Burned

by Kristi Holl

  “Thanks, Cindy,” Jeri said when she was given her cloverleaf wheat roll. “Have a good day.” She was pleased to see Cindy break into a big smile.

  Nikki and Rosa were half done with their chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes when Jeri set her tray next to theirs. “Did you know Abby was in the hospital?” she said right away.

  “Ms. Carter just told us.” Rosa buried three pats of butter in her potatoes despite her constant lament that she was gaining weight. “I thought she was in the infirmary.”

  “I was there when the ambulance came,” Jeri said. “Let’s make her some get-well cards after school. Ms. Carter said she’d deliver them.”

  Nikki took Rosa’s leftover steak and began cutting it up. “She’ll want her backpack too. I’ll fill it with books she’s been reading.” Nikki reached for the steak sauce. “I could loan her my DVD player and some movies too.”

  “Perfect.” Jeri wished she could make offers like that, but she didn’t have that kind of money. Nikki, though, had her own horse boarding at the school, her own computer and fancy printer/fax, an MP3 player, and a personal DVD player.

  Jeri sprinkled her entire meal liberally with salt. “I’m putting together a special edition of our paper tonight too,” she said.

  Nikki dabbed at the steak sauce on her sleeve. “I wrote up the dressage competition if you want that,” she said, referring to her special riding classes. “The photos you took of me on Show Stopper last Saturday turned out great.”

  “It’s cool watching you perform.” Dressage was so graceful that Jeri knew why it was sometimes called “horse ballet.” Although just a sixth grader, Nikki always took prizes in Landmark’s competitions with other schools. Nikki was stocky and sometimes clumsy in her cowboy boots, but on the back of her horse she was what Ms. Carter called “poetry in motion.” Jeri pointed her knife at Nikki. “I bet you make it to the Olympics before you’re fifteen.”

  “My croupade and levade still need work.” Nikki dipped her napkin in her water glass and scrubbed her sleeve. “My capriole and courbette are better though.”

  “Do we have to speak horsey language at lunch?” Rosa asked, her white smile dazzling against her dark skin.

  “Horsey language?” Nikki’s eyebrow arched high. “Those are very difficult dressage moves where the horse leaps above the ground. Like in that Lipizzan stallion movie I showed you.”

  “Well, excuse me.” Rosa waved at a couple of upperclassmen who strolled by.

  “Listen up. Back to the special edition,” Jeri said. “I got a photo of Lyndsey Powers in the infirmary to go with the fire story.” She lowered her voice and leaned over the table, telling them what she’d overheard the fire marshal say.

  “A lighter?” Rosa stirred her milk with her straw. “That’s how it started?”

  “Yup. I guess if you leave them burning long enough, they can overheat and explode. Keep it a secret till tomorrow, though. I want to beat the Lightning Bolt to the story. Claire didn’t want my article, but when she reads it, she’s gonna be sorry she turned it down.”

  After changing out of their uniforms after school, they met in Jeri and Rosa’s room to make a giant cardboard get-well card for Abby. Nikki printed out some photos of English castles and cottages she found on the Internet and pasted them on the card. “That should look like home to her,” she said, adding a picture of Buckingham Palace.

  Ms. Carter popped in then, her lavender nylon running suit making swishing noises. Evenings and weekends, Ms. Carter was ready to jog at a moment’s notice. Jeri figured that’s why she was such a calm house mother — she was always taking off for ten minutes to run off some steam.

  After Ms. Carter left, Jeri tucked her bare foot underneath her and opened her Publisher software. In the ninety minutes until supper, she planned to put the paper together. Her photo of Lyndsey, smiling bravely while holding her bandaged arm, was the perfect touch for the front page.

  “Here’s my column,” Rosa said, handing Jeri several scribbled scraps of notes.

  Jeri sighed. If only Rosa would type things up. Oh well … the Dear Rosa column continued to be the part every girl read first. Jeri squinted to decipher the flowery, loopy writing. “I can’t read this!” Jeri said, tossing the requests for advice on her desk.

  “Are you blind or what?”

  “Who taught you to write?” Jeri shot back. “Could you just read them to me—slowly—and I’ll type them in?”

  “I guess.” Rosa snatched them up and sank gracefully onto her bed, which was covered with a leopard-print bedspread and stuffed tigers and leopards. “This week’s questions are all about the luau.”

  Rosa was the sixth-grade representative on the planning committee for the Hawaiian luau and dance. Both the Landmark School for Girls and the Patterson School for Boys were invited. Only nine days away, it would be held in Gracey Park in Landmark Hills.

  “Okay, ready? First note.” She read syllable by slow syllable. “ ‘Dear Rosa: What if no boy invites me to the luau? I don’t want to be a wallflower.’ “ Rosa bounced lightly on the bed, swinging her legs clad in flared jeans. “Here’s my answer: ‘Not a problem, Wallflower. Dates aren’t needed. Be free! Hang with your GFs. Then you can dance with all the guys!’ ”

  Well, Jeri thought, that advice works for Rosa anyway. Guys swarmed around her wherever she went — church, the mall, the movies. Jeri and Abby never had that problem. “Okay, next note.” Jeri’s fingers were poised above the keyboard.

  “Second note says, ‘Dear Rosa: I feel stupid when everyone’s talking about the luau. What’s a luau anyway?’ Here’s the answer: ‘Dear Clueless: Think beaches and pineapples. Think the bend-over-backwards limbo and flowery dresses and bamboo torches. Think lei necklaces and surfboards.”

  “Good description,” Jeri said, typing quickly.

  “This last one’s — ”

  “Wait a minute.” Jeri typed the last three lines, then nodded.

  “This last girl’s having a panic attack. It says, ‘How can I learn hula dancing by next week? Impossible!!!!!’ That’s with five exclamation marks. I told her this: ‘Dear Hyper: Don’t despair! Check out the library’s DVDs on hula dancing. Also, before the dance starts at the luau, someone’s giving lessons. You won’t be learning the dances alone. Get gutsy — and get out there!’ ”

  “Good advice, as always,” Jeri said, typing the last bit. “I think the whole school’s going to the dance.”

  Rosa tossed her scribbled pages onto her desk. “I wish Ms. Carter allowed us to have dates for the dance. I turned down two high-school guys at church last week!”

  Jeri turned around slowly and faced her. “Oh, I feel so sorry for you. Personally, I’m glad we don’t need dates for the dance.” Jeri figured no one would ask her, for one thing. Anyway, she was too young, with or without Ms. Carter’s rules.

  “Come on, Jer. There must be someone you want to dance with,” Rosa said. “They’re having regular dances — not just hula.”

  Jeri turned back to her computer so Rosa couldn’t read the truth on her face. There was someone special … but it was a secret. No one knew she cared, including the boy … and Rosa—especially Rosa. After the way Rosa had “helped” Abby last winter, Jeri had sworn herself to secrecy.

  It was before Christmas when Abby confided that she liked a boy at church. Rosa had decided to play matchmaker. Jeri knew she meant to help, but she badgered Abby about cutting her hair in a new style and wearing makeup and learning to flirt. Abby had refused. (“That’s so not me,” she’d protested.) After that, Rosa took charge herself. She told the boy Abby liked him and gave him Abby’s phone number. He never called, but when Abby found out what Rosa had done, she nearly died of shame.

  That’s not going to happen to me! Jeri vowed.

  She stared at her computer screen without seeing any of the words. Her crush’s name was Dallas Chandler. He attended Patterson, and he came from Ft. Worth, Texas. In Sunday school class he talked about their cattle
ranch back home, and she loved listening to his soft southern drawl.

  The thing Jeri admired most was that he wasn’t embarrassed to admit he read his Bible nearly every day. And when he was asked to pray in class, he didn’t stumble over his words like the other boys.

  “Here’s my piece,” Nikki said, nudging the bedroom door open with her cowboy boot. “I emailed you the picture files.”

  Jeri blinked, jerked out of her pleasant Dallas daydream. Nikki’s article, printed in all capital letters on a torn-out sheet of notebook paper, wasn’t much easier to read than Rosa’s handwriting. Jeri sighed. Being the editor wasn’t as glamorous as she’d expected when they started the paper.

  “Thanks. I’ll download the photos in a minute.”

  An hour later the paper was done and proofed. Luckily, Jeri already had Abby’s article on “Music to Change Your Mood.” Except for weeding out the British expressions no one else at school understood, Abby’s articles were turned in nearly perfect.

  On Friday morning, after making copies at the media center, Jeri bought a copy of the Lightning Bolt to see how the senior reporter covered the fire. While standing in the breakfast line, she eagerly scanned the front page. The fire wasn’t even mentioned. Impossible! An inside page, however, held a small column that only referred to an accident in the biology lab. Most of the article told how to prevent fires.

  Boy, some reporter really fell down on the job, Jeri thought. That fire was no accident. Once Mrs. Gludell, the advisor for the school paper, saw Jeri’s account of the fire—complete with photos—she’d see what a waste it was having Jeri cover Spanish Club.

  Rosa still hadn’t arrived for breakfast by the time Jeri finished her blueberry bagel and scrambled eggs. Jeri gave away her own published newspaper to twenty sixth graders and half a dozen seventh graders. Just as she’d predicted, they were immediately drawn to the photo of Lyndsey, all bandaged in her hospital bed. This time her story on the unknown arsonist got more attention than the “Dear Rosa” column.

  Jeri stopped at the McClellan House table. “Where’s Lyndsey?” she asked.

  “Staying in bed today,” one girl said. “Want me to give her your paper?”

  Jeri thought a moment. “No, I’ll stop by her room later.”

  On the way to her biology lecture—thankfully not held in the lab—she reread her own account of the fire. She smiled to herself. Unless she missed her guess, soon the Head and Mrs. Gludell would be begging her to be the Lightning Bolt’s first investigative reporter.

  Glad that the rain had passed, Jeri skirted shallow puddles on the way to her biology lecture. She wondered what Ms. Todd would have to say about yesterday. I’ll give her a copy of my paper. Then she’ll see what a hero Lyndsey was. She might even apologize for snarling at her yesterday.

  As Jeri rounded the corner of Poplar Hall, she caught a whiff of smoke. Pivoting in alarm, she looked up at the building, then around the bushes and in the doorway. Where was the smell coming from? Heart pounding, she braced herself for another explosion.

  Then she spotted the security guard leaning against the back side of the marble George Washington statue. He was puffing on a cigarette. Jeri eyed him closely. Short and round, he stretched his brown uniform shirt so tight it gapped in the front. His bristly mustache resembled a dirty toothbrush, and he’d missed a patch of whiskers when shaving that morning. If he’d really wanted to date Ms. Todd, it was no surprise to Jeri that she’d turned him down. Still, it was hard to believe he could be mad enough to burn her classroom.

  Jeri cleared her throat. “Hi.”

  The guard swung around and dropped his cigarette, grinding it under his heel. “Don’t want any more fires, do we?” he asked.

  “No. I was wondering … Early yesterday morning, did you see anyone hanging around Herald Hall before first period?”

  “The fire marshal asked me that yesterday.” Jeri waited. “Can you tell me too, or is it some kind of secret?”

  He squinted at her as if puzzled—or suspicious. “Why don’t you leave investigating to the officials?”

  “It’s personal. Two of my friends were hurt. One’s even in the hospital.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” He patted his shirt pocket where he kept a pack of cigarettes, then thought better of it. “About who I saw yesterday … it was just the usual. Tim was mopping, Mr. Rankin was showing him what to do, kids were going in, two of the teachers were talking …”

  “Did you let Mr. Rankin into the building?”

  “Well, I unlocked it earlier on my rounds.” He jingled a ring of keys hanging from his belt loop. “Normal procedure at six thirty.”

  “Oh. So you were at work before the fire started?”

  He shifted his weight. “I was here all night. I work the night shift. New employees get the worst hours.”

  “Are you new?”

  “Been here four months.” He yawned so wide Jeri could see his molars. “Sorry. I work midnight to ten. I’m heading home soon.”

  Jeri shifted her backpack to her other shoulder. If only she had the guts to ask him about trying to date her teacher. “Um, there’s something else … I mean … I heard …”

  “What?”

  She blushed. “Nothing.” “Go ahead. Spit it out.”

  She stared at her feet, unable to look at his face. How should she phrase it? Did you feel so rejected that you torched Ms. Todd’s lab?

  “I’d better get to class,” she finally said.

  Burning with embarrassment, Jeri made it to the lecture hall fifteen seconds before the tardy bell rang. She hadn’t really learned anything new from the security guard.

  Jeri frowned. That security guard was in a perfect position to start fires himself. He had keys to every building. He worked early morning hours when most people were still asleep. If Lyndsey was right, he had a personal grudge against their biology teacher. And he smoked. Jeri bet he was carrying a lighter in his pocket right this very minute.

  If there was ever another fire, she’d be checking on that security guard’s whereabouts first thing.

  4

  fire bug

  As the day wore on, the full impact of the fire hit Jeri. Someone at the school—probably someone she knew—had deliberately set fire to the biology lab. Abby could have been in a severe burn unit in the hospital — or worse. Jeri and her friends couldn’t wait till she was released.

  After school, they made a “Welcome Back Abby!” banner to tape to her bedroom door. Rosa got permission from the house mother to have a tiny party in the lounge when Ms. Carter brought her home. Hopefully the chocolate-covered ice cream bars and fruity popsicles would appeal to someone with a sore throat. After their little party, Jeri planned to take a copy of her newspaper to Lyndsey’s dorm.

  They were waiting for Abby downstairs when the doorbell rang. Nikki answered the door. After a moment, she appeared in the doorway and caught Jeri’s eye. “Somebody to see you,” she said, her lips twitching.

  Tim stepped around her and, beaming, advanced into the room. He banged into an end table and rattled the stained-glass lamp, then headed straight toward Jeri. Grinning, he held out a gift bag covered with yellow baby chicks and ducks. Yellow tissue paper stuck out the top.

  “Hi, Jeri! Happy Easter early!” Tim said, handing her the bag.

  Jeri stared, frozen to the spot. Several girls drifted in from the kitchen and study room to see who’d come. Someone behind Jeri hummed the dum, dum, de-dum; dum, dum, de-dum of the “Wedding March.” She forced her stiff lips to smile. “Hi, Tim. How’d you get here?”

  “Mom drove me out after school.”

  “Oh.” Her face radiated heat, and when someone snickered, grew hotter still. “Is that bag for me?”

  “Yes. Lisa didn’t want it. She’s not nice like you.”

  “Thank you,” Jeri said. God, what do I do? She didn’t want to push Tim away like Lisa, but this was humiliating, especially in front of everyone! She caught Rosa’s sympathetic glance and raised eyebrows.
They all probably felt sorry for her. Well, they’d admire her if she kept her cool. She took the gift bag. “I’ll save it. Can you believe Easter’s just two weeks away?”

  “No, open it now,” he said, whipping the yellow tissue paper out himself. “Look!” He reached in the bag and lifted out a white stuffed bunny with gray floppy ears wearing a white eyelet baby bonnet. “This is Powder Puff. You can bend her legs and ears. She sits up.” Several girls behind Jeri broke into giggles.

  “That’s really cute, Tim.” Jeri bent its ears back and forth and wished the floor would open up and swallow her. “Happy Easter to you too.” And now go away!

  Tim peered over her shoulder. “Where’s Abby?”

  “She had to go to the hospital yesterday,” Rosa said, “but she’s getting back soon. We’re having a little welcome-home party for her.”

  Tim’s face fell. “I didn’t bring Abby a present. I like her.”

  Jeri brightened. “You can give Abby the bunny.”

  “No, that’s yours.” Tim grinned at the group gathered in the doorway. “Jeri’s my girlfriend.”

  I am not! Jeri screamed inwardly. Miss Barbara lumbered into the room then, took Tim’s arm, and guided him down the hall. “I imagine someone’s waiting for you, right?” she asked.

  “My mom is. She got the gift bag, but I picked out the bunny.”

  As soon as the front door shut behind him, the room exploded with whistles and shrieks. Mariah whispered in Jeri’s ear, “How perfect. Now you have two honey bunnies!”

  Jeri gritted her teeth, wishing she could smack Mariah.

  “Jeri’s got a boyfriend!”

  “Is he your date to the luau?”

  “Lisa’s gonna be jealous that you stole her crush!”

  “Ignore them,” Rosa whispered as the girls drifted back to whatever they’d been doing. “You were nice to Tim. That’s what counts.”