Burn for Burn

by Jenny Han

  That’s the kind of cool aunt she is.

  As soon as Aunt Bette goes to bed, I sneak outside to wait for Kat. I sit on the curb with my legs stretched out. The other houses are dark, and far, far down the hill I can just barely make out the moon hitting the water. If I concentrate hard enough, I bet I could hear the ocean.

  Eventually Kat’s convertible comes up the hill with the lights off, and I jump up from the curb. She pulls to a stop right in front of me. “Hey,” she says. “Ready to do this?”

  “Totally,” I say as I climb in over the door and into the backseat. “I can’t wait to get my license.” I mean, I love my bike, but with a license I could go anywhere. So long as Aunt Bette let me borrow the Volvo.

  Turning around, she says, “Why are you sitting in the back? I’m not a chauffeur.”

  I flush. “I don’t know. I thought I’d give Lillia the front seat.”

  I feel clumsy and stupid until she starts to drive and then she says, “I’m sure that’s exactly what she’d expect. Only the best for Princess Lillia.”

  “I really don’t mind,” I say, leaning forward.

  Kat snorts. “Of course you don’t,” but she says it nice, as if it were a compliment.

  Pretty soon we’re in front of Lillia’s house. It’s so big and modern. It’s not even a house; it’s a full-on mansion. Lillia lives on the ritziest part of the island, White Haven. Most of the houses have thick hedges around the yards so you can barely see what they look like. And there’s so much space. The houses are spread far apart, with big garages that fit a ton of cars, and fancy gardens and manicured lawns.

  Kat shuts off the engine and the headlights. She blows her bangs out of her eyes and says, “She’s late. It’s so like her to not be considerate of anyone else.”

  I smile to myself. I don’t say what I am thinking—that Kat was late too.

  As we sit there in the dark, the wind picks up. Kat zips her hoodie and turns to me. “Aren’t you freezing? There might be one of Pat’s work shirts in the trunk.”

  “No,” I say, tugging at my pale pink shorts. “I’m not cold at all. Too excited, I think.”

  That’s when Lillia appears. It’s so dark outside, all I can see is her face, until she gets a bit closer. She’s sneaking down the driveway, dressed entirely in black. Black turtleneck, black leggings, black ballet flats.

  Kat busts up laughing. “Oh my God.”

  Lillia runs up to the car, breathless. “Hey,” she says, climbing into the passenger seat.

  “Lillia, we’re not robbing a freaking bank,” Kat says. “This isn’t a heist.”

  Defensively she says, “We have to be careful!” Lillia glances back at me and frowns. “Oh, well. I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  I feel like I’ve done the wrong thing again. We’re the same age, but these girls feel so much older than me.

  Alex’s house isn’t far from Lillia’s. Just a couple of miles. It’s as big as Lillia’s but more traditional-looking, lots of brick. They even have their own dock, and there’s a speedboat tied to it. Kat slows down and dims the headlights as soon as we get close. She parks the car a few houses away from his.

  I can’t believe we’re really going to do this.

  “Does everybody remember what to do?” Lillia’s asking both of us, but she’s looking at me in the passenger vanity mirror.

  It’s been decided that I should be the lookout. I’m relieved I don’t actually have to break into his SUV. She might be a cool aunt, but I don’t think Aunt Bette could hide it from my parents if she had to bail me out of jail. The way they worry about me, I would be on lockdown for the rest of my life.

  Kat rolls her eyes. “We’ve only been over this fifty times. It’s not that complicated.”

  Kat’s job is to look for some special notebook of Alex’s. Lillia says he’s always scribbling in it, but he never lets anybody read it. She called it his secret diary. She’s sure there’ll be good ammunition in the notebook, and at the very least he’ll freak out over having lost it.

  “Whatever,” Lillia says, “I was just making sure.”

  “You just worry about yourself,” Kat says as she reaches over Lillia to open the glove compartment. She fishes out a flashlight. “Do you have the Retin-A?”

  Lillia lifts up a travel-size bottle of lotion.

  “Is that enough?” Kat asks.

  “It’s a three-month’s supply. So, yeah. It’s enough.”

  Kat gives her a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you suffered from acne, Lil.”

  “My mom uses it for wrinkle prevention,” Lillia says, indignant.

  The plan is for Lillia to empty out Alex’s bottle of sunscreen and fill it with the Retin-A. Retin-A is a zit medicine. It makes your skin hyper-sensitive to the sun. According to Lillia, Alex lathers himself up in sunscreen even if he’s just stepping out of the house. Basically, we’re going to give Alex the worst sunburn of his life. Blisters, peeling, the works. It’ll be a mess.

  Kat turns the flashlight on and off a couple of times. We creep out of the car.

  As we walk up the driveway, Lillia whispers, “We have to keep a close eye on the pool house. That’s where Alex stays.”

  “I know that,” Kat snaps.

  “I was talking to Mary,” Lillia snaps right back.

  “Guys, come on,” I whisper. “No more bickering.” I crouch beside Alex’s SUV, keeping my eyes trained toward the house. The lights are off, but I can see there’s one on in the pool house. Kat said Alex would be asleep by now, but it looks like she was wrong.

  Meanwhile, Kat and Lillia are already in the SUV. Apparently Alex doesn’t lock his doors. Kat’s in the front seat, going through Alex’s backpack, and Lillia’s in the backseat looking for his equipment bag.

  “I don’t see the bag, Kat,” Lillia says, sounding panicked.

  “Maybe he left it in his locker.”

  “How am I supposed to do this lotion switch, then?”

  “Quit freaking out! We’ll think up something tomorrow,” Kat says. A few seconds later she says, “Shit. His notebook isn’t here either.”

  “You’re not serious. I thought you said he kept it in his car!” Lillia climbs out of the backseat and joins Kat up front. She rummages through the glove compartment, then the center console, then flips down both of the visors. But Alex’s notebook is nowhere to be found.

  “We could take his textbooks and throw them in the water,” Kat says, holding one up.

  “No! Who cares about textbooks? He’ll just buy new ones.” Lillia looks like she’s going to cry, she’s so mad. “I’m not leaving without that notebook.”

  My stomach does a nosedive. It seemed so easy, when we were talking everything out. I take one last look back at the house, and then I dart around the side of the SUV to help search for the notebook.

  Lillia’s head snaps up. “God, Mary! What are you doing? Get back to your post!” she hisses.

  I stiffen. “I was just trying to help—”

  But then Kat yelps. “Got it!” She holds up the notebook triumphantly. It was under the driver’s seat. Kat and Lillia high-five, and then they grin at me. I give a very relieved thumbs-up.

  She and Lillia jump out. Kat closes the door, a little too hard. We both run back for Kat’s car as fast as we can. Kat gets into the driver’s seat, and I dive into the backseat.

  But Lillia’s still back by the SUV. She’s standing in the driveway, looking toward the pool house.

  “What’s she doing?” I ask Kat.

  Before Kat can answer me, Lillia stoops down and picks up a huge rock from under one of the potted plants that border the yard. And then she hurls the rock through Alex’s rear window. It makes a big flash, all the shards reflecting the light of the moon. The sound of shattering glass echoes through the air.

  Kat and I both gasp. This was definitely not part of our plan.

  The lights in the house start to turn on. First in a room upstairs, then the ones on either side of the front door
.

  Kat yells, “Fuck! Let’s go!”

  Lillia makes a beeline for us, her long black hair streaming behind her like a banner. Jumping inside, she screams, “Drive!”

  We peel out of the cul-de-sac, tires screeching. When we’re a few blocks away, Kat shrieks, “What the hell was that?”

  Lillia doesn’t answer her. She’s turned around in her seat, still looking back toward Alex’s house. She is breathing hard, and there is a thin cut on her cheek, where a piece of glass must have hit her.

  I say, “Lillia! You’re bleeding!”

  She puts her hand to her cheek and then looks down at it. “Just a little,” she says. Our eyes meet, and she blinks, looking stunned. “I guess I got caught up in the moment, huh?”

  Kat goes, “Hell, yeah, you did. That was badass! Looks like someone’s taking the bus to school tomorrow!” She cranks the volume on the radio and starts dancing in her seat, wild and crazylike.

  I laugh and throw my hands into the air, like we are riding a roller coaster.

  “Grab the wheel!” Kat hollers. Music is pumping, and so is my adrenaline. We’re flying. “I want to see what’s in that notebook!”

  Lillia leans over and takes the wheel as Kat opens the notebook up. “This thing is full of poetry!” She screams above the music and the wind, “All your doors are locked. None of my keys fit. The longest hallway leads to you, but I never reach the end.”

  I let out a shriek. “What a cornball!”

  Kat continues, gasping for breath. “Longest hallway. Long, long, hallway. Longest hallway.”

  “Wow,” Lillia says. “That’s one seriously long hallway.”

  We howl with laughter.

  “So, what are we going to do with it?” I ask.

  “I know what we can do. I’ll make copies of one of those corny-ass poems,” Kat says as she turns down the road toward Lillia’s house. “And then I’ll put them up all over school.”

  Lillia cracks up laughing and says, “Kat, I knew you’d come up with something amazing.”

  I lean forward and ask, “Wait, what are we gonna do about the Retin-A?”

  Lillia climbs out of the car. “Well, he’ll definitely have his equipment bag with him at football practice tomorrow. They’re having two-a-days all week. I’ll just have to find a way to sneak into the boys’ locker room.”

  “He’s gonna look like a leper!” Kat crows.

  Lillia squeals and runs backward toward her house. “Night, girls.”

  “Good night!” I call out. That’s exactly what this is. No, it’s an incredible night.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LILLIA

  WHEN THE BELL RINGS, I TELL ASHLIN I HAVE TO STAY after and talk to Mr. Franklin about the quiz, and to go on to lunch without me. I wait until she’s down the hall before I sprint toward the gym.

  The boys’ locker room is empty, but the thing I wasn’t counting on was that there’s no designated football area. I’d figured the football players’ lockers would be together, maybe even have their names taped on them. That’s how the cheerleaders do it. But there’s no way to tell whose locker is whose.

  I start randomly opening the lockers without locks, but those are empty. I’d assumed the boys wouldn’t use locks, because what do they even have that needs locking up? Hair gel? My heart’s beating so fast, I’m afraid it’s going to burst. What if someone walks in and sees me? I have zero excuse for being in the boys’ locker room.

  It feels different, doing this by myself. Like, a whole lot scarier.

  Frantically I try a few more lockers before I give up.

  * * *

  I’m sitting on the bottom bleacher at cheer practice, fiddling with the laces on my sneakers and feeling down about messing up my part in the plan.

  Rennie’s standing up front with her clipboard, getting ready to run down the list of who has to cheer for who for our first game on Friday night. “Most of you guys already know the drill. Everyone is assigned a football player to take care of. You decorate his locker on game day, you bake his favorite cookies, you basically just get his spirits up and his head in the game. I had QB One Joe Blackman from when I was a freshman to when he graduated because he requested me every single year. You wanna know why?”

  A couple of junior girls, Teresa Cruz and Lynn McMannis, whisper something to each other and titter. I know what they’re thinking, but it isn’t true.

  Rennie throws an icy glare in their direction, which silences them. “I’ll tell you why. Because I’m the best. I gave it one thousand percent every game day. I anticipated Joe Blackman’s needs without him having to ask. Sugar-free peanut butter cookies fresh-baked that morning, special cheers when he needed the boost. And honestly, I take pride in the fact that Joe’s playing division three football in college, because I know I helped get him there.” Rennie starts to pace. “Cheering’s not just about wiggling your butt and looking pretty. It’s dedication to excellence. And by the way, Paige, your toetouches were looking weak as hell at practice yesterday.”

  By this point I’m zoning her out. When Rennie starts giving these “inspirational” speeches, she goes on forever and ever.

  When her lecture is finally over, Rennie begins to read the list. My head snaps up when she gets to Nadia’s name. “Nadia, you have Diego Antunes,” she says.

  I turn around and look at Nadia, who’s chewing on her lower lip and looking disappointed. Standing up, I say, “And just so everyone knows, a freshman getting to cheer for an upperclassman is a serious honor.” I say it so Nadia will feel better, but I don’t think it helps.

  Things have been quiet on the Nadia and Alex front. I still have her on lockdown. She’s only allowed to hang out over at Janelle’s or at our house. I keep my bedroom door open at night, so I’ll hear if she tries to sneak out again. And I checked her phone yesterday morning while she was in the shower, and she didn’t have any texts or calls from Alex. Hopefully their hookup was just a onetime thing. If it wasn’t, it will be after this week.

  Rennie keeps working down her list. I’m listening for Teresa’s name, because I’m sure Rennie will stick her with someone who sucks.

  “Teresa, you’re with Lee Freddington.”

  Yup. Lee Freddington is a sophomore, and our backup QB. He’s not going to get a minute of playing time, not with Reeve as QB One. Teresa stares Rennie down, and for a second I wonder if she might actually say something. But of course she doesn’t. No one ever does.

  Rennie hands me her clipboard. “Everyone come see Lillia, and she’ll tell you your player’s info. We’re only giving this out once, so make sure you write it down someplace where you won’t lose it.” To me, she says, “I’m going to get a bottled water. Be right back.”

  I look down at the list of the boys on the football team, with their birthdays, favorite cookies, home addresses, cell phone numbers—and their locker combinations, both gym and regular.

  I want to kiss this piece of paper. Alex Lind, you are so dead.

  * * *

  On Tuesday Alex’s skin looked pink and tender. Today is Wednesday, and it’s cracking. He looks like the lizard Nadia found on our family vacation in Hawaii a few Christmases ago. I almost feel sorry for him. It’s hard to look him in the eyes, even. His eyeballs look so white against his skin. So do his lips. They’re chapped and blistering.

  We’re at the lunch table. Rennie leans close to me and whispers, “Alex’s skin is making me lose my appetite.”

  I take a bite of my sandwich. “It’s not that bad,” I lie.

  “Then you sit across from him,” she says.

  He’s so miserable, it seems like it hurts him to eat. I didn’t realize it would be that painful. I’d thought it would be purely cosmetic. Alex catches me looking at him, and I quickly glance away.

  As soon as Alex gets up to get a soda, I say to Rennie and Ashlin, “Do you guys think it could be contagious?”

  Ashlin looks horrified, and Rennie practically gags on her celery stick. “Oh my God. I
’m switching seats,” she says. She moves her stuff two seats down, next to PJ. Ashlin moves with her.

  When Alex comes back with his Coke, it’s just me and Reeve at this end of the table, and Alex definitely notices. Reeve must have too, because he says, “Dude, what the hell is up with your skin?”

  Alex barely looks up. “It’s the sun,” he says. “Coach needs to calm down on the two-a-days.”

  “I’ve been out there the same as you,” Reeve says, gulping down milk. “Maybe you should go to the doctor or something. Get that situation checked out.”

  “My mom already made me an appointment for tomorrow,” Alex says. “It’s probably just an allergic reaction. I think our cleaning lady started using a new laundry detergent. That could be it.”

  “You should put some aloe on it,” Reeve says.

  I sweetly offer, “My dad has an aloe plant. I could cut you off a piece.”

  “Thanks, Lillia.” Alex sighs. “First my car window gets smashed; now this. It’s been a crap week.”

  “Dude, that was a blessing in disguise. Now you can get those tints you wanted for the windows.” Reeve throws his arm around Alex and says, “Hey, you know what? Maybe you shouldn’t be going to a dermatologist about your skin. Maybe you should go to a gyno. You could have caught some crazy kind of herpes from DeBrassio!” He bursts out laughing.

  Alex’s head jerks up. He glances at me before growling, “Shut up, Reeve.”

  “Hey, I give her credit. She’s a player just like me.”

  I turn to Reeve and say, “Oh, so you’re saying you have herpes?” Reeve just laughs harder.

  “Kat’s not like that,” Alex says, his eyes fierce. Then he gets up and throws his lunch into the garbage can.

  “I was just kidding,” Reeve calls after him.

  I watch Reeve get up and follow Alex out of the cafeteria. It’s surprising, the way Alex defended Kat. Kind of sweet, even. But then I remind myself that this fake chivalrous Alex also cheated on Kat by taking advantage of my little sister, so really, what right does he even have to defend anybody? He’s not fooling me. Not anymore.