Watch You Burn

by Amanda Searcy

  Dad reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “No. This is going to turn out fine. Mike’s lawyer is the best around. The police had to come check things out because of my past, but they’ve left us alone since then.” He pauses and looks away, blinking hard. “Jenny, I want you to know that I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill him.”

  “I know,” I whisper. I reclaim my hand and pick up the plates. “We should reheat these.” I whip around to face the microwave before he has time to see what I’m thinking. He’s not guilty of anything, but I am.

  * * *

  —

  I take a sleeping pill. My heart won’t stop pounding. My scar won’t stop itching. Every sound sends my eyes to the window. I’m being ridiculous. There’s no one there. It was always Suds. Ro saw him trying to look inside the day Dad punched him.

  But my mind won’t let go of the image of someone standing outside.

  Before I let chemical-induced sleep take me, I have to check. I creep up to the curtain and lift it just enough to see out.

  No one is standing on the sidewalk under the bare bulb.

  Motion in the blackness beyond the blub.

  A flash of blue disappearing into the night.

  * * *

  —

  School is horrible. Even after popping the sleeping pill, I didn’t sleep much. Now I’m fuzzy-headed and exhausted.

  Kara is out sick, so I have to face the pointing and whispers about my dad in the hallways alone. This school isn’t for kids like me. The other students have two-parent homes in the hills. They go on family vacations to Florida. They get cars for birthday presents.

  I get looks like I’m a criminal. Like I’m the daughter of the guy who killed a man. Like I’m back to being seven and a museum specimen on display.

  * * *

  —

  Cam actually shows after school. He is fully awake and parked across the street.

  A group of girls standing in the doorway of Riverline Prep point at the logo on the side of the truck and start to whisper. Cam rolls down his window, sticks his blue-coated arm out, and gives them the finger.

  I flinch—not at him flipping them the bird; those girls deserved it. It’s his blue coat. Why do I keep seeing that shade of blue everywhere? I saw it last night. Or did I? The pill was already in my system. It could have been my imagination.

  But then why do I keep imagining the same thing?

  I go back into school and dash out the back emergency exit.

  At the bus stop, I hide in the shadows of a building. Cam’s truck drives by, his eyes scanning the empty bench. I rub my scar.

  When the bus drops me off near the Los Ranchitos, Cam’s truck isn’t in the parking lot. He could still be out looking for me. But if there’s really nothing more going on and he’s just trying to be a good employee, he’ll give up soon and come back.

  I wait, but his truck never shows. He’s not looking for me here. I start to head toward the river. If I’m right, I know exactly where I’ll find Cam. If he really was outside my window last night, if it’s his coat I’ve been seeing everywhere, he’ll look for me in the trees.

  Even though I don’t have on my special soft-soled shoes, I’ve learned how to walk quietly through the leaves and underbrush. If anyone were ahead of me, they would hear nothing more than the birds and the squirrels hunting for food.

  When I get to the river, I sit down and wait.

  Most of me is scared that Cam is going to come through the trees in front of me. Part of me is terrified that he won’t. If it’s not him, it’s someone else.

  Heavy tromping footsteps. I get ready to jump up. Jump up to confront Cam, or jump up and run.

  The crackle of a police radio.

  Dammit.

  I stand as soon as I see Allen the police intern approach. He starts, but then a smile cuts across his face.

  “Hi, Jenny. Are you out here bird-watching?”

  I nod. “Why are you here?” My tone is not friendly.

  He doesn’t seem to notice. “The arsonist. I’m on patrol.”

  My lack of sleep makes it impossible to hide my frustration with him being here. “You are not a cop.” My voice is shrill. He’s messing up my whole plan. If Cam sees us together, he’ll hightail it out of here.

  Allen shrugs. “I’m a concerned citizen.”

  I put a hand on my hip and glare at him.

  He sighs. “I’m failing the program. My supervisor said in her review that I was”—he makes finger quotes—“ ‘arrogant and uncooperative.’ She’s a bitch.” He doesn’t apologize when he sees me flinch. “I can’t fail out of the program. My family will never let me live it down. This is what I was born to do.”

  “So you’re going to catch the arsonist?” My tongue trips on that word: “arsonist.” It’s such a harsh, grimy-sounding word. A word for criminals. Criminals who hurt people.

  “I’ve been tracking him. It’s only a matter of time until he screws up.”

  My body goes tense. “What do you mean you’ve been tracking him?”

  Allen winks. “I know where he’s going to set the next fire. He picks the same kind of place every time. There’s only one place like that left within walking distance. No one’s seen a car drive away from the burn sites, so he must be on foot.”

  I will myself to stop moving, even though every cell in my body is yelling at me to run away.

  “I’ll be waiting the next time he shows.”

  “How are you going to be out here all night? Don’t you have school?” My voice shakes. I don’t let my hand reach up for my scar.

  He shrugs. “When I catch the arsonist, no one is going to care that I fell asleep in history class.”

  “Do you have a blue coat?” The words burst out, as if my mouth can’t hold back my panic any longer.

  Allen raises an eyebrow. “No. Why?” Yeah, Jenny. Why?

  “I, uh…” Think faster. “I found one the other day, and I thought it might be yours.” I suck down a gulp of air. “I should go.” I take two steps forward, and I point to the Los Ranchitos, but my brain can’t come up with anything else.

  Allen crouches to look at the ground. The ground where my footprints are.

  I walk away casually, even though my heart is leaping from my body with each beat. No matter how badly my scar itches, I have to stop my nighttime forays across the river. I’m too close to getting caught.

  I lean against a tree to catch my breath. A flock of birds suddenly lifts off from a tree behind me.

  Every hair on my body stands on end. My breath speeds up again. It’s not Allen.

  I slowly turn around. There it is. In the spaces between bare branches.

  Blue.

  It takes off.

  I’m faster.

  I have so much adrenaline coursing through me that if I lifted my arms, I could fly.

  He stumbles, and I’m right there. Right there sinking my nails into Cam’s puffy blue coat.

  “Why the fuck are you following me?” I yell.

  He puts his hands up in surrender. He looks like he’s trying to come up with something. I see the wheels turning. Then I see them stop. He’s got nothing.

  I’m not letting go until I get an answer.

  “Monica,” he says. “She’s paying me a hundred bucks a week to keep an eye on you.”

  I don’t let go. “Why?” I snarl.

  He holds his hands up again. “I don’t know. She said you’re a threat to the project. I’m supposed to report back if you do anything suspicious.”

  I release him. Monica? There’s no way Monica could know anything. Dad knows about my panic attacks around Hailey, that’s it. Mom wouldn’t have told him more than that, not after she gave Hailey and me a lecture about how the police asking about Brian was “private” and not to be di
scussed with anyone.

  Maybe Monica just assumes that my sudden arrival at the Los Ranchitos means I’m trouble?

  “What have you told her?” I ask softly.

  Cam smooths out his coat. “Just that you’re generally annoying. But I’m done. I’ll find another way to make money. This”—he flashes a hand at me—“isn’t worth it.”

  “You put a hundred-dollar bill in the tip jar at the coffee shop.” When I glance up at him, he turns red and looks down at his feet. “You gave that to Ben. Have you been giving all Monica’s money to Ben?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  I think that’s a yes. I lean against a tree to hold myself up. I’m flooded with feelings—so many I can’t identify them all.

  “I’m not a threat,” I whisper. Then I look up at him. “Keep taking Monica’s money. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll behave.”

  I feel myself flinch at my own words. A strange look passes over Cam’s face. “You’ll behave?”

  He’s not asking for confirmation; he’s asking why I said that. Why I need to reassure him. Like maybe there’s really a reason Monica is having him follow me.

  “You don’t need to watch me. I like to go for walks. You like to sleep in your truck. There’s no reason for Monica or my dad—or Mike Vargas—to know every little thing we do.”

  Cam rolls his lips under. I see the debate raging in his head. He doesn’t want his father to know about his work-time naps.

  “Okay,” he says. “But you have to show after school.”

  “You too.” Our eyes meet. A deal is reached.

  We walk back to his truck without speaking. I get in. We have appearances to keep up now.

  * * *

  —

  When the truck pulls up to the office, Cam and I both inhale sharply. The lawyer is getting out of his car. He turns and waves at us, all smiles.

  We scramble out and follow the lawyer inside. Dad and Mr. Vargas look up from the plans on the table.

  “All clear,” the lawyer announces. “That son of a bitch Suds caused trouble all around town. The police will never figure out who killed him. And since there’s no evidence against anyone here, it’s all good.” He looks at Dad. “And the assault charges have been dropped.”

  Dad glances over at me before standing to shake the lawyer’s hand. Maybe now the cops will stay away, and we can pretend like none of this ever happened.

  “Excellent,” Mike Vargas chimes in. “And we’re right on schedule. We should have this place ready for business by the beginning of June.”

  My stomach twists. Once the motel is ready for paying customers, Dad will have to move somewhere else. I don’t know what will happen to me. One thing is for sure: I can’t go back to Ohio. Not with Brian there watching my every move…if he even lets me come back at all.

  I tried texting Kara first. Really, I did. I was going to ask her point-blank what happened with Ben. If, to be a good friend, I should stay away from him.

  She ignored me. Again.

  I know she saw my text. It’s the weekend—there’s no way she’s gone hours without checking her phone. I don’t know what her problem is, but I’m not going to let it bother me. It’s a beautiful March day. The sun is out and little buds are starting to appear on trees.

  And I’m going to see Ben, whether she wants me to or not.

  I got Cam to tell me that Ben works on Saturdays. Ever since the arrangement we came to in the cottonwoods, things have been much more cordial between us.

  I take the bus as close as I can to the coffee shop and walk the rest of the way. I feel silly doing this, but my job at the clinic has been working the front table, so I never get to talk to Ben. Every glimpse of him I get makes me feel equal parts happy and excited and sick to my stomach with nerves.

  In the coffee shop, a couple of people are lounging in the soft chairs in the corner. Ben is leaning on the counter reading a flyer from the stack next to the register. “Can I help you?” he asks without looking up.

  My cheeks are hot before I even open my mouth. This was a dumb idea. I’m not one of those giggly girls who goes out of her way to get a guy’s attention.

  And yet, here I am.

  “Hi.”

  Ben’s head snaps up. His cheeks flush. The woman at the espresso machine tries to hide a smile. He glances around. “It’s just me,” I say.

  “What can I get you?”

  He smiles, sending a surge of energy through me. My usual coffee order slips right out of my head, and the shop suddenly feels like it’s a million degrees. Great. So much for being casual.

  “Uh…” I point randomly at the specials chalkboard propped up on the counter. Ben raises an eyebrow and punches a button on the register. I look at where I’m pointing. Apparently, I’m also a girl who drinks limited-edition green tea.

  The woman gives me a smile and winks, which sends all the blood back to my cheeks. She hands me my cup. I sit down at a table, unsure of what—if anything—happens now.

  “It’s time for your lunch, Benjamin.” The authority in the woman’s voice is unmistakable. Ben doesn’t have a choice but to do as she says, even though, from my first trip here, I know that he’s the one in charge.

  Without thinking, I take a sip of the tea. My face twists at the taste. There isn’t enough sugar in the world to make it drinkable.

  Ben laughs and places another cup in front of me. “Vanilla latte,” he says. “That tea’s gross. We have it for the kind of people from the hills who get a kick out of correcting our pronunciation because, you know, we’re all bums here.” He smiles. I don’t know if I should smile back.

  I take a gulp of the coffee and think about what I’m going to ask next.

  Although Ben has a magnetic pull on me, I did come here with another purpose. Everyone at the Los Ranchitos was cleared because there wasn’t any evidence to connect them to the murder. After the huge scene Suds made at the clinic right before he was killed, I want to know if the police cleared Doc too.

  “How’s Doc?” I ask. “Is everything okay with the police?”

  “Doc’s fine. The police know him. Those questions were a formality. He’s still upset about Suds. Doc has a big heart. He wants to save everyone. Sometime he can. Sometimes he can’t.”

  Ben points at the ceiling. “I was going to go up and eat something. Do you want to come?”

  I nod, my cheeks burning again. He leads me to a back staircase by the side emergency exit. I try to take a deep breath without him noticing. If I don’t get it together, I’m going to trip and fall flat on my face.

  When we get to the second floor, I expect it to be dark and dingy, but I’m surprised by what I see. Doors painted a rainbow of colors line the hallway. The carpet smells new and has a bounce to it.

  Ben pulls his keys out of his pocket and unlocks a purple door. Inside, the apartment is small, but a big window that overlooks the parking lot floods it with light. It has a bed, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. Against one wall is a bookcase filled with well-loved paperbacks.

  “Pretty nice digs for a junkie, huh?” Ben says, and I flinch. Is he joking? I really know nothing about him.

  But he knows nothing about me, either.

  He walks to the fridge. “Do you want something? There’s no peanut butter, I swear.” He laughs.

  “No, thanks.” I wander over to the bookcase so I can avoid his eyes.

  He holds up a package of turkey lunch meat. I decline again. I don’t want to eat his food—especially now that I know Cam is giving him money. His expression changes. I bite my lip.

  I lean in to examine the paperbacks. When I reach out for one, my hand snaps back. I spin around.

  Ben munches on his sandwich, watching me.

  “What’s that?” I point to an engraved lighter like Cam’s. This one has the
letters BCA on it. I try to seem calm, like I’m asking to make conversation.

  “My uncle gave me that when I was fourteen. He went through a monogramming phase.” Ben scoffs. “He said he had extra lighters left over from a box he bought to advertise the business, but I think that he was trying to convince me to change my last name to match his and Cam’s.” Ben shakes his head. “Who gives a kid a lighter?”

  I run my fingers over the engraved A. I don’t know what Ben’s last name is. I assumed it was Vargas, like his uncle’s.

  Ben stands next to me and watches my finger. I look at him. “Arellano. My mother is my uncle’s sister. My father—the Arellano—was a name on the long list of people my uncle didn’t approve of. He took off before I was born, but my mother gave me his name. Sometimes I think it was just to spite her brother.”

  Ben picks the lighter up and flips the top. Open, closed. Open, closed. I will my hand to stay by my side. My scar sears across my arm.

  “Then my mom took off and left me on my uncle’s doorstep when I was eight. I was raised a Vargas. My uncle thought I should take the name, follow him into the business, and live happily ever after as his lackey.”

  He puts the lighter back down on the bookshelf. “But he kicked me out when I had an unfortunate run-in with a bottle and a syringe.” My eyes widen. “Don’t look so shocked, Jenny.”

  I try to smile as if I’m not surprised, but it isn’t working.

  “I can talk about it. It’s not like it’s a secret. I wasn’t proud of who I was then, but I’m proud of who I am now.” He opens his hands, gesturing to the apartment.

  “I, uh…” I have no idea what to say. He wears his past on his sleeve. That’s something I could never do. I smile tightly and hope he doesn’t notice the discomfort radiating off me.

  “You can breathe. It isn’t contagious.” His voice is still light. He’s not mad at me for the way I’m acting.

  Every piece of skin on my body must be red. “I’m glad you’re doing better,” I say, parroting what Kara told me. It makes sense now.