. I couldn’t imagine how he must feel. I hoped I wouldn’t ever go through that. My thoughts shifted to my dad and I swallowed hard, collected myself, and then stepped back into the bedroom. Brenna was giving me that look of hers. “What?” I asked her.

“What’s with you and Delta?”

Celeste answered for me, “He likes her. Big time.”

I gaped at Celeste.

Brenna nodded knowingly. “Yup. Makes sense. Look what he did when Mako threw that rock. And look what happened to Delta because of it. He’s got to have it really bad for you, Ashla.” She put her small hands over her heart. “Oh, that’s so cool. So romantic.”

Celeste brought her back to reality. “Oh yeah, very cool…if he survives.”

Dell’s call came in the middle of the night. I had tucked the handset under my pillow so that I could catch it before the ring woke my parents, or worse, my grandmother. “Hello,” I said groggily.