Lies Like Wildfire

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

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  My tires crunch across the Sandovals’ crushed-stone driveway. Drummer’s Impala is already here, parked out of sight of the house. I glance up and see a light on in the attic. Slowly, I back my Jeep between two large pine trees so I can sneak up on Violet and Drummer.

  I slide quietly out of the Wrangler and scoot through the darkness toward the back of the house. Lulu habitually forgets to lock the back entrance, because it’s the door the poodles use to go in and out all day. I test the knob and it turns. The door creaks. I push it gently open and step inside the house.

  A television blares in the family room, and delicate snores emerge from a body on the couch. It’s Lulu Sandoval; she passes out each night after her evening glasses of wine. I leave the door ajar and shuffle toward the back staircase, which is narrow and steep and leads to the third floor.

  Stepping carefully, I reach each tiny landing, turn, and climb higher. The stairs are made of cherry wood, and they’re old. They moan and bend beneath my feet, but the house is noisy like that, and the stairs’ complaints meld into the various other sighs and creaks of the old home. At the top, the attic door is closed, but there’s a giant antique keyhole. I sink to my knees and peer through it.

  I recoil at what I see: Drummer and Violet kissing on the red sofa. My heart wallops. They’re fully clothed but her top is pushed up and her eyelashes are wet with tears. So are his. Their kisses are deep and passionate, as if they’re starving for each other, and their faces are scrunched. They’re trying to be quiet, stifling their soft moans.

  Drummer adjusts his jeans, slides up her skirt, and then thrusts. She clutches him, gasping, and I realize they’re having sex. God!

  I jerk away from the keyhole and cover my ears.

  When it’s over, I scurry back and watch them. Drummer pulls down his shirt. They’re both flushed and rumpled and gorgeous. I chew my lip, listening.

  “That was the last time,” Violet says to him, catching her breath. “Until we tell the truth about the fire, it’s over.”

  “Doesn’t feel over,” Drummer teases, his lips wet from kissing.

  Violet sits taller and adjusts her top, artfully reties her scarf, and straightens her short tweed skirt. “I don’t want to see you anymore if you can’t be honest—about the fire or me. I don’t like secrets. We never should have lied. I never should have lied to Sheriff Warner,” she amends.

  He grabs her shoulders and makes her look at him. “Please don’t tell, V. I’ll say I started it, if you want. But don’t tell on the others.”

  Her mouth pops open, and her dark brows knit together. “That’s not fair. We did this, all five of us, and we need to face it. That’s the point. We need to clear our consciences.”

  He shakes his head.

  She scowls. “It’s not fair that just Mo and Luke are in trouble.”

  “I know,” he agrees, still shaking his head. “But like Hannah says, telling won’t change anything. It’ll just ruin all our lives.”

  “They’re already ruined,” she whispers. “That’s what none of you seem to get. We know what we did—we know—and it will haunt us forever. Don’t you feel awful?”

  He sucks in his lower lip. “Yeah, I do.”

  “If we confess and pay our dues, we’ll feel better. As soon as I decided to tell, I felt better.”

  Drummer grips his head in his hands. “Everyone in Gap Mountain will hate us.”

  “I don’t care. I hate myself.”

  “Yeah, but we grew up here.” He sighs. “I won’t do it without talking to the others.”

  Violet’s expression hardens. “You mean without talking to Hannah, don’t you? That’s the other thing, Drummer: you need to tell her about us.”

  My heart flutters in my chest.

  “You’re both going to college soon. Why tell her now?” he asks.

  Violet squints at him. “Because it’s another secret.”

  His turns his eyes toward her, and they’re so full of misery and love that I lose my breath. “It will crush her, V. We’re her best friends. I can’t hurt her like that.”

  “Because she’s in love with you?”

  He shrugs.

  Violet’s body goes stiff. “You like leading her on, don’t you?” she accuses. “You tease her and keep her on the hook. You go to her with all your problems. Maybe you like her and just can’t admit it.”

  My blood pumps faster. Humiliation pins me to the floor.

  Drummer laughs, as if an attraction to me is ridiculous. “I don’t like her that way. Don’t worry.”

  “Hannah’s pretty,” Violet argues.

  He shrugs again.

  My hands clench into fists, and my fingernails dig into my palms.

  “If you don’t tell her about us, I will.” Violet’s tone grows demanding, and Drummer balks.

  “No,” he says, growing petulant. I see that Violet is getting territorial, and her demands on Drummer are only going to increase. Their relationship is doomed, and I smile.

  Violet crosses her arms. “What do you mean, no? I’m not hiding this anymore. I’m done with all the lies.”

  He stands. “Don’t tell me what to do. Hannah’s my friend.”

  “No, she’s not.” Her voice rises to a whispered shout; her lips tighten and thin. “She’s your back-burner girl, always ready when you need her. Have you slept with her yet?”

  “God, no. She’s like my sister.”

  Violet lifts her chin. “That’s a lie. If she were like a sister, you wouldn’t hide our relationship from her.”

  I watch them through the keyhole, my eyes volleying from one to the other as they fight about me, my anger simmering.

  Drummer glares at Violet. “You’re hiding me from Grammy.”

  Her voice becomes tremulous. “That’s different.”

  “It’s not. You don’t want her to know you’re fucking a local boy, and I don’t want Hannah to know I’m fucking one of her best friends. You’re such a hypocrite, V.”

  Violet lowers her voice. “Get out of here, just go.”

  Drummer backs away and puts on his shoes, shoving his feet in and strangling them with his shoelaces. “I don’t use Hannah.”

  “Then tell her about us, put her out of her misery. She loves you, you know.”

  He yanks his car keys out of his pocket and glares at her. “Why do you want to fight? Why can’t you let all of this go?”

  “Because you’re a coward and Hannah’s your puppet. It’s sick. You’re both sick!”

  My fury ignites as Drummer snatches Violet’s wrists and yanks her off the sofa, dragging her to eye level. “Take that back.”

  Violet digs her fingernails into his arms. “Or what?”

  He gives her body a hard shake. “Take it back.”

  “I can’t believe you’re defending her!” Violet thrashes like a hooked fish, leaving long red welts on Drummer’s arms. She frees a hand and clocks his jaw with it. He curses, wrenches her wrist, and tosses her aside. Violet’s back slams into the writing desk, and she lands beneath it, faceup. I watch, breathless, as the solid glass unicorn I gave her when she was ten wobbles side to side and then falls, striking her temple with a sickening thud.

  Violet screeches and cradles her head, eyes wide and filling with tears. Blood wells and oozes down her face in a long stripe. Red droplets soak into the white carpet. “You hurt me!” she cries.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry!” Drummer rushes to her side, but she shoves him away.

  She gapes at the blood and her reddened injured wrist. “Go, just get out of here.”

  Panic flickers across his expression. “No, let me help you.” He picks up the unicorn, wipes it clean on his shirt, and puts it back. Straightens the desk. Tries to check her wound.

  Violet rises to her full
five-foot-one-inch height and faces him, her voice flat and edged in ice. “Leave now or I will fucking scream.”

  Drummer’s lips tremble, but he turns away and sulks out of the room, taking the main stairs down to his car. In the distance, I hear his Impala start and drive away.

  Violet lets out a low, frustrated growl and staggers into the wall. She slides down it and sits, leaning back, holding her head. Blood drips between her fingers, and the droplets splat onto the floor. She pulls her hand away and watches the red liquid slide down her arm. “Oh…oh no,” she moans. Violet can’t stand the sight of blood, never could. She blinks rapidly and slumps over, unconscious.

  My feelings spin out of me as I stand up on the landing. Shit! This is bad! I start to open the small attic door but hear a skittering sound on the other side of the house, a sound I know well. When we were younger, fourteen and fifteen years old, we used to sneak in and out of this attic through the window. We climbed up and down using the trellis that leans against the house.

  Right now, someone is climbing up.

  42

  August 2

  Days Violet has been missing: 0

  Time: 9:10 p.m.

  God, if anyone sees Violet like this, they’ll blame Drummer. I rush into the room, lift her light body, and carry her into the small back landing. After propping her against the wall, I run back in and toss a throw pillow over the blood smeared on the white carpet.

  I sneak out, close the door, and peek through the keyhole, holding my breath.

  Strong male hands appear in the window and force it open. Then Luke crawls through, pulls out his prepaid phone, and starts texting. Shit! He might be texting Violet. Sure enough, her phone pings from her purse on the writing desk. With a heavy sigh, Luke lifts out her phone and then puts it back, muttering, “Fuck me, where are you?”

  He waits a moment, cracking his knuckles, and then curses again and pulls out her wallet. Shocked, I watch as he withdraws all her cash and shoves it into his pocket, creating a thick bulge. Then he turns and exits the way he came.

  I let out my breath and turn to Violet, but the sight of her steals my words. When I set her down, she twisted forward and landed on one side of her face, like a broken doll. Her skin is pallid, and her lips are colorless. She looks dead.

  “Drummer, you asshole,” I whisper. He made a mess and ran away, like he always does. But Violet’s not dead, she just fainted. The slow, steady puffs of her breath tell me that. Still, if I don’t pacify her when she wakes up, who knows what she’ll do—accuse him of assault and then rat on us about the fire? Everyone will end up in prison because of Drummer. I’ll die if they put me in a cage—his words prompt me. I have to fix this.

  Violet moans and shifts. Good. I’ll take her to the hospital.

  I slip back into the room, retrieve her phone and prepaid cell from her purse, slip them in my pockets, and then return to tug on her arm. “Come on, V, get up.”

  She grimaces and tries to stand, but like a newborn colt’s, her legs slide out from under her. She completely missed the point of her combat boots, I think as I help her up. If she’d kicked Drummer with them instead of pulling away, she wouldn’t be hurt right now.

  Propping Violet up with one arm is easy for me, because I’m so much taller. She starts to revive as I awkwardly help her walk down the back staircase to the first floor.

  As we pass the family room, Lulu flips over, but her breaths remain deep and steady, her snoring peaceful. We move past her and out the back door, around the side of the house. A motion sensor light turns on, and I startle when a person appears. No—it’s not a person, it’s me. My backlit figure reflects off the window and, in the dark, with my hair disheveled, my posture hunched, and a semiconscious girl in my arms, I appear hulking and monstrous. I look away.

  We reach my Jeep, parked in the shadows, and Violet’s head lolls against my chest. I don’t think she can sit up, so I lay her across the backseat with the leftovers and then climb into the front, turn over the engine, and press on the gas.

  As we roll away from the house, I catch up to Luke, who’s departing on his bicycle. He stops and waves me down. Shit. I roll my window open a crack, hoping V doesn’t wake up.

  “Have you seen Violet?” he asks.

  I swallow. “No, have you?”

  He frowns. “No. Drummer must have gotten here first. Maybe they went somewhere.” He rubs his head. “Look, after her text about the police, she called and told me to come over and get some cash and not to let Grammy see me, but she didn’t unlock the damn attic window. If you see her, tell her I got the money.”

  “Okay, but why is she giving it to you?” I’m surprised because, generous as she is, we don’t borrow money from Violet. Monster pride, I guess.

  He flushes. “It’s just to help me out until I can move back home. She insisted.”

  Swallowing thickly, I say, “I’ll tell her.” Then I close my window and speed past him before he asks for a ride or notices Violet lying on my backseat.

  As we hit the main county road, the color returns to Violet’s face. “Hannah?” Her eyelids flutter as she sits up and tries to focus on me.

  I release a huge breath. “You scared me for a minute. You hit your head.”

  “Drummer…?”

  “Shhh, he’s gone. Just lie down and I’ll take you to a doctor.”

  “God, what’s that smell?” she asks.

  I laugh. “Your grammy’s beef stew leftovers.”

  When I reach a split in the county road, I roll to a stop. Straight ahead is the hospital. Violet rubs her forehead and sees where we are. “I’m fine, Han, really. I don’t need a doctor.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. Where’s my phone?” While she feels around the backseat for it, I turn the wheel and accelerate. I’m glad she’s okay, because we need to talk about her police interview tomorrow, somewhere private.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  I smile. “To the Gap, where else?”

  43

  August 2

  Days Violet has been missing: 0

  Time: 9:50 p.m.

  I drive the back roads to Gap Lake, because I don’t want to get pulled over by one of my dad’s deputies, not with a bleeding, slightly confused girl in my backseat. As we roll past trees that stand like ancient sentries beside the road, Violet climbs into the front seat. Her face and scarf are stained with blood. “Why are we going to the lake?”

  “To talk.”

  “Seriously?” She rubs her injured wrist, growing distracted. “Drummer pushed me, can you believe it?”

  If I remember right, she was insulting me when he got mad, but I shake my head.

  At the trailhead, I park in the overflow lot and peer out the windshield. It’s a beautiful evening. The moon flocks the pines needles in silver light, as if it just snowed, and starlight sprinkles the night sky. The wildfire smoke is gone. I step out of the Jeep, inhale the warm musk of the forest, and wonder what San Diego will smell like. Will I miss the woods, I wonder?

  Violet groans. “Hannah, I don’t feel good.”

  “You need fresh air.” I lean in and pull her out, notice droplets of blood on my backseat, but she looks much better. I set her on her feet. “I got you.”

  She tilts her head, and the moonlight illuminates her face. The gash across her forehead flaps open, but head wounds always looks worse than they are, right?

  “Where’s Drummer?” she asks, looking groggy.

  “I told you, he left. He hurt you and left.” Maybe she’ll start to understand that he’s a coward and she’s too good for him. “Come on, V, let’s get to the water and clean you up.”

  Violet nods, gains control of her feet, and we hike to the western shore of the Gap and park ourselves on a stone mesa overlooking the lake. A steep cliff slides straight down from the
edge and meets the water about five feet below. Kids like to dive off this flat rock, because there’s nothing to hurt you, no submerged rocks or shoreline, just two thousand feet of cold water. There’s no beach here either, no way to climb out without help.

  The lake spans beyond us, dark except for the moonlit surface, and deeper than any secrets Violet and I have between us. “Give me your scarf, okay?”

  She obediently unwinds the expensive silk from around her neck and hands it to me. Her mascara is smeared from sex and tears, and I bet I could smell Drummer on her if I got any closer. This is a sobering thought, and I look away, toward the woods where Luke lit the pipe. I have to stay focused on why I’m here—to make Violet change her mind. I dip the scarf into the water and gently clean her wound.

  She offers a weak smile, and her dimples form two dark points on her heart-shaped face. Everything about Violet is pleasing, from the husky timbre of her voice to her artful hands to her expressive lips—I realize I’m staring.

  But just like Drummer, she blooms under attention, and she stares back, blinking her long-lashed eyes. Then she reaches for her pendant and startles. “Oh no, where’s my necklace?” She lurches into motion and crawls around the rocky plateau, feeling into the crevices.

  I hunch over and help her; we search everywhere. “It’s probably at your house.”

  “I better not have lost it,” she says. After a minute, Violet pauses to rest, and her eyes sweep the flat, mirrorlike lake and the woods beyond. She hums a few bars of a song and motions toward the Gap. “The stars are in the lake and the lake is in the sky. Everything is reversed. Do you see it?”

  “I just see water.”

  She laughs. “No, it’s the reverse world, where everything is opposite. Where we didn’t start the fire.”

  I’m glad she brought that up. “I don’t see that, V, I see this world, where we did start the fire. We need to talk about it. You can’t tell the police what happened.”

  Her fingers curl like claws. “It was an accident, Han.” Her sharp chin juts toward me.