I turned back to try for the fire extinguisher again. But the smoke swirled thick around me. The room swayed. I swayed. Then I collapsed onto my knees, searching deep inside for an ounce of strength to pull myself to my feet. I looked up to find Melody watching me from the door frame, her eyes still far too big. Far too blue.
She had her phone. It barely flashed through the raging flames, but I caught a glimpse of silver-white amid the plumes of smoke.
Melody was snapping a photo of me while I was trying to put out the fire. “What are you doing?” I screamed. “I just saved your life and you’re taking pictures?”
“Just some insurance,” Melody sputtered through a cough. “Let’s go! It’s out of control!”
I covered my face with the bottom of my practice shirt and sprinted after Melody. Once we’d made it far enough from the portable, I pulled out my phone.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked, snatching it.
I wheezed and tried to grab the phone back. “Calling nine-one-one before every building on campus catches fire.”
“If you call them, they’ll know you started the fire.”
“But I didn’t,” I protested, glancing back at the billows of smoke and gasping for breath.
“Really?” Melody sneered. “Because that’s what it looks like.” She held up her own phone, exhibiting the photo of me crouched before the growing flames.
“But you—”
“No one will believe it was me. Not with the photo. Not with your history. You’d better let someone else spot the smoke and call.”
“It might be too late.” Behind us, the bungalow ceiling creaked and moaned.
“I’m going back to practice,” she said, slapping my phone back into my palm. “You should get out of here.” She started moving alongside the wing of portables, out of view from the football field and the practicing cheerleaders.
“Melody, wait! You can’t show anyone that photo.”
She paused, mouth twitching like she was working not to smile. “You want me to keep quiet about the fact that Fire Girl is back at it again?”
Despite the heat from the flames, a chill wracked my body. “Please. I saved you.”
Melody’s mouth softened, but her eyes sparkled. “I might be able to keep it to myself. For a price.”
I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. “What’s that?”
She licked her lips and spun around. “I’ll let you know.” Then she sprinted off toward the side door to the gymnasium.
Shouts of “fire” erupted from the football field. The cheerleaders in the common area began to squeal. I climbed the fence behind the last classroom and never looked back.
That night the local news reported that a classroom at Maribel High had nearly burned to the ground. No one had been hurt, but everything in the building was lost, and there was minor damage to the surrounding classrooms. The fire chief believed it to be a result of arson. No arrests had been made.
No one had seen me enter the portable—no one except Melody, who seemed hell-bent on proving to everyone in Maribel that I was a bad seed. And the proof was on her phone. All I could do was wait.
I never told Gideon about Election Day. Or Asher. I was too worried they’d try to fix it and authorities would believe Melody over me. I want to tell Gideon now, to enlist his help against Seth or whoever’s doing this. But this person threatened the ones I love; the cops already think Gideon’s involved. I can’t put him in any more danger.
All I know is the cops came up empty. I’ll have to dig without involving Gideon or anyone close to me. And I might not have to do it alone.
12
The next day, I snatch up Emily Greer as my partner for our U.S. History decade assignment and invite her over after school. It’s easy; Emily follows around us volleyball players—even the lowest on the totem pole—like we’re celebrities.
That afternoon my mom is surprised but pleased when I introduce her to Emily. My mom loves Gideon but constantly encourages me to make more friends. Sweet Emily exceeds her expectations.
The two of us settle into my room, using my laptop to research our assigned decade: the 1930s. My room door is wide open, and, five minutes in, Asher strolls by. He pauses when he notices my usual companion has been replaced.
“Hi, Emily,” he says, and her freckles vanish in a wave of red. Asher pretends not to notice. “How’s your brother? Haven’t seen him around much.” He smiles like he has no clue he’s nearly killed her. Asher and Seth were never friends; this is formality and Asher being Asher. Last week, he stopped to ask my mom’s friend Louisa Stevens about her sick dog. I threw up a little in my mouth.
Emily continues to stare, so Asher turns to me. “What are you two working on?”
“Just a project for U.S. History.”
“Ah, yes. The good old decade assignment. Well, I’m off to finish some work. Happy studies, ladies.” He tips an imaginary hat and heads down the hall.
Once Emily recovers, it’s clear her mind is not in the 1930s. “I can’t believe Asher Pratt knows my name,” she breathes. “Does he have a girlfriend?”
Sighing, I set my laptop aside. “No, he’s pretty busy with his company.”
Emily rests her chin on her palm dreamily. “Yeah, I remember he was super smart.”
“Right…so, what’s your brother up to these days?” I pick at my fingernails and try much too hard to act casual.
“Seth? He’s still working at the drugstore. Not much ambition. Not like Asher.”
“What’s he like, anyway?”
Emily’s eyes sink to the wood floor warily.
“I’m not making fun of your brother, I promise. I wouldn’t do that.” Emily’s lips purse, but she stays quiet. “I just mean, do you guys hang out much? I hang out with Asher all the time, so I was curious.”
Emily looks back up with a grin. “It’s not because you have some mammoth crush on my brother?”
I manage a chuckle. “You got me. I just wanted a date with an older guy.”
“Well, I’m sorry to inform you, he’s taken.”
My eyes widen before I can stop them. I nod, trying to mask my shock. “Oh, that’s great. Who’s the lucky girl?”
“You tell me. He’s been so secretive about it. I’ve never even met her.” Emily rolls her eyes. “But I know she’s real. At least, I’m pretty sure she’s real.”