So Not Happening (32 page)
Robbie squints as he studies my face. “She could get a glass eye. That'd be cool.”
“There's nothing wrong with me. You gave me a shiner when we fell out of the tree. Nobody's getting any body parts removed.”
But my eye looks hideous. It's a lovely blend of purple, blue, and swollen, and Sephora doesn't sell anything that could cover this up. But the doctor said I was lucky that's all I suffered. I didn't even have a concussion. Just some leaf burns. Some limb lacerations. Bark bruises.
Mom let all of us stay home from school. Budge went with Jake to the house this morning, and Robbie chose to stay with us at Dolly's, not knowing when he would have another opportunity to watch the cartoon channel on her satellite.
We sit in the living room, Robbie inches from the giant TV, while Mom and I lounge on one of Dolly's leather couches.
When Jake and Budge walk into the room, I'm instantly on alert. Jake's eyes dart to me, then to my mother. Budge stands back, looking at no one.
“What's the matter?” Mom asks.
Jake inhales deeply, his frown severe. “The fire chief said the fire was started by a candle left on in the kitchen.”
I stop breathing.
“He said it burned until it spread on a plate then caught a nearby towel on fire. It shot right up the wall and eventually caught the stairs behind it.”
Mom's face is grave. “Bella, did you burn a candle last night?”
Robbie pipes up. “No, she didn't burn
a
candle. She burned a
lot
of them.”
My stomach twists, and I have to fight a wave of nausea. “I snuffed them out—all of them. I know I did.”
Didn't I?
It had been a crazy night. A fight with Luke. The pizza burning. Robbie's homework, then mine. What if I
had
forgotten and left one candle burning?
Mom grabs Jake's hand, and he sits on the arm of the couch. I feel like I've committed a crime. And it's them against me. They think I set the fire.
My vision blurs with tears. “I did put out the candle. I know it. At least I'm pretty sure ...”
“Bella, you could've burned the entire house down.” The edge in my mom's voice is like a thousand paper cuts.
I stand up, desperate to get far away from all of them. “I'm telling you, I didn't do it.”
“How bad is it?” Mom asks.
Jake studies their joined hands. “Could've been a lot worse. We'll have to redo the back wall of the kitchen, the stairs, part of the ceiling. The important thing is that everyone's okay. Bella, I know I told you this last night, but looking at the house today, I want to say it again. Thank you for your quick thinking. You and Robbie are alive today because you climbed onto that tree.” He watches his son, who has gone back to
Scooby-Doo,
totally uninterested in any near-death talk. “You saved my son.”
But killed your house.
“What did the insurance guy say?” Mom asks Jake. He shakes his head and speaks to my mom in a hushed whisper.
I take myself into the kitchen, desperate for some aspirin and caffeine. Instead I find Budge.
I jerk one cabinet open then another, searching for a glass.
“Here.” He holds out a blue cup. “You know I—”
“Save it,” I snap. “Whatever jerk thing you have to say, just keep it to yourself. I know you're mad at the world, and now I've given you one more reason to be miserable—I apparently just burned down part of your house. So I'm sorry we're stuck here for a few weeks. And—”
“I just wanted to say thanks.” He clears his throat. Studies his feet.
Shaking my head, I try to reengage my ears, which obviously cannot be working.
“It sucks that we're kicked out of the house for a while, but Dolly does have a killer pool.”
“Did you just thank me?”
“Yeah.” He stabs his hands into his pockets. “The whole saving my-brother thing you did was pretty cool.” And he walks past me, where I stand in mute shock at his freakish kindness. “Nice eye, by the way. You look like a Cyclops.”
Now that's more like it.
“Tell me again why you dragged me to football practice?” I sit down beside Lindy on the warm bleacher.
“Your mom said you needed to get out of the house. She's worried about you.”
I have spent the whole afternoon in my temporary bedroom, hugging a trash can, afraid I was going to hurl at any moment. Setting a house on fire can do that to a girl.
Accidents happen, Bella.”
My stomach clenches. “Thanks for bringing it up. I love the subject of the fire. I could talk about it
all
day.”
“I just mean that it wasn't your fault.”
Apparently it was. I'm the one who lit the match that lit the candle, so therefore, it's my fault. I've tried to think of at least ten other people to blame, such as my cheating liar of an ex-boyfriend or my loser ex-BFF, but logic prevails, and it all points back to me once again. I started the fire.”
“But you didn't mean to. That's the important thing. Your parents know that.”
“Pretty soon the euphoric feeling that their children are alive and well will wear off, and they will begin to look at me as the arsonist I must be.”
But if there's one thing I did get out of this, besides a serious need for a manicure, it's that life is short. And I'm going to take the Brotherhood situation by the horns and talk to Jared. I think I've earned his trust by now. Surely he'll open up to me about what he knows.
My head still throbs, and the shouting of Coach Lambourn and Coach Dallas does nothing to help.
Coach Dallas butts up to Dante, his face inches from his star player's. “When I was in school, we were winners. A state championship was a given. And why? Because we
worked
hard! Because we were a
team.”
He moves on to his stepbrother. “Your team makes me sick. You have a heritage here, and you're destroying it game by game. We barely pulled it out last week. Uphold the legacy at all costs.” His gaze travels to every starter.
I can't wait to blow the lid on this guy's craziness and send him up the river. To the big house. The pokey. The slammer. If he continues killing off all his players, there won't be anyone left to uphold a football, let alone a stupid legacy.
“Well, look at that.”
I follow Lindy's stare and see Luke walking toward us. With Kelsey Anderson.
“Hey, ladies.” Luke addresses us both, but he watches me.
“Kelsey, it's good to see you out here. You look great.” Lindy lies through her teeth. Kelsey looks like a strong wind could pick her up and deposit her in Arkansas with one gust.
“I ran into Kelsey at the home today and thought some fresh air might be nice,” Luke says. “How are you?” He turns his attention toward me as Lindy pulls Kelsey in with some small talk.
“I'm fine.”
And still mad, thank you very much.
“Couldn't be better.”
He lifts his hands toward my face and eases off my oversized sunglasses. And scowls. “That doesn't look fine. You could've been seriously hurt.”
I grab my shades back. “Well, I wasn't.”
Luke clasps my wrist and pulls me a few steps away from the girls. “Budge said that the fire department claimed you left a candle burning. He said you swore you snuffed out all the candles.”
“I guess I was wrong.” And the house is short a few walls to prove it.
Luke casts a glance over his shoulder. He steps closer to me. “What if you're not wrong? What if someone else started the fire?”
“Who, Robbie? I put out the candles
after
he went to bed.”
“Not Robbie.” A warm breeze blows between us, ruffling Luke's dark hair. “Bella, how hard would it be to get into your house? I'm guessing the windows are fairly old. And if your stepdad is like half the people in this town, the doors probably aren't locked much.”
It's true. Jake does not believe in locking doors. Whenever I ask him about it. be just makes a joke about his attack cows.
“But I locked the doors that night. That place is so isolated it kind of creeps me out sometimes.”
“Dead bolts?”
“No.”
Luke watches the team, his jaw set. “You need to stay away from the football players. No more asking questions. No parties. Nothing.”
“No! We've already been through this. I have an in with Jared Campbell, and you know it. There is no reason not to take advantage of that.”
Any of those players could have been in your house last night. We have to play it safe from this point on. The closer we get to the truth, the more dangerous it could get.”
“I have to go to the parties. We have no other options. It's our best resource for information. Unless you want me to enlighten Lindy and see if Matt will tell her anything.”
“I said no, Bella.” His voice is as hard as an oak tree. “Thursday night I'm going with Kelsey to Zach Epps's house.”
“What? Why?”
“We're going to search his bedroom. Check his computer. See if we can find anything at all.”
“You weren't at least going to ask me to go?”
He shakes his head. “She trusts me. We've known each other since kindergarten. This is kind of a delicate situation.”
“I
knew
you would take over! I knew it. That's what this is about. You want to be the hero here. Spare me your fake concern over my safety, Chief. I'm not backing off this story—and we'll see who gets to the finish line first.”
He clutches my arm and pulls me to him, his voice a whisper in my ear. “You're off the article, Bella. You were warned. I can't risk the story,” Anger swims in his deep blue eyes. “Or you.”
“I'm not your responsibility.” I take my arm back. “I don't need your permission or your protection.”
“Need I remind you of the very first party?”
“And if I need you and your birdcalls again, I'll say the word.” My eye throbs like a football's trying to sprout out of the socket. “Good-bye, Luke Sullivan.”
“I'll have your new assignment on your desk tomorrow.”
“An exposéon the poor quality of toilet paper at Truman High?” And I'll know
exactly
where to stick it.
I say good-bye to Kelsey Anderson and walk toward Lindy's car, hoping she'll get the hint that I'm more than ready to leave.
“Bella!” A sweaty Jared Campbell intercepts me as I reach her Mustang. “Hey.” His face is red from the heat, but it doesn't hide his concern. “How are you? I heard about the fire today.”
I smile and push my sunglasses farther up my nose. “I'm fine. Really.” It is kind of cool how I have people caring about me—the same people who last month wouldn't have minded if the whole house caved in on me.
“I'm so glad.” He wipes at his dripping forehead. “We're playing our rival Friday night. You should come.”
“I'll be there this week.” Even though Luke, spawn of Satan, has removed me from the story, he didn't remove me from manager duty with Lindy. I'm totally going to break this case before he does.
Are we still on for the party Thursday night? I understand if you don't feel like it.”
“No, I definitely feel like it!” Okay, right now I feel like some Ben and Jerry's and an ice pack, but I'm sure I'll be in the mood in a few days.
“I saw you guys talking to Kelsey Anderson.” His eyes travel across the field to where she still stands deep in conversation with Luke and Lindy. “What did she have to say?”
“We were just talking about Zach—the night of the accident.”
“I don't think that's something we'll ever get over.”
I rest my hand on his forearm. Which is also sweaty. “I know it's still tough. It's good that Kelsey's getting out some though, right? She needs a break from her vigil at the nursing home. That place is so depressing.”
“You've been there?”
“Yeah, I went with Luke once. Just to visit.”
And to dig up some
information.
“Do you go?”
He shakes his head. “Can't.” He bites his top lip as he thinks on this. “It's hard ... you know? It's nice that you're spending time with her though.”
“Jared—“
Tell me everything you know about the Brotherhood.
Where are the videos? Help me stop your stepbrother.
“I, um ... I'll see you at school tomorrow.”
I
think waffles with whipped cream make everything better. The entire family sits at a table at Sugar's. Dolly brings me another round of fresh-squeezed orange juice and pats me on the back. “Honey, you eat up now. It's all-you-can-eat Thursday, so get your money's worth.”
“And it's payday too.” Mom waves her paycheck in the air. “It's my first full check. Haven't seen one of these things in years.” And she looks content. My mom, a Manhattan socialite, sits in a grungy diner perfectly happy with her wrestler husband, grab bag of children, and minimum-wage check. God sure has some strange things up His sleeve. And when I say strange . . . I mean weird.
A bell jingles as the door swings open.
Mickey Patrick walks in. All heads swoop in his direction. And the small-town talk begins. Whispers fly over hotcakes and hash browns.
He waves to a few people, gradually making it to our table. “Hello.” His eyes greet all of us. All but Dolly. “Hadn't seen you since the fire, Jake; saw your truck here and just wanted to see for myself that everyone was okay.”
