Feeding the Fire

by Amy Waeschle

  “Would you like some mascara?” a mom’s voice asked her.

  Jessie turned around. It was Mrs. Hecker, mom of Sophie, a girl she had been friends with in fifth grade. Jessie looked for Sophie, who was washing her hands in the sink. She was dressed in an old-fashioned pilot uniform: Amelia Earhart.

  “No, thanks,” Jessie replied.

  “Why, Jessie!” Mrs. Hecker said, surprised. “I didn’t even recognize you.”

  Jessie felt the blush rising in her cheeks.

  Mrs. Hecker gave her a funny look—a cross between a wink and a giggle. “You sure have grown up,” she said.

  Jessie looked at Sophie, who was drying her hands. “Cool costume,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Sophie replied, looking nervous.

  “I thought about being her. Amelia Earhart.” In the end, Jessie hadn’t chosen Amelia Earhart because it was too close to what Cam was doing. She’d heard enough about planes and drones to last her the rest of her life.

  “See you out there,” Sophie said, stepping past Jessie.

  “Yeah,” Jessie replied. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and left the busy bathroom, her oversized boots clunking on the hard floor.

  Jessie’s spot was near the locker room doors, so she settled into her pose and waited for the outside doors to open. The clock said 4:58 so she assured that her poster wasn’t crooked, that her sword wasn’t wobbly, checked her posture one last time, and bore her eyes indifferently into the distance like Miss Klein had instructed. There was a murmur of voices as the doors opened across the gym, and parents filled the space. Jessie felt the butterflies lift off inside her belly and wondered how soon her mom and Zach would find her.

  Because she was supposed to stand still as a statue and not look at the “museum guests” she didn’t always know who was walking by, studying her or reading her poster. Sometimes she tuned into the voices: moms reading parts of her poster aloud to dads, or little sisters or brothers whining, or just a “hmm,” or “very nice.” Jessie felt a surge of pride. She recognized Cam’s mom and dad’s voices and felt their presence at her poster for a long time. She wanted to apologize to them, explain that it wasn’t Cam’s fault about the egg. But she was stuck as Joan of Arc, and suddenly it all felt so hopeless. Then she heard May’s gurgle and it made her want to cry because she wondered if she would ever get to hold her again. “Great job, Jessie,” Greta’s voice said. Jessie tried to look fierce as they passed.

  Then Mrs. Hoffenrichter passed by—Jessie knew because she stood right in front of her for a long minute. Jessie didn’t even dare to blink. When she sauntered on, Jessie felt weak with relief.

  The flow of parents seemed to ebb. Jessie’s feet in the hard-soled boots begged for a break. The turtleneck and tunic felt hot in the now-stuffy gym. In a gap between visitors, she glanced at the clock; it was almost six o’clock. Where were her mom and Zach?

  Chapter 31

  Zach

  Zach arrived at Dana’s, but his relief to see her car in the driveway was short-lived. Inside the house, Dana was on the phone, frantic.

  “But he signed the contract,” she said. “I have the crew list right here,” she added, slapping her hand over the sheet of paper in front of her on the kitchen counter.

  Zach approached, giving her a questioning look when her desperate eyes lifted to his. Her attention returned to listening.

  “Are you sure?” she said. “It would have been weeks ago.”

  The person on the other line replied but Zach could only hear the rise and fall of the voice’s intonation.

  Zach put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?” he mouthed.

  “Then where is he?” Dana cried into the phone.

  Evan, Zach realized.

  “I want to talk to the captain,” Dana added. “Maybe there’s some mistake.”

  Dana waited through another transmission—she was shaking.

  The person on the other end agreed to get the captain a message when he returned to port. Dana recited her information and hung up.

  “He never showed,” Dana said into Zach’s chest. “He got hired but the day the Nordic Star left port three weeks ago he didn’t show.”

  Zach crossed his arms, trying to hold back his frustration. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  They stood like that for a long moment.

  “Where could he be?” Dana whispered.

  “Maybe he got cold feet,” Zach said. “Those jobs are incredibly hard. Maybe he decided it wasn’t for him.”

  “Maybe,” Dana said.

  Zach looked at the clock on the stove. “We should get going. Jessie’s thing starts pretty soon.”

  “Right,” Dana said, her voice distant.

  Zach jumped in the shower and when he was dressed, saw that Dana was typing at her computer, still in her Martha & Mary scrubs.

  He checked the time again—they needed to leave. “Dana,” he said, his voice harsher than he intended. “We gotta go.”

  Dana bit her lip. “I know,” she answered. Finally, she slid off the bed, then disappeared into her closet.

  Zach caught the image on the screen, and frowned.

  In the car, Dana was quiet until they reached the first stoplight. “I’m going up there,” she said.

  Zach paused in first gear and glanced up the hill. “To the school?”

  “No,” she said. “To Dutch Harbor.”

  “What?”

  She turned sharply to him. “Something’s wrong. I know it.”

  A sharp honking sound erupted from the car behind him and Zach drove through the green light. “Just because he didn’t get on that boat doesn’t mean he’s in trouble,” Zach said, trying to soothe her but the frustration seeped into his voice anyway.

  “The only way I’m going to get answers is to be there.”

  “Okay, say you do go up there,” he said, accelerating up the hill. “Say you find him. How’s he going to react to seeing you?”

  Dana’s mouth opened, then closed into a tight line.

  “Hunting him down isn’t going to rebuild your relationship.”

  “I’m not hunting him down!” Dana said.

  “That’s not how he’ll see it,” Zach warned.

  “Here’s a different scenario,” Dana said, her tone icy. “What if he’s in trouble, has no money, or something worse . . . what if he was in an accident, and he’s hurt. What if he’s . . . relapsed.” He could hear the tears starting.

  “What if he has?” Zach replied, his voice rising. “Maybe it’ll be the best thing that’s happened to him. Maybe, without you there to pick him up every time he falls, he’ll finally learn how to take care of himself.”

  “No. He’s too fragile,” she said, breaking down.

  Zach pulled into a parking space at the middle school and turned off the ignition. He opened his console for a tissue and felt his stomach twist at the sight of the tan suede ring box peeking out from its hiding place. They were even farther away from an answer now. He wanted to scream in agony. He gulped a breath while his shaking fingers teased two tissues from the box. He dropped the lid and stared out the window while Dana dabbed her eyes.

  “I don’t think this is the right call,” he said.

  “It’s not yours to make,” she answered, and stepped from the truck.

  “Where do you think I’d be if I hadn’t put some distance between me and Travis?” he called out to her.

  Dana crossed her arms and leaned her back against the side.

  Zach got out and walked around the truck. “I’ll always be there for him, he knows that. I’ll always love him. But I had to stop beating myself up. I had to let him go.”

  Dana wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “If you do this,” he said, his eyes boring into her, trying to reach her. “I won’t be here when you get back.”

  Dana closed her eyes tight. Zach watched her squeeze her fists and sigh. Then, she turned and hurried off through the parking lot.

  “G
od damnit!” Zach growled into the empty space.

  Inside the gym, kids were lined along the walls in their costumes: he saw an Einstein, a Michael Jackson, a Rachel Carson, a John Elway. He skimmed the posters, lingered dutifully on the costumes’ details, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying his conversation with Dana.

  He drifted along, a deep thudding headache blooming behind his eyes as his thoughts tumbled and rolled like pebbles being washed and combed along a strip of forgotten beach.

  Dana had split off in a different direction after entering the gym, so he arrived alone at Jessie’s post.

  Her eyes focused on a spot far away, but they glimmered when he paused to admire her work.

  Zach read her poster, which displayed a timeline of Joan of Arc’s feats as well as her demise by the French King who made no attempts to save her.

  Though he was dutifully impressed by Jessie’s depth of research, he stood before her feeling lost, untethered. His mind spun with everything that was going wrong: Dana going to Alaska, Stef living in his treehouse, a random pattern of fires with at least one kid involved. He had the sensation of the ground not being completely solid.

  He remembered the sight of the ring in his console and his stomach hooked downwards, tickling his other organs in the process, like he was riding a roller coaster and the car just dropped over the cliff. He panicked at the idea of getting sick in the gym surrounded by all of these people. A deep breath brought him down a notch. He stood before Jessie, feeling a cold lump of grief climb into his throat. She’ll always be my L.T., he thought. Even if Dana went through with her plans. I’ll always love her.

  A woman in a long jumper-like dress arrived, clipboard in hand.

  “Hello,” she said to Zach. “I’m Jessie’s teacher, Miss Klein.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Zach replied, shaking her hand. “I’m Zach.”

  “Are you Jessie’s dad?”

  Zach’s smile froze. “No,” he said. The horrible fluttery feeling crept back into his insides. He took one last look at Joan of Arc, then stepped away, unable to control the terror building inside him. Why couldn’t he pull the people he loved together?

  Zach drifted along, noting the other students without really seeing them. He finished the first row and turned to the middle of the gym, where he ran into Brody.

  He gave him a look. “You have an eighth grader?” he asked.

  “Not that I know of,” he replied. He nodded in the direction of a slender girl wearing a pale pink tutu and tights. Her hair was slicked back into a bun and a tiara sparkled in the lights. He could see her stage makeup from here. “Michelle’s kid. The one dressed as the famous ballerina. I can’t remember the name.”

  Zach nodded, remembering meeting Michelle once, who was some kind of fitness teacher: yoga? Pilates? Zach remembered the way Brody had evaded his question about whether he and Michelle were getting serious. Likely, Brody didn’t have an answer.

  “Where’s Dylan?” Zach asked, scanning the gym.

  “Claudia’s,” Brody grunted.

  Zach nodded. Brody never talked about his ex.

  “Jessie’s here?” Brody said, his dark eyebrows knitting together.

  Zach pointed to where Jessie stood, stoic. “Joan of Arc.”

  “That’s Jessie?” He squinted. “Man, I didn’t even recognize her. Last time I saw her was, what, two summers ago?” Brody paused. “She’s really grown up, huh?” he said.

  Zach felt that tug of sadness, like some messed-up version of nostalgia, but for what? For Jessie to stay ten years old forever, laughing at his knock-knock jokes and watching Monsters, Inc with him on the couch? No. Of course she needed to grow up, to make her own choices. Though sneaking off with boys and skipping school weren’t the choices he had expected her to make. He shook his head. Would he be there to support her through it all? Or would Dana rob him of that chance? He remembered Jessie’s startling request that he teach her to fight—for real, not that kid’s stuff you taught me in fifth grade, she had said.

  “Did you hear the news?” Brody said.

  Zach blinked. “What news?”

  “They got the arsonist.”

  “What?”

  Brody nodded. “Well, that’s the word. Stu’s keeping it under wraps but I know he got a hit from the DNA. Apparently it’s some kid who’s been on the lam.”

  Zach’s senses sharpened. A strange energy had taken hold in his gut. “Do you know who it is?”

  Brody shook his head. “He’s trying to reach the parents first, I guess. I do know that he talked to those girls Hoffenrichter fingered.”

  “Are they involved?”

  Brody crossed his arms. “Nope. But apparently they’re in deep for other stuff.”

  Zach nodded. “They didn’t fit, anyway. I had it in my head that it was a boy.”

  “Because of the helmet? Girls skate too, you moron,” Brody said. “Jessie does, right?” he added.

  “Yeah,” Zach said, shuffling his feet to combat the uncomfortable tightness closing down the back of his throat.

  Brody stretched his shoulders. “I was on my way out for a smoke, you want to join? You look a little dazed, brother. These things will do it to you, I swear.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his grin sheepish.

  “No, thanks,” Zach said. “I’m gonna stick around.”

  Brody drifted towards the big double doors.

  Alone in the middle of the busy gym, Zach’s gaze drifted until it found Jessie, standing proud and fearless, like a warrior.

  Chapter 32

  Jessie

  Finally, the announcement that the “museum” was closing sounded over the speakers. Jessie stepped off her box and looked around. Kids were already starting to disperse with their parents.

  Zach appeared. “Can I help?” he asked. His lips were smiling but his eyes had that locked-down, unreadable look that always made her uneasy.

  “Um, I need to go change,” she said. “Can you take my poster?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said, taking it from her hands. “We’ll wait for you out front, and then we’ll celebrate like we planned, okay?” he said with that same not-warm smile again.

  After changing and gathering the rest of her things, she found Zach and her mom waiting. They stood facing each other, and even in the darkness, she could tell that they were fighting.

  During the drive to Tup Tim Thai, Zach had tried to make conversation by praising Jessie’s work, but the mood was tense. At the restaurant, Zach opened the door for them and she entered the warm space, the smells of hot food wafting from the steamy kitchen enveloping her in a cloud. But it didn’t comfort her the way it usually did.

  This was supposed to be her moment of triumph. She had worked so hard for this! She hadn’t realized how much she cared about sharing it until the moment the museum doors had opened.

  Jessie ordered a bubble tea. Her mom and Zach both asked for water.

  “Was it hard to stand so still the whole time?” Zach asked.

  She glanced at her silent mom. “By the end, yeah,” Jessie said.

  “You looked so fierce,” he added, and flashed a ferocious expression. For an instant, he morphed into the image of someone truly scary: eyes full of malice, hard, chiseled jawline, biceps flexed and ready to attack.

  Jessie knew she should smile, but it only increased her worry. Something was really wrong.

  Her mom played with her napkin, folding and unfolding one of the corners.

  Their drinks arrived, and the waitress took their order. Jessie got the Pad Thai, and Zach ordered her second favorite, the yellow curry. Her mom ordered a salad.

  “There’s something I need to tell you, Jessie,” her mom said finally.

  Jessie had reached for her tea and was about to take a sip but put the glass down. She shoved her hands between her knees.

  Her mom looked at Zach, a serious-looking frown on her face, then opened her mouth. Her eyes returned to her napkin. “Evan isn’t on that boat.”


  Jessie squeezed her thighs together, squishing her hands. “Oh.” She snuck a glance at Zach, but he was busy stirring the ice in his glass with his straw. “Then where is he?”

  Reluctantly, it seemed, her mom looked at her, and Jessie saw the desperation there. “I don’t know, honey.” She pulled her lips in and held them like that for a moment. “I think we should go up there.”

  “To Alaska?” Jessie asked.

  “Yes. I can get us on a flight tomorrow afternoon. You’ll have to miss a little bit of school, but—”

  “I’m not going,” Jessie blurted.

  Her mom blinked. “What?”

  “I . . . can’t,” she said, her legs pressing together so tightly that her pinky fingers throbbed.

  “Jessie, your brother might—”

  “So?” Jessie said, unable to hold it back.

  “Jessica,” her mom warned, her eyes wide with surprise.

  Jessie knew she shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t be so hostile, but she couldn’t help it. “Why do I have to go? There’s nothing I can do to help find him.”

  “But I can’t leave you here alone.”

  “I won’t be alone,” Jessie replied, realizing that she had an out. “Zach will be here.” She risked a glance at him but his face was blank. “Right?” she asked, confused as to why he wasn’t jumping in. In the past, she’d stayed with Cam’s family. But that no longer seemed like a viable option.

  Her mom turned to Zach, her eyes uncertain, then back to Jessie. “I can’t ask Zach to give up his plans to . . . ” Her mom shook her head. “Plus I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

  “Mom,” Jessie moaned.