Burn for Burn

MY DAD, PAT, AND I ARE SITTING IN THE LIVING ROOM with our bowls of chili, watching some motocross show. It’s the third day of chili. When my dad makes his hellfire chili, we end up eating it for at least a week. I’m sick of it.

I stand up, and Pat goes, “You do the dishes tonight. I did them last night.”

“There were no dishes last night. We used plastic bowls.”

He turns back toward the television and rubs his bare feet on Shep’s back. “Yeah, and I had to throw them away. So it’s officially your turn.”

I give him the finger, then I put my dishes in the sink and leave them there. Pat is such a freaking scrub. He’s been living at home since he graduated high school two years ago. He takes a few classes at the community college, but he’s mostly just a scrub.

Back in my room I check my phone. No missed calls, no texts from Alex. Nothing. I actually did want to talk to him, about how his pal Rennie has no soul, how she deserved that loogey to the face. But I’m not going to be the one to make that call, not when he said he would.

Instead I call Kim at the record store. When she picks up, I can barely hear her over the noise.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Some indie record label party for a lame-ass band.”

“Can I come over? I had the worst day. I freaking hate my school, I hate Rennie Holtz, I—”

“All right, all right,” she says, and I grab my overnight bag and start throwing shit inside it. Who cares if it’s a school night? I can take the first ferry home in the morning. Or skip. I’m about to thank her, but then Kim puts her hand over the phone and says, “There’s another bottle of whiskey in the basement. Go ahead and bring it up,” and I realize she’s talking to someone else.

“Kim? Please?” I’m whining, but I don’t care. I need to get off this island tonight.

She sighs. “Sweetie, I’m not going to be done here until at least two in the morning. Just call me tomorrow when you get home from school, okay?”

“Sure, whatever,” I say. I mean, yeah, Kim’s busy. I get it. I get that she’s twenty-three and probably over all this high school BS. But I really need her. I need somebody.

When I stop and let myself think about what happened today, I can barely even handle it. I freaking spat in Rennie’s face. Pretty much the trashiest thing I could ever do. God, what must my mom think? My dad’s always worried he’s not raising me feminine enough, that my mom is disappointed from heaven. She was really ladylike, really gentle. She must think her daughter is a piece of shit. The lies Rennie’s been telling about me since freshman year, I just proved them true.

I bet that’s exactly what the witch wanted. To dig my grave and then lead me right into it. She knows my buttons. But you know what, I know her buttons too. It works both ways. No matter how shitty Rennie’s been to me, and she’s been plenty shitty, I’ve never sunk to her level. Why not? Who the eff knows. I’m realizing now that I should have put her in her place a long time ago.

I decide to go for a walk and have a smoke to clear my head. I put on my boots and head out the back door. I don’t need Pat bitching at me about the dishes again. I’ll do them when I get back. If I feel like it.

It’s dark outside, and the driveway is full of my dad’s woodworking tools, splinters, and bent nails, so I carry Shep in my arms until we reach the sidewalk. A rich couple commissioned one of Dad’s hand-carved canoes before they left Jar Island at the end of summer. It’ll be done by the time they come back next year.

I head straight into the woods behind my house. I brought Alex here a lot this summer. There’s a clearing on the other side where you can park your car and look right out onto the ocean. It’s secluded; nobody really knows about it. A hidden T-Town secret. We’d park there and listen to music, or watch the moon. We just liked hanging out with each other. I liked that I could be myself around him. And I think he felt that way too.

I walk, letting Shep sniff anything he wants, while I have a smoke. When my cigarette’s burned down to the filter, I crush it underneath my boot, grinding my heel until the butt gets mixed up with the dead pine needles and the sand.

When I look up, I see it—Alex’s SUV, parked in the clearing. With another girl inside.

I stumble backward into a tree, then get behind it. Who’s the girl? Is it the one from his party, the one he was lying in bed with?

I squint hard. The girl is petite. Dark hair.

Oh my God. It’s Nadia Cho. I taught that girl how to tie her shoelaces. That’s my first thought.

And my second thought is—Alex Lind is running game on me? With a freshman? I don’t think so. Clearly he has no idea who he’s messing with.

I back up, my heart pounding hard. I reach for my cell phone. I’ve got one bar. What was her number? I must have dialed it a million times. Three five something something. I stare at the keypad, willing it to come back to me. Three five . . . four seven.

She picks up after four rings. “Hello?”

I keep my voice low, my eyes on his SUV. “Just so you know, your sister is in Alex Lind’s car right now. In the woods!” Let’s see how stealth Alex is when Lillia’s chasing him down, ready to saw his balls off with a nail file.

It’s quiet for a second, and then Lillia says, “Who is this?”

“It’s Kat. Did you hear me? I said I’m ten feet away from your sister and Alex hooking up!”

“Kat, my sister’s at home.”

I squint into the dark to try to get a better look. It’s hard to see, but I swear to God that it’s Nadia in his SUV. “I’m not kidding you, Lillia. They’re right in front of me. I wouldn’t normally give two shits, except Alex and I are hooking up. Sort of.”

“My sister is sitting next to me on the couch. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but whatever it is, don’t bother. And please don’t call me again.”

I open my mouth to tell her that her little sister and Alex were in bed together two nights ago, and hear a dial tone. I look again. I guess I can’t be 100 percent sure it’s Nadia. I mean, I thought it was, but the thing is, Lillia doesn’t lie. Lillia Cho might be a lot of things, but in the years I’ve known her, she’s never been a liar. So I guess it’s not Nadia. I guess it’s just some random dark-haired girl in Alex’s SUV. Another girl who isn’t me.

I’m in my dad’s old VW Rabbit convertible, all the windows down, music blasting so loud I can’t hear myself think, which is pretty much the point.

I take a lap around the island, cruising past the lighthouse on the ridge, past the big island cemetery with the creepy old family plots, then over to the one-lane airport strip, then along the marina until I’m back at the lighthouse again. There’s nowhere else for me to go. The last ferry pulled out of the harbor hours ago. Otherwise I’d just show up at Kim’s apartment, whether she invited me or not. But I’m trapped on this damn island, so I just keep driving that loop again and again.

Why am I even surprised? Whoever that girl is, she for sure isn’t going to spit in anyone’s face, she’s not going to have to work a crappy job that makes her smell like fish to save up for college, no one is going to call her or her family trash. I thought I might have changed Alex’s mind about me this summer. That’s my bad for thinking he was different. He’s not. He’s just as bad as the rest of them. He bought into Rennie’s lies like the rest of this stupid place.

The next time I look at the clock, it’s after midnight and I’ve only got a quarter tank of gas left. My dad will kill me if I bring his car back on E again. There are only a few gas stations on the island, and I go straight for the one that’s cheapest, over by Bow Tie, that crappy overpriced Italian restaurant in Canobie Bluffs the tourists love.

I’m pumping my gas when I look across the parking lot and see them—Reeve and Rennie and PJ and that bobble head Ashlin. No Lillia. I guess she was telling the truth. She really is at home with Nadia. Anyway, they’re over by the dumpsters, Rennie’s sitting on the hood of Reeve’s truck, and they’re passing around a wine bottle.

Alex told me about this. Rennie works at Bow Tie as a hostess, and she flirts with the bartenders and they give her free booze. She’ll take it out with the trash, and after the restaurant closes up and everyone’s gone home, she’ll come back with her dumb-ass friends and they’ll drink all night.

I should call the cops. I should, but I won’t. I’m no narc.

But hopefully someone else will, because they’re so loud. I can hear them from where I’m standing, every word.

Two headlights come down the road. Reeve pulls Rennie down, and they crouch behind her car, but then PJ screams out, “Alex!” and the whole group runs into the road and stops his SUV.

“Nadi!” Rennie screeches, and runs up to the passenger window. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

I knew it. It was Nadia!

Everyone talks for a couple of seconds before Alex starts beeping his horn to get his friends out of the way. I guess he’s in a rush to get Nadia home. It’s after midnight on a school night, and Mrs. Cho would kill Nadia if she caught her sneaking out. Mrs. Cho was really cool but she was also strict. Once she sent Lillia up to her room for a whole hour while Rennie and I were over swimming because she thought Lillia was being a fresh mouth.

When Alex drives off, Rennie catches me looking and points me out. She calls, “Umm, sorry, Kat. I don’t think that gas station takes food stamps!”

I pretend not to hear her. I can’t handle getting into it with her again today.

Reeve whoops and says, “Uh-oh, Kat! You’re not going to let Rennie get away with that, are you? Come on! You’re a tough guy!” He sputters into laughter. “I know I wouldn’t mess with you.”

Gas starts to leak out of the nozzle, and I jam the hose back into the cradle, my hand shaking. Rennie thinks that just because she goes with Lillia’s family on vacations to St. Bart’s or wherever the fuck, that she’s on their level. But she’s not. She lives in a two-bedroom condo with her single working mom. She works at Bow Tie because she has to. That Jeep she drives was a hand-me-down from her mom’s married boyfriend. Rennie might try to pretend otherwise, but we both know the truth: If I’m trash, then she is too.

I’m back in my room when my phone buzzes. It’s Alex.

R U awake? I’m around if you want to talk.

I whip my phone across the room. That ass. Like I’d ever speak to him again. He doesn’t deserve to hang out with me, and he definitely doesn’t deserve to make out with me. He associates with shit bags like Rennie and Reeve. He thinks they’re quality people, and as far as I’m concerned, that makes him just as bad as they are. They make me want to barf, every last one of them. They get away with murder on this island. They just do what they want to do, and screw everyone and everything else.

Today I told that girl in the bathroom that Reeve would get his, that karma’s a bitch. I meant it when I said it, but now I’m not so sure. When has Rennie ever had to pay for any of the evil shit she’s done to me? Never. I’m sick of waiting for karma. Karma can suck it.