“Because you like to bird-watch,” he says, and rubs his neck again.
Right. I’m a bird-watcher. That’s what I told him I was doing in the trees.
“So, I’ll see you around?” he asks. His smile dazzles.
I give a noncommittal nod. He turns and walks away. I hope this is just a passing crush. I’m going to have to talk to him. Tell him I’m not interested…unless…unless he really is tracking the arsonist. If he starts getting too close, I might have to become really interested, really fast.
The thought turns my stomach.
The sirens scream outside. The towel I’m lying on doesn’t soften the cold marble under my back or head. Looking up through the bathroom window, I see the smoke billowing into the sky.
I don’t feel high or calmed. I feel horrible. I was going to be better. Better so I would be worthy of Ben.
With Kara and Allen—and Ben—the stress and nerves and excitement were too much for me to handle. The lighter was in the bottom drawer.
Even as I was clicking it to life, I hated what I was doing; I hated myself for doing it. Now I have to stay here in the bathroom, by the exit. Where someone can pull me out.
As soon as I heard the sirens, I stumbled back to the Los Ranchitos with tears and snot running down my face. The fire is close. Too close. On this side of the river, far away from where Allen might be camped out.
The bathroom window screeches open. When I was seven, it was Brian’s arms that reached for me through that tiny, frosted-glass window. I jumped into them, and in one swift motion, I was out in the sweet night air. A hundred hands held me, stroked my hair, said soothing things. Then they put me in the ambulance and drove me away. I escaped.
It’s not a savior coming through this time. It’s Ro.
I scramble up off the floor and wipe my eyes.
“Did you see the fire?” she asks with amazement in her voice. She plops down into the bathtub. “Why are you dirty?”
I look down at myself. My special shoes and pants are covered in dust. Hailey’s hat lies cast off on the floor.
I’m worn to the bone, but my mouth begins to move. “I was looking for you. I was afraid that you were out at the spot where your mom’s things are and near the fire.”
Ro seems surprised I remembered. I’m surprised too. I don’t know where my tired, self-loathing brain pulled that out from.
“You were worried about me?”
“Of course. You’re my friend.” I’m on a roll.
A huge smile cuts across Ro’s face. She’s bought my explanation.
My scar gives me a brief buzz of delight.
* * *
—
My eyes are red. My throat is scratchy. I got maybe two hours of sleep, and I look like it. I consider telling Dad that I’m sick and staying home from school, but it’s a project day. The thought of seeing Ben this afternoon is enough to get me up and into my bee uniform.
When I open my door, Cam isn’t waiting for me; Mike Vargas is. He’s leaning against his shiny black BMW.
“Good morning,” I say as politely as possible. I don’t know what to think of this man. He’s given Dad a great opportunity, but I saw the way he talked to his son. I know that he kicked Ben out onto the street when he was still a kid.
“Come on, I’ll give you a ride to school.” He opens his car door. I look around the parking lot. Dad and Monica are huddled in a corner. Dad waves to me, which I guess is permission to get into the car. Cam’s nowhere to be seen. If I have to wait for a bus, I’ll be late. I get in.
We pull out onto the street in uncomfortable silence. When we stop at the light in front of Henderson’s, he turns to me. Emergency exits: jumping out the door into traffic.
“I hear you’ve made friends with my nephew.”
I swallow hard. His tone is so even, I don’t know where this is going. “Yeah, I see him at my project site. For school.”
Mike Vargas turns his attention forward when the light changes. “I can’t get through to him. I sent my son to do it, but that didn’t work.” He sneers on the word “son.” It sets my heart racing remembering what he said to Cam after Suds came onto the property. How angry he was. How capable of anything he seemed. I look out the window, mentally pushing the cars in front of us to make them go faster.
“Will you talk to him?”
“What?”
“Cam says that Ben likes you. I want Ben to come back home. He doesn’t have to work in that coffee place. I have a job for him, a real one. I want him to be part of the business. I want it to be his someday.” Mike Vargas’s voice is different now. Gone is the composed, charming businessman. In his place is a diminished, broken-hearted uncle.
“I made a lot of mistakes. I let pride get in the way. I know that now. If I could do it again, I would have gotten him help. Made him accept it. It never should have happened like it did. If he had died…”
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring of emotion from this adult man—from Dad’s boss. Plus, Ben likes me.
“Will you tell him that? Tell him I’m sorry?”
“Okay,” I say to make this stop. He nods, and his stoic professional persona is back when we pull up to school.
Kara is waiting for me. She glares at the tinted windows of the BMW. When I get out, she jumps back.
“What were you doing with Mr. Vargas?”
“He wants me to apologize to Ben for him.”
“Oh.” It’s one syllable, but Kara’s face says so many more things.
“Tell me,” I say. Tell me anything.
She shakes her head. “He’s Cam’s dad. I’ve been to his house a couple times. A long time ago.”
I risk asking for more. “Cam’s worried about you.” I let it hang in the air between us.
“Hmm.”
I see so much roiling under her surface. Why she’s been sick, what happened with her and Cam and Ben. But she isn’t budging. And she’s my friend—one of my only friends. I can’t jeopardize that by pushing too hard. Maybe we’re the kind of friends who hide things from each other. I’m certainly hiding things from her.
* * *
—
My stomach is all fluttery when I get to the clinic. I want to see Ben so badly, but I also dread having to talk to him about his uncle. I hate being in this position. It’s not my business, but what am I supposed to do? Lie to Mike Vargas and say I did it when I didn’t? What if Ben does want to go back and join the business? He would make a lot more money. He could be set for life.
I’m disappointed when I see the registration table set up. I’m not going to get to say much of anything to Ben. I’ll be taking names while he shuffles back and forth to the exam room.
“Good afternoon, Jenny,” Doc says when I sit down at the table. He has the kindest eyes I have ever seen. They make you want to spill all your problems. As he helps a limping man, he doesn’t flinch at the man’s smell or his dirty clothes. He just takes his arm, and they move slowly across the room.
“Hey.” Ben comes up behind me with a clipboard. “It’s been a busy day because of the fire last night.”
I jump to the edge of my folding chair. It threatens to tip. Ben grabs my arm, almost touching my scar to keep me from falling on the floor. “Did they get burned?”
“No. It’s the smoke. A lot of these people have bad lungs.”
“Oh.” I try to catch my racing heart, and reposition myself in the chair. Ben still holds on to my arm. His thumb makes soft circles on it.
“I wish they’d catch the asshole doing this,” he says.
When Doc calls for him and he lets go of my arm, his warmth evaporates. I settle back into the folding chair. Today my pamphlet stack features a new one about wound care. I pick it up and am greeted by photos of seeping green lesions. My stomach
churns.
The door flies open. The incoming wind scatters my pamphlets. I try to catch them, but some hit the floor.
“Can I help you?” I ask with my head under the table. When I sit up clutching the pamphlets, the man in front of me screams.
I jump, causing my chair to slide back and screech on the floor. The man’s wearing a long trench coat. His hair is matted and wild. He screams again and points. “Monster!” he yells.
I’m too stunned to stand up and move away. All I can do is wrap my arms around myself, protecting my heart and midsection.
Doc rushes out of the exam room. “Good afternoon, friend. What can we help you with today?”
The man paces back and forth, tearing at the hair on the sides of his head. “Monster. Fire monster. Big eyes.” He leans into Doc, points at me, and whispers, “She saw me.”
My heart is going to explode in my chest. I saw him? Saw him where? In the trees while wearing Hailey’s hat? The one with the butterfly eyes?
“Tell me more about it. Let me see if I can help.” Doc grabs my arm and pulls me to my feet and away from the man.
“She’s after me!” the man shrieks.
I stop breathing. The waiting room goes blurry.
Ben comes up behind us.
“Ben, why don’t you and Jenny make this gentleman a sandwich?” Doc says.
Ben puts a protective hand on my shoulder. He leads me to the kitchen door. I look back before we go inside. Doc nods at another man, who walks down the hallway.
“This kills Doc. When there are people he can’t help, it chips away at him,” Ben says.
I want to creep forward and look out a crack in the kitchen door. I need to hear what the man is saying about me.
Before I can, the door swings back open. Doc comes into the kitchen. He glances at me and then turns to Ben. “Take Jenny home.” He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket. I must look as rattled as I feel.
“What’s going to happen to that man?” I ask.
“He needs more care than we can provide here. Don’t worry. I’ll do everything I can to get him help.”
My stomach twists up in knots. No one is going to believe this poor man, but I have to be more careful. The next time I get seen, it might be by someone they will believe. Someone like Allen.
An ambulance pulls up outside as Doc leaves the kitchen.
Ben puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. I look up at him. “I don’t want to go home. Can we walk for a while?”
Ben gets our coats and follows me out the back exit. A few puffy clouds float around the otherwise blue sky, but the wind blows. It bites at my cheeks and ears. Ben doesn’t even zip up his coat.
“Here,” he says, and pulls a black beanie out of his pocket. He smooshes it down on my head. I laugh, but my chest is tight.
I want to ask Ben if he heard what that man said about me being a fire monster. But I don’t, and Ben doesn’t say anything.
We continue down the sidewalk, and our arms keep bumping, like two magnets that can’t help but be attracted to each other. Ben takes my hand. My icy fingers are wrapped in his warmth. I give him a reassuring squeeze to let him know that I want him to keep holding on.
I smell coffee. I look up and realize we’re standing in front of the coffee shop. In front of Ben’s apartment.
He swipes his free hand over his head and vibrates, as if he’s nervous. It’s cute. I haven’t seen him act like this before. I try to suppress a smile, but I can’t. I’m feeling the nervous vibrations too.
“Do you want to come up?”
I nod. Through the coffee shop window, the woman who works with Ben gives me a smile and a wink.
Ben takes me to an outside entrance—an additional emergency exit. He doesn’t let go of my hand as we climb the stairs to his purple door.
I hesitate for a second before I go in. Ben notices. He jumps back. “I can take you home, if you want. I’ll go get Doc’s car.”
I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “I don’t want to go home.” I hope it conveys everything I want to say. That I like him. That I want to be with him.
We go inside. Ben’s bed is a mess of twisted covers. There are dishes in the sink. He glances around apologetically. Now that I’m here, I can’t look at him. There’s too much energy between us. I don’t know what to say or do.
“Do you want sit down?” He motions toward a little two-person sofa in front of the TV.
I take off my coat and the beanie and sit. Ben sits next to me. The couch is so small that we can’t not be touching.
I turn and wrap my leg under me so that I can see his face. I have to get this out of the way.
I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to get involved. It’s none of my business. But your uncle is my dad’s boss, and…”
Ben’s head flops back against the couch. “Let me guess, he wants you to convince me to move back to the hills, join the business, and live happily ever after?”
I nod. Great. I’ve ruined the nice moment we were having. “Sorry,” I whisper.
He lifts my hand and starts making lazy circles on it with his thumb. “It’s not your fault. My uncle has sent everyone he knows to try to convince me. The only person who hasn’t tried to convince me is my uncle himself.”
“Do you want to go back?”
Ben shakes his head. “I know I don’t drive a Beamer or anything, but the life I have is mine. I’m proud of that.”
I lean in closer to him. I want to put my hand on his face, feel the stubble on his chin, press my lips to his.
His phone rings. We jerk apart. He answers, and I look away toward the bookshelf. The one with the empty space where the lighter was. The lighter that’s still in my drawer, despite my pledge to return it. I stare down at the floor. Why is this so hard? Why can’t I kick this?
“I’ve been instructed by Doc, in no uncertain terms, to take you home now.” There’s a smile in his voice, but I don’t turn to look at him. I can’t face him knowing that I failed again. I’m not the person he deserves. He deserves far better.
* * *
—
I bury my hands in my pockets as we walk in silence back to the clinic. I haven’t said a word since we left the apartment. I know Ben is wondering what he did wrong.
The clinic is going to close soon. Ben unlocks the car, and I get inside. When I reach over my shoulder for the seat belt, I catch a glimpse of a girl who looks like Kara dashing into the clinic as Doc steps out to lock the door.
I spin around to look, but the clinic door closes.
“What?” Ben asks.
“I thought I saw Kara.”
“Oh. Maybe,” he says.
“Maybe? What does that mean?” My voice is screechy.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, and look out the window.
Ben sighs. “It’s not my story to tell.”
Which means he knows something. It seems like everyone but me does.
* * *
—
Ben drops me off outside of Henderson’s to avoid running into his uncle at the Los Ranchitos. My whole body is shaky, like I threw back a hundred Pixy Stix. It’s aggravation and anxiety with a little whisper of hope underneath.
When I cross the street and approach the gate, one of the construction guys nods at me. I don’t recognize him, but his hard hat is casting a shadow over his face, so it’s hard to tell. Plus, there are always different people coming in and out with each new phase of the project.
I see something in front of my door. I take a couple of running steps, but then slow way down and creep forward. The kitten is bigger now—in a leggy, awkward stage. He gobbles up a pile of treats.
When I open my door, he follows me inside and jumps up onto the bed.
“You found him!�
�� The kitten cuddles up to Ro and purrs.
“He was right outside. Where do you think he’s been all this time?” He looks healthy, and his fur is neat. Someone must be taking care of him.
Ro shrugs. “Maybe he has a real home and comes here to visit?”
I join her on the bed and scratch the cat behind the ears. “I’m glad he came back. I’ve missed him.”
Ro’s smile can’t get any bigger. “Me too.”
When we first met the kitten, Ro and I were complete strangers. Now we’re friends. She wasn’t someone my parents organized a playdate with; she wasn’t someone from school. Ro is a friend I made all by myself. I’m proud of that.
Kara’s hair flops over her face, and her glasses shield her eyes, but I find a smile under there.
I won’t press her for an explanation for her recent behavior. She seems so much better today. I don’t want to send her crashing down again.
We’re supposed to be working on a history project, but so far, we’ve spent the last hour tearing through the unhealthy snacks and gossip rags I brought to her house. Or at least Kara has; my eyes have been searching every bit of her room for clues. I haven’t found any.
“Check this out.” Kara licks fluorescent orange cheese dust off her fingers and hands me the magazine. “Why would she wear that outfit when she knew there were paparazzi around?”
Ro already pointed out that same picture when I brought the magazine home last night. She wanted to come with me to Kara’s. I told her it would be boring, but in case she appeared outside Riverline Prep, Kara and I skipped going to our lockers after school and ran straight to her car.
There’s no way it could have been Kara at the clinic. Looking at her house, I’m sure her parents have good insurance. As nice as Doc is, no one would go to that clinic if they didn’t have to.
“This is fun,” Kara says. She looks at me with such a hopeful expression, I wonder how often she gets to have people over.
I glance at her bedside clock. “I guess we should get to work.” I open my bag and pull out my history book.
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