Fire Girl Part 1 Read online

  “Spitting into the bag?” I blurted it out. “That’s why you’re acting so crazy?”

  “I eat it and then I spit it, that’s how I’m going to lose the weight, okay? And I don’t need some high-faluting big city girl—”

  Big city girl?

  “—coming in here and threatening to expose me. Got it?” She shoved a finger right below my nose.

  “Ouch!” I flinched back. “Do they give classes on how to injure through poking in this town?”

  She folded her arms. “Remember, I’m watching you.”

  I yanked back the office door and stalked down the hallway. “Seriously.”

  Out of nowhere a massive red chest slammed into me.

  “Excuse you.” The white numbers on his uniform stared back at me.

  The person I wanted to kill had conveniently appeared in front of me, as if conjured from a nightmare. “Excuse me? Excuse me?” The words stumbled out, and my breath caught inside my chest. “You jerk.”

  It wasn’t my best insult ever.

  The side of his scarred lip turned up. “Really? You should stop with the witty verbal banter.”

  I couldn’t think. “Jerk, jerk, jerk.”

  His eyebrows spiked. “Look, I don’t care what you think of me, but we need to talk about the project for Ms. Love’s class.”

  He would think I would do a stupid project with him? “Right. I’ll get right on that.” I moved around him.

  He blocked my path. “We’ll meet this weekend and hammer out the details.”

  I didn't think before I shoved him in the chest. "Move."

  Zac looked down as though he was Ironman and I was just a simple human. His lips curled into that superior Tony Stark smile. “It might be easier to ask me to move. Well, unless you have a lighter that is.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. “Just go die.”

  Zac pushed his face into mine and gritted his teeth. “Nothing I haven’t wished for myself.”

  I glared back at him all jittery and ready to fight.

  Zac leaned back and crossed his arms. “Ya know, Fire Girl, if I had tried to burn the school down and then given my grandfather a heart attack, I may be just as angry as you. So, I’ll give you a pass and just call it what crazy does.” He made a circular motion around the side of his head.

  My temper flared exponentially. “Crazy? I’m crazy?”

  Zac's eyes narrowed. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

  The embers smoldered inside my chest.

  We faced off, two focused balls of anger.

  Zac let out a mock laugh and backed away. "Unlike you, I've got places to be." He nodded at the uniform in my hand. "Oh, but I guess criminals always have places to be, my bad."

  I wanted him to feel pain. “Well, I may be crazy, but you’re just the jerk that ignores his dying sister.”

  The moment went slow and sticky, our eyes locked into some sort of ancient battle between men and women throughout the centuries. I could feel the heat radiating off him from under his large, padded uniform. I had, finally, ticked him off.

  “Shut up.”

  My own anger prevailed, unsticking everything. “She sits by herself. She eats by herself. She has no one. It’s like . . . it’s like you all don’t even see her!”

  “Shut up!”

  “That’s enough.” Minnie shuffled out of the office. She made a shooing motion at me like I was some undesirable insect. “You just go on and get to work. Stay out of things you don’t belong in, girl.”

  I clenched my fists. She had intentionally left out the fire part.

  I looked back at Zac.

  His whole face had frozen into a stony glare.

  I stalked into the girls’ locker room and threw everything onto a bench. It didn’t make sense. I stared in the mirror attached to the cement wall. My hair had gone wild, the top hairs rising with electricity. The black under my eyes looked wider and deeper. I looked crazy. He had completely undone me. I reached for the jumpsuit and threw it on the floor. What was happening to me?

  “Madds!” Chance’s voice called out from the door of the locker room.

  Just the person I needed to see. Chance would pound him. Obliterate him. Send him to the hospital with a concussion. He wouldn’t take somebody insulting me.

  I rushed out of the locker room and came up short. His outraged look surprised me. “Hey.”

  Chance had the nostril flare going on. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I know, right?” I really didn’t want him to get in trouble for kicking Zac to kingdom come. I didn’t want him to get kicked off the team or anything. “Don’t hurt him too bad, okay. I wouldn’t want—”

  Chance slammed his fist into a locker. “Is it true?”

  Whoa. This kind of rage took me aback. “Chance, calm down.”

  He shook his head. “Did you really attack Zac?”

  Chapter 9 Regret

  The horse stall stunk. I heaved a load of crap out. The smell could be described as something like—I’d been informed that I couldn’t say that word. What had I been thinking when I’d volunteered to do this? I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t stay in this stupid town. It wouldn’t work.

  Grandpa glanced up from his pocket knife nail cleaning. “Where’s Chance? I need to talk to that boy about cleaning up the gravel all over my grass. Every time he drives that heap in here it kicks up junk.”

  Chance had brooded the whole way home, not even acknowledging my explanation. “I have no idea.”

  “You two in a fight?”

  I hefted another piece of crap out of the stall. Technically, we weren’t talking. It blatantly showed how much he appreciated me being here. “No.”

  “Oh, I think Bill said they would be doing the burn tonight at the south pasture.”

  I paused. Grandpa’s face was still slightly pale. The worst part was the fact Grandma had stuffed him like a scare crow, layers of flannel jackets puffed around him.

  He didn’t notice my pause. “It’s important to take proper safety precautions when you’re doing a burn. Yep, it gets out of hand before you can say one, two, I’ll tell ya.”

  “Why are you out here? You’re supposed to be resting. I can muck stalls. I know how to do that.”

  Grandpa frowned and didn’t acknowledge my criticism. “Ya always need at least two people for the burn. One to keep a handle on the proper safety precautions.”

  I kept watching him. My heart constricted. My dad shared so many of the same features as Grandpa.

  Grandpa stopped his narrative. “What?”

  “Nothing.” I went into the next stall. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t allow myself to think those kinds of things.

  Grandpa let out a snort. “See, if I wasn’t sitting right here you wouldn’t stay on task. Young kids don’t know the meaning of hard work these days. Nope. When I was knee high to a grass hopper I was helping my dad milk cows, muck out stalls, and near everything you’re going to learn in the next couple of weeks under my tutelage. And we didn’t quit until the work was done.”

  I tried to block him out, but the more I tried, the more Zac’s face kept popping into my head. I heaved the pitch fork into the hay as fast and as hard as I could, going along the edges of the stall and working my way toward the opening. My phone buzzed.

  “And the summer of eighty-four was a particularly hard summer. The drought was something awful and the smoke from the fires up in the north canyon burnt the insides of my lungs something fierce.”

  I pulled out my phone. Aunt Sylvie’s number. I stuffed it back into my pocket.

  “Hey,” Grandpa grunted loudly from his spot, “I don’t hear mucking.”

  I put my phone away and resumed the work, grateful that I had a reason I couldn’t think about Aunt Sylvie.

  “And young kids don’t know the meaning of struggle anymore. They think life is supposed to be cotton candy and popsicles all the time.”

  “Maddie!” Grandma’s voice sounded from the house. I
remembered when I would play with Chance and she would call us for dinner.

  Grandpa’s pontificating stopped. “You better go and see what she wants.”

  “Maddie!”

  “And you better hurry.”

  I propped the pitchfork against the wall and jogged out of the barn.

  Grandma stood on the back porch, she waved her hand back and forth, a red bandana wrapped around her head.

  I jogged across the gravel and flung open the gate. “Yeah.”

  “Your aunt’s on the phone.”

  I stopped jogging.

  “Maddie?” Grandma covered the phone. “She says she’s been trying to call you.”

  Worry coursed through me, the worry that I wouldn’t get away before she hauled me back there.

  “Are you okay?” Grandma scowled. “Your face is white as a sheet.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Maddie, you know she’s your legal guardian. She is responsible for making sure you are okay. The judge expressly released you into our custody because she recommended it.”

  I turned back for the stalls. “I can’t talk to her.”

  "Maddie." Grandma insisted.

  I flew back around."You tell her she had a year to talk to me. A whole year to do something more than just drop me off at a therapist--and then trick me into the hospital." I dug my heels into the gravel. "I'm done with her."

  After dinner, helping get Grandpa settled into his chair, and a long shower, I lay on the purple duvet and tried to think of a time I felt so completely exhausted.

  Grandma walked into my room and went immediately for the small curtains that covered the tiny fire hazard windows. She closed them. “I need your help, Sweetie.”

  “Really?” All I really, really, really wanted to do was go to sleep.

  “I need to take a meal in to some people. I usually do some light cleaning for them.”

  “They aren’t going to expect you. Grandpa just got home from the hospital.”

  “Sweetie, it doesn’t take much to look around and discover that there are a lot of people worse off than we are, and I will tell you that when you serve others, your problems seem smaller. It makes you feel better, too.So, what do you say? Don’t you want to feel better?”

  ***

  The beige paint cracked off the stucco. One of the front shutters hung crookedly, giving the impression the house had been abandoned at some point. The yard, while recently mowed, held various toys and bikes and some overly large junk on the sides around the wrap around deck. I thought of my father. No matter where we’d lived Dad had always been meticulous about keeping the house in order. The familiar tightness slipped into my chest and I tried to push it away. I had found this part, the part where some seemingly insignificant memory could reach inside me and spark a maelstrom of pain, the worst part of death.

  “Beth hasn’t felt good for some time.” Grandma wrinkled her brow. “Be nice.”

  I held the pan tightly in front of me. Grandma had insisted we walk the quarter of a mile down to their home, something about the night air doing me some good. The aching in my arms made me want to tell Grandma what she could do with all the things that were good for me. “I do know how to be nice to people.” What did she think? I was some kind of social freak?

  “I mean it,” Grandma whispered. “They’ve had a rough go of it. They’re the nicest, kindest people you’ll ever meet.”

  I followed Grandma to the back of the house. That’s what people did here—use the back door. I hadn’t ever thought about it much, but I realized the front doors here were only used for company. Everyone came and went through the back door.

  The people had a ramp that looked newer than the rest of the house.

  Grandma knocked lightly and gave me a warning look. “Put the casserole on top of the stove and tidy up the kitchen. I’m going to talk with Beth.”

  I frowned. “Who are these people?”

  In answer to my question the door flew open and a small boy, probably around five or six appeared in the doorway and then yelled back over his shoulder. “Grace!”

  My pulse raced.

  The boy stared back at us. “Grraace! Mrs. Haven’s here. I’m going home.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I surveyed the premises for evidence of Grace or Zac.

  The boy ran past us.

  “Bye, Tommy. Tell your mom hi.” Grandma bustled in and put the pan on the counter. She had gone into her order and command mode. “Maddie, bring that food over here.”

  My chest unclamped and I obeyed.

  The floorboards creaked. Grace emerged.

  Grandma went to her. “You get prettier every day, Grace.” The previous trace of wear and tear had completely disappeared from Grandma’s face.

  Grace’s whole face lit up. “You shouldn’t have come. How is Mr. Haven?”

  Grandma put her hands on her hips. “This takes me no time at all. And, Frank, he’s fine. Just fine.”

  There it was.

  The tiniest of stress wrinkles around Grandma’s lips. She always got them when she tried to be extra polite under stress. I would be the only one who would notice them.

  Grandma turned to me. “Grace, do you know my granddaughter, Maddie?”

  I avoided eye contact. “We’ve met.”

  Grace’s voice was pleasant. “Yes.”

  Grandma moved for the stairs. “Good. I’m going to head up to see your mother.”

  Something flashed over Grace’s face. It reminded me of a kid that didn’t want to tell their parents about something bad they’d done. “She’s doing better, Mrs. Haven. We don’t need meals every week anymore. Plus, I can do it. I can. And Zac helps, too. We are fine. Just fine.”

  A sad smile played at the edge of Grandma’s lips. She wagged a finger at her. “I like to do it. Don’t take away an old woman’s usefulness.” She nodded to me. “Maddie, why don’t you help Grace into the kitchen and you can chat while you give it a shine.” She disappeared above the stairs into the hallway.

  I didn’t move.

  “I can move myself. I have hand controls.” Her voice came out flat.

  I stared at her. Didn’t Grandma notice that this girl didn’t want us here and, obviously, didn’t want to hang out with me in the kitchen? I held up my hands and moved into the kitchen. “Whatever.”

  A knock sounded at the door and it promptly flew open.

  The blond boy was back. He didn’t look happy. “She’s still not home, Grace. Can I stay here until she gets back?”

  Grace’s whole countenance changed. She opened her arms and beckoned the boy to her. “Of course.”

  The boy went to her side and snuggled in.

  “Shh, don’t you worry. She’ll be home. Sometimes she has to stay on later and help do some cleaning.” Grace nodded to the casserole dish. “Let’s get you some dinner.”

  He looked at me. “I don’t want any. Who are you?”

  I moved the dirty dishes out of the sink and looked for dish soap. “Maddie.”

  The boy materialized beside me. “My mom’s a waitress. She has to work because my dad went on a business trip a couple months ago, but he’ll be back soon.”

  I gave him a look over. “Cool.”

  He stuck his hand out. “I’m Tommy.”

  I shook his hand and offered him one of the butterscotch candies I’d taken out of Grandma’s never ending candy jars.

  His eyes widened and he undid the wrapper and popped the candy into his mouth. “Grace and I hang out when my mom is going to be late.”

  I pulled out a convoluted mess of cleaning products and nodded at him. “Cool. Where’s the dish soap, Tommy?”

  Tommy peered into the cupboard. His clothes were rumpled and it didn’t look like they’d been washed for a while. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s over on the counter by the fridge. That’s where I saw it last.” Grace’s voice was soft.

  I stood up.

  She didn’t smile.

  I ac
quired the soap and squirted some into the sink. “Thanks.”

  Tommy pulled on my shirt. “I can tell you where to put everything. I do that for your grandma sometimes.”

  I gave him a nudge with my hip and smiled at him. I immersed my hands into the water. “Sounds good.”

  “I like it when your grandma comes.” He looked thoughtful. “She makes really good dinners.”

  A proud warmth spread through my chest. I thought about my dad and how he bragged that Grandma could feed any amount of people at any moment. I opened their dishwasher and started to load the bowls and cups and silverware into place. “That’s like her superpower.”

  Tommy smiled. “Yeah.”

  I gave him a knowing smile.

  Tommy ran to the wall and pressed his body into it. “Spiderman is my favorite. Do you know how strong spider web is?”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  Tommy pointed at me in the air like a teacher would do to explain something very detailed. “Different spider silk is different levels of strength, but I read this article about how the webbing could hold a person up to five-hundred pounds.”

  “Wow.” I put on my extremely interested face. Cause it did seem interesting. “What grade are you in, Tommy?”

  “Second.” He moved back to me. “What’s your superpower?”

  I had to think about it. “Don’t have one.”

  Tommy tapped the side of his face. “C’mon.”

  I took bubbles and perched them on his nose. “You’re silly.”

  He threw back his head and giggled.

  I put more bubbles on his nose.

  Tommy stayed beside me. “Mrs. Cannon is my teacher and she is really nice, but today she had this black thing in her teeth and I didn’t want to tell her.”

  I bent over and found rubber gloves and a scouring pad in the cupboard. “That’s probably good. Most people don’t want their flaws noticed.”

  Tommy nodded. “Yeah.”

  There were several pans that looked like they had been used a few days ago and food was caked on them. I took one and filled it with water. I’d let them all soak while I scrubbed the counters and swept. I avoided looking at Grace, even though I could feel her staring at me.