Fire Girl Part 1 (13 page)

She could compete with the villain in the
cowboy movie hands down.

“And why haven’t you answered any of my
calls, Maddie?”

“I had a heart attack.” Grandpa said it like
he had called out checkmate.

Aunt Sylvie softened. “I didn’t know.”

“Like I said, we been busy, but we got it
handled.”

Aunt Sylvie heaved in a sigh. “This is too
much for you. I knew it.”

“Are you meaning to insult an old man?”

She chomped her teeth together and looked
Grandpa up and down. “Get your things, Madeline, you’re coming with
me.”

The way she said Madeline, took me back to
the hospital. The straight jacket. The therapist’s office. Back to
the red couch. I stumbled back and tripped over one of the legs of
the TV tray. The whole thing went crashing down.

“Now wait a minute!” Grandpa’s voice rose
like the sound of a siren. He reached for me. “Nobody’s goin’
nowhere.”

“Yes she is.”

I took his hand and stood up. Nausea swept
through me. If I had to go back there, I wouldn’t get away. My
thoughts jumbled like Yahtzee dice. Run, run, run.

Grandpa steadied me. “Ya all right?”

I struggled to find my balance, the swirls of
the carpet begging for me to come back down. “I can’t go back.”

Grandpa set his mouth in that way he had of
taking control. He finished righting me. “You ain’t going nowhere,
ya hear? I need her here.” He turned to Aunt Sylvie. “The judge
released her into
my
custody.”

Aunt Sylvie pushed down the sides of her
slacks. “Under my recommendation. I’m still her
legal
guardian, Frank.”

Grandpa let out a long, suffered breath.
“Madds, you know where the keys are for the four wheeler?”

“Yes.”

“Take yourself for a little ride. I have a
new babysitter.”

***

The hum of the four-wheeler rumbled beneath
me. I pressed the gas harder with my thumb, not slowing, and
shifted into the next gear. The way Grandpa warned me against
doing.

I didn’t care. Aunt Sylvie would have me
packed to go when I got back. How far could I get on a
four-wheeler?

I shifted again. I didn’t care if I ruined
the gears. I didn’t care if I destroyed the four-wheeler. I didn’t
care about anything. I tried to block out that night, the way his
face flashed up to me before he fell, the way the curtains burned
into an explosive flame. Thoughts I knew would only lead to one
thing--the mental hospital.

I focused on Grandpa—the way he stepped in
front of me. I shifted to a lower gear and wiped at the edge of my
eye. He’d protected me.

I let out a sudden laugh. Grandpa would be
giving her a lecture. Ha! I gunned it.

The Lockhart house flew past, and out of the
corner of my eye I saw her. Her chair parked in front of the
house.

I glanced back.

Her eyes cast down, her face . . . sad.

I slowed. I tried not to think about how it
would feel to be stuck in that chair. She wouldn’t want to see me.
She wouldn’t want to talk to me. Why wasn’t she at the game? Crap.
I jerked the steering wheel around.

When I pulled up Grace didn’t look at me.

“Why aren’t you at the game?” I cut the
engine.

Grace pushed her hand control and moved
backwards.

“I’ve seen you watch him. I know you want to
be there.”

Grace fixed a fierce look at me. “I don’t
attend public events, not that it’s any of your business.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ah, like
school?”

Grace threw me a disdainful look. “School and
church aren’t public events, they’re privileges.”

I crossed my arms. “Oh yes, you’re right,
Mom
. Why aren’t you at the football game?”

“Get off my property.”

I twisted at my necklace. I didn’t buy it.
She would be there, if she
could
. Her mother must be in bed,
her father at work.

I made a decision I knew I would regret.

I jumped off the four-wheeler. “We’re going
for a ride.”

“What are you doing?”

I studied her. I knew she could shuffle. I’d
watched Zac help her into the Jeep after practice yesterday.

“What are you doing?” Grace shrieked.

“I know you can move and I can steady
you.”

“Get away or I’ll yell for my mother, and
believe me, she may be drugged and asleep, but if I yell she will
be out here so fast, with your head at the end of a broomstick
before you can say snap, crackle, pop!”

I quit moving her. “Snap, crackle, pop?” I
suppressed a grin.

Grace lifted her chin in defiance. She
pressed the reverse on her hand controls. “Whatever.”

“Wait.” I followed. “Look, I’m not the nice
type. I’m not a do gooder like my Grandma. I just thought—”

She stopped. “You think? Oh, you mean when
you’re not starting fires.”

I cringed and squelched the familiar anger
that stirred in my gut. I turned away. “Never mind.” I didn’t need
this. I totally didn’t need her.

“I don’t need friends.”

I paused. “Who said I wanted you?”

The cock of a gun sounded. “She said she
don’t want you here.” Mr. Harris shouted from somewhere.

I searched the fence line.

Grace rolled her eyes and pointed up.

“We take personal property rights serious
around here, girl.”

He stood up on this makeshift tree house kind
of thing. He had the gun up to his face.

“It’s okay, Mr. Harris.” A slow smile touched
the sides of Grace’s lips. “Thank you, Mr. Harris.”

Mr. Harris pulled the gun back. He gave an
inordinately loud sigh. “I’m here if you need me, Grace.” He ducked
down into the tree house.

Grace stared at me like she’d just won the
lottery.

I shook my head.

“It would serve you right.”

“What?” I paused. “To have Mr. Harris blow my
head off?”

Grace inspected me from top to bottom. “Why
are you here?”

I kicked the cement and didn’t answer for a
minute. “Maybe I know how it feels to be trapped, okay?”

Grace grunted.

I didn’t move. I didn’t know why. This could
be what they called a very awkward social moment.

“Okay, but we’re
not
friends.”

A strange sensation went through me—warmth
rushed up and down my arms and though my chest. I went straight for
the back of Grace’s wheelchair and moved it square with the side of
the four-wheeler. “You’re sure?”

Grace immediately moved to push herself up
and I stepped in front of her to help her stand and shuffle
forward. “What? You re-thinking this?”

The warmth rushed me again. “No way.”

Grace nodded. “You’re going to have to help
me up here.”

I lifted her leg over and then did the
awkward push from the bum and ran around to the front to slide her
upright and into position.

Grace let out a high pitched laugh. “Oh my
gosh, that was embarrassing.”

I slid behind her. “Here we go.”

I pushed on the gas. “Where to?”

“Take a left before your grandparent’s place
and then go
fast
.”

I obliged.

Grace let out a whoop as we got to the
turn.

I grinned. I knew it was all true—I was
crazy, but I no longer cared.

“Turn here.” She commanded.

I swung the wheel and the tires ripped into
the gravel.

Grace let out another laugh.

I recognized an abandoned school getting
closer. I slowed.

“Yes, up there.”

The building jutted out of the ground and had
a pointy tower, a tower that should have existed a long time ago
when a girl needed to be kept in a tower and preserved or
something. Weeds had long overtaken any kind of a yard that had
been there, but I could see an old, dilapidated outhouse at the
back of the building and several broken out windows. I stopped in
front of it and killed the engine.

Grace exhaled. “The tower is kinda freaky,
right?”

I smiled. “That’s what I was thinking.”

Grace lifted her hand and carefully used the
whole thing as a single object to wipe a hair away from her
mouth.

I thought of Lisa’s prayer and a million
questions about her condition ran through my mind. Did her fingers
only sometimes work?

“I’ve always wondered why they built that
tower. Can you believe I never looked in there when I could
have?”

I stared at the tower. “It’s pretty
creepy.”

“It’s sick.” Her tone held awe.

I took care not to jostle her and slid my leg
carefully around her and hopped down. “I’ll look.”

“What?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“No. No, don’t. It’s haunted.” She called
out, her voice laced with worry and intrigue.

I leaped up the front chunked out steps. I
tried to turn the rusty door knob. It didn’t budge, but I could see
what looked like old desks inside the darkened room. “Haunted,
shmaunted. I’ll tell you what’s up there.” I lifted my phone. “In
fact, I’ll take a picture on my new nifty phone and show you.”

“I don’t think you should be over there.”

“Has anyone you known been in there?” I
bounded off the steps. I took a few steps and then tried to jump up
and see in the foggy windows.

Grace’s voice sounded jittery. “Hmm. No. Why?
What can you see?”

I kept jumping and then walking a couple of
steps and then jumping again. The dwindling light had already faded
too much to see anything substantial. “Holy cow!”

I felt partially bad for teasing her, but it
was too easy. I took another jump. “Oh my gosh!”

“What? What? Tell me!”

I jumped again. “I think we need to report
this.”

“You better tell me. I swear you better tell
me or . . .”

I shook my head and started back. I kept a
solemn look on my face.

“Tell me, please!”

She wanted it. She really wanted to be
freaked out. I couldn’t resist. I saddled up next to her.
“Bodies.”

For a fraction of a second Grace’s eyes went
wide. Then she smiled. “Stop!” She banged my shoulder with the heel
of her hand.

“What?” I couldn’t subdue my giggles.

Grace’s whole body shook into a laugh.
“Stop.”

“Ahh.” I covered my stomach and leaned
forward, the giggles completely uncontrollable.

All the emotion of earlier hurled out of me.
“You’re a horror junkie, Grace Lockhart!”

Grace laughed, tears poured down her face.
She hit the steering wheel with her hand. “I think you should have
said alien bodies. Or—no, you should have said alien eggs with
bodies inside them.”

I laughed and wiped underneath my eyes.
“Wait, I think they were.”

Grace giggled harder.

Abruptly, I noticed her giggle turned into
something more. She leaned over the steering wheel and her whole
body began to shake.

“Grace, are you okay?”

The giggle shifted into a whimper as her body
continued to shake.

Fear pricked inside of me like an
uncontrollable blizzard that no one ever saw coming. Thoughts of
the stupid, irrational way I jaunted off with Grace—without a
thought that anything could go wrong—attacked me. I held to Grace’s
arms. “Are you okay? What can I do? What do I need to do for
you?”

Grace sucked in short, tight gasps, as though
an asthma patient at the height of an attack. Her face turned
pale.

“Grace!”

She worked at a swallow. “I’m okay.”

I nodded. “You’re okay. We’ll get you home
and you’ll be fine.” I tried to sound convincing.

Grace tried to push herself back from the
hunched position in front of the steering wheel.

I slipped behind her and pulled her back into
me.

“I’m sorry.” The words were soft. Her
breathing had quieted.

I didn’t know if I should try to take off or
wait. “Should I call 911?”

“No.” Her voice wasn’t normal, but it was
better. “Just wait.”

She breathed in and out slowly.

“It’s this thing with my disease. I have a
hard time controlling my emotions like laughing or crying. When I
get started, I can’t stop.”

I hesitated. “It’s fine. It’s totally fine.”
I knew my confident words didn’t sound confident.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Her voice came out like a
parent soothing a child. “I’m fine. I promise.”

A race car turned the last lap of the Nascar
in my chest. It
wasn’t
fine. My hand hovered above the key.
“Do you want me to go now?”

She patted my hand.

I noticed how cold hers felt.

“Just a minute.”

I waited. For some insane reason Grandma’s
lecture about how our choices did not always just affect us flitted
into my head. My stupid, irrational actions.

“I’m sorry.” Grace sighed.

“For what?”

“No one should have to deal with this.”

“With what?”

“No one should have to deal with a
cripple.”

I paused. “Why not?”

She jolted. “Because I don’t want them
to.”

I waited for a couple of seconds. “It seems
like no one really gets what they want, do they?”

She snorted. “Just tell it like it is.”

“We all have to deal with the ugliness of
life.” I thought of Aunt Sylvie waiting for me. “And you should go
to your brother’s games. You never know when your time will be
gone.”

Her mouth opened and then closed again. Her
body began to tremble.

Impulsively, I put my hand on her back and
rubbed little circles. The thing my father had always absently done
when I’d been upset. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her breathing quieted. “Since that first
day—you treated me normal.”

I slowed the circles. “Yeah, I’m good at
being a jerk to everyone.”

“No.” Grace’s voice was quiet. “It’s just who
you are.”

I laughed. “Yes. True. I am just a jerk.”

Grace tilted her head to the side and her
eyes narrowed. “You’re just angry.”