Fire Girl Part 1

by Alivia Anderson

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

  Grace’s face turned another shade of pale. “You better get me back.”

  When I pulled up to Grace’s house I wanted to immediately turn around.

  Zac stood in the driveway.

  I killed the engine.

  He pointed at me and rushed toward us. He wore red Sugar Valley sweats and a white t-shirt. “You are insane!”

  He lifted Grace off the four-wheeler and gently put her into her chair.

  “I’m fine.” Grace’s voice sounded soft, but determined.

  Zac averted his eyes to me, the anger smoldering like lava. “We’ll see.”

  “It was my fault.” Grace pleaded with him.

  Zac inspected her in doctor-like manner. He paused at her pale face. “Grace, you shouldn’t wear yourself out like this. It’s not good for you.”

  “Is she okay?” My voice faltered. She looked completely washed out, her eyes had already closed.

  Zac swiveled back. “No.”

  “It’s not her fault, Zac.” Grace’s voice was soft.

  He clutched a hand into a fist. “Just stay away—”

  “It is my fault. I talked her into coming on a ride with me. . . .”

  He took one giant step and landed right beside me. He pushed his face into mine. “Don’t pretend like you care. Stay away.”

  I kept my eyes locked with his.

  “I had fun, Maddie.” Grace called out.

  Zac rushed back to her, took the back of her chair, and started for the house.

  My heart raced. “Me too.”

  “The disrupter strikes again.” Mr. Harris emerged from the makeshift tree house. “I see you’re good at causing explosions.”

  Chapter 12 The Truth

  The smoke choked me. I couldn’t see.

  “Help!”

  I tried to turn around, but the vines thickened against my wrists.

  “Help!”

  He emerged, half of his face in flames the other half solemn. “You did this. You did this.”

  I struggled to get out of the vines.

  He threw back his head and laughed. The fire raged hotter. “You’ll pay! You will!”

  “Maddie!”

  Chance.

  I opened my eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  Sticky sweat soaked my hair. I pulled a blanket up to my chin. “Get out!”

  Chance’s brow furrowed. “Grandpa sent me down to tell you to get up for church.”

  I tried to get his face out of my mind. “I’m not going to church.”

  Chance drummed his fingers against the door jam. “I heard Sylvie came by last night.”

  I sat up. She had been gone by the time I’d gotten home.

  Chance lifted his chin. “Was it weird to see her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Chance dropped his hand from the door. He hesitated. “Never mind.”

  I threw the covers back.

  Chance shielded his eyes.

  I wore a t-shirt and pajama pants. “Get over it. What are you talking about?”

  Chance rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, Grandpa said she wanted to help you by sticking you back in that hospital, but—it didn’t help you.”

  I pushed the hair off my neck. “That’s what he said?”

  Chance nodded.

  I knew it.

  Chance lifted his hands. “But Grandpa told her you would be eighteen soon, anyway. And you didn’t need a Looney bin.”

  I didn’t believe Chance. “What do I need? What does he think I need?”

  Chance smiled. “Grandpa said the best thing to reform you is hard work.”

  I snorted. “Yeah.”

  “And us.” Chance narrowed his eyes. “And the people that love you.”

  I looked away. Emotion burned behind my eyes.

  “He said that too.” Chance started up the stairs. “Just go to church. Why do you have to fight everything, Madds? Make them happy.” He paused. “Oh yeah. Your friend Carrie called me last night.”

  I went to the bottom step. “What?”

  “She said something about it being urgent to talk to you, that you would know what she needed.”

  My heart pounded into my rib cage—hard and painful. I knew she hated to be ignored. I put my hand over my chest. “Right. Did she say anything else?”

  Chance kept moving up the stairs. “Not really, she’s kinda—intense.”

  “What did she say?”

  Chance scratched his head. “She said she looked up pictures of the team online and she said she likes uniforms.” He opened the back door. “I told her you would call.”

  She knew his number. She called him. She told him she liked uniforms?

  “See ya at church, Madds.” Chance left.

  I grabbed my cell off the nightstand and punched in her number.

  “It’s about freakin’ time.”

  “H-hey.”

  She paused and I knew she’d be assessing if she should forgive me or not. “Yeah. Your cousin told me. He sounds cute by the way.”

  “How’d you get his number?”

  She laughed, well, more of a cackle than a laugh.

  “He’s not your type.”

  “Of course he’s not my type. I have a man.”

  I thought of Jimmy’s black hair and his brown eyes—eyes that always looked me up and down every time he saw me. I shivered. “Yeah.”

  “Well, look who’s evasive.”

  I let out a quick, soft breath. “I’m not evasive.”

  “Yeah, you are.” Carrie exhaled loudly. “Jimmy’s getting anxious. The cops are on us. I swear everywhere we go there’s a cop around the corner. You would think they knew something.”

  A nervous ache went through my gut. “Yeah.”

  “But they don’t. They totally don’t and it drives them crazy.” She let out another cackle.

  I cut her off. “Look, I have to hang out here for a couple more weeks.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I need some time. My grandpa can’t work and they need me.”

  “We don’t have time.”

  “I don’t have a choice—”

  “Don’t even, Madds. Jimmy did this for you.”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Madds?”

  “He didn’t do it for me.”

  Carrie did a soft laugh. “We watched that pouty stare of yours for like six months. Didn’t you think we would notice? Jimmy googled it. And anyways he deserved it. He totally did.”

  My pulse accelerated. “You never told me.”

  Carrie clicked her tongue. “We didn’t see the reason to share every teeny, tiny detail, okay? Plus, you kept the secret when you were in there.”

  My mouth went completely dry.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I mean, what if someone finds out?”

  Carrie let out a tortured sigh. “Madds, if someone finds out we’re dead. All of us.”

  I didn’t know why, when the therapist had been trying to pry the truth out of me, I hadn't felt bad. At all.

  But now . . .

  “C’mon Madds, don’t go crazy on me. Listen—seriously, I miss you so much. Jimmy’s connection in California says he can get us jobs waitressing right on the beach. Can you believe it?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. A throb pounded behind my left eye. A new life. Of course. It would be the best thing. “That’s cool.”

  “It’ll be great.”

  He deserved it. He did.

  “Madds!”

  “I’m here.”

  “Man, you need like Ritalin or something. You need an attention span.”

  “Sorry.”

  She let out another exaggerated sigh.

  I gulped. For some reason Grace’s face popped into my mind. “Can you just buy me some time? I have some things I have to work out. Two weeks.”

  “I’ll try, but you know how Jimmy—”
<
br />   “Great.” I cut her off. “Thank you, miss you lots, gotta go.” I hung up.

  I sat there. I actually hadn’t realized how much I didn’t miss her. Not really. It was more of a relief to be away from all of it. From them. I moved to my closet and snatched a dress off the hanger. Trepidation trickled through me like a quiet, cold song. Grr. I had to find out how Grace was doing.

  That meant going to church.

  ***

  We walked in as the opening song began. Grandpa had grumbled about being late, but Grandma promised we’d be extra early next week.

  There would be no next week for me. I knew that. Jimmy wouldn’t wait. I didn't know how I would tell Chance I had to leave, that I couldn't stay and help on the farm. I pushed that away. I couldn't think about it right now. I searched for Grace we filed into a row.

  My eye caught a man up front. I recognized him as the bishop. I vaguely remembered shaking hands with him the day of the funeral.

  He nodded to me.

  I looked away and settled into the bench.

  Someone I didn’t recognize moved to the podium. “Dear Father in Heaven . . .”

  Those words. A quiet, warm peace filled the center of my chest. I took in a slow breath. I hadn’t heard a prayer spoken from the podium since that day. I followed Grandma’s lead and closed my eyes and bowed my head.

  “Psst.”

  I didn’t think anyone could be pssting me.

  A stab of pain went through the fleshy part of my bicep.

  I jolted my head out of prayer position.

  Trina.

  She put a finger over pink, glossed lips and glanced at me sideways.

  She came to church? The prayer completely muted into the background.

  I hardly recognized her. Pink blush and pink eye shadow. She wore a white dress that flowed from neck to wrist and clear down to her ankles. The cotton puffs made me think of Anne of Green Gables. I covered my mouth and had to bite into the side of my lip to prevent myself from erupting into a howl of laughter.

  Trina’s Barbie lips tipped down.

  “We want to welcome all those here today that are visiting . . .”

  I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned over. “Have you seen Gilbert Blythe today?”

  Apparently, she got my joke. She shoved her elbow into my jaw.

  I grabbed at the wound, unaffected by the pain because of the hysterical joy that took hold of my stomach muscles.

  Grandma nudged me. “Shh.”

  I stared up at the bishop all too aware of Trina Barbie beside me. I tried to straighten out my smile.

  “I want to tell you a story today. A story about change.”

  The bishop’s eyes seared into mine. Another movie moment, the kind when the audience knew the next part had to be important.

  “I find it interesting that stories change us.”

  Warm and cold chills rushed through me.

  “And what interests me even more is that Jesus spoke to us in stories—in parables. You see he knew that if he told people—be good, be kind, forgive others, help others—it wouldn’t change them. So he said, “A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jerico, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him. And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed he took out two pence and gave them to the host and said unto him, Take care of him: and whatsoever though spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Which now of these three, thinkest thou was neighbor unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, he that shewed mercy on him.”

  Warmth penetrated my heart.

  “Christ knew when he told that story that we would want to be like the Samaritan. Don’t you want to be the one to help the man, comfort the man, pay for whatever he needs? I do.”

  I didn’t know why the back of my eyes burned. I didn’t care.

  “The atonement can heal us, forgive us, free us. Helping others is the way to be happier in this life.”

  I thought of the way the judge looked when he’d asked me if I knew anything else that would help the victim.

  I thought of the flames—and how I’d run.

  Sharp pain stabbed into me.

  Trina.

  I elbowed her back.

  Trina frowned. “You look guilty.”

  I coughed. I thought of Carrie’s words—he deserved it. I thought of the way the bottle sounded as it cracked against the house. Then I thought of my parents.

  He did deserve it. He deserved it all.

  Some things were done. And there was no coming back.

  Ever.

  I had to leave, get out of this stupid church. I scanned for the exits from the small chapel.

  Trina clutched my arm. “Do. Not. Leave. Me.”

  Chapter 13 The Ugly

  I had to leave. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t hear this.

  And then I saw him, his brown hair slicked back tightly against his head. An older version of him sat on his other side. But I couldn’t see Grace. And I couldn’t see his mother. Not that their mother’s lack of attendance could be considered an indicator of anything, but still. Panic filled me. What if something had happened to her? What if she couldn’t get out of bed or couldn’t use her hand because of the dumb four wheeler ride?

  I’d researched it on my phone Saturday night. Google had revealed that sometimes muscle degeneration went fast, sometimes slow. By all outward signs Grace’s degeneration was happening fast.

  I evaluated Zac’s father, Mr. Lockhart. His eyes were closed. I thought of the heartbreak of losing a daughter. The urge to leave lessened. I leaned back into the bench and quieted the furious thump inside my chest. I wanted to find out if everything was okay with Grace. That would mean staying—and talking to Zac.

  I didn’t realize I’d been staring at Zac until he turned back.

  My pulse jumped from school zone to Mach three.

  Zac’s eyes darkened, thunder clouds preparing to unleash a storm. He swiveled back to the front.

  Okay, he had a reason to be upset with me. I’d taken Grace out without giving a thought to her condition or how it could affect her. I rationalized if Grace were truly hurt he wouldn’t be here—right? And neither would his father. I comforted myself with that knowledge. I adjusted back into the bench.

  I didn’t remember the rest of the meeting. I came out of my thoughts at the start of the closing song.

  A rumble went through the congregation when the prayer ended.

  No one hurried out of the chapel.

  Trina elbowed me. Her face looked pained. “Maddie, ” she said and gestured over her shoulder. “This is my dad.”

  I nodded.

  He flashed white, brilliant teeth. “I’ve heard about the new girl.”

  His voice was louder than I’d expected, like a television announcer, saying something really important. “Trina told me she’d made a new friend this week.” He leaned over me and waved at Grandma and Grandpa. “It’s nice to meet some good, church going folks. I like to see my daughter making friends with good people.”

  Grandma looked confused. “And what was your name?”

  Trina’s dad stood and stretched his hand out to her. “Charles. Charles Boyce of the Boyce Law firm up in Pinewood. Trina and I have been living here the past year. If you ever need an attorney, I have clients throughout the state.” He put his hand out to Grandpa. “And your names?”

  Grandpa shook his hand, but gave him a look of skepticism. “Frank and Star Haven. Nice to meet ya, Mr. Boyce.”

  Trina’s dad pulled his hand back. “You can ca
ll me Charles.”

  Grandpa tipped his head down. “And you can call me Mr. Haven.” Grandpa had always been friendly—but he definitely believed in a system of younger people respecting their elders.

  I smiled to myself and shifted back to Zac. He and his father moved toward the foyer. I had to talk to him. I didn’t want to risk going to their house and setting off their mother. No. And trying to get her cell number? No. I honestly didn’t even know if she would want to talk to me. I stood.

  Grandma and Grandpa stood too.

  An older gentlemen walked by and engaged Grandpa in conversation. The kind of conversation Grandpa wanted to have about crops and weather. He relaxed his stance and let out a chuckle at something the man said.

  I leaned into Grandma’s shoulder. “I really have to go to the bathroom.”

  Grandma nodded. “Just a second, Maddie, your Grandpa is talking.”

  Another man joined them and Grandpa let out another chuckle.

  I had flash backs to being eight and waiting for my grandparents to quit talking for what seemed like forever after sacrament.

  Grandma patted my arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you find Young Womens.”

  Zac and his dad disappeared.

  Trina poked me in my lower, side back. “I didn’t realize you went to church.”

  The accusation in her voice told me she thought I should be embarrassed of it.

  I poked her back.

  “Ouch.”

  “No kidding.” The poking town needed to get poked back. “Look who’s talking, Church Girl.”

  Trina’s father gabbed with someone in the row behind us.

  I leaned into Grandma, again. “Really, really got to use the facilities.”

  Grandma, who had found a chatting partner in an older lady that had stepped next to the first old man, batted me away.

  I turned to Trina. “I have to talk to someone, can you help me get out of here.” I pointed to the space by her father’s side of the bench that led to the aisle.

  Trina’s cat-like eyes widened. “Who?”

  Urgency rose inside of me. “Not now. Can you ask your dad to move?”

  Trina grinned, her pink lips curved into the perfect smile. “Sure, if you tell me who you need to talk to and why.”

  I rolled my eyes and whispered to her. “I took Grace on a four-wheeler ride.”