Fire Girl Part 1 Page 2

  He wore his wide-brimmed Indiana Jones style hat that Grandpa always complained about. The side of his mouth tugged into a smile and he took me into his arms. “What did he say?”

  The smell of hay and earth and old spice clung to him like all things that never changed in Sugar Valley. “Don’t worry about it.”

  He clicked his tongue at Chance and released me. “You should know better than to challenge our Pippy. Remember when she laid you out flat that one summer?”

  Chance flashed an uber annoyed look to Uncle Bill. “Doesn’t anyone forget anything around here? It didn’t hurt. Just startled me. Do it again.”

  Uncle Bill let out a sigh and took my bag. He started toward the house in that easy gait old athletes have. My father had that same type of walk, like they were still sore from the big game twenty years ago. They had both been small town sports heroes. Uncle Bill had excelled at basketball. Now, he was like Farmer Zen. He had a peace about him. It radiated off of him like a long, slow winding river. “Come on, Pip, let’s get you settled.”

  Chance let out a grunt. “What? What did I say?”

  Uncle Bill pushed open the gate and held it for me. His face looked resigned. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “C’mon, Chance.” I heard Grandpa call out.

  He would suffer with a lecture. A small smile crept onto my lips.

  “So how was the drive?”

  I went through the gate and paused. Two tiny sets of old cement footprints glared up at me, my father’s name etched in a light cement scrawl next to Uncle Bill’s. I shoved down the emotion that welled up. I bit into my already tender nail bed.

  “Chance talks too much.” He moved in front of me and held out the screen door.

  I quickly brushed past him and into the house. “Fine. The drive was fine.” I moved through the narrow hall and into the front room. Nick-knacks lined tiny, white shelves. Two mounted animal heads scrutinized me as though I were the spectacle. I cringed under their glare. I used to know what type of animal they were, a deer or antelope. That information had been put into the recycle bin inside my brain and I was leaving it there.

  My eyes raked across all the things I’d grown up dusting every summer—the wood statue of Moses holding the Ten Commandments, the long staff in his right hand broken, but glued—that could be attributed to a wrestling match between Chance and I a few years ago when Chance had been . . . less muscly; some ceramic cookie jar cats that I’d gone to a ceramics class and helped Grandma paint one summer; rows of salt and pepper shakers—she had a thing for collecting them and they were haphazardly scattered through the shelves of other assorted knick knacks.

  I turned to a crocheted, white scripture verse framed on the wall. It was the only verse I knew, because I’d read it every summer. ‘Mosiah 2:17 When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’

  And then I saw it. I took a breath. My parent’s wedding picture—the one where my mother posed in a half-sit on my father’s outstretched knee. They stared into each other’s eyes in that way they always had. The way I’d always counted on. The way that had always steadied me and made me solid. The way I hadn’t even known I’d counted on so much until it was gone.

  Bill put my bag on the couch. “I want you to know you can talk about it.”

  He said it quietly and it made me almost want to talk to him.

  Bill’s breath hitched in his throat. “We loved them, too.”

  I swallowed hard and let out the kind of laugh that sounded forced. “Are you my new therapist?”

  The sides of his eyes moistened. “Nope.”

  Therapy. The thing I’d been sent to like a jail sentence for the past year. The thing that never made sense to me. Why don’t you sit in the weirdest chair and tell your problems to a stranger? Better yet, a stranger that you’re paying.

  But it hadn’t worked.

  Uncle Bill procured a small box on the dining room table. He held it out to me and gave a satisfied smile. “I got one for Chance, too.”

  The newest model iPhone. I knew he couldn’t afford this. “I can’t . . .”

  His hand wouldn’t budge. “It’s already done. Have Chance help you get it set up.”

  The way he gave it to me without acknowledging the sacrifice it cost him made the phone even more precious. I’d told myself I wouldn’t get sucked in. That I couldn’t. But I couldn’t stop the real smile that emerged. “Thanks.”

  Grandma appeared beside us. She moved Uncle Bill’s all-state basketball picture an inch to the left on top of the doily-decorated television. She’d wrapped her hair back into a red bandana that signaled it was time for her to work. “Isn’t he so handsome?”

  Uncle Bill moved into the kitchen. “Mom, stop.”

  She turned to me and cupped my chin. “He loves you.”

  I looked down.

  The screen door slammed, wood on wood.

  Grandma moved into the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “What’s ready?” Grandpa had a knack for hearing everything. He stopped next to me and looked at the box inside my hands. “Those newfangled things. I told Bill it was a waste of money.”

  The tension throbbed through the spot in my neck that would hurt if I slept on it the wrong way.

  Grandpa flipped out his pocket knife. He pushed it gently under his fingernail. “I want ya to know that Chance doesn’t know about the court appointment. We just told him you were in the hospital. Only your Grandma, your Uncle, and I know.”

  If I had to have another conversation with Grandpa, I would use the razor sooner rather than later. I picked up my bag and turned for Bill’s old room. “Whatever.”

  “Maddie,” Grandma paused behind me. “Not this room, Sweetie. Come with me.”

  Confused, I followed her. I’d always slept in Bill’s old room.

  She led me down the stairs. “I sleep in Bill’s room these days. Your Grandpa snores something fierce.” She laughed melodically. “Heck, he’s probably been tired of me for forty years and is happy to have his own room too. Ah, Lord knows how we’ve made it, but the important thing is that we have.”

  At the bottom of the stairs the smell of mold permeated my nose.

  Grandma’s quick frame moved into the only bedroom and she rushed to the bed. She smoothed the fabric with her hand. “I had this on Grannie’s bed. She lived with us for a couple of months when your mom and dad first got married. The year of the flood. I wanted her to be comfortable here, what do you think of it?”

  The purple duvet looked like it had been new in 1800. I nodded mutely. It wouldn’t matter anyway. “It’s fine.”

  Cupboards lined the back wall of the room. A white deep freezer clung to the other wall. I hefted my army-style bag onto the bed.

  Grandma clasped her hands together in a satisfied way. “Good.” Her eyes turned misty. “Maddie, I know the past year has been hard for you, but we are so glad you’re home now.”

  Home.

  That word again. It felt abstract and funny, a magic trick that I’d outgrown.

  “I hope you’re doing all right. I know the judge released you temporarily into our custody but—”

  “I’m fine.”

  Grandma cleared her throat. “Well, I hope it’s comfortable anyway.”

  “The bed is fine.” I began to unpack.

  She smoothed the bedspread and sat. “Okay.”

  I worked without looking at her.

  Grandma smiled. “They have a wonderful choir teacher here. She—”

  “I don’t sing anymore.”

  Grandma swallowed.

  I took a pile of clothes and stuffed them haphazardly into the lime green dresser next to the freezer.

  “I don’t understand, Maddie.”

  I squared myself to her. “What?”

  “Wh-why you wouldn’t be singing still? You have such an amazing voice.”

  “Had.”

  “What?”

&
nbsp; “Had an amazing voice.”

  “Maddie?”

  “I just don’t.”

  Grandma looked me up and down. “Okay, that’s fine.”

  I knew it wasn’t fine.

  She took a breath. “Look, I’ve worked it out with Bishop Kenny that you can use the piano in the church to practice since we don’t have one. We just need to stop and get the key from his wife.”

  “No.”

  Grandma hesitated. “Why?”

  I turned the army bag over and shook out the last of my things. “I don’t play anymore, either.”

  Grandma let out another sigh.

  A white, plain envelope shook out of my bag to the floor.

  “Is this yours, Sweetie?” Grandma picked it up and held it out to me.

  I inspected it like a national security agent would evaluate a suspected terrorist threat. “I don’t know.”

  She turned it over. The envelope was sealed and there was no writing on the front of it.

  I slipped it out of her hand. It must be from Aunt Sylvie and that couldn’t be good.

  I slit the bottom. A metal trinket toppled out and fell to the floor.

  “Ah—” Grandma reached for it.

  I gaped at the silver sunflower—my mother’s favorite flower. The necklace I’d had as long as I could remember. The one I had worn every day of my life.

  The one that had been lost.

  “Do you want me to put it on?” Grandma reached for the necklace, but didn’t take it out of my hand.

  I thought of the frantic way I’d searched for it in my hospital room. Numbly, I nodded and let her take it. “I thought it was gone.”

  Grandma moved my hair out of the way. “Nothing’s ever completely gone, not when it’s in your heart.” She spoke to me in a quiet, child-like way.

  I traced my fingers around the sides of the petals. It was the earliest memory I’d had. The way the necklace felt in my hand. The way her hand’s felt against my neck as she put it on in the morning and took it off at night.

  My mother’s hands.

  It had been our thing. My fingers traced the metal chain, the chain that had been replaced so many times I couldn’t count. A trickle of warmth started in the center of my chest and moved through me.

  “I’ve always loved this necklace on you.” Grandma’s eyes turned misty.

  I gripped the sunflower. The metal pushed sharply into the gash from earlier. I flinched.

  “Oh, Sweetie. What happened?” She reached for my hand.

  “Nothing.” I shifted away from her.

  “You’re hurt?”

  I pulled away. “Don’t.”

  “You can’t let a cut go too long, it’ll just fester.”

  I still didn’t look at her.

  Finally, Grandma picked up some hangers. “Here, let’s get these put away.”

  “No.” I snatched the hangers out of her hand like keeping them from her would protect them. Would protect me. Would change everything back.

  I dropped the hangers and covered my hand with the empty envelope to soak up the blood. “I’m fine.”

  Grandma studied me for a few moments. “Maddie, it’s going to be okay. Listen, this is a good place. I know you’ve spent lots of summers here but now you can get to know how wonderful everyone is. And going to church tomorrow will help you meet people.”

  I flung myself back around. “I’m not going to church.”

  Her chatty, polite smile faded. “The rule in this house is that everyone goes to church.”

  “No.”

  “That’s the rule, Maddie.”

  It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because I wouldn’t be here that long, anyway. I wouldn’t give in. I took a handful of clothes from the dresser and stuffed them into my bag.

  Grandma released a breath. “What are you doing, Sweetie?”

  “Leaving!” I reached for more clothes.

  Grandma covered my hand with hers.

  I sucked in a breath. “I am not going to church.”

  Grandma pursed her fire red lips into a straight line, the same kind of line on Grandpa’s lips when he’d decided something. “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You can’t turn your back on God, sweetie.”

  I ran for the stairs and wished I’d grabbed the razor. “I didn’t turn on anyone.”

  Chapter 3 First Day

  “This turn’s sharp, hold on!” Chance yelled over the loud rock music.

  I braced myself against the passenger door. “Slow down!”

  Chance let out a trigger laugh and smacked the dash. “Who-we!”

  I wondered if I should have opted for the bus. It definitely would have been a safer option. But I didn’t plan on doing the trek to school long anyway.

  Chance grunted. “Why did you skip church yesterday?”

  “Not today, Chance.”

  Chance stopped at the stop light on Main Street and heaved his head around to face me. The cologne stench held palpably to the air.

  I rolled down the window.

  “My real issue—Grandma’s displeasure at you not being there reflected in her cooking. Usually she does it up good on Sunday and she didn’t even make dessert!” The light turned and he gunned it.

  I flew into the door again. “Geez!”

  Chance threw me a patronizing glance.

  He turned left in front of the 7-Eleven and stepped hard on the gas. An old red and white marquee appeared next to a faded, dingy, brick building. I hadn’t ever been to the high school. Not really. But I had driven past it during various car rides that Grandpa inevitably always took me on to ‘show me the town.’ The marquee read, ‘Welcome back, Rabbits.’ “Right, the Rabbits. Scary.”

  Chance turned in front of the marquee and then took a hard left into the parking lot. He pointed at me. “Rabbits are powerful and quick creatures that can wreak havoc and mayhem in a matter of seconds.”

  “Right.” I looked around and inspected the students walking past. Instantly, I decided I hated all of them. None of them knew the hardships of moving from place to place. None of them could comprehend how it felt to constantly be making friends. The only friend I’d had my whole life was Chance.

  Chance clapped his hand down on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Madds. You have me. So if you’re nervous about making friends or having a lunch buddy—”

  “Do you know how many schools I’ve been to?”

  He frowned. “You might try to be nice. You should know you can catch more bees with honey than vinegar.”

  I couldn’t stop my smile. Chance had a knack for bad phrases. “You mean flies.”

  He gave me a sarcastic half-smile. “Whatever.” He jumped down. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Bonnie. You’ll like her.”

  While I loved my cousin, and had gotten used to his hard rock music, gun racks, and incessant talk about deer hunting, I absolutely knew that I couldn’t force myself to endure a girl that might be just like him. I pulled my backpack onto my shoulder and yanked on the door handle, kicking it with my foot when it stuck so that it exploded open. I carefully slid down from the seat. My boots had heels that could kill.

  Chance emerged next to me and gently shut the truck door. “Bonnie’s head cheerleader and she is vice president of the senior class. She’s even put together this whole emergency system, like if we ever needed to assemble the senior class in an emergency.”

  I didn’t try to hide my snarkiness. “And there would be what kind of senior class emergency?”

  Chance spit his tongue out. “Hey, you never know.”

  “Sure.”

  He gestured to my feet. “Really? You think the boots work here?”

  “Grandpa already read me the riot act.”

  Chance opened the door to the building and waited for me to go in first. “Remember what people say about being in Rome.”

  “Okay Chance, what do they say?”

  He turned his chin up. “When in Rome, don’t play w
ith Spaniards.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “If you’re so smart, than you should understand it.”

  I bit into my lip in an attempt not to laugh.

  Students crowded into the hall.

  Chance suddenly jerked and pointed down the hall. “Check it out!”

  Two guys wore football jerseys and balanced on their hands down the middle of the hallway.

  Chance did a small jump. “That’s totally awesome. Come on, dudes! All the way!”

  He ricochet laughed. “That’s awesome!”

  “Haven—in the air!” A loud voice boomed out.

  Chance jumped into the air. He stuck his chest out and someone met him in the air. Their chests crashed together.

  I jumped back.

  The silver edge of the razor-sharp tooth gleamed back at me.

  My mouth went dry.

  They roared with laughter.

  My blood ran cold and remnants of a light-headed haze settled into me.

  His gray eyes fell on mine.

  I stumbled and put my hand to the wall to prevent imminent fainting.

  “Whoa.” Chance rushed to my side. “Ya okay, Madds?”

  Transfixed, I stared at him. I couldn’t look away—I had been convicted without knowing the charges.

  “Madds.” Chance nudged me.

  My heart stuttered. “Yeah?”

  Chance coughed back a laugh. “Do you guys know each other?”

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I could barely hold his gaze, but looking away was not an option.

  Chance exhaled loudly. “Okay, Zac. This is my cousin, Maddie. Maddie, Zac.” Chance slapped Zac on the back. “He’s da man. Quarterback and Student Body President. You don’t get on his bad side.”

  I nodded.

  Chance cleared his throat.

  Zac’s face dropped to a stony glare. He spoke to Chance . “I just remembered something. I gotta go.” He shoved away from us and sped away, a wild animal avoiding a trap.

  Chance jerked his thumb toward the direction Zac went and scrunched up his face. “That was delusional, right?”

  The electric energy moved out of me in a confused blur.

  More students piled into the front hallway. The sound of lockers opened and shut.

  I took a deep breath and tried to recover from whatever unlike first love look thingy had just happened. Or not happened. I used to be a romance junkie, the good, fairy tale, kind that believed in happy endings and love at first sight.