Ashes to Ashes (12 page)

Kat was the one who said it.

If you're in, you need to be in until the very end. If not, well . . . consider yourself fair game. It'll be open season, and we'll have a hell of a lot of ammo to use against you.

Each of us agreed. We made that promise to each other. Each
of us knew the terrible truth, that the people who know you best have the power to hurt you the worst. Rennie did it all the time. She was ruthless, a master at using people's insecurities against them. And Reeve. Reeve always knew the perfect way to hurt me.

Lillia and Kat may have forgotten what they promised, but I haven't. I'm not letting them off the hook that easily. They knew what they were getting into, and they both got something out of it too. I'm the one who was left hanging, and it's only fair that I hold them accountable.

I know so many ways to hurt them. I know who they love; I know their prized possessions; I know their secrets.

I am the last person they should have turned on. And they only have themselves to blame.

I'm sandwiched between the barn and the open door, watching through a knot in the wood as Lillia races with Phantom to the end of the riding trail. Despite his speed, she barely has to pull on his reins to make him come to a perfect stop. She leans forward and gives his neck a tender pat before climbing out of the saddle and hopping to the ground.

Lillia takes off her helmet and shakes out her hair, and even though the sun is barely out, her hair catches the glow. She's wearing tight black pants tucked into knee-high riding boots the color of caramel, a fitted wool coat, and leather gloves. Her
cheeks are pink from the cold. She takes Phantom's reins and leads him toward the stables.

He pauses and turns his head toward me as they pass my hiding place. His muscles ripple and tighten, and his black eye trains on me. He lets out an anxious snort. But Lillia clicks her tongue and nudges him forward. They walk down the center of the stable to his pen at the opposite end of the barn.

I remember the day when Kat and I came here to hang out with her. It was one of the first times when we really felt like friends. We didn't need a reason to hang out. There was nothing to plan or scheme about. We just wanted to be together.

It feels like forever ago.

When Lillia ducks inside Phantom's stall, I creep out and hurry after her. Each pen I pass, the horse inside reacts. Whinnies and brays, hooves stomping and scraping the stable floor. I'm scared Lillia will hear the commotion and see me, so I break into a run and hide in the empty stall next to Phantom's.

I walk up to the shared wall. Phantom turns his head as soon as I'm there, but Lillia shushes him. She kneels down on the ground and begins loosening the strap of Phantom's saddle under his belly.

I lift my hand, ball it into a fist, and then flick my fingers at Phantom.

He immediately bucks up on his hind legs, knocking Lillia onto her butt. He brays, showing his teeth.

Lillia's stunned. “Phantom, easy, boy,” she cries, then rolls onto her knees and gets to her feet. “It's okay. Everything's okay.” She approaches him carefully and begins to rub his neck while she glances around, looking for what's spooking him.

I keep flicking my fingers at him, popping my fists open and closed.

Phantom whips his tail, snaps his jaws, and bucks up again. He lets out a terrifying whine and nearly comes down on top of Lillia. She steps out of the way just in time, but his hoof knocks into her forearm. She falls against the wall where I'm hiding and screams out in pain.

At this point all the horses are crying and bucking and shaking the entire barn.

One of the stable boys comes running. He grabs a rake from the side of the stall and brandishes the wooden handle at Phantom. “Easy, Phantom! Get back now!”

Lillia screams not to hurt him, but the stable boy isn't listening. Phantom rears up again, his ears pinned, and lunges where Lillia's cowering. Phantom's not attacking her. He's trying to get at me, on the other side of the wall.

The stable boy swings the rake handle like a bat, and it cracks against Phantom's neck so hard that the wood snaps in half. Phantom steps back and lunges again, leaving the stable boy with only a splintered wooden spear to wield him off.

He's about to jab when Lillia grabs him, pulls him out of the stall, and quickly shuts the gate.

“I could have calmed him down!” she screams, cradling her arm. “You almost killed him!”

“He almost killed you,” the boy says, panting. “Is it broken?”

Lillia shakes her head. She has tears streaming down her face. She shrugs off her jacket. Her arm is bright red and swollen and already beginning to turn purple.

“He's never done anything like that before,” she says, wiping her eyes. “I don't know what happened.”

The stable boy runs off to get Lillia some ice. I hear her crying outside Phantom's pen. I know exactly what she's feeling. It's terrible when a friend you trust turns on you.

*  *  *

A heartbeat later I'm at the Jar Island Yacht Club, standing in front of
Judy Blue Eyes
, the Catalina daysailer Kat named after her mother. I expected to be more tired than I am, from all the stuff I did to Phantom, but I'm not. I feel strong.

One of Aunt Bette's books predicted this would happen as I grew more confident and increased my focus. The book phrased it like a warning, but to me it feels like something to celebrate.

It's clear that my ties to Lillia and Kat are what made me weak. Worrying about them and their problems. If I hadn't met
them, maybe I would have come to these realizations a lot earlier. I'd already be free, in a better place.

Kat's boat is closed up for winter, with a tarp stretched taut across it and the sail tied tightly to the mast. With the smallest wave of my hand, every knot comes undone. The tarp and the sail snap from their tethers, and the wind carries them away like ribbons.

I lift my hands up and the waves begin to swell. The other boats tied up along the dock bob in the water. But they are nothing compared to Kat's boat. It's as if all the energy in the ocean is being pooled underneath it.

Finally the boat lifts high enough. I lower my hand fast, and the thing launches into the air, like the water was a rubber band that I just snapped. The boat hits one of the rocks and is pulverized into wooden splinters.

The dockworkers come running. They can't believe their eyes. I know one of them will eventually figure out whose boat that was, and they'll call Kat and let her know it's destroyed.

Sorry, Kat. But you knew what you signed up for.

Actually, I'm not sorry. Not one little bit.

They deserved to be punished.

Now, Reeve—he deserves way worse. He deserves to die.

R
EEVE'S TRUCK IS WAITING IN
front of my house on Monday morning. I run up to it and jump inside. “What are you doing here?” I ask him. He didn't say anything about picking me up when we were on the phone last night.

“Driving my girl to school,” he says, kissing me on the cheek. “How's your arm?” I pull up my sleeve. I'm purple from my wrist to my elbow. “Damn.”

“It looks worse than it feels,” I tell him. That's a lie. It hurts like crazy. But it wasn't Phantom's fault. He'd never hurt me on purpose. Something spooked him.

I climb in and notice immediately that Reeve's truck smells good. Like, super good. Reeve passes me a white Milky Morning bag, and I open it. It's monkey bread and an organic apple juice. “Reeve! My favorite things!”

He grins a pleased kind of grin. “Where's Nadia?”

“She's getting a ride with Patrice,” I say.

“Is she still mad?” Reeve puts the truck in reverse and backs out of my driveway.

I nod. “The only time she spoke to me all weekend was when my dad said he was thinking about selling Phantom for what happened, and then we both freaked out and begged him not to.” I take a big bite of the monkey bread. “Thank you for my breakfast. Want some?” I dangle it under his nose, even though I know he's going to say no.

He makes a face. “Too sweet.”

The closer we get to school, the more nervous I get about seeing everybody. I guess Reeve can tell, because he reaches over and takes my hand without saying anything.

We walk into school holding hands too. I try to let go, but Reeve just holds tighter. “No more hiding, Cho. That's a good thing.”

Then I spot Ash coming down the hallway, and our eyes meet, and she just keeps walking like she doesn't see me. And all I want to do is run and hide. Reeve notices, of course, but he doesn't say
anything about Ash. Instead he starts telling me this story about some soldier who had a dog in Afghanistan. He was a bomb-sniffing dog, and this guy was his trainer. Anyway, the story goes on and on and on, and it's hard to follow at points. Basically Reeve just rambles while I get my books out of my locker. Magically, the story ends just as I reach my homeroom door.

“You did that to distract me,” I say.

“Did it work?”

I nod. It did.

“See you later, Cho.”

But for Reeve “later” turns out to mean as soon as the first-period bell rings. He's there to escort me to class. And it happens like that, all day. I don't know how he does it, but no matter where his classes are, he's waiting outside my classroom door when the bell rings, ready to walk me to my next period. He doesn't leave me alone once.

At lunch it's just the two of us at the lunch table. I don't know where the rest of our friends are. But Reeve makes me laugh, he makes me forget, and the day isn't so bad. It's kind of good.

D
URING MY FREE PERIOD I
go visit my old earth-science teacher and play her the message that my boss at the yacht club left on my phone this weekend. His voice sounds frayed and choppy, like he's distracted. Or confused. But he claims there was a weather phenomenon like they'd never seen before. He called it a “flash tide.” Apparently it was so worrisome, they radioed for the coast guard. Anyway, my boat was destroyed.

My boat was the
only
one destroyed.

“So what's a ‘flash tide'?” I ask.

Mrs. Hilman shakes her head. “There's no such thing. The tides are the most predictable natural phenomena on earth. They don't have irregularities. You can literally figure them out to the minute.”

“That lying bastard. I knew it!”

I bet it was some kind of fuck-up with the off-season skeleton crew as they moved around boats to prepare for the summer people coming back to the island. Someone probably crashed a yacht into mine, and now they're trying to cover it up. They must have been going way too fast, because there wasn't anything salvageable. He told me as much, but I still wanted to see it for myself. I tried to pick out a few bits of wood, ones where Dad had painted the name on the hull, thinking maybe I could glue them back together. But there was no way.

Mrs. Hillman gazes at me incredulously. “You didn't pay attention at all in my class, did you? You'd just zone out like this. We did an entire week on tides.”

I don't bother answering her. What does it matter? My boat, the beautiful
Judy Blue Eyes
, is no more.

*  *  *

We have a senior assembly last period. A few former Jar High graduates are back home for spring break, and they're talking to us about their first-year experiences in college or some shit. Lil's sitting in the back, by herself, with an empty
seat next to her. Reeve's, I guess. The rest of their friends are down front. Before the thing gets started, I shoot up there and steal the seat.

“How's it going?”

“Ash hasn't said two words to me. And Alex, he won't even look at me. But I think Derek and PJ are coming around. I mean, obviously Reeve and I didn't set out to hurt anyone.”

I give her the eye. “Come on, Lil. Yeah, you didn't set out to hurt anyone but you knew exactly what would happen if people found out. Otherwise you wouldn't have been sneaking around.”

“That's fair.” She bites her lip. “But I can't help the way I feel.”

I shrug. “Then fuck everyone. Who cares? You're almost out of this place anyway.”

Lillia nods like I'm making sense, which I am, but then she sinks low in her seat. “I hate feeling like Alex hates me.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“Yes. But he just walked away.” She hangs her head.

“Then try again!”

“I feel like maybe I should give him some space?”

“Lil, don't do that thing you do where you just pretend that shit is fine and dandy. Remember, you got off easy because Mary isn't around anymore.”

“I'm not!” she says emphatically. “He's just so mad, Kat. I've never seen him this mad before.”

“Well, think about it. The girl he's loved forever and his supposed best friend have been secretly together under his nose.”

“You're not making me feel better.”

“Sorry. Your hair looks very shiny today.”

Lillia pouts at me. And then she concedes, “It's a new conditioner.”

As soon as I see Reeve making his way across the auditorium toward us, I stand up. “Later, Lil.” I love Lil, and I do have her back, but I also can't help but think she and Reeve are just a bad idea.

I
'VE IMAGINED WHAT
R
EEVE'S BEDROOM
might look like so many times. At first I'm almost afraid to move. I just stand and look at everything, take it all in. I've never been in a boy's room before. Not ever.

Reeve's bedroom is in the attic of his house. I can tell by the pitch of the roof over my head, because it looks like I'm standing underneath the top of a triangle. On either side of the room there's a small circular window. I can see the bare branches of winter treetops outside, dancing in the wind.