Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn 2)

That night, I’m digging around in my swimsuit drawer for my black one-piece to wear to the pool tomorrow. Because black says, I mean business. It’s not a Speedo—it has a halter neck and a little keyhole—but it’ll give me better support than a two-piece, at least.

I’m sifting through string bikinis when I find it. Not the black one. The red one. The one I wore that night, the night at the beach house.

My hands shake as I ball it up and throw it into the wastebasket.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It’s Friday, and I’m wandering the halls with a bathroom pass, trying to eat up some of sixth period, when I spot Mary tucked underneath the first-floor stairwell with a book.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Mary looks up, startled, but relaxes when she sees that it’s me and not a hall monitor. She smiles coyly. “I’m, um, taking a break.”

“Like a bathroom break? Or a break like an I’m-skippingclass-today break.”

Mary drops her head. “Okay, you got me. I didn’t study for my Spanish quiz. So last period I asked to go to the bathroom and then came here to hide out until next period.” She lets out a sigh. “My aunt is going to kill me when she sees my report card this semester. I swear, the only class I’m going to pass is chorus.”

“Well, then you made a good decision to cut. But you need to find another place to hide out, stat. The hall monitors always check this spot on their rounds. Trust me, I know.” I glance over both my shoulders. “In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t been busted already. You should head to the nurse’s office and hide out there. Pretend you have cramps or something.”

“Thanks,” Mary says, and stands up.

“How are things with your aunt? Any better?”

“A little bit. She’s started painting again, but she’s still not speaking to me.” Mary shakes her head. “It’s funny. I never remember fighting like this with my own parents. I feel so . . . unwelcome in my own house, you know?”

I lean against the banister. “Hey, you want to do something tonight? You and me?”

Mary brightens. “Like what?”

“How about we go for a drive.”

“Sure. That’d be great.”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at none.” I’m about to walk away, back up to the second floor, when I say, “Wait. Where’s your hall pass?” I hold mine up. It’s a big wooden carving of the symbol for pi, some ugly thing one of the remedial shop kids must have made for the math department, probably for extra credit.

Mary bites her lip and says, “Uh-oh. My teacher last period didn’t give me one.”

“Well, then don’t walk up by the science labs. I just came from there and there’s a hall monitor sitting right past the doors. Take the back door by the gym and walk past the library to the nurse’s office.”

“Got it,” Mary says, and spins in the other direction. “Thanks. I’ve never had detention before.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you haven’t, sweetie.”

I wake up to Shep licking my face. I leap off the couch and run over to the window. It’s already dark out.

“What time is it?”

Pat checks his phone. “A few minutes after ten. Why?”

Shit! Shit shit shit!

“Where you off to?” he asks as I run through the kitchen, looking for my boots by the back door.

“Out,” I say. Thank God the car starts. I drive so fast to Mary’s house. What a jerk I am, to be late for a thing I invited her to! Ugh. At a red light I try calling Mary’s house, but the line is busy.

When I get there, she’s on the curb, waiting in the dark. She’s got on the same dress she wore to school today, a little flowered thing, underneath her parka.

“I’m so so sorry I’m late,” I say, jumping out of the car. I open the passenger-side door for her gallantly, because I feel like a total piece of shit. “I fell asleep watching TV. I tried calling your house, but the phone was busy.” I wince. “Have you been waiting out here long?”

She gives me a tiny smile. She doesn’t seem mad, which is a relief. Mary might be the most forgiving person I know. “I knew you’d come.”

Mary and I drive around for a bit and listen to music. After a few laps around the island, I get hungry. The only place open this time of year, at this time of night, is the Greasy Spoon, a twenty-four-hour diner in T-Town. It’s never hopping, because the food isn’t good, but there are a few not-too-god-awful things on the menu.

I pull up and park around the side. The lot is strangely crowded. Hopefully I won’t have to wait long for my food. “You want anything?”

Mary yawns and shakes her head no.

I walk inside and order at the counter. Coffee, black with two sugars, and a cinnamon doughnut. I’m waiting as the lady punches in my order when I hear her voice. Rennie.

I turn my head and there she is, sitting at the end of a long table in the middle of the diner. It’s like the entire Jar Island football team is here. And all the cheerleaders, too. I see Lillia huddled laughing with Ashlin and a couple of other girls on the squad. Each of the girls has a long-stemmed red rose sitting in her water glass. They’re all still in their cheering uniforms except for Rennie.

I remember now. Tonight was the last football game of the season.

I look back and Rennie is staring at me. We lock eyes, and I immediately look away, because I don’t want to get into any shit right now.

“Oh, look! It’s Kat DeBrassio!” she says it in a false whisper, and everyone turns in her direction. “Hey, should we ask her to come over and sit with us?”

I can tell by the way her words slide out of her mouth that she’s been drinking. I bet she’s pissed that our team actually did okay without Reeve. Alex sees me, they all do, and he tries sticking a menu in front of Rennie’s face, to get her to look at something. She swats it away.

I turn back to the counter and give sharp eyes to the waitress. Can she pour my freaking coffee already so I can get out of here? I wonder if this kind of shit will still happen after we’ve graduated. If whenever I come back home to visit, I’ll always have to dread about running into Rennie on the island somewhere.

“Kat, are you like stalking me or something?” Rennie says. “How many times do I have to tell you . . . I’m not a lesbian!” Rennie cackles like a hyena. “Loser trash.”