Fire with Fire (Burn for Burn #2)

“Speak for yourself,” I say back. It comes out kind of bitchy, so I tack on a little smirk.

Not that I even care if he thinks I’m a bitch. I’m over him. Summer was a long time ago already. And, actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about Ricky lately. He’s the kind of guy who isn’t afraid to go after what he wants. And I’m pretty sure what he wants is me.

Ms. Chirazo starts going off on her spiel, breaking down the college application process into three parts. The questionnaire, the recommendations, and the personal essay.

“Personal essay is the most important part. It’s the only time you’ll have a chance to show the admissions board who you are, explain what you’re all about. It’s your chance to stand out, to let them get to know you, and proactively address any aspects of your academic record that might not be up to snuff. This will be the primary focus of our time together. Since we’re such a small group, why don’t we partner up.”

I feel Alex’s eyes on me. I immediately turn in the opposite direction, toward Gary Rotini, who’s sitting on my other side. Unfortunately, he’s already partnered up with some chick from my gym class. I’m surprised she’s here. Maybe they require you to fill out an application for beautician school.

Alex puts a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “You’re up, Kat. Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets.”

I force a swallow. If Alex only knew what I’ve been up to this year, he’d never talk to me again. Again, not like I’d care. “You couldn’t handle it,” I say.

“Then I’ll go first.”

“You’re a vanilla wafer. Your boring ass secrets will put me to sleep.” I look around the room for someone else to pair up with.

Alex turns his seat so he’s facing me. “Hey, I’ve got darkness in me. I’m no vanilla wafer.”

I roll my eyes. “Prove it.”

He looks over both his shoulders. “One time, when I was seven, I tried to make out with my babysitter when she put me to bed.”

“Oh my God!”

“What? She was really pretty! Her hair smelled like cherry Slurpee.”

I lean back in my chair. “Un-tell me that right now, pervert, or I’m never speaking to you again!”

He puts his head down on the table, embarrassed.

I reach out to ruffle his hair, but then think better of it and pull my hand back. I don’t need to confuse things between us. I don’t need to be flirting with Alex Lind, even though it is kind of fun. I can’t let myself get sidetracked from my ultimate goal, which is to get the eff off Jar Island for good.

CHAPTER SEVEN

After school, Ash called and guilt-tripped me into coming over to her house. She kept saying how we haven’t had alone time in ages. Which is true—we haven’t. I’ve barely seen her outside of cheering practice.

So imagine my surprise when I pulled into her driveway and saw Rennie’s Jeep. I almost turned right around and drove back home, but I didn’t want to hurt Ash’s feelings. And, deep down, maybe I hoped that Rennie was in on it, that maybe she wanted to make up.

But when I rang the doorbell and she opened the door, she looked like she wanted to slam it in my face. She didn’t, but I could tell she wanted to.

Now here we are in Ash’s rec room watching TV and doing our nails on the beanbag chairs she won’t let her mother throw away. We had to come down here because her mother doesn’t like the fumes; she says they give her migraines.

Ash is trying to get a conversation going, but nobody’s really talking. We’re all concentrating on our nails.

“Pass me the nail-polish remover,” Rennie orders. Dutifully, Ashlin hands it over.

I’m painting my toenails mint green. Ash has the best colors of all of us. I’m on my second coat when Ash asks, “Have you guys started on your college apps yet?”

“Hardly,” I say, unwrapping a fun-size Snickers I found in my purse. Even though she has the best nail-polish colors, Ash’s house never has any good snacks. Her mom’s on a gluten-free diet. “I’ll probably spend every weekend until January first working on my personal statement.”

Ash turns toward me. “Are you still applying to Boston College, Lil? ’Cause I’m thinking I might apply too, for my reach school. If I get in . . . roommates?”

“Duh!” I say. “Matching comforters and everything.”

Ash is a total pig, and there’s no way I would ever, ever room with her. Plus I doubt she’ll get in. But I don’t care, because Rennie’s looking at us with narrow eyes.

Doesn’t feel good to be the odd one out, does it, Ren?

Ashlin squeals and claps her hands together. “Yay! Would you want to live on campus or get an apartment off campus?”

This is too easy. “I think on campus, at least for the first year. That way we won’t miss out on all the fun stuff. You know, latenight study sessions and, like, flirting with boys on our hall and ordering pizza at four in the morning. We’ll want to have those experiences together, you know? Then we can move off campus sophomore year.” Instantly I feel mean and petty and small for saying this in front of Rennie. I feel like . . . Rennie.

“What about you, Ren?” Ashlin asks. “Are you done with your application?”

“Yup. My app took me, like, two seconds.”

I guess the Jar Island Community College application is extra easy. I wonder if she even had to write an essay. The way Rennie used to talk about going to the community college, she was sour about it. She’d say how she was the only one that was going to be stuck here. But today she doesn’t look sour at all. In fact she’s practically humming to herself.

She’s putting on top coat, her hair falling in her face, when she says, “There’s no point in me even applying to a four-year college right now. Reeve and I won’t know where he’s going to play until his leg is healed, and he’s talking to recruiters again.”

I want to say, Oh, and there’s just the small matter of how your grades suck and you have no money for college, but I bite my tongue.

“I’m going to do a semester at JICC and get straight As and transfer to wherever he’s at.”

Ashlin pipes up, “You and Reeve are so gonna get married. You pretty much saved his life by carrying him through this whole tragedy.”

Tragedy? A tsunami devastating an entire village is a tragedy. Reeve is a jock who broke his leg. He’ll be fine.