The Complete Burn for Burn Trilogy: Burn for Burn; Fire With Fire; Ashes to Ashes (51 page)

A couple of times we’ve had Rennie and her mom over for
Thanksgiving. Last year it was super awkward, because Ms.
Holtz kept trying to flirt with my dad’s divorced friend from the
hospital. Rennie asked me afterward if I thought her mom had a
chance with him, and I didn’t know how to tell her that he only
dates twentysomething Estonian models. I wonder what she and
her mom are doing this year.

“Can we have mashed sweet potatoes this year instead of sweet
potato casserole?” Nadia asks.
“You love sweet potato casserole,” my mom protests.
“All that cream and butter and sugar?” Nadia shudders.
“Rennie says it’s pure fat.”
“You only have sweet potato casserole once a year,” I tell her.
“You’ll live. Besides, Mommy already ordered it.”
“I think our family should be eating healthier,” Nadia says
with a shrug.
My mom sighs. “I can check and see if it’s not too late to
change it,” she says, and goes off to call the caterer.
“Thanks, Mommy!” Nadia calls after her.
Casually, I ask, “What
is
Rennie doing for Thanksgiving?”
“She’s having dinner with Ms. Holtz’s boyfriend and his son.
She says that Rick has a friend who’s a fancy chef and he’s going
to cook for them.”
I roll my eyes. Rick owns a sub shop and he lives in a onebedroom apartment right above it. He’s a nice guy, but somehow I don’t picture him hanging out with fancy chefs. This
sounds totally made-up. “When did Rennie tell you this?”
“She gave me a ride home yesterday since you were at the
library,” Nadia says.
I don’t like the way Rennie’s been glomming on to Nadia one
bit. Twice now she’s called the house phone asking to speak to
Nadia about yearbook photos or something. I know her; she’s
doing it to get under my skin. I nudge Nadia’s foot with mine.
“Don’t listen to Rennie on everything. Sometimes she says stuff
just to say stuff.”
With wide eyes Nadia asks, “Are you guys in a fight?”
“No . . . we’ve grown apart.”
“But did something happen?” Nadia presses. “To make you
grow apart?”
“Why?” I ask her. “Did Rennie say something?”
Nadia hesitates for a split second, and then she shakes her head.
“Nadia!”
“She didn’t say anything,” Nadia insists. “I’ve noticed you
haven’t been hanging out as much.”
“Nothing happened specifically. We’re different people, that’s
all.”
Nadia absorbs this. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Rennie’s so . . .
sparkly. She makes everything feel like . . . an event. I don’t even
know how to describe it.”
I frown at her. “If Rennie’s so sparkly, then what am I?”
Hastily she says, “You’re fun too. In a different way.”
I don’t say anything, but I’m still thinking about it hours later.
Am
I boring compared to Rennie? It’s true that I’m more cautious than she is, and I’m not the life of the party the way she and
Reeve are. But if I was so boring, why would she have been best
friends with me all these years? Because there’s nothing Rennie
hates more than being bored.
I hate that Nadia puts her on such a pedestal. Like she sees Ren
as this magnetic force of nature, and I’m her goody-two-shoes
older sister.
If Nadi only knew the trouble I’ve gotten into this year. She
wouldn’t think I was so boring then.

My mom always tries to make us get dressed up at Thanksgiving.
She says that if we eat this fancy meal in sweats, it won’t feel special.
We go along with it to make her happy. Nadia’s in a strapless green
tartan dress with a poofy skirt and a cardigan on top. I have on a
mauve knit miniskirt with a sheer blouse tucked in.

My dad’s in a dress shirt and slacks; my mom has on a winecolored knit dress with a cowl neck and a gold cuff. I make a
mental note to ask her if I can borrow that cuff, maybe take it
with me to college.

The adults are in the living room drinking the wine my uncle
brought, and us kids are hanging out in the TV room. We have
two cousins on my dad’s side—Walker, who is Nadia’s age,
and Ethan, who is ten. Walker and Nadia are pretty close, even
though we don’t see them often. Ethan’s a brat, but it’s not his
fault. His parents are always telling him how great he is because
he’s a violin prodigy.

“How’s Phantom?” Walker asks Nadia, adjusting her headband. We’re all lying on the sectional, and Ethan’s playing video
games on his phone.

“He’s good! I’m going to show him next month.” Nadia
spreads cheese on a cracker and pops it into her mouth. “He’s the
best horse in the world.”

“You hardly ever even ride him anymore,” Nadia says. “He’s
basically mine now. I bet he wouldn’t even recognize you.
I frown at her. “I was there last week!” Or was it the week
before? She’s right; I’m like an absentee horse parent. I’ve been
so busy with swimming and Reeve and my college applications
I’ve totally been neglecting Phantom. Tomorrow. I’ll go out there
tomorrow and bring him a whole bag of baby carrots and spend
the afternoon grooming him.
“Pretty soon you’ll be at college and he’ll be all mine!” Nadia
fake cackles, and Walker giggles.
“You’re right,” I say. “You have to take extra good care of him
when I’m gone.”
“I already do,” Nadia says, stuffing another cracker in her
mouth.
Dinner lasts forever, with everybody making toasts and the
dads having a brag war. My dad tells everyone I have a good
chance at valedictorian so they’ll have to come back for graduation to hear my speech. I have to correct him and say it’s salutatorian, and it’s not like that’s a guarantee. My uncle starts quizzing
me on which colleges I’m applying to.
“Boston College,” I say. “Wellesley. Maybe UC Berkeley.”
My dad frowns. “Berkeley? We never talked about Berkeley.”
I take a bite of turkey and stuffing to buy myself time. When
I’m done chewing, I say, “It’s something I’ve been thinking about.”
Luckily, my aunt saves me by bragging about Ethan winning
some violin competition and maybe getting to do a performance
at Juilliard.
After dinner, everyone’s all cozy watching old black-and-white
movies in the TV room. I’m sitting next to my dad on the couch;
he has his arm around me, and I have my head on his shoulder. It
is nice to have him home.
I’ve got my phone in my lap, and when it buzzes, I nearly
jump. It’s a text from Reeve. My dad tries to read over my shoulder, but I scurry off to the kitchen. The text says,
What are you
up to?
I write back,
Watching TV with my family.
He writes back,
Same. Wanna come over?

I read the text over and over. Does he mean come over and
watch TV with our other friends? Or does he mean watch TV
just us, up in his room by ourselves?

I text him,
Who’s coming?
And he texts back,
Just you.
Wow. I wonder if his family will think I’m Reeve’s girlfriend.
When my dad comes into the kitchen to get more water, I ask

him, “Daddy, can I go hang out with my friends tonight?” I don’t
tell him that I’m going to a boy’s house, and that he’s the only
friend who will be there.

My dad considers this. “Are you bringing Nadia and Walker?”
“Um, no.”
“Then my answer is no,” he says.
“Daddy!” I make a face at him. My mom would have said yes.

Shaking his head, he says, “Final answer, Lilli. It’s
Thanksgiving, and your family’s only in town for a couple
of nights. Come sit and watch the movie with us.”

“In a minute,” I say in a snotty voice. “I have to tell my friends
I can’t come.”
So that’s what I write back, and then I hang around in the
kitchen waiting for Reeve to text me back, but he doesn’t.
CHAP
TER THIR
T
Y -SIX

I didn’t even bother getting dressed
on Thanksgiving. I didn’t go downstairs and ask if Aunt Bette
needed my help in the kitchen.

But that’s where I find her now. At the sink, doing the
Thanksgiving dishes.
Or, should I say,
lack
of dishes.
I never expected Aunt Bette would make a turkey, because
she is a vegetarian. Thanksgivings with her usually mean a whole
lot of vegetable sides. Sugar squash, green beans with almonds,
roasted beets, creamy mushroom soup. But tonight she only
made a salad. For herself.
She’s spent the rest of the day in the attic. Painting. Alone.
“So I guess there are no leftovers,” I say, snarky.
Aunt Bette freezes. After a second she drops the dish back
into the sudsy water. Then she spins around to face me. I can
tell she’s mad too. “I didn’t make a lot of food, Mary, because
you never eat!”
It wounds me, her pointing this out. This is supposed to be a
day of giving thanks, of being with family. It’s all wrong.
I fall into one of the kitchen chairs. “My parents should have
come. I don’t know why they’re punishing me like this. They
never call me. Never.” Aunt Bette bites her lip, like she wants to
say something but second-guesses herself. “What? Did they say
anything?” Have they been calling and Aunt Bette’s not passing
along the messages?
She sighs. “I don’t know this for sure, Mary, but if I had to
guess, I’d say your mom’s still upset that you left in the first place.”
“I didn’t do it to hurt them!”
“Maybe not, but it did. You’re her only daughter, Mary.
She’d do anything for you! I used to fight with your mom and
dad because I thought they spoiled you something rotten. Gave
you everything you asked for. I said it wouldn’t be good for
you. But they didn’t listen. They’d bend over backward to give
you what you wanted. So can you blame your mom for missing
you? You were her whole world!” She turns back around, probably because she can’t face looking at me.
“I’ve been better, though. Since Halloween. Since you took
that weird stuff down and quit with your weird spells.” I haven’t
had any more freak-outs.
Aunt Bette shakes her head. “Mary, that wasn’t me.” She
turns around, probably so she doesn’t have to face me. “I was
trying everything I could to help you control yourself.”
I lean forward. Am I crazy, or is Aunt Bette? I don’t even
know anymore. “What do you mean?”
Aunt Bette looks at me solemnly and whispers, “You don’t
know what you’re capable of, do you?” A shiver rolls down my
spine. I don’t even know what to say to that. “Well, it’s probably for the best if you don’t. It’s safer that way.”
I feel the tears come. “Please stop talking like that! You’re
scaring me!”
“You need to calm down.”
“You’re the one who’s making me upset!”
Aunt Bette heads to her room. I follow her, but she’s fast.
She goes to her room and slams the door. “Go to your room,
Mary!” she calls through the door. “Go to your room until you
calm down!”
I do the exact opposite. I strike out into the night.

Main Street’s pretty dead. All the stores are closed; everything
is except for the theater. A few of them are already decorated
for Christmas. As people pile out of the theater, I stand by the
double doors and watch. Am I really not like them? Am I not
normal?

That’s where I am when Reeve and Rennie come out. He’s
walking behind her with his arms slung around her neck, and
she’s laughing. “Reevie, I told you that movie was gonna suck!
You owe me another movie.”

He shakes his finger in her face. “Nuh-uh. You still owed me
for that cheering movie you made me watch this summer.”
“Then we’re even,” she says.
I stand there stock-still as they make their way down the
street to Reeve’s truck. He opens her door first; then he goes
around the other side to unlock his. Like a gentleman. Are they
a couple? I don’t even know what to think.
I feel the anger, the jealousy rise up in me. Instead of being
scared, I decide to try and focus it. I’ve spent too long trying
to ignore what’s inside me. To dismiss it. If there is something
going on with me, if there’s any truth to what Aunt Bette is saying, I need to know.
I stare at the lock on Reeve’s door. I stare hard and imagine
myself pressing it down.
Reeve struggles turning his key. He can’t get the door open.
“Ren,” he calls through the window. “I think the lock is frozen.”
Rennie slides across the cab into the driver’s seat and tries to
open it from the inside. “I can’t get it!” she whines.
Reeve tries his key again. This time I feel the force of it fighting against me. I’m not breathing, I realize, and my chest is
burning. It’s like arm wrestling. I’m losing. I feel myself losing.
And then, suddenly, the lock pops up.
I fall against the wall and gasp for breath.
Aunt Bette was right. It is me. And I don’t know what I’m
capable of. At least not yet.
CHAP
TER THIR
T
Y -SEVEN

I go to Ms. Chirazo’s office first thing on
Monday morning. Well, first thing after hitting up the
computer lab. I’ve got a stack of warm white pages in my hand.

She looks up, startled, holding the cord to an electric teakettle that plugs into her wall. “Katherine? Is everything okay?”
She motions to an empty chair.

I perch my butt on the armrest and drop the papers on her
desk. “I did a draft of a new essay. Sorry. I didn’t have a stapler or anything.” I spot one on her filing cabinet and use it.
Ms. Chirazo brightens. “Is this about . . .”
I nod. “But I don’t want to go over it in group.”
It was hard enough to write it alone in my room. The entire

time, I was crying and feeling so completely panicked by the idea
of anyone, especially Alex, reading it that it made me dry heave.
The thing is, my mom actually got into Oberlin. Only she
could never go, because she couldn’t afford the tuition. If I get
to go there, it’s like I’m making both of our dreams come true.
In some ways it felt cheap to put it in those sappy terms, but it
is true. And at the end of the day, I want off this island and into
Oberlin with a big fat scholarship, so I’ll jump through whatever hoops Ms. Chirazo tells me to. And I’ve convinced myself
that it’s not like I’m selling out my dead mom to get there. She’d
want me to do whatever it took.

“It might be a little all over the place,” I say. “And I’m still
not sure I’m going to use it. But . . . I’d be interested in what you
think before I send it off this week.”