The Reaping (8 page)

“No problem,” I said casually and continued on to my room.

********

That night and the following morning were exact replicas of the previous one—sleep riddled with the same dream until, after the third go round, I refused to go back to sleep, choosing instead to work some more on my science fair project.  I thought for a second about scrapping the whole thing.  I was only doing it for Dad anyway.  But then, when I considered how much time and energy I’d put into it
plus
how much it meant to Dad, I discarded the notion and carefully put it back on the shelf over my desk, to be completed later.

Leah’s mood was as contagious as it had been the previous day and her excitement was even greater, which meant I was feeling better in no time.  Our walk seemed to fly by and I was actually smiling by the time the school double doors came into view.

We parted company still smiling.  I made my way to my locker, thinking about Leah and her incredible turn of luck.  What I
should have been
thinking about was avoiding Stephen. 

I was waist deep in my locker when I heard my name.

“Carson?”  He said my name tentatively, not at all what I expected after what had happened.  I didn’t know what I was expecting—maybe violence or an extreme verbal beat down—but this wasn’t it.

“Yeah?” 

“Look,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  “I know I came on a little strong Monday and I’m sorry.  I knew my friends were watching and…” he trailed off, as if that was explanation enough.  And it was, though it was no excuse.

“I know.  You had to make a good showing for them.  Make sure everyone knew who was in control, how I’d be putty in your hands.”

“It’s not- I know—”

“Oh, no.  I know exactly.  Don’t even
try
to make excuses, Stephen.  I thought you were a nice guy and I was wrong.  Let’s just leave it at that.”

“I don’t want you to think that, though.”

“What?  That you were a nice guy?’

“No, that I’m
not
a nice guy.  Look, you just- I don’t know.”  He paused as if to collect his thoughts.  I felt a little pang of guilt.  “It just surprised me when I saw you.  And then everyone was talking about you.  I guess I got a little caught up in it, too.  Don’t hate me.”

He looked sincere.  He sounded sincere.  But what did I know about guys,
really? 
My experience was so limited it was virtually nil.  What I
did
know, however, was that I had neither the energy nor the desire to hate anyone, including Stephen Fitchco.  In fact, it was much easier to have a crush on him from afar.  And, lucky for him, at the rate he was going, he could be back in my daydreams by the end of the week.

“Can I just start over, like it’s Monday all over again?”

With a sigh of resignation, I agreed.  “Sure.”

“Cool,” he said, his trademark smile sliding into place.  “So, Carson, how’re you feeling?  Looks like you made a full recovery.”

He really was going back to Monday.  “I’m fine, Stephen.  Thanks for asking.”

We smiled at each other and I thought that would be the end of it, but he had more.  “Hey, listen.  There’s a party at the lake Friday night.  Wanna come with me?”

Finally, an invitation to a
lake
party!  I was speechless.  At last, my dream was coming true.  And yet, I wasn’t as thrilled as I thought I would be.  Why wasn’t it a sweeter victory?

“Thanks for the offer, Stephen, but…” I was already shaking my head. 

“Come on, Carson.  Please let me make it up to you,” he said, putting on his most persuasive expression, which in my book was pretty persuasive.

What would be the harm?  Plus, Leah was going and that would make it all the more fun.  We could have a two-sided conversation for weeks.

I looked up at Stephen, his blue eyes sparkling happily, and I caved.  “I’d love to,” I said, giving him
my
most winning smile.

He looked truly pleased.  “Great.  So I can pick you up at your house about seven.  Is that cool?’

“That’s cool,” I agreed.  I’d worry later about what Dad was going to say.

“Hey, how ‘bout I give you a ride home today?  I owe you one after…well, you know.”

“Um, I walk home with Leah.”

“I can give her a ride, too.”

“Well,” I said, pausing to think, visions of red convertibles and carefree laughter dancing in my head.  “Alright.”

“Awesome!  We can walk out together after sixth.”  And with that, he flashed me his gorgeous smile and walked away.

That set the tone for the rest of the day:  everything was going to be alright.  Life was looking up after all; there for a while I was a little concerned that it was taking a serious nose dive.  I managed to pull Leah aside as we passed between classes to tell her that we’d be getting a ride home. 

“From who?”

“Stephen Fitchco,” I said, trying to control my grin.

“
Stephen Fitchco?”

“Stephen Fitchco,” I repeated.

I gave her a brief rundown of what had transpired, her smile spreading wider and wider.  With a delighted squeal, Leah clapped her hands excitedly.  “We’ll be at the same party!”

“I guess so,” I said, wondering how Leah had managed to hide this person all these months. 

When finally she settled down, she went back to the ride home.  “Well, much as I appreciate you not leaving me stranded at school, I have my own ride home.”  The gleam in her eyes said it all.

“Ryan,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Ryan,” she confirmed.

The bell rang and Leah looked up at the clock.  “Oh crap!  I’ve got to go,” she said.  Evidently her tardiness wasn’t concerning her too much, though.  She was still grinning from ear to ear when she turned to leave. 

Times they are a’changing,
I thought as I watched her walk away.  Even in her rush, Leah still had an uncharacteristic spring in her step.  I couldn’t help but smile.

By the time sixth period rolled around, I was extremely nervous.  After all, I’d waited a long time for a day such as this.  I was determined to enjoy it, even though it didn’t feel like the heaven I’d once thought it would be.  But from a dream fulfillment standpoint, it didn’t disappoint. 

Just as I’d so often pictured it, Stephen escorted me to his car (not a red convertible, but that was all that was missing from the image) and gallantly opened the door for me.  Once I was seated, he closed it, got in on his side and we took off in the direction of my house.  He chatted about all manner of inane things during the short ride.

This time when we arrived at my mailbox, he pulled into the driveway.  He even got out and came around to help me out.  Wow!  And then he walked me to the door.  My mind was totally immersed in every detail of the experience.  I was living the dream. 

Stephen left me at the door with promises to see me tomorrow and a smile that said I’d have my first kiss before the weekend was over.  I refused to dwell on why that kiss, coming from Stephen at least, no longer held the appeal it had a week ago.

I was still fully engaged in my fantasy when I heard the screen door creak its way open.  Stephen had managed to transport me out of all my troubles for almost an entire day, but, if my father’s thunderous expression was any indication, he’d just delivered me right into the eye of a storm.

Several emotions swept through me when I saw his face—dread, exasperation, resentment and, finally, anger.  Heat spread across my cheeks and down my neck and arms.  Electricity twitched in my fingertips, flickering like tiny sparks.  The skin on my right shoulder blade burned like someone was holding a hot branding iron to it.

“That better not have been the boy that nearly killed you last week,” he boomed as I stalked past him into the living room.  “Carson,” he squeezed between gritted teeth, his hand snaking out to grab my arm as I passed.

Fury shot through me like lightening, turning the heat of anger into a white-hot rage.  I whirled around and met my father’s glittering eyes.  I felt his fingers squeeze my arm as he shook it lightly.  “Answer me!”

With a violent jerk, I pulled my arm from his grasp and was about to give him tit for tat when my impending explosion was interrupted by a whoosh from the kitchen.  Dropping my arm, Dad ran past me.  He hollered back urgently, “Carson, get the fire extinguisher!”

CHAPTER SIX

Immediately devoid of anger, I sprang into action, running to the pantry and grabbing the red canister that hung on the inside of the door.  Turning with the extinguisher in hand, I was momentarily stunned by the sight of the blazing pan that sat atop the stove, the flames reaching up to lick at the curtains that hung over the window to the right.  

“Carson!” 

Having blanked on how to use the extinguisher, I darted across the room and handed it to Dad.  I watched in stunned silence as he pulled the pin from the top of the canister, took the hose in hand, squeezed the trigger and blew white dust all over the stove and curtains.

Within seconds the flames were extinguished, leaving only a smoldering pan and singed curtains amid the smoke.  Dad stepped back to stand by me; we were both breathing heavily.  He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and let out a relieved “whew”. 

“I didn’t think I had turned that eye on yet,” he said, clearly puzzled. 

I said nothing, but a mounting concern was blossoming in my gut.  The phone rang, startling us both.  I looked at the phone where it lay on the bar, covered by a thin layer of dry chemical.

“I’ll get it in my room,” I said.  Dad just nodded his head in understanding.

Less than two minutes later, I walked back into the kitchen to get a glass of water.  Dad was standing exactly where I’d left him, staring blankly at the stove.  I stood beside him pulling huge gulps of soothing liquid into my mouth.  I wondered what he was thinking, but I was too afraid to ask.  Finally, I broke the silence.

“That was Leah.  They want to eat while we’re out.”

Dad nodded again.  “Guess that works out well since dinner’s…uh…”

It was my turn to nod.  “Want me to bring you something back?”

“Nah.  I’ll make a sandwich or something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

We stood side by side, staring silently into the kitchen, until he Dad looked over at me.  “I guess you’d better change clothes,” he said, tipping his head toward my shirt.  I hadn’t noticed that the creamy material was covered in soot.  I don’t know how I’d gotten so dirty, but I looked like I’d been rolling in charcoal.  I was filthy.  And I probably smelled like a bonfire.

“Good idea,” I said before turning away.

I knew I didn’t have time to wash my hair before Leah got there, so I stripped off my shirt and went to the closet for something clean to change into before I gave my hair a good brushing.

Sliding a black hooded sweater off its hanger, I pulled it over my head.  My right shoulder blade prickled as the material grazed it.  I stepped in front of the mirror on the back of my door and turned halfway around so I could see my back. 

What had begun as a dark smudge at the bottom of my right shoulder blade had spread into long red and orange flames, like fingers crawling across my skin up toward the top of my shoulder and neck.  It burned as if my flesh had literally been seared.