Fire With Fire (13 page)

When we pull into the school parking lot on Monday, Nadia
sees her friend Janelle and gets me to drop her off by the front
entrance. I take my time parking and then fixing my hair in
the rearview mirror. I put it in my mom’s hot rollers before I
went to bed and then I slept on it so it wouldn’t be too bouncy.
Bombshell hair,
Kat kept saying last night. This isn’t exactly
bombshell hair, but it’s fancier than my normal style. I dab some
pink gloss on my lips, too.

When I step out of my car, I make sure to keep my trench
coat buttoned and tied tight around my waist. Right as I close
the car door, I spot Kat watching me from across the lot, hanging on the chain-link fence. She shakes her head and mouths,
No
coat.
I mouth back,
I’m cold
, and I shoot her a pleading look,
but she shakes her head again. She mouths,
Marilyn.
Slowly, I
peel the coat off and stow it in my trunk.

I make my way across the parking lot and into the school.
I’m wearing my highest heels, the pale pink patent-leather ones
from homecoming. I walk up the steps carefully so I don’t trip
and fall. The dress is super tight but also totally comfy, because
it’s basically spandex. It barely covers my butt and it makes my
boobs look huge, which never, ever happens. I hope I don’t get
sent home for wearing it. My mom would probably faint.

Right away I can sense people staring, but I look straight
ahead, head up, shoulders back. A sophomore girl whispers to
her friend, “Damn . . .” and a couple of boys whistle. I walk like
I don’t hear them; I walk like I own this school. This must be
what it feels like to be Rennie.

I drop off my bag in my locker and only carry a purse, which
is way sexier and more Marilyn than my school bag. I touch
up my lip gloss, too. There’s five minutes before the bell rings,
which means that Reeve will be by the vending machines with
Alex and PJ like every morning.

Which they are; they’re leaning against the wall of lockers,
eating donuts, except for Reeve, who is eating an apple. No
Rennie, thank God. My heart is thudding in my ears as I wave
hi and sail past them. I go straight for the vending machine. As
I punch the numbers for chocolate donuts, I peek in the glass to
see if Reeve is looking. He’s not. He’s polishing off his apple. I
notice too that he doesn’t have his crutches anymore. And he’s
traded in his soft cast for a walking boot.

PJ lets out a low whistle and calls out, “What are you all
dressed up for, Lil?”
Turning slightly, I say, “I have to give a presentation in
French class.” Which would totally make sense if I were giving
a presentation on the Moulin Rouge.
“Très bien,”
PJ says appreciatively, and I give him a curtsy.
My dress is too short for me to bend down and pick the
donuts out of the slot. Luckily, Alex comes right up beside me.
“You look—wow,” he says, in a low voice.
I can feel myself blushing. “Thanks.”
Alex stoops down and grabs my donuts and hands them to
me. “Wow,” he says again. His eyes are wide, and he’s staring
at me.
I try not to smile. I can’t remember—should I have already
attempted physical contact with Reeve, or do I go straight to
making him jealous? I don’t even know if he’s looking at us.
I’m about to sneak a quick peek at Reeve when I see Rennie
coming down the hall with Ashlin. Quickly, I link my arm
through Alex’s. “Walk me to class?” I chirp.
“Sure,” he says. “I’ll be your bodyguard.”
Reeve’s looking at me now. His eyes flicker over me and then,
just as quickly, away from me. Completely disinterested. He’s
not even making an obnoxious joke about the way I’m dressed.
He wipes off his mouth and tosses his apple core in the trash
without another glance in my direction.
Maybe he’s still mad about the things I said to him on
Halloween. Crap. If this plan of ours has any chance of working,
I’m going to have to eat humble pie and apologize to him, which
is the last thing I want to do.

At the lunch table, I’m all set to sit next to Reeve and make
amends, but when I get there, he’s already sitting at the end
and Rennie’s next to him. Her eyes go huge when she sees me
in my getup, and I have to resist the urge to cross my arms over
my chest.

I slide into the seat across from her. My plan is to pretend our
Halloween fight never happened. “Hey, guys,” I say, opening
my bottle of blueberry white tea.

She acts like she didn’t hear me, and then she puts her head
on Reeve’s shoulder and says, “Do you want me to get you
something from the lunch line, babe?”

When she’s gone, I lean forward and quickly whisper, “Hey,
um, I’m sorry for those things I said on Halloween. I think I
had too much to drink.”

My little apology barely registers. He says flatly, “Yeah, ya
think?”
Clearly, Reeve’s not going to make this easy on me. How
very Reeve of him. I swallow, lower my head, and then look up
at him through my lashes. I’ve got to put on an Oscar-worthy
performance here. In a contrite voice I say, “Reeve, I really am
sorry. I should never have said that stuff to you . . . especially
since you came to Fall Fest and tried your best to help me out,
even with your injury.” I reach out and touch his arm lightly.
Reeve moves his arm away from me. “I didn’t come to Fall
Fest to help you out. I did it because I made a commitment to
the kids.” He tips back in his chair.
This isn’t working, like, at all. I’m going to have to change
tactics. Maybe tell the truth a little. “I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, but Rennie and I are sort of in a fight. It’s been . . . hard,
and I think I took it out on you because you were there. So, I’m
sorry. I promise I didn’t mean any of those things I said.” Well,
that part’s a lie.
Reeve shrugs and takes a swig of milk.
Gee, thanks for being so understanding, Reeve. Thanks a
whole bunch.
CHAP
TER T
WENT
Y

It’s after five; everyone’s already left school for the
day. We are sitting in the last two rows of the auditorium.
Lillia’s next to Kat, who’s got her combat boots up on the seat
in front of her, and I’m perched backward on a seat in the row
in front of them.

Lillia unwraps a light brown Tootsie Pop and waves it around.
“First lick?” she asks me and Kat. We both shake our heads.
“Update!” Kat shouts, clapping her hands. “Update! Update!
Update!” I clap along with her, because this is super exciting.
Lillia swirls the lollipop around in her mouth. “Well, I
pranced right by him before homeroom and he barely looked
at me. It was actually kind of insulting, now that I think about
it. I mean, yeah, I screamed at him on Halloween, but he’s a
guy. Aren’t guys are supposed to be always horny? He’s hooked
up with every girl in school but he can’t give me the time of
day?” She sighs. “And after I spent all that time on my hair and
makeup too.”
“He was probably trying to hide his boner,” Kat says, chewing on her fingernail. “You look fierce as fuck, Lil.”
Lillia laughs. “Um, thanks?”
“In Spanish class I overheard Connor Dufresne describing
what you had on today with, like, an insane amount of details,”
I offer. “He said you’re the hottest senior by far. He said—”
“Second hottest,” Kat booms, and we all laugh. “Don’t stress
yet, Lil. We’re only getting warmed up. Today was about laying
down the foundation. Next we kick it up.”
“How?” Lillia asks. “I apologized to him today at lunch and
he didn’t want to hear it. And he’s hardly ever alone, what with
Rennie the Parasite constantly clinging to him.”
I clear my throat. “I know a place where he goes to be alone.”
Looking down, I wind my hair around my finger. “The swimming pool.”
Surprised, Lillia says, “Reeve’s joining the swim team?”
“No, it’s for his physical therapy. He’s there every day, ever
since he got his hard cast off.” I’m sure I sound like a stalker, but
whatever. This is too good an opportunity for us to pass up. I fix
my eyes on her. “Lillia, start swimming in there with him! It’ll
be the two of you; no one’s there after school.”
Lillia’s already shaking my head. “Mary, I don’t swim. Tell
her, Kat!”
“Lil doesn’t swim,” Kat confirms.
“You don’t know how?” I ask.
“I know how, but I hate it,” Lillia says, defensive. “And
Reeve knows I don’t swim. He’ll be suspicious if I start showing up at the pool all of sudden!”
Soothingly, Kat says, “Chill, Lil. Nobody’s throwing you in
the water today.” But Lillia’s still shaking her head. And then
Kat’s face lights up. “Wait! Don’t you have to take the swim test
to graduate?”
“My family doctor wrote me a note,” Lillia says, lifting her
chin high. “I mean, my dad did.”
Kat’s so excited she’s practically vibrating. “That’s it, Lil!
There’s your excuse. You’re practicing for the test.”
Lillia crosses her arms. “I told you, I’m not taking the test!
I already turned in the doctor’s note. What am I supposed to
do now? Walk into Mr. Randolph’s office and tell him that my
aquaphobia is miraculously cured?”
“Reeve doesn’t have to know you’re not taking the test!
Pretend like you are. All you have to do is paddle on a kickboard,” Kat urges. “Like, literally doggy-paddle around the
shallow end. And don’t forget that Reeve’s an awesome swimmer. He set the Jar Island record for breaststroke when he was
like, ten, and bitches still haven’t beat it yet! Even with his gimp
leg, he could swim you to safety easy!”
Stiffly, Lillia says, “I’m not worried about
drowning
.”
“Then what are you worried about? This plan is foolproof.
If you’re in the same physical vicinity as him, the two of you
alone? Day after day?” She snaps her fingers. “ He won’t be able
to keep that act up for long.”
Lillia looks a little queasy. I guess I can’t blame her. Day after
day of having to face Reeve Tabatsky in a bathing suit would
give me anxiety too. She turns to me, biting her lip. “What are
you thinking?” she asks.
I take a deep breath. I don’t want to put Lillia in a situation
she’s uncomfortable with, but then again, what other options do
we have? “I’m thinking Kat’s right,” I say at last. “Will you at
least try it, Lillia? For me?”
Lillia stares at me and then breaks into a laugh. She nudges
Kat and, keeping her eyes on me, says, “How can I say no to
that face? I’m not like Rennie. If my friend needs me, I’m there.”

Later, when I get home, Aunt Bette is up in the attic. I press my
ear to the door and hear the scratching of her brush against the
canvas. I close my eyes and smile, relieved. She’s painting again,
thank God. I guess my tough love speech worked. Aunt Bette is
always happiest when she’s working. And our house could use
that kind of positive energy.

The building is empty, and there’s a bluish cast because of the
lighting. I hate the smell of chlorine. I set my teddy-bear beach
towel along with my flip-flops down on the bleachers next to
Reeve’s walking cast and his towel and gym bag. I’m wearing a
white bikini with embroidered daisies and ties on the sides. It’s
my cutest one. I tie my hair into a bun so it won’t get super wet.

Reeve’s already in the water. He’s got floats tied to his legs,
and he’s curling his legs inward and outward, grimacing as he
uses his arms to push himself forward. He’s focusing so hard it
doesn’t seem like he’s noticed me, so I clear my throat. His head
jerks up. “What are
you
doing here?” he demands.

“I’m here to practice for the swim test,” I say. “It’s a graduation requirement.”
“Well, don’t bother me,” he says. “I’m here to work, not to
talk. That’s why I come here
alone
.”
“But
you
asked
me
—”
“I need this lane and I need this stuff here,” he says. “Don’t
touch any of it.” Then he goes back to his exercises.
Seething, I grab a kickboard from the stack and make my
way over to the pool ladder at the deep end. It seems like this
pool only has deep ends, no shallow ends. I start to go down
one rung at a time, very carefully. The water is heated, but it
still feels icy to me. I’ve already got goose bumps. This is so not
worth it.
And my feet are still planted on the ladder.
If I were to take the swim test, I’d have to dive in and get
from one end of the pool to the other two times without stopping to rest. Plus tread water for three minutes, plus float for
one minute. I can’t do any of those things.
I mean, I know how to doggy-paddle. I don’t know the official strokes or whatever, but who cares? I’m not going to drown
in my own pool. I don’t like putting my head underwater. I don’t
like not being able to breathe. So sue me. I have plenty of other
forms of exercise that I actually enjoy, like cheering, and horseback riding, and tennis and golf. Why should I be forced to swim?
I hold on to the side for a minute, one arm on the wall and
one arm clutching my kickboard. My feet can’t touch the bottom, which makes me feel panicky. Whenever I’m in my pool at
home, I stay in the shallow end.
Meanwhile, Reeve has ditched the floats and is swimming
like he’s an Olympian, lap after lap after lap. He barely even
comes up for air. He’s pushing himself hard, maybe too hard.
He’s doing the butterfly stroke, and his arms knife through the
water powerful and sure, but his leg trails limp behind him. I
have to admit it makes me feel better knowing he’s here. Like,
if something did happen, no matter how much he hates me, he
wouldn’t let me drown.
I don’t think.
I let go of the wall and start using the kickboard, holding on
tight. I kick and kick my way down the lane, bobbing above the
water, trying to keep water from splashing in my face. This is
hard work, plus I keep feeling paranoid I didn’t tie my bikini top
tight enough. My swimsuits have always been purely decorative;
they’ve never seen this much action. All in all it takes me forever—Reeve’s done three laps by the time I make it to the end.
Reeve doesn’t stop or acknowledge me until he’s finished
with his laps. I’m floating by the ladder waiting for him to finish like some kind of swim groupie, if such a thing even exists.
When he’s finally done, he yanks off his goggles and looks up
at the big clock on the wall and lets out an annoyed gust of air.
Then he puts his goggles back on and starts doing laps again.
What, since his football career is a bust, he’s trying out for
swim team now? I look down the length of the pool. It’s so
long. I’m tempted to go home. But I’ve only been in the water
for like fifteen minutes. I suck in a deep breath and kick off
from the wall and start paddling on my kickboard again. I concentrate hard, imagining I am a duck. Kick-kick-kick.
I’m concentrating so hard on making it to the end of the lane
that I don’t even notice when Reeve leaves.