by Kristi Holl
“I do.” Dallas inclined his head toward the dance floor. “You gonna try that?”
Jeri took a deep breath. “I’m not much good, but I’m working at not caring what other people think.” She grinned suddenly. “Doing the limbo would be a good time to practice humility.”
Dallas laughed, and Jeri loved the sound of it. “Think you could teach me how to bend over backward like that?” he asked.
“Sure.” She jumped up and brushed sand from her shorts. “Come on.”
They joined Rosa and Lyndsey in line to go under the limbo bar, while Abby snapped photos and Nikki ran Hampton House’s video recorder. Beach Boys music blared over two loudspeakers, and kids on the sidelines stomped and cheered each time the limbo bar was lowered. Half an hour later, Jeri collapsed, exhausted and happy, onto a chair at the edge of the dance floor. When was the last time she’d had so much fun? She couldn’t remember.
“Want some soda?” Dallas asked, leaning against the wooden railing beside her.
“Sure. Thanks.” He and two friends went to stand in the refreshment line.
Jeri leaned her head back and closed her eyes, absorbing the music and the laughter around her. As she breathed deeply and her pulse slowed, she became aware of an odd odor when the breeze blew her way. What was it? She sat up and sniffed, looked around, and sniffed again.
Finally she glanced up at the candle on the ledge above her head. She stood up, raised up on her tiptoes, and peered inside the four-inch clay pineapple pot. It was half filled with water with a yellow candle floating in it. She frowned and then sniffed. That wasn’t water.
It smelled like alcohol.
Someone had emptied the water from this candle holder and replaced it with alcohol. And alcohol was flammable!
Sweat broke out on Jeri’s forehead and neck. The candle was half burned down already. When the flame hit the liquid, it wouldn’t go out like the other candles. Instead, there’d be an explosion big enough to blow off someone’s hand—and burn down the shelter house.
Jeri looked around frantically. Should she try to blow it out now? Or would that push the flame so close to the alcohol that it would ignite in her face? If she didn’t do something now, though, the fumes could ignite anyway.
Just then Dallas came back alone, holding out a red cup. “Root beer. It’s all they had.”
“It’s perfect,” she said, grabbing it fast.
She moved to dump the root beer on the flame, but then pulled back. Would liquid splash the flame down into the alcohol? She couldn’t take that chance. She dipped her fingers into the root beer and lifted them, dripping, to the candle.
“What are you doing?” Dallas asked.
Reaching down inside, Jeri pressed her wet fingers and thumb together over the wick. With a hiss, the flame went out.
Jeri collapsed hard on the folding chair, her heart thudding. Sweat ran down between her shoulder blades. “What’s wrong?” Dallas demanded. “Smell the candle.”
He sniffed. “Kerosene?” he asked. “Alcohol?”
Jeri nodded. “A bomb waiting to go off. Someone replaced the water with alcohol.” She glanced around the shelter house. Her eyes widened in fright. “Dallas, all those candles!”
He pulled her to her feet. “Go tell your headmistress while I check the other candles. Hurry!”
Jeri pushed through the crowd of dancing kids to Ms. Carter, who was chatting with Miss Barbara and the Head behind the refreshments table. She quickly explained what she’d found, and the three women spread out rapidly to check the remaining candles. One other pot was filled with alcohol. The rest were only water.
Jeri shivered, more from barely averting disaster than from the chilly breeze. Across the room, Abby and Nikki were watching with raised eyebrows, but Jeri just shook her head. She’d explain later.
Shuddering, Jeri glanced at Dallas, and she knew from the look on his face that his thoughts matched hers. Who might have been hurt—or killed—if they hadn’t spotted the time bombs? They’d outsmarted the arsonist tonight, by the grace of God. But when would he—or she—strike again?
The Head leaned close to Jeri to be heard over the music. “An explosion tonight could have injured dozens of students. Thank you for your sharp eyes and quick thinking.” She shook her head. “I guess this clinches it. Just like the other times, Tim left the scene and was out of danger before the explosions and fire were supposed to occur.”
Jeri glanced at Dallas and took a deep breath. “I understand why Tim is suspended until the arsonist is caught, but I don’t believe he started any fires.”
The Head fingered the flower lei around her neck. “Facts are facts, Jeri. The fire marshal found a button from Tim’s cap in the wastebasket in the biology lab. Tim admitted it’s his.” Her scowl looked set in stone. “Tim was in that lab, no matter what he said otherwise. And he was in the shed just before it burned. And he was here tonight!”
Jeri frowned. That button probably fell off his hat into the water bucket while he was mopping. Then Lyndsey dumped it in the wastebasket herself when she doused the flames. “It could have—”
But the Head had turned and stalked off without another word.
“I have to go too,” Dallas said. “Let’s talk at Sunday school tomorrow, okay?”
Jeri nodded. “Just keep praying,” she said. Outside the shelter house, she leaned against a rough-barked tree. Soon the music stopped, and boys from Patterson headed to the parking lot to board their buses.
On the way home fifteen minutes later, while girls all around her chattered a mile a minute, Jeri leaned her hot forehead against the cool bus window. Was the Head right? Was it obvious to everyone but her that Tim had started the fires?
If that was true—if he was the arsonist—how could she stop him before someone got killed?
10
trapped!
Jeri was anxious to talk to Dallas after Sunday school the next morning, so she was doubly disappointed when he wasn’t there. The van from the boys’ school didn’t show up at all. At the end of class, Mr. Jenkins got a call on his cell phone. Apparently their van had broken down.
Nikki was waiting for Jeri when she got back from church. “You busy this afternoon?” she asked. “I need someone to videotape me after lunch. I want to watch my performance and see where I can improve.”
“Do you have a video camera?”
“Ms. Carter said I can use this one.” She held up the small camcorder belonging to Hampton House.
“I guess I can do that.”
After lunch, Jeri checked her email and found something that brought a smile to her face. Dallas had written to her.
Had a good time at the luau. I liked how nice you were to Tim. I’m praying for him. You’re different from most girls. See you next Sunday!
An hour later, Rosa and Abby left with a group to clean up the luau decorations at the park. Still lighthearted over Dallas’s email, Jeri followed Nikki across campus. It was overcast again, but at least it wasn’t raining. I’d give anything for two sunny days in a row, she thought.
She practiced with the video camera a few minutes while Nikki saddled up.
“I’ll warm up first,” Nikki said. She walked Show Stopper, and then trotted and cantered around the indoor riding ring six or seven times. Leaning against the fence, Jeri inhaled the smell of sawdust and let her mind finally relax as she watched Nikki’s perfect rhythm. No wonder she loved riding so much. If I could ride like that, I’d live in this barn too.
Nikki reined in beside Jeri. “You ready?”
“Yup. What should I tape?”
“Start now, and just keep it running till I yell. If you stand on that crate, you’ll get a better angle.”
“Okay.” Jeri climbed up. “Ready.”
For the next twenty minutes, Jeri taped as Nikki put Show Stopper through his paces. It truly was like watching a horse ballet, Jeri thought as she tried to hold the camera steady. The way Show Stopper lifted his front legs so high while balanc
ing on his massive hind quarters was breathtaking to watch.
“Cut!” Nikki called as she trotted up to Jeri. “That should do it.”
“You going back now?” Jeri asked, jumping down.
“No, that last part was rough. We’ll run through it a few times and then cool down. Just leave the camera there.”
“Okay. Adiós!”
For a few minutes Jeri walked aimlessly through the Equestrian Center. She saw three girls leaving on a trail ride and two more in the outdoor practice ring. If only she had something to do. She wouldn’t even mind hanging out with Tim. She’d go back to the dorm, but Rosa and Abby wouldn’t be back yet.
She stopped outside Prancer’s stall. “Hi, boy,” she said, reaching out for him to nuzzle her palm. “Looks like you got clean straw yesterday.”
She grabbed a bucket of brushes and picks off a nail outside the door. Something about the smell of the barn—the horses, the leather, the hay, even the manure—was so peaceful. She slipped into his stall and picked up a comb to work the knots out of his mane and tail. He snuffled and snorted and stamped his feet.
“What’s the matter?” Jeri asked, stroking his neck.
“Settle down.”
He whinnied and stamped his feet some more instead.
Scrambling movements overhead made her think first of mice, but it was louder than that. She stopped and listened hard. Then she grinned. The kittens! She bet that’s where the pregnant Loretta had gone to have her babies.
Suddenly Prancer’s ears lay back, and he snorted and shied, bumping into her. “Whoa there,” Jeri crooned, getting alarmed herself. “What’s with you?” Prancer’s wild eyes were rolled back with the whites showing, and he danced sideways.
Then Jeri smelled it: smoke!
She ran out of the stall and looked overhead to the open loft. Wisps of smoke were rising from the bales of hay above. She scrambled up the splintery board ladder nailed to the side of the wall. Up in the dark, dusty loft, she peered into the gloom and spotted a figure in the far corner. Smoke rose behind her.
“Lyndsey? What are you doing up here?”
When she didn’t answer, Jeri jumped around her and got behind the bales to stamp on the flickering flames in the hay. They licked at the dry straw and spread faster than she could stamp it out.
“Help me!” she yelled at Lyndsey.
Lyndsey sprang forward and grabbed Jeri by the shoulders. “We have to get out of here!”
“No! The horses will burn! Help me get the fire out!”
Lyndsey pulled on Jeri’s arm until she fell backwards on the floor of the hayloft. Then Lyndsey dragged her over to the ladder.
Jeri pulled and tried to yank her arm loose, but Lyndsey was surprisingly strong.
What is going on? Then suddenly Jeri realized exactly what was happening. Lyndsey didn’t want Jeri to put out the fires because, before Jeri arrived, Lyndsey had been up in the loft starting her next fire. She was the arsonist!
Smoke rose now from several locations in the loft, and Jeri grabbed a fistful of chaff from the floor of the loft and threw it in Lyndsey’s eyes. Lyndsey yelled and released her grip for a moment. Jeri rolled sideways and scrambled on hands and knees to the corner where smoke was thickest.
Among the loose piles of hay, a small yellow ball of fire, bright as the sun, grew and roared into life. Below, Prancer and several other horses whinnied and kicked their stalls. I have to put the fire out.
If only the stable hand were here! But Sam never worked on Sundays. The Center was nearly deserted.
On her feet again, Jeri stomped and pounded at the flames. The smoke was thickening, and Jeri’s eyes watered. She turned and saw through the haze that Lyndsey was descending the ladder.
Jeri coughed and struggled to breathe. The fire was getting away from her. She had to get help.
She scrambled to the ladder and started down. Lyndsey was already nowhere to be seen. Racing against time, Jeri’s foot slipped on the third rung from the bottom. She lost her footing and fell backwards to the cement floor below. It knocked the breath from her.
On both sides of her, horses stamped in their stalls, neighing and whinnying, some kicking the boards. Jeri kept trying to breathe, but her chest felt paralyzed. Had she broken her back? She couldn’t move.
I can’t breathe! Help me, God!
Suddenly she gulped in air, swallowing smoke, and coughed so hard she vomited. Lying crumpled on her side, she tried desperately to draw a breath. Overhead, straw burned brightly, and hay made thick rolling smoke.
She crawled painfully to her feet and nearly buckled. She must have sprained her ankle in the fall. Through the smoke she glimpsed Lyndsey running down the aisle, letting the frantic, screaming horses loose. One after another, she aimed them toward the open barn door and slapped their backs hard. Heroic Lyndsey to the rescue again, Jeri thought.
Suddenly it was so clear. Lyndsey had started the lab fire, then run to rescue everyone. Had she planned to rescue Tim at the shed too, only he’d run away scared? She’d definitely started the barn fire. Who was going to be blamed for this fire while Lyndsey, the hero, saved the school’s horses?
Coughing from the heavy, swirling smoke, Jeri felt the heat above her head as the flames took hold in the barn roof. The noise of screaming horses kicking stalls was deafening. Limping painfully, Jeri stumbled to the open door. Beside her, a horse panicked, reared, and headed back toward the flames, knocking Lyndsey down. He nearly stepped on her, turned again, and then ran outside through the open door.
Jeri gulped fresh air, then turned and limped back into the barn. Her raised arm shielded eyes that were blinded by the smoke. Where was Lyndsey? Was she knocked unconscious?
Jeri groped along the floor, losing her bearings in the swirling smoke. The hazy curtain threatened to choke and smother her. Crawling along the barn floor, she called Lyndsey’s name.
Finally her hands touched a leg, then an arm. “Get up! Hang onto me!” Jeri yelled, helping the other girl to stand. Lyndsey leaned heavily on Jeri, and Jeri bit her lip against the ankle pain as they slowly made their way out of the burning barn.
Sparks flew. Before them and behind them, flames licked along the floor and up the walls of the stalls. Jeri stumbled blindly forward, blundering into a wall. Her face burned as she passed through the flickering fire. She felt a draft of cool air and headed blindly toward it, dragging Lyndsey with her. Coughing hard, she finally found the open barn door.
With a final lunge, they were outside. Jeri was vaguely aware of the milling horses and people and a fire engine wailing in the distance. She collapsed on the grass, pulling Lyndsey down with her. Lyndsey tried to crawl away, but Jeri held tight.
“Stop it!” Jeri shouted. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Summoning a last bit of strength, Jeri straddled Lyndsey’s ankles. As Lyndsey struggled, her demin skirt was pushed above her knees. Jeri stared openmouthed at Lyndsey’s legs—and the ugly red burn scars that covered them.
Several more horses suddenly plunged outside through the smoky entrance, running past Jeri. Then she heard an unearthly scream coming from the barn. A human scream.
Nikki!
She must have been trapped in Show Stopper’s stall! Jeri had to get her out!
But before she could make her legs work, two more people stumbled through the smoke and emerged outside. One was Nikki—and she was being carried by Tim.
An hour later Jeri, Tim, and Nikki sat under a spreading white pine tree near the Equestrian Center, their oxygen masks now in their laps. Their coughing was better, and Jeri was able to piece things together. The police and one medical technician had already taken a very subdued Lyndsey away, and the firefighters were mostly done putting out the blaze. One corner of the barn roof was gone, and charred beams showed through. Jeri guessed half the hay was burned up too.
Someone had corralled the loose horses in the outdoor riding rings. Tim had been able to free the rest of the trapped horses, including Sho
w Stopper. Headmistress Long was kneeling in the grass—unheard of!—next to Jeri, Tim, and Nikki. The medical techs had gone to treat a couple firefighters, but not until all three kids were out of danger.
“I owe you a huge apology, Jeri,” the Head said. “Your newspaper article didn’t cause any copycat fires. And I apologize to you too, Tim. I’m afraid Lyndsey had me completely fooled. At least, until earlier today.”
“What happened earlier?” Jeri asked.
“I was reading your newspaper article again about the lab fire. As I studied Lyndsey’s photo, something stirred in the back of my mind. I dug into Lyndsey’s family file, and what I read there set off a lot of alarms.”
According to Lyndsey’s records, Head Long explained, two years ago her family had a house fire. Lyndsey had tried to save her little sister, but failed. Her sister died in the fire, and Lyndsey was badly scarred.
Earlier that afternoon, after reading her file, the Head had gone to McClellan House to talk to the house mother and search Lyndsey’s room. “I found several flammable liquids—mostly painting supplies. I also found three more lighters under her mattress.”
While searching the room, the Head had questioned Lyndsey’s roommate. Apparently Lyndsey wore long skirts and pants every evening and weekend—no matter what the weather — and dark tights with her school uniforms. She refused to take swimming lessons, and not even her roommate had ever seen her bare legs.
Jeri nodded. “She wouldn’t even let the nurse in the infirmary help her get out of her wet clothes,” she said, recalling the day she’d taken Lyndsey’s photo. “She has burns on her forehead too, under her bangs. I thought it was a birthmark when I saw it.”
The Head fingered her pearl earring. “The police officer feels Lyndsey is somehow trying to make up for not rescuing her sister. He thinks she sets fires so she gets another chance to be a hero and rescue people now.” Her voice dropped. “I guess people start fires for many reasons, some of them very sad.”
“And all year she pretended to have a little sister at home,” Jeri said. “Lyndsey said she talked to her on the phone and did stuff with her at Christmas.”