Fire Girl Part 1 Read online

  Before.

  “Chance!” A girl’s voice shouted it.

  Both of us turned and Chance threw his arms wide. “Bonnie!”

  A tiny, blonde girl, no, petite would be the more appropriate description, stood next to Chance. She thrust her hand out and let out the most annoying yip of a laugh that I could confidently say I’d ever heard. “Sorry, I manic laugh when I’m nervous.”

  To say that I hadn’t expected Chance’s girlfriend to be someone like her would be putting it mildly, the kind of mild that you can’t even taste and have to salt right away.

  A stupid puppy-love grin stretched across Chance’s face. “Madds, Bonnie. Bonnie, Madds. I’ve been waiting for this moment. My two best girls.”

  The whiteness against the red lip stick Bonnie wore yelled out to me in the ‘stop she’s scorching me with the bright light’ sort of way I hated about girls like her—girls that cheered and knew the school song and wanted everyone to make a poster.

  I didn’t want to be nice to her, and I wouldn’t have except, it was Chance and I could safely say that he was the only person in the entire world I cared about making the least bit happy. I stretched out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  It sounded wrong coming from me.

  Impossibly, her lips stretched further. She grabbed me into the kind of hug that hurt. “How are you?” She didn’t wait for me to respond. “Ever since Chance told me about the breakdown, I’ve just wanted to pull you in, ya know?”

  I stepped back. She knew. What did she know?

  Chance cleared his throat. “Bonnie, let’s not get into—”

  The bell rang.

  Chance moved between Bonnie and I. “C’mon, Madds, I’ll take you to the office to get set up.”

  Bonnie nudged between us. “I think I could still get you a spot on the cheer team if you’re interested. We could totally teach you the choreography. I work in the office and I’m sure they still need a runner fourth period, you could totally do it. I know you’ve had a hard year, but this year will really help you shine on paper for colleges. We’ll get you signed up to help out with the blood drive and some fundraisers.”

  A storm. A tornado. Something beyond the control of nature and had swept into this little cheerleader smile. It had to be stopped. I planted myself as firmly as I could in stiletto boots. “No.”

  Bonnie and Chance bumped to a stop.

  “I don’t do cheer, I don’t do blood drives and I don’t like it when people already think they know me.” My voice came out louder than I’d meant it to.

  Bonnie’s face turned into a half hurt, half confused frown.

  “I’m not the mini-me type, okay? Back off!”

  Bonnie pursed her lips into a line and clamped her mouth shut. “Back off?” She gave Chance the kind of look that told me he’d be begging to get back into her good graces. She put her nose into the air and started in the other direction.

  A twinge of remorse pricked my conscience.

  Chance threw his hands up. “Really? She was just trying to include you.”

  I let myself be angry at him. “I had a breakdown, remember? I’m crazy. That’s what you’ve told everyone about me, right?” His previous words to describe Zac came back to me. “Possibly delusional.”

  Chance shook his head and backed away. “Whatever, Madds.”

  This couldn’t be happening. I closed my eyes and twisted at the metal sunflower.

  “Do you need help? You look lost.”

  My eyes flew open.

  A tallish woman with the brightest red hair I’d ever seen stood in front of me. “Are you okay?”

  I surveyed her warm face and then the empty hall. “Yes—I mean, no.”

  She extended her hand in one of those half shakes that looked regal and Snow Whitish. “I’m Ms. Love, the music teacher. Are you a new student?”

  Music. The torch inside my chest that used to live for music threatened to pop the shield welded over it during the last year. I swallowed and accepted her hand. “I’m Maddie. Maddie Haven.”

  She released my hand. “Well, Maddie Haven, you can always ask for help around here.” She pointed to an office door a few feet away. “There’s the main office, make sure to tell Shirley I have a spot in my seventh hour choir class. I can always use more voices.”

  “Thanks.” No way. No how. Not ever. I would not be singing in a choir class. I swung the door open to the office. The smallness of the room made me feel like I had entered a carnival fun house. A huge mirror took up the entire side wall. The smell of vanilla wafted into the air.

  “Wait. Don’t tell me. You’re Frank and Star’s granddaughter?” A thin, blonde stood from one of the desks behind the front counter.

  I tried to quiet all the rushing emotions inside me. My head spun. Frank and Star’s. Yes. Disturbed granddaughter. Yes. Disturbed cousin that went crazy. Yes. Disturbed—what else?

  She smacked her gum happily and moved forward. “I knew you were going to join us this year. Last time I talked with your Grandpa, he didn’t know if he would get the hay up in time to go get you. I’m Shirley by the way. That’s Minnie.” She pointed to another lady on the phone. “We went to school with your father.”

  “What? Who’s there?” A loud voice boomed through an open door adjacent to the office. A tall man with ruddy cheeks and an obvious thinning comb over bounded out of his office. He paused and looked me up and down. “You must be Maddie Haven. I’m Principal Schmidt. I just got off the phone with your Grandma. She said you go by Maddie, right? Not, Madeline?”

  Madeline.

  Every time I’d moved it was Madeline. Every single teacher—Madeline. I forced a smile and shook his hand. “Maddie.”

  Principle Schmidt smiled. “I loved your dad. I played ball with Frankie. He was a good quarterback.”

  I feigned interest. Football, always football.

  “He knew how to get the ball into the end zone. Did you know your dad still holds the record for most rushing yards and touch downs in a single season? I remember the way your dad would rally all of us on the field. He had this way about him. At the time, I didn’t understand I was witnessing the marks of a great leader—charismatic, engaging, concerned for others. I suppose that’s what made him so good in the military. Remember how he was, Shirley?”

  The blonde grinned. “Your dad’s the reason I have a bad lower back. I cheered so hard in that winning game that I kicked myself flat onto the ground.”

  They erupted into laughter.

  I tried not to show the frustration that ebbed and flowed inside my chest.

  “Heckuva guy.” He studied my eyes. “Are you okay, Maddie?”

  No one knew your parents when you were a military brat. No one talked about the kind of football player your dad had been in high school. No one knew that you had been forced to live with your grandparents because you were crazy.

  Principal Schmidt cleared his throat and seemed to sense my discomfort. He glanced at the secretary on the phone. “Minnie, get her set up.” He moved back toward his office. “Let me know if you need anything, Maddie.” He shut his door.

  “Where’s your paperwork?” The other secretary barked out. She didn’t even pull away from the computer.

  “I-I don’t have any.”

  This got her attention. She scowled. “Vaccination records? Birth certificate? General requirements checklist?”

  I shrugged. Whatever, I didn’t care about any of this.

  Minnie straightened. The floral print polyester shirt she wore stretched at the buttons. “Well, I can clearly see you don’t understand the importance of paperwork. You need a birth certificate and a vaccination record to start school.”

  Shirley gave her a terse look. “It’s fine, I’ll order the paperwork. Just get her enrolled.”

  Minnie threw back a challenging glare and then flipped back to her rapid typing. “We can’t all be head cheerleader, now can we?”

  I looked between them, not sure what war zone I’d been
placed into the center of.

  Shirley gave me an exaggerated eye roll.

  I fought the urge to cover my smile.

  Minnie let out a low growl and focused on the screen. “It’s slim pickings, but you can’t have everything you want when you show up late.” She gave me a sharp look. “Now can you?”

  I thought of Ms. Love’s offer for choir. “The only thing—I-I don’t want to be in choir.”

  Minnie pushed herself back from the office desk and reached for a paper already being printed. She fixed a smirk into place and slapped down the sheet in front of me. “Like I said, sometimes we don’t get what we want.”

  ***

  Lunch turned out to be what I’d expected from every lunch room in every place I’d ever lived—unassigned but assigned tables.

  I grabbed a tray and some silverware and mechanically fell into line. My first three classes had gone by without incident: Trig, History, and Physics. I could get by until I could get out of here. Dread stirred through my lower gut and I thought about the fact I had to go sit in choir last hour.

  “Hey!” A dark haired girl looked up at me. She sat in a wheelchair. Her almond shaped eyes shifted into slits. “No cutting in line.”

  I stepped back. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  She noisily hoisted her tray onto the silver platform next to the food and used a hand control to propel herself forward in line. “Right.”

  Her tone told me she didn’t believe me and she wouldn’t have accepted an apology anyway.

  I paused for a moment and gave her some lead time. I put my tray down onto the silver counter next to the entrée options. I didn’t see anything appetizing. I opted instead for an apple, roll, and a small saucer of green Jello. Chance would make fun of me if he saw the Jello but I didn’t care. I liked it.

  I paid the boy at the cash register and, once again, looked at the unassigned, but assigned tables. I made my way down the side aisle and saw the wheelchair girl sitting all by herself at a round table. She slid herself closer into the table and then looked up at me. The look on her face told me she didn’t want anything, need anything, and would kick your butt if you tried to sit next to her.

  It resonated through me like the stunning realization I’d ran into a friend that I hadn’t seen in a very long time. I went to the table and held my tray in the air across from her.

  Her eyes widened like I was some intruder to planet earth out of a sci-fi movie.

  I dropped my tray and it clanged hard against the table. “Can I sit here?”

  Her lips tightened. “No.”

  I stopped for a second. Maybe I shouldn’t.

  She turned those sarcastic slits up at me. “Go away.”

  I pulled the chair out and sat. “Great. Thanks for inviting me. The people in Sugar Valley are so warm and inviting. I wish I would have moved here sooner.”

  The side of her lip almost turned up. It was like she wanted to acknowledge my joke, but she couldn’t. She lifted her fork into the air and shoved beef stroganoff into her mouth. The only thing she gave me was the raising of one eyebrow, an eyebrow that told me she was ready for the ‘be nice to the wheelchair girl’ routine.

  I cocked my eyebrow in return and shoved a bite of Jello into my mouth. To be at a table with a semi-grumpy wheelchair girl was preferable to sitting at a table where, chances were, everyone would just tell me everything they already knew about me.

  Wheelchair girl studied her food and took an apple off of her tray. She fixed a stare into place and chomped off a bite.

  So we would play it like this. No talking. Stare down looks across the table. I took my apple and chomped into it. I could play.

  And that’s how it went—chomp and stare. It was fitting. The first day at school and already I’d isolated my cousin, had an unknowing enemy with the Student Body guy that ran the place, and made a silent enemy out of the girl in the wheelchair.

  Perfect.

  I slurped up some of my Jello and scrutinized her. I wondered why she was in a wheelchair. Nothing looked noticeably wrong with her. Her skin looked healthy, not loads of acne or anything. Her brown hair looked shiny, not stringy or sweaty. She didn’t wear hardly any make-up, except for mascara, but it accented her green eyes perfectly. I peered deeper into them and saw patches of sky blue that made them look like a tropical sea. Or, what I thought a tropical sea would look like.

  “You’re creeping me out.”

  I jolted out of my mind rambling and drained the rest of my water bottle. “Don’t worry, you’re not my type.”

  She wiped her face with a napkin.

  I noticed the way her fingers looked kind of limp or bent somehow.

  She evaluated me. “You look guilty of something.”

  A twinge of anger surged through me, but I knew she just wanted to tick me off. “Nobody’s innocent.”

  The side of her lip turned up like I’d told her a joke. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I don’t need pity, I don’t need friends, and I don’t need some new girl thinking she wants to make a statement by hanging out with me.”

  I stared at her for a moment, completely shocked she would think I would be trying to play some game with her. I didn’t need this. I already had enough problems in my life without her thinking I knew anything about her and had some kind of hidden agenda because I sat by her at lunch. I stood. “I was just leaving.”

  She pushed her tray aside. “Good.”

  I started to leave, then turned back and swiped up her tray.

  “Put. It. Down.”

  I paused and stared back at her threatening eyes. “Look, I’m just clearing the table.” My father had been military and my mother had been persnickety about helping people. It had been drilled into me.

  “Oh, please. Don’t strain yourself; I wouldn’t want you to end up back in some institution.”

  My heart raced. The trays I held almost collapsed to the floor. I steadied them and blinked.

  They all knew.

  I placed the trays back on the table and jetted out of the lunchroom as fast as I could muster in my stilettos. I hated her, them—the whole stupid town.

  I trudged across the parking lot and stopped next to the dumpsters. My hands actually trembled. Who did she think she was? Yeah, I got she was in a wheelchair, but really? I grabbed the phone out of my backpack and texted Carrie. Get the money! I have to get out of here.

  I put the phone back. My hand bumped against a package of cigarettes. The ones Carrie had given to me before I’d left. She’d told me I’d need them—for tension release.

  I’d never smoked one before and hadn’t believed her. I’d only kept them to appease her. But I picked them up. My parents had always taught me smoking was wrong. But Aunt Sylvie hadn’t been a member, and I hadn’t cared that much about attending church the last year.

  I surveyed the package and thought of Carrie. I’d watched her for months as she’d puffed into the wind and rapidly told me about each of the foster homes she had been in and how she’d escaped from each one. A cigarette had always seemed to calm her. To bring her back from her latest encounter with whoever ticked her off that day.

  I flicked one out and put the minty tobacco between my lips. I grappled for the lighter she’d included as a gift.

  “Ahh—a beautiful American girl that smokes.”

  I jumped. The lighter slipped through my fingers to the ground.

  A dark skinned, gorgeous, Italian-looking guy emerged from the dumpsters. He bent to pick up the lighter. “And she’s like a jumping tiger, too.”

  His accent sounded almost fake. I wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t totally fit the part of foreigner. He placed the lighter back into my palm, and stared into my eyes.

  I blinked and stepped back.

  He gestured with his head. “Come this way.”

  “Oh—” was the only thing that came out of my mouth.

  He lifted one hand in the kind of gesture a cop would use to calm down
a criminal with a gun. “Shh, it’s okay.”

  I spotted a small diamond earring in his left ear. His black hair fell just below his shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about Antone.” He put one hand to his chest. “No, Antone, knows the meaning of escape. He knows exactly why you’re here, and he welcomes you.”

  The day had gone from bad to—sort of interesting and weird at the same time. I tried not to open my mouth and stare at him. I didn’t know what to say.

  Antone raised a knowing eyebrow. “You must be Maadie?” He said it overly punctuated, giving it a sheep sound.

  I let out an amused chuckle, more from nerves than his improper pronunciation.

  Antone’s whole face lit up. “I amuse you? You find me charming and interesting?”

  This couldn’t be real. Not here. Not a guy like this in Sugar Valley. “I—”

  Antone took a step back and made a sweeping gesture with his hand to a crated box that sat in the corner a few feet from the dumpster. “Please, make yourself at home.”

  The bell rang, in that loud, blaring way that every bell in every school sounded like.

  He took a deep drag on the cigarette and let the smoke come out in one big puff.

  I hesitated.

  Antone looked toward the school then back to me. “You don’t want to go back. You want to talk to Antone.”

  Later, I would look back at this moment, as the one that decided my fate.

  Chapter 4 Smoke

  I shuffled toward the apple crate. A nervous energy passed through my gut and circled into my stomach, like I’d eaten a bad salad instead of a warm roll. I rationalized he looked harmless. I knew my dad wouldn’t like him at all.

  “I understand, you are nervous, it’s your first day in this place. This place that doesn’t appreciate good rigatoni.” He scoffed and made a fist pump in the air. “My mother sends me on an exchange to America, the land of opportunity, and I end up here in Sugar Valley.” The way he said it reminded me of a low budget commercial with bad actors.