Fire Girl Part 1

by Alivia Anderson

  Grandpa snorted. “What did I tell ya? Protect the women.”

  I took a bite of pizza. “It’s not like that anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I reminded myself, again, how awesome it was to be sitting with Grandpa on a Friday night. Could I seriously do this for six weeks? “Women don’t need people to protect them.”

  He let out a low, gurgle laugh and choked on his milk. “See Madds, that’s where you’re wrong, everyone needs protecting sometimes.”

  “I don’t.”

  John Wayne threw punches at another round of bad guys.

  Grandpa pointed to the screen. “Maybe not men folk protecting women, but someone—everyone needs someone to have their back.”

  I watched Grandpa. He looked more like himself today—cheeks rosy, bad hair oil in place, bossiness back in full swing as exhibited earlier while he supervised the after school chores. I smiled to myself. “Shh, I’m trying to watch.”

  “What do you say to me all the time?” He slumped his shoulders and did a pained face. “Whatever.”

  The way he imitated me almost made me almost laugh.

  Almost.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Who the heck could that be?” He started to stand.

  “I got it.” I waved him down and pushed the TV tray back. The fact that whoever had come for a visit had come to the front door signaled it wasn’t a neighbor.

  I opened the door. And wished I hadn’t.

  Chapter 11 Visitors

  Aunt Sylvie’s lips pursed into a straight line. Her straight, blonde hair held in perfect place. Her clothes ironed and fresh.

  I braced myself against the doorframe.

  “Thanks for calling me back.”

  “No.” She couldn’t take me back to that place. She couldn’t.

  Sylvie’s glare cut into me like a knife into flesh. “I see you found the necklace?”

  I reached for it.

  She looked like she wanted to rip it from my neck. “I know it was from your mother. I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

  Grandpa appeared and nudged me behind him. His laugh came out awkward, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t. “Well, goodness, look who’s here. Sylvie—”

  “I got a call today from social services that said she started a fire and a report was filed with the state. That would have been good information for me to have, Frank. Don’t you think?”

  Grandpa’s awkward pleasantness turned to a deep scowl. “We’ve been busy, but we got it handled, Sylvie.”

  “I should have been told.” She leveled a glare at me over Grandpa’s shoulder.

  She could compete with the villain in the cowboy movie hands down.

  “And why haven’t you answered any of my calls, Maddie?”

  “I had a heart attack.” Grandpa said it like he had called out checkmate.

  Aunt Sylvie softened. “I didn’t know.”

  “Like I said, we been busy, but we got it handled.”

  Aunt Sylvie heaved in a sigh. “This is too much for you. I knew it.”

  “Are you meaning to insult an old man?”

  She chomped her teeth together and looked Grandpa up and down. “Get your things, Madeline, you’re coming with me.”

  The way she said Madeline, took me back to the hospital. The straight jacket. The therapist’s office. Back to the red couch. I stumbled back and tripped over one of the legs of the TV tray. The whole thing went crashing down.

  “Now wait a minute!” Grandpa’s voice rose like the sound of a siren. He reached for me. “Nobody’s goin’ nowhere.”

  “Yes she is.”

  I took his hand and stood up. Nausea swept through me. If I had to go back there, I wouldn’t get away. My thoughts jumbled like Yahtzee dice. Run, run, run.

  Grandpa steadied me. “Ya all right?”

  I struggled to find my balance, the swirls of the carpet begging for me to come back down. “I can’t go back.”

  Grandpa set his mouth in that way he had of taking control. He finished righting me. “You ain’t going nowhere, ya hear? I need her here.” He turned to Aunt Sylvie. “The judge released her into my custody.”

  Aunt Sylvie pushed down the sides of her slacks. “Under my recommendation. I’m still her legal guardian, Frank.”

  Grandpa let out a long, suffered breath. “Madds, you know where the keys are for the four wheeler?”

  “Yes.”

  “Take yourself for a little ride. I have a new babysitter.”

  ***

  The hum of the four-wheeler rumbled beneath me. I pressed the gas harder with my thumb, not slowing, and shifted into the next gear. The way Grandpa warned me against doing.

  I didn’t care. Aunt Sylvie would have me packed to go when I got back. How far could I get on a four-wheeler?

  I shifted again. I didn’t care if I ruined the gears. I didn’t care if I destroyed the four-wheeler. I didn’t care about anything. I tried to block out that night, the way his face flashed up to me before he fell, the way the curtains burned into an explosive flame. Thoughts I knew would only lead to one thing--the mental hospital.

  I focused on Grandpa—the way he stepped in front of me. I shifted to a lower gear and wiped at the edge of my eye. He’d protected me.

  I let out a sudden laugh. Grandpa would be giving her a lecture. Ha! I gunned it.

  The Lockhart house flew past, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her. Her chair parked in front of the house.

  I glanced back.

  Her eyes cast down, her face . . . sad.

  I slowed. I tried not to think about how it would feel to be stuck in that chair. She wouldn’t want to see me. She wouldn’t want to talk to me. Why wasn’t she at the game? Crap. I jerked the steering wheel around.

  When I pulled up Grace didn’t look at me.

  “Why aren’t you at the game?” I cut the engine.

  Grace pushed her hand control and moved backwards.

  “I’ve seen you watch him. I know you want to be there.”

  Grace fixed a fierce look at me. “I don’t attend public events, not that it’s any of your business.”

  I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ah, like school?”

  Grace threw me a disdainful look. “School and church aren’t public events, they’re privileges.”

  I crossed my arms. “Oh yes, you’re right, Mom. Why aren’t you at the football game?”

  “Get off my property.”

  I twisted at my necklace. I didn’t buy it. She would be there, if she could. Her mother must be in bed, her father at work.

  I made a decision I knew I would regret.

  I jumped off the four-wheeler. “We’re going for a ride.”

  “What are you doing?”

  I studied her. I knew she could shuffle. I’d watched Zac help her into the Jeep after practice yesterday.

  “What are you doing?” Grace shrieked.

  “I know you can move and I can steady you.”

  “Get away or I’ll yell for my mother, and believe me, she may be drugged and asleep, but if I yell she will be out here so fast, with your head at the end of a broomstick before you can say snap, crackle, pop!”

  I quit moving her. “Snap, crackle, pop?” I suppressed a grin.

  Grace lifted her chin in defiance. She pressed the reverse on her hand controls. “Whatever.”

  “Wait.” I followed. “Look, I’m not the nice type. I’m not a do gooder like my Grandma. I just thought—”

  She stopped. “You think? Oh, you mean when you’re not starting fires.”

  I cringed and squelched the familiar anger that stirred in my gut. I turned away. “Never mind.” I didn’t need this. I totally didn’t need her.

  “I don’t need friends.”

  I paused. “Who said I wanted you?”

  The cock of a gun sounded. “She said she don’t want you here.” Mr. Harris shouted from somewhere.

  I searched the fence line.<
br />
  Grace rolled her eyes and pointed up.

  “We take personal property rights serious around here, girl.”

  He stood up on this makeshift tree house kind of thing. He had the gun up to his face.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Harris.” A slow smile touched the sides of Grace’s lips. “Thank you, Mr. Harris.”

  Mr. Harris pulled the gun back. He gave an inordinately loud sigh. “I’m here if you need me, Grace.” He ducked down into the tree house.

  Grace stared at me like she’d just won the lottery.

  I shook my head.

  “It would serve you right.”

  “What?” I paused. “To have Mr. Harris blow my head off?”

  Grace inspected me from top to bottom. “Why are you here?”

  I kicked the cement and didn’t answer for a minute. “Maybe I know how it feels to be trapped, okay?”

  Grace grunted.

  I didn’t move. I didn’t know why. This could be what they called a very awkward social moment.

  “Okay, but we’re not friends.”

  A strange sensation went through me—warmth rushed up and down my arms and though my chest. I went straight for the back of Grace’s wheelchair and moved it square with the side of the four-wheeler. “You’re sure?”

  Grace immediately moved to push herself up and I stepped in front of her to help her stand and shuffle forward. “What? You re-thinking this?”

  The warmth rushed me again. “No way.”

  Grace nodded. “You’re going to have to help me up here.”

  I lifted her leg over and then did the awkward push from the bum and ran around to the front to slide her upright and into position.

  Grace let out a high pitched laugh. “Oh my gosh, that was embarrassing.”

  I slid behind her. “Here we go.”

  I pushed on the gas. “Where to?”

  “Take a left before your grandparent’s place and then go fast.”

  I obliged.

  Grace let out a whoop as we got to the turn.

  I grinned. I knew it was all true—I was crazy, but I no longer cared.

  “Turn here.” She commanded.

  I swung the wheel and the tires ripped into the gravel.

  Grace let out another laugh.

  I recognized an abandoned school getting closer. I slowed.

  “Yes, up there.”

  The building jutted out of the ground and had a pointy tower, a tower that should have existed a long time ago when a girl needed to be kept in a tower and preserved or something. Weeds had long overtaken any kind of a yard that had been there, but I could see an old, dilapidated outhouse at the back of the building and several broken out windows. I stopped in front of it and killed the engine.

  Grace exhaled. “The tower is kinda freaky, right?”

  I smiled. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Grace lifted her hand and carefully used the whole thing as a single object to wipe a hair away from her mouth.

  I thought of Lisa’s prayer and a million questions about her condition ran through my mind. Did her fingers only sometimes work?

  “I’ve always wondered why they built that tower. Can you believe I never looked in there when I could have?”

  I stared at the tower. “It’s pretty creepy.”

  “It’s sick.” Her tone held awe.

  I took care not to jostle her and slid my leg carefully around her and hopped down. “I’ll look.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “No. No, don’t. It’s haunted.” She called out, her voice laced with worry and intrigue.

  I leaped up the front chunked out steps. I tried to turn the rusty door knob. It didn’t budge, but I could see what looked like old desks inside the darkened room. “Haunted, shmaunted. I’ll tell you what’s up there.” I lifted my phone. “In fact, I’ll take a picture on my new nifty phone and show you.”

  “I don’t think you should be over there.”

  “Has anyone you known been in there?” I bounded off the steps. I took a few steps and then tried to jump up and see in the foggy windows.

  Grace’s voice sounded jittery. “Hmm. No. Why? What can you see?”

  I kept jumping and then walking a couple of steps and then jumping again. The dwindling light had already faded too much to see anything substantial. “Holy cow!”

  I felt partially bad for teasing her, but it was too easy. I took another jump. “Oh my gosh!”

  “What? What? Tell me!”

  I jumped again. “I think we need to report this.”

  “You better tell me. I swear you better tell me or . . .”

  I shook my head and started back. I kept a solemn look on my face.

  “Tell me, please!”

  She wanted it. She really wanted to be freaked out. I couldn’t resist. I saddled up next to her. “Bodies.”

  For a fraction of a second Grace’s eyes went wide. Then she smiled. “Stop!” She banged my shoulder with the heel of her hand.

  “What?” I couldn’t subdue my giggles.

  Grace’s whole body shook into a laugh. “Stop.”

  “Ahh.” I covered my stomach and leaned forward, the giggles completely uncontrollable.

  All the emotion of earlier hurled out of me. “You’re a horror junkie, Grace Lockhart!”

  Grace laughed, tears poured down her face. She hit the steering wheel with her hand. “I think you should have said alien bodies. Or—no, you should have said alien eggs with bodies inside them.”

  I laughed and wiped underneath my eyes. “Wait, I think they were.”

  Grace giggled harder.

  Abruptly, I noticed her giggle turned into something more. She leaned over the steering wheel and her whole body began to shake.

  “Grace, are you okay?”

  The giggle shifted into a whimper as her body continued to shake.

  Fear pricked inside of me like an uncontrollable blizzard that no one ever saw coming. Thoughts of the stupid, irrational way I jaunted off with Grace—without a thought that anything could go wrong—attacked me. I held to Grace’s arms. “Are you okay? What can I do? What do I need to do for you?”

  Grace sucked in short, tight gasps, as though an asthma patient at the height of an attack. Her face turned pale.

  “Grace!”

  She worked at a swallow. “I’m okay.”

  I nodded. “You’re okay. We’ll get you home and you’ll be fine.” I tried to sound convincing.

  Grace tried to push herself back from the hunched position in front of the steering wheel.

  I slipped behind her and pulled her back into me.

  “I’m sorry.” The words were soft. Her breathing had quieted.

  I didn’t know if I should try to take off or wait. “Should I call 911?”

  “No.” Her voice wasn’t normal, but it was better. “Just wait.”

  She breathed in and out slowly.

  “It’s this thing with my disease. I have a hard time controlling my emotions like laughing or crying. When I get started, I can’t stop.”

  I hesitated. “It’s fine. It’s totally fine.” I knew my confident words didn’t sound confident.

  “Shh, it’s okay.” Her voice came out like a parent soothing a child. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  A race car turned the last lap of the Nascar in my chest. It wasn’t fine. My hand hovered above the key. “Do you want me to go now?”

  She patted my hand.

  I noticed how cold hers felt.

  “Just a minute.”

  I waited. For some insane reason Grandma’s lecture about how our choices did not always just affect us flitted into my head. My stupid, irrational actions.

  “I’m sorry.” Grace sighed.

  “For what?”

  “No one should have to deal with this.”

  “With what?”

  “No one should have to deal with a cripple.”

  I paused. “Why not?”
r />   She jolted. “Because I don’t want them to.”

  I waited for a couple of seconds. “It seems like no one really gets what they want, do they?”

  She snorted. “Just tell it like it is.”

  “We all have to deal with the ugliness of life.” I thought of Aunt Sylvie waiting for me. “And you should go to your brother’s games. You never know when your time will be gone.”

  Her mouth opened and then closed again. Her body began to tremble.

  Impulsively, I put my hand on her back and rubbed little circles. The thing my father had always absently done when I’d been upset. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Her breathing quieted. “Since that first day—you treated me normal.”

  I slowed the circles. “Yeah, I’m good at being a jerk to everyone.”

  “No.” Grace’s voice was quiet. “It’s just who you are.”

  I laughed. “Yes. True. I am just a jerk.”

  Grace tilted her head to the side and her eyes narrowed. “You’re just angry.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  Grace searched my face. “And you’re afraid, too. What are you afraid of?”

  The truth in her statement floored me. I laughed, again, to cover my discomfort. “What did you call me that day, Ms. Psychologist? I think you’ve just won yourself the title.”

  She sucked in a breath. “What?”

  I pulled my hand back. “My aunt is at my grandparent’s house right now. She is my legal guardian. She wants to take me back to a hospital to be evaluated like some lab rat.”

  Grace frowned. “That sucks.”

  Unexpectedly, I laughed.

  “I wish I could be like you.”

  I shook my head. “That’s ridiculous.” If she really knew.

  Grace looked away. “Oh, but I do.”

  It was one of those awkward moments. “You want to get thrown back into a hospital with freaks and have people want to talk, talk, talk to help figure out what’s wrong with you?”

  Grace shifted her head slowly from side to side. “No. I want to run. You’ve been planning to do that the whole time, right?”

  My heart stopped for a full moment. How did she—

  She laughed and it ended with her trembling.

  I searched for the right words.

  Grace took a breath. “But you haven’t, and that’s hard. Doing the hard thing is good.”