Fire With Fire (22 page)

I’ve never stood on a diving platform before.
Reeve wanted me to try it, at least once before the test, but I
couldn’t bring myself to. My knees are shaking. It’s so high up,
and the water looks really deep. There’s a whole line of us on
the blocks. People are crouched and poised in diving positions,
everyone except me. I force myself to breathe. I don’t have to do
a fancy swan dive into the water; all I have to do is jump.

If I can do this, I can do anything. That’s what I keep telling
myself.
Coach Christy is giving the instructions that I know by
heart—up and down the length of the pool twice, then two
minutes of treading water. I fumble with my goggles. They feel
so tight around my eyes. I hate wearing them, but Reeve kept
saying I would feel more comfortable underwater if I could see,
and he was right.
Coach Christy blows her whistle, and I squeeze my eyes
shut. The other people jump first; I hear their splashes in the
water. I count to three, and then I do it. I jump. I hit the water
with a slap. I move my arms; I kick my legs. I try to remember everything Reeve said: Keep your head down, arms against
your ears, kick kick kick. I hold my breath for as long as I can
before I gasp to the surface; then I’m turning my face back down
into the water again. I feel like I’m drowning, but I keep pulling
myself through the water until my fingers hit the wall, and then
I’m turning around and going the other way.
I don’t look over to the lanes on my left and right, because
I’m afraid to break up my rhythm, but I’m pretty sure they’re
already done. I can’t care about that, though, I have to focus on
myself and not worry about what other people are doing.
You can do it. You can do it.
I feel exhausted by the second time I hit the wall, every muscle in my body is burning, but now I know it’s almost over, only
one more length of the pool. I take my time now; there’s no
rush, like Reeve said. Take it easy, one stroke at a time.
And then I’m there. My fingers touch the wall. I made it. I
come up for air and cling to the side of the pool, breathing hard.
I hear clapping, and I look up—there’s Reeve, standing by the
bleachers, clapping and whistling. For me.
I can’t believe he came.
Everyone else is out of the pool, so Coach Christy comes
over with her stopwatch to time me treading water. I keep my
back straight and my knees bent and I do the eggbeater kick that
Reeve taught me last week. I swallow some water, but I manage
to keep my head up.
“Good job, Lil,” she says, beaming at me.
The stopwatch goes off, and I can’t believe it. I did it. I actually did it. I swim over to the pool ladder, and I climb up. My
body is so sore already, but I feel like a champion. I feel like I
can do anything.
Running over to Reeve, I scream, “I did it!”
He’s grinning like crazy. “Yeah, you did!” I launch myself
into his arms and he lifts me in the air. I feel deliriously, euphorically happy.
We’re laughing, but when he sets me back down, there’s this
long awkward pause of us looking at each other. We both start
talking at the same time.
“Thank you—”
“You were awesome—”
We laugh and I try again. “Thank you for everything. I
couldn’t have done it without you, Reeve. The whole time, I
kept reminding myself of everything you taught me.”
“Aw,” Reeve says, cocking his head to the side. “Look at that,
swimming brought us together.” Quickly he adds, “As friends.”
Another awkward silence. “Yup, totally!” I say. “Thank you
so much.”
Reeve hands me my towel from the bleacher bench. “Don’t
mention it,” he says. “Are you gonna go to the library today?”
I shake my head. “No, I have to be somewhere.” I’m meeting
Kat and Mary in the girls’ room at five.
“Ah, okay.” He sounds disappointed, which makes me feel
warm inside. He reaches out and gives my wet ponytail a playful tug. “Good job, Cho.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
CHAP
TER F
OR
T
Y

“Hey, hey, girl,” Kat says. She tosses her backpack on the
floor and plops down on it. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Umm . . . not great.” I pick some lint off my sweater. “My
parents didn’t come.”
“Damn.”
“Yup,” I say, and let the
P
pop. “It pretty much sucked.”
The door suddenly bursts open and Lillia comes running in.
“I did it!” she screams. “I passed my swimming test!”
I clap my hands and Kat whoops. “Way to go, Lil!”
She’s practically hopping up and down she’s so excited. “I
was so nervous up there on the diving block, but then I did
it—I jumped right in! I mean, it took me twice as long as everybody else, but I did it. And treading water was the easiest part,
too.” She stands in front of the mirror and takes her wet hair
out of the ponytail holder. “Reeve came to cheer me on. I was
totally surprised.” She fishes around in her bag and pulls out an
ivory-colored comb and starts combing her hair. “Actually . . .
Reeve might have mentioned you the other day, Mary.”
I’m stunned. “Really?” Wow. Just . . . wow.
Kat’s picking at the soles of her combat boots with a pen, and
her head snaps up. “What did he say?” she asks, skeptically.
The comb in Lillia’s hand stills. “It was right before the
break. He found out he can’t play football next year. His leg
hasn’t healed fast enough.” I don’t take my eyes off her; I’m
hanging on her every word, not even breathing. “He was crying; he was upset. And then he said that he deserved it. He said
he had it coming. He said that a long time ago, he hurt a girl
really badly and he’s never forgotten about it. He said it was
almost a relief that he was finally paying for what he did.” She
turns around and faces us. “I believed him, you guys.”
He never forgot me? This whole time he’s been thinking
about me and how sorry he is? Oh. My. God.
“You don’t know that he was talking about Mary,” Kat
objects. “Did he say her name? Did he say what he did to her?
What she did to herself?”
Lillia hesitates. “Well . . . no. I guess not. That’s why I didn’t
say anything. I wasn’t sure.”
“He’s dicked over like ninety-nine percent of the girls in this
school,” Kat says, her arms crossed. “He could have been talking about anyone.”
Lillia’s shaking her head. “Guys, if you’d been there, if you’d
seen the look on his face, you would have believed him too.
Whoever he was talking about, he was sincere. There was genuine remorse. I honestly think he’s sorry.”
Kat jumps up off the floor. “Eff that! Even if he was talking
about Mary, who cares if he’s sorry now? It’s too late. Sorry
doesn’t count for shit. Also don’t forget, like, three weeks ago
he had a chance to tell her how sorry he was to her face and
instead he told her to go fuck herself! He wants to look good
in front of you, Lil. He doesn’t care about Mary.”
My eyes well up. Kat’s right. I won’t be fooled by Reeve
Tabatsky again.
Lillia sighs. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.”
“I don’t trust him,” I say, and my voice comes out thin and
watery. “Lil, I know you said things are going good with you
two, but on Thanksgiving night I saw him at the movies with
Rennie. It seemed like they were on a date.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Lillia assures me. “He only hung
out with her because I couldn’t get out of the house. He texted
me first.”
Kat cracks her knuckles. “Even if Ren’s sloppy seconds,
she’s still a threat. The girl is like a pit bull when she wants
something. We should seal this deal sooner than later.”
Lillia frowns. “Seal the deal? What does that even mean?”
“You guys have been hanging around each other for almost a
month now, swimming and studying and shit, but you haven’t
done
anything. Like, he hasn’t made any actual moves on you
yet, right?”
“Right . . . ,” Lillia says. “But it’s not like we ever decided
what I’m supposed to do. ‘Break his heart’ is kind of abstract.
I want a plan, something with a concrete end game for me to
execute. I don’t want to be dragging this on for another three
months.”
Kat’s nodding. “Okay, okay, so I think it’s a three-step plan.
You’ve definitely baited the hook, but I’m not sure Reeve’s bitten. So, step one is you guys need a hot French.”
Lillia looks aghast. “French? Like in French kiss?”
Kat laughs. “Come on. Haven’t you ever French-kissed
someone you didn’t like? Close your eyes and pretend he’s
someone else.”
Lillia bites her lip. “I guess . . .”
“Maybe you could do it at the tree-lighting ceremony,” I say.
“I’ll be there, singing with the chorus. Alex Lind, too. He got a
solo. It’s next Tuesday night.”
“He did?” Kat looks surprised. It’s nice to have news to share
with the group for once, to know something they don’t.
“He’s going to be doing ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside,’” I tell her.
“He has a great voice. And he’s playing his guitar, too.”
Kat smiles to herself. “Nice.”
“Lindy must be so happy. But why didn’t he say anything?”
Lillia pouts her lips and puts on some ChapStick. “You know
what, I’m going to get the whole group together to watch him
sing. And plus, I want to see you sing too, Mary.”
“I don’t have a solo or anything,” I say. “But it’ll be nice
having someone in the audience there for me.” There’s no way
Aunt Bette will go. Not that I even want her to.
Kat says, “Lil, this is perfect. Make your move on Reeve that
night. Boom.”
“Maybe,” Lillia says. “If Rennie’s not there.”
“I thought you said that was no problem.”
“She’s not. I—I just don’t want to do it right in front of her
face.” She digs her cell out of her purse. “Let me text Reeve,
make sure he can come.”
We crowd around her as she texts,
Thanks again for coming
today, Coach. Do you want to go to the tree lighting on Tues?
Lindy is singing a solo, we can surprise him!
He writes back right away.
Yeah, let’s do it. Hey. Are we still
studying on Sat?
As she reads it, Kat wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I smile.
“Boom. Then you’re on to step two.”
“Which is . . .”
“Make Reeve think you’re his girlfriend through Christmas.
Be all cozy and shit so he buys you a present. Then we’ll know
for sure that he sees you as girlfriend material.”
“Do you think he would?”
I think of that day, when Reeve gave me my daisy necklace.
How happy it made me. “Yeah,” I say. “I bet he will get you
something.”
Lillia chews on her nail. “Well, what’s step three?”
Kat’s about to open her mouth, but I beat her to it. “New
Year’s Eve. You leave him hanging at midnight.”
“Ah.”
Kat waves her hands. “Ooh! I know! You could kiss someone else at midnight!”
Glaring, Lillia shakes her head at her. “I’m not a slut.”
Kat backs off. “Okay, okay. Then leave him high and dry like
Mary said.”
Lillia thinks it over. And she starts nodding, slowly. “Okay.
Good. And then, January first, I’m done. New year, new
start.”
“Yup. Done.” Kat high-fives her for emphasis, and she’s
about to high-five me when a girl I don’t recognize steps into
the bathroom. Kat’s arm drops and I hurry out before the door
slams shut. As I leave, Kat goes into a stall to pee, and Lillia
leans over the sink and finishes putting on her makeup.
I’m about halfway down the hall when something tells me to
go back. I don’t know why; it’s just a feeling. So I do. I go back
to the bathroom door and press my ear close.
“Did you know her parents didn’t even come to Thanksgiving?
They were supposed to and then they changed their minds.”
Kat. Whispering. About me.
Lillia gasps. “That’s horrible. Poor thing.”
“Shit with her aunt sounds crazy too. If she’s not locked up
in the attic, she’s berating Mary. And have you driven past her
house lately? Thing is practically falling down. I don’t know if
she should be living there anymore.”
“Should we try to call her parents or something? Tell them
what’s going on?”
“But that’s the thing. We don’t even know what’s going on.”
Kat lets out a long sigh. “I doubt Mary’s giving us the full picture of how bad things are. Probably because she doesn’t want
us to worry. Something is definitely going on with her.”
“Maybe we could get her to talk to someone. Like a counselor.”
“Yeah. We probably should. It’s up to us to take care of her.
No one else is.”
I run from the bathroom. I know the conversation is them
being good friends, but I hate the idea of them talking about me
behind my back. And I can’t have anyone, not school, not Lillia
and Kat, talking to Aunt Bette. Because Aunt Bette knows my
secret. And no one else can.
CHAP
TER F
OR
T
Y -ONE

I can’t stop thinking about what Kat said —
how Reeve isn’t sorry, how he was only saying he was to
impress me. She made a good point. Why didn’t he apologize to
Mary when he had the chance? But then I remember the way he
looked at me, how he cried like a little kid, and I feel sure that
he was telling the truth. And who else could he have hurt worse
than Mary?

Only it doesn’t matter, either way. Because it isn’t my responsibility to make Reeve apologize. Or to try and figure out if he’s
sorry for what he did. My loyalty lies with my friend. I have to
get Reeve back for what he did to Mary. That’s all. An eye for
an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

A broken heart for a broken heart.
We’re supposed to meet at Java Jones at noon. I’m planning to
finish up my AP English essay on mother figures within the works
of Shakespeare, which is due Monday. I packed a CD-ROM of
timed practice SAT questions for Reeve to work on. He’s already
blown through the two test workbooks I let him borrow.
I decide to go to Java Jones an hour early, because this essay
isn’t going to write itself, and to make sure we score a good table
near an outlet, so we can plug in our laptops in case we run out
of battery. Luckily, the one I want is free when I get there. I put
my princess coat on the back of a chair and my laptop bag on
the other. Then I order a hot chocolate with whipped cream and
a peppermint stick at the counter. While I’m looking through
my change purse, my phone begins to buzz.
It’s a text. From Reeve.
Leg is pretty sore this morning. Don’t
think I can make it. Sorry. :(
I frown like the face in his text. I keep telling him that he
needs to make sure he’s not overexerting himself in the weight
room. You can’t rush physical therapy. You need to be patient.
My uncle broke his ankle running two years ago, and he finished his physical therapy like one week early, and he says his
ankle still bothers him when it rains.
I’ve opened up a text to write him back when I see Reeve
drive past the front window in his truck.
What the—?
I get my things from the table and leave behind my hot chocolate on my table, to save my spot. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the
barista and step outside. The sun is bright, and I have to shield
my eyes with my hand. For a second I think I’ve lost him, but
then I catch sight of Reeve’s truck making a left into the ferry
parking lot.
I hustle down the sidewalk. I’m mad, but I’m trying to stay
calm. Maybe he’s picking up one of his brothers? I send Reeve
an innocent text back.
Should I swing by? We can study at your
place.
As soon as I hit send, my heart fills my throat, because I
have this terrible feeling that he’s about to lie to me.
He doesn’t text me back right away, which gives me a chance
to catch up to him.
When I get to the parking lot, I’m careful to keep camouflaged behind trees and the ticket booth. Reeve’s parked his
truck in line with the cars waiting to drive aboard the next ferry.
I’m close enough to see him looking at his phone; he’s probably
reading my text. He writes me back.
I think I should take it easy
and ice it for now. I’ll text you later if it feels better.
My body goes cold. Kat and Mary were one thousand percent right. Reeve’s not a trustworthy guy, not at all. I’m so
mad at myself for falling for it when I know better.
Reeve doesn’t see me coming. He’s fiddling with his radio.
I can hear the music as I get closer. It’s hip hop, the volume
turned way up. And he’s drumming his hands on the steering
wheel. Whoever he’s off to see, he’s sure pumped.
I knock so hard on the glass my knuckles hurt. Reeve startles, and when he sees that it’s me, his jaw drops. He fumbles
to turn the radio off and then tries to get his window to roll
down.
“Hey, there,” I say, all fake sweet. “So nice to see that your
leg’s better.” I drop the act, let my smile go flat. “Don’t bother
texting me later. Or any other day.” I walk away.
I hear his truck door open and then slam shut, his feet pounding the pavement. I’m speed walking as fast as I can, but Reeve
must be sprinting, even with his bum leg. I let my laptop bag fall
on the ground; I don’t even care. I don’t want to look at him.
Before I know it, Reeve wraps his arms around me from
behind.
“Let me go!” I try and break out of his bear hug, but his
hands are locked around me.
“Lillia, wait a second!”
I don’t wait. I struggle and wriggle to get free until I have no
strength left. “Let go of me!” I shriek.
Some of the people in the parking lot have stopped to watch
us. “You’re making a scene!” he hisses. He’s right. I don’t want
the cops to come; I just want him to let go of me. The only way
he’ll do that is if I stop.
“Please, Lillia.” I go limp and he drops his arms.
I’m panting as I turn around to face him. “Care to explain
why you lied to me?”
Reeve sets his jaw. “No. Not particularly.” He walks back a
few steps and picks up my laptop bag.
I feel something mean bubble up in my throat. The overwhelming urge to tell Reeve everything, how I’ve been only
hanging out with him to hurt him for Mary. How it’s all a lie.
I’ve been pretending to like him, when in actuality he disgusts
me.
But I can’t, because those words won’t mean anything. They
won’t hurt him. Because if Reeve did care, he wouldn’t have lied
to me so he could sneak off to see some other girl.
“Tell me where you’re going.” I know I sound jealous. And
I hate it.
He hands my laptop bag back to me. “It’s better if I don’t.”
I snatch it from his hands and hear the bits of broken plastic
shake around. It’s broken.
I feel the sting of tears, and my vision blurs. “I hope this
other girl knows a thing or two about the SATs. Or else maybe
she doesn’t care that you won’t get into college!” I think of all
the time I’ve wasted, trying to help Reeve. I should have stuck
to the damn plan. I bet I could have kissed him weeks ago.
Reeve’s face goes blank. “You think I’m going to see another
girl?”
I walk away.
He’s following me again. He speeds up so that he’s standing
in my way. “Fine, you want to know where I’m going?” He
fishes something out of his pocket. A piece of paper. He hands
it to me.
I wipe my eyes so I can read it. There are two names written
down, and neither of them are girls’ names. And an address for
a fraternity house at UMass.
I look up at him, because it doesn’t make sense.
His mouth is set in a grim line. “I’m going to whoop those
fuckers’ asses.” And then he starts walking back toward his truck.
It takes me a second to put it together. “Oh my God,” I say,
staring down at the paper. At the names. Ian Rosenberg and
Michael Fenelli. “Oh my God.”
And then it’s me who’s chasing him. “Are you crazy?” I
scream.
Reeve doesn’t slow down. “I’m an idiot for not thinking of
it sooner. That house those turkeys rented, it was one of the
ones my dad manages. All I had to do was look up the address,
and boom. I found their addresses, their phone numbers, their
birthdays. I’m going up there, and I’m going to make them
wish they never, ever laid eyes on you and Rennie.”
“I don’t want you to do that!” The ferry horn sounds and the
cars waiting to drive aboard start their engines. “I don’t want
you going anywhere near them!”
Reeve opens his door. “Why?” he demands. “You don’t think
they deserve it?”
I struggle to answer him. Because as much as it was the guys,
it was my fault too. I was the one who went to a stranger’s
house. I was the one who got too drunk. I was the one who created the situation where something terrible could happen. And
I was unlucky enough that it did.
“It won’t change anything!” I reach out and grab hold of his
sweatshirt. Two fistfuls. “I am telling you don’t go there. If this
is for me, I don’t want it.”
Reeve’s already shaking his head. He’s not listening to me.
“Those guys have to pay for what they did. There have to be
consequences. They can’t just get away with it.”
It’s hard to breathe now. “I know want to help. I know that.
But nothing you do can take back what happened.” I’m trying
to stay strong so I can make him hear me, but I can feel myself
start to shake. “You going over there, it will only bring everything back for me. All I want to do is forget.”
I see him soften a little. “You can’t bury it, Lil. It happened.
You have to deal with it.”
“I know. But let me do it my way. Not like this.” I look up at
him with pleading eyes. “Please.”
We’re staring at each other, neither of us blinking, and Reeve
finally bows his head and nods. “I just—I wanted to make
things right for you.” He reaches out and takes my hand and
locks his fingers around mine. I let him do it, even though I feel
like I shouldn’t.
Later, when I think about the look in Reeve’s eyes, and I
remember what he said about how there should be consequences
for the bad things people do, I feel dread, because I know he’s
right. There will be consequences, for all of us. Maybe me most
of all.
CHAP
TER F
OR
T
Y - T
W
O