Hidden Pieces

by Paula Stokes

  I nod. “Yeah. I was walking my dog when I saw the smoke.”

  “What’s your name?” The firefighter tilts his hat back on his head. I can’t help but notice he’s got dark hair and impossibly blue eyes, almost like Holden.

  “I’m Embry.” I gesture at the guy lying on the ground. “And this is Sam. He said something about Beau when I found him in there.” I pause. “He also said something about Elvis. He might just be out of it, but it’s possible he wasn’t alone.”

  “Roger that.” The firefighter unclips a radio from his waistband. “Be advised there might be more people inside. Check each floor carefully.” He reaches up and unsnaps the oxygen tank attached to his back. He sets it on the ground and kneels over Sam again. “My name is Kyle. So you know this guy, Embry?”

  “No, I just asked him his name when I was trying to help him escape.”

  “You know you could’ve died going into a burning building, right?” Kyle’s voice is soft but stern.

  “Yeah. It was after I called 911 that I saw Sam inside. He looked like he was going to jump out the window. I was afraid he might be drunk or something—I didn’t want him to break his neck.”

  “How’d you even get in?” Kyle asks.

  Shit. Good question. “I went in the back,” I say. “I knew this place was closed right now and figured if he was in there, maybe one of the doors was unlocked. I got lucky.”

  “Lucky, indeed,” Kyle says.

  Two paramedics round the corner, pushing a stretcher over the grass. They lower it to the ground next to Sam, roll him onto it, and start checking his vitals. Sam’s eyes flutter open as he turns onto his side to hack a mouthful of black gunk onto the ground. He lifts a hand to his chest, and one of the medics bends low to say something in his ear.

  “Come on. Let’s give them space to work.”

  Kyle leads me back to the front of the Sea Cliff, where the fire chief has set up a command center with the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department. A second team of firefighters heads inside the front door, hoses unspooling behind them. I give the police a quick statement about how I was walking Betsy when I saw the fire and the guy trapped in the building. Then I decline an offer for medical care myself. My throat burns a little from the smoke inhalation, but I’m sure anyone who gets too close to me will also be able to smell the alcohol on my breath. I don’t want to give the cops any reason to doubt my story, and most people probably don’t throw back a few drinks before walking their dogs.

  “We might need to talk to you again after our investigation,” the fire chief says. “I’ll have someone call you if anything comes up.”

  “Okay.” I nod. I just want to get the hell out of here.

  The medics roll Sam on the gurney from the back of the Sea Cliff out to the street where their ambulance is parked. He’s got a plastic oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

  “Do you think he’ll be all right?” I ask the cops and fire chief.

  “Hopefully,” the chief says. “Too soon to tell.”

  “Did you find anyone else? He said something about a guy named Beau.”

  “No, but we’re still looking,” the chief says. “You realize you could have died in there, right?”

  “I know it was stupid to go in,” I admit. “It was just . . . instinct, I guess.”

  “Pretty brave instincts. Most people would have run away.”

  I nod, but I don’t feel brave. I feel like my recklessness and stupidity just burned down one of the most famous buildings in Three Rocks and nearly killed someone at the same time. Holden might have brought the vodka, but I can’t blame him for this. It’s me—my secrets, my lying.

  I turn back once more to look at the burning hotel. The firefighters are inside with their hoses, but smoke is still pouring from the building. If I were normal, I would be at home right now, dreaming of Luke and our wedding. Instead, this is what I do—I hide things, I hurt people.

  I burn up everything I touch.

  Five

  December 12

  THE NEXT DAY IS a surreal mix of people whispering about me at school and reporters calling me at home. I got interviewed for the school newspaper and the Tillamook Headlight Herald, as well as featured on the Three Rocks Chamber of Commerce website. I didn’t even know Three Rocks had a website before getting an email from the mayor’s assistant with a link to the feature.

  My mom freaked out when I told her what happened and screamed at me for like ten straight minutes about how foolish I was to go inside a burning building. Then she told me I was really brave and a hero.

  I wish I could tell her the truth—that I’m stupid and self-destructive and responsible for what happened to the Sea Cliff Inn. The newspapers said the damage to the place was a couple hundred thousand dollars minimum. They suspected the Murray family would tear it down and sell the land to someone else. We’ll probably end up with another private mansion at the top of Puffin Hill.

  I haven’t talked to Holden much today. He came by my locker this morning just to find out what I told the police, but other than that I think we’re both kind of freaked out about our close call. Holden’s mom gets child support, plus good benefits from Tillamook County, so they’re a little better off than my mom and me. But still, they couldn’t afford having to pay for the damage to the Sea Cliff either.

  December 14

  By Friday, things have started to go back to normal. Apparently there was a fight after our latest swim meet where our school’s number one asshole, Lowell Price, called varsity swimmer Misty Whitehawk a squaw and she laid him out with one punch. Lowell tumbled down an entire set of bleachers but wasn’t seriously hurt, except for his pride. Misty is the new hero of Tillamook High and my role in the Sea Cliff fire is already old news.

  I meet up with Julia at lunchtime. We both go through the cafeteria line, where I get a buffalo chicken sandwich and fries and she gets a salad and fruit cup. She’s almost always on a diet, but she’s kicked it into high gear lately because of some dress she’s trying to fit into by New Year’s Eve. She frowns at my tray as we wait for the cashier to swipe our ID cards. I know she doesn’t understand why I don’t eat healthier since I get free lunches, but dinner isn’t always a guarantee at my house, so I’m not turning down a fairly tasty sandwich and crispy fries in exchange for a bowl of iceberg lettuce sprinkled with turkey and cheese, even if it is cheese from our local dairy farm, which is basically the best cheese in the world.

  “God, you would not believe the stuff I have to do for this Harvard app,” Julia says, as we head for our usual table. “All these essay questions, like am I supposed to know everything before I even start college?” She pulls her water bottle out of her backpack. It’s got slices of lemon and lime floating in it. Unscrewing the cover, she adds in an envelope of some kind of weight-loss powder and gives the bottle a good shake. “And Dr. Zimmer said she’d write me a recommendation letter, but she forgot about it and now she’s saying she doesn’t have time.”

  My eyes scan the room while I listen to Julia. Across the cafeteria, Holden sets his tray next to a guy named Zak who works at the gas station with him. Zak angles the screen of his phone toward Holden to show him something, and both boys laugh.

  “And so now she says I have to find someone else for my second recommendation. Isn’t that unfair?” Julia stabs violently at her salad with her plastic fork.

  “Yeah, totally,” I say, even though I kind of zoned out on the exact details of what Julia is mad about. I haven’t applied to any colleges or taken the SAT or ACT, because I’m planning on going to Tillamook Bay Community College, and they don’t require students to apply by any certain date. Holden isn’t sure what he’s going to do yet. His grandparents own the gas station at the edge of town where he works, and where his granddad does basic car repair and maintenance for locals and people passing through. Holden likes fixing cars and has considered getting a job at an auto repair shop in Tillamook and working his way up as an apprentice, but his mom hates that ide
a because she says he’s too smart not to go to college. He says just because he’s good at school doesn’t mean he should have to spend four (or more) years bored out of his mind to qualify for some fancy job he doesn’t want.

  He could probably get paid for his drawings and paintings—I’ve seen his stuff in art class and it’s amazing—but he always says art is just a hobby for him.

  A fist pounds the table so hard my milk carton almost hops off the edge. A girl named Katrina Jensen smirks as she saunters by. “Embryo. Our famous fire rescue queen. No paparazzi today?”

  My eyes flick from her ripped jeans to the T-shirt she’s wearing. It’s black, emblazoned with the words “NO GODS NO MASTERS.” Katrina lives in Tillamook but spends a lot of time in Three Rocks because she works at Fintastic. She actually started there as a hostess when she was fifteen. According to rumors, she lost her virginity to Luke at some restaurant party down on the beach that summer. This was back before I was allowed to go to parties and several months before Luke and I started dating. I never asked him if the story was true because I don’t really want to know. But it might explain why Katrina has always acted like she hates me.

  “Your lipstick is smeared,” Julia says sweetly.

  “Shut it, rich bitch,” Katrina replies, tossing her blue-and-turquoise hair back from her face. She smacks her gum. “Nice purse, by the way.”

  I’ve been around Julia for so long that I don’t really notice the fancy things she has unless someone points them out. Her purse is heart-shaped, made out of purple leather, with several chunky black zippers sewn into the front of it. It’s cute, but unless you follow fashion and accessories, you probably wouldn’t know it’s the latest design from last year’s winner of Project Runway, or that it sells for three hundred dollars.

  “Better a rich bitch than a poor one,” Julia tells her.

  I flinch. I know Julia’s not talking about me, but it’s still hard not to take comments like that personally.

  “You would know.” Katrina’s lips curl into a sneer as she glances between us.

  “Nice boots,” I point out. Katrina is wearing a pair of fur-lined Rendon hiking boots. The whole line is waterproof, and I know they run for about two hundred dollars a pair.

  “I got them at the thrift store.” Katrina stares at me for a second, as if daring me to challenge her. Then she adds, “Better eat fast, Embryo. I heard Coach Holland is running a mile with his gym class. He might need some CPR or something.”

  Coach Holland is like three hundred pounds and seventy years old. “I’ll save you the mouth-to-mouth part,” I tell her.

  “I’ll go first. You can have seconds.” She smacks her gum again. “It’ll be like old times.”

  I bite back a sarcastic response. She’s never brought up Luke with me directly, and I refuse to be baited into hearing about whatever went down with them. I take a leisurely bite of my sandwich and flip her off with my free hand. She spins on her heel and heads across the cafeteria toward a table of kids who all live in one of the poorer areas of Tillamook.

  “What is her problem?” Julia asks.

  “Life,” I say. “Same as everybody else’s.” Katrina and I actually got into it this summer over Holden too, but that’s another piece I haven’t shared with Julia.

  “Whatever.” Julia pulls a tube of shimmery lip gloss out of her purse and applies a fresh coat. She checks her work using the camera on her phone. “Sounds like she’s just jealous because you’re a big hero now.”

  “Yeah, no.” I snort. “I’m just . . . lacking in survival instinct.”

  “I still can’t believe you risked your life to save a homeless guy.” Julia says “homeless” in a way that makes it sound like she’d be okay with it if I’d gone in to save an investment banker.

  “I can.” Luke’s younger sister, Frannie, appears from behind me. She tosses her strawberry-blond braids back over her shoulders. “I would’ve done the same thing. Luke is going to be so proud when he finds out.”

  I smile weakly at Frannie. I doubt Luke would be proud if he knew the whole story.

  She looks at the empty seat next to me. “Do you guys care if I sit with you? Mona and Patrice are on a field trip today and I don’t want to sit alone.”

  “You can sit with us anytime you want,” I say, my eyes flicking to Julia with a look that I hope conveys: Be nice. Frannie O’Riley is a junior and one of the sweetest people I know. Julia finds her kind of annoying, but I think that has more to do with the fact that Frannie is one of the only kids at school who out-Julias Julia. They’re both in student government, but Frannie holds a higher office. They’re both on the swim team, but Frannie has the faster times. Frannie also got a higher score on her SATs, but I’m not sure if Julia knows that or not because Frannie isn’t the bragging type. The only reason I know is because her mom told my mom at some local food service meeting.

  Julia stares as Frannie sets her sack lunch on the table and unpacks a can of soda, a container of pasta salad, a Granny Smith apple, and a triple-layer peanut butter fudge brownie—one of the dessert options on the Fintastic menu. A lot of the kids from Tillamook qualify for free lunches, and most of the Three Rocks kids are rich enough to buy school lunch every day, so a packed lunch is kind of a rarity around here.

  “That brownie looks amazing,” I say.

  “Want a bite?” Frannie pushes the container with the brownie into the center of the table where we can all reach it.

  “Hell no,” Julia says. “I’m allergic to peanuts, remember?” She takes a sip of her diet drink.

  “I remember,” I say. “I’m still traumatized from watching you EpiPen yourself at the sophomore conference tournament.”

  “That’s right!” Frannie says. “What was it you ate again?”

  Julia shudders. “Rice Krispies Treats. What kind of sadist puts peanut butter in those?”

  Frannie starts to drag the container with the brownie back to her side of the table.

  I grab the edge of it. “I’ll take a little bite.” I shoot Julia an apologetic look as I break off a corner of the brownie.

  She wrinkles up her nose as I pop the brownie into my mouth. “That thing probably has two thousand calories, Fran. You’re going to have to swim like a hundred laps to burn it off.”

  “Challenge accepted,” Frannie says, flexing her biceps.

  Julia flares her nostrils as she digs through her purse. She pulls out her phone. As she glances down at the screen, her lips quirk into a smile.

  “Good news?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Ness just sent me something funny off Twitter.”

  Julia met Ness, aka Hennessey Rich, while she was in DC this summer. Apparently Ness is also uber-involved in school and hoping to attend Harvard or Georgetown. I’m a little jealous of how quickly she and Julia became friends, which is petty and dumb, but you can’t help how you feel, you know? Holden likes to say that high school friends aren’t real friends, that they’re just the people we’re stuck with until we have the freedom to make our own choices. I don’t want to believe that, but he tends to be right about most stuff.

  Julia’s family moved to Three Rocks from Bend the summer before seventh grade. Her dad is a writer and motivational speaker who can work from anywhere, and her mom got tired of the snow. Julia and I ended up as friends partly because I was the only other girl in Three Rocks in the same grade as her. Before Julia, most of my friends were girls from school who lived in Tillamook, but I had no way to see them during the summers because Mom and Gram were always too busy working to drive me back and forth. Julia and I met at Three Rocks Beach, where both of us always went on days when it wasn’t raining—her to read and me to take pictures. We stayed friends when school started because we ended up in three classes together.

  Frannie is kind of the same. I consider her a good friend, and she once told me I was the closest thing she’s ever had to a sister, but she’s more like Julia than me. She wants to do ROTC in college and then become an air
force nurse. Afterward she’s interested in getting a graduate degree in public health and working for an NGO like Doctors Without Borders. I think of it like Frannie wants to save the world, while Julia wants to conquer it. Me, I just want to carve out a little place in it where I can survive, and maybe, if I’m lucky, be happy someday.

  After school, I head to my mom’s coffee shop, officially called the Oregon Coast Café. The door groans audibly as I open it. It’s hanging a little crooked because one set of hinges is messed up. Mom keeps saying she’s going to call someone to come repair it. Maybe after the holidays. Honestly, there’s a lot about the coffee shop that needs fixing up, but the place is cozy and warm and we serve delicious food and drinks at reasonable prices. Mom has done as well as she can to keep it going with limited resources.

  Kendra, the day cashier and barista, is pacing back and forth behind the counter in her jacket and hat, her purse slung over her shoulder. She heads for the door as I stroll back into the back. “I’ve got to run,” she says. “My mom is waiting for me to pick her up from work.”

  “No worries,” I tell her. “See you later.”

  I pop into the back office, where my mom is hunched over her computer squinting at the screen as usual. “Hi.” I tug playfully on her pale blond wig. “I still think you should get a pink one.”

  Mom glances up at me. “Oh yeah? You think I’m hip enough to pull off colored hair?”

  “Well, I did, until you used the word ‘hip’ unironically,” I say. “But I could tutor you if you want.”

  Mom laughs. “As fun as that sounds, I think I’ll stick to being a clueless old lady. It’s just easier.”

  “Points for knowing your limitations,” I say with a wink. “Kendra left already. I’d better go make sure Matt’s not messing everything up.” With a grin and a little wave, I duck out of the office, tie on my Oregon Coast Café apron, and head up to the front counter. Matt Sesti is the guy working in the kitchen making the soup and sandwich orders. He’s twenty-one but got held back a year, so he graduated from Tillamook High the same year as Luke. He’s been hitting on me off and on ever since Luke left for basic training. Today he gives me a long look as I slide behind the cash register. I pretend not to notice.