Fire with Fire

WEDNESDAY NIGHT, I’M STILL THINKING ABOUT WHAT Ms. Chirazo said about my college essay. Maybe I’m being stupid. I should do whatever the hell it takes to get into Oberlin and score some good financial aid. Ain’t no way private planes are in my future. And I don’t know why, but no matter how many beers I drink, I can’t stop thinking about Alex and Lillia jetting off together this week.

“Let’s go hot-tubbing!” I suddenly announce to everyone in the garage. “Who’s in?”

Ricky, Skeeter, and a bunch of other guys look my way. “Where?” Ricky says.

I turn off the radio. “I know a place. A mansion. And it’s completely empty tonight.” Seems stupid to let Alex’s house go to waste.

“But it’s kind of cold out,” Skeeter whines.

“That’s why we’re going in a hot tub, dummy.”

“I don’t want to get arrested,” Ricky says.

I walk over to him and pull on the strings of his hoodie. “You won’t. I’m telling you. No one is home. And the kid has no neighbors.”

Ricky shrugs. “Okay. I’m in.”

It’s me, five guys, and one of their girlfriends who bugs the shit out of me, so I never bothered learning her name. Pat stays back. He says he wants to keep working on his bike, but I know the truth: He has a thing with hot tubs. They skeeve him out. The heat, the germs, all the bodies cooking together in one big bathtub. I don’t blow up his spot, though, mainly because I don’t want to gross everyone else out.

Which affords me a real opportunity. Tonight, I’m going to let Ricky get what he’s been after. The kid’s been flirting with me for weeks. And I could use a good make-out. I don’t even care that I have school tomorrow. I haven’t kissed a boy since . . . Lind. I think about calling to invite Mary, but decide against it. It might scare the poor thing to see my moves in action.

We put two sixers of beer in a plastic bag, hop on a bunch of bikes, and tear over to Alex’s place. The lights in his house are all on, like someone’s home, but I know it’s empty. I have to drag Ricky up the driveway.

“You sure about this?” he keeps saying.

I crack open a beer and take a sip before offering it to him. I get close to his face and say, “You know it.” I like flirting with Ricky. He’s sweet. He’s two years older than me, a year younger than Pat. We were both at Jar Island High together at some point, but back then he was dating someone else. Sarah? I forget. Anyway, he dumped her this summer, after she cheated on him with her professor at the JICC. That’s the kind of shit that goes on in our community college, which is why I need out of here.

The fence is locked, so we have to climb on top of the trash cans to get over. As soon as we land on the other side, the backyard lights automatically turn on. My heart stops, and I’m just waiting for a siren or something. We all hold still, and then they click off. “See?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s fine.”

Alex’s pool is closed for the season, half drained and covered with a tight tarp. Oh shit. I take off the cover of Alex’s hot tub, and thank God it’s full of water. It’s a pretty pimped-out model, with buttons that make different colored lights go on and a built-in stereo. We all get in, crank the jets, and it doesn’t take long before it gets toasty. Ricky doesn’t have a bathing suit, so he goes in in his underwear. He’s wearing black boxer briefs, and he looks freaking hot. His body is cut, you can see every ab muscle, and he’s got a wicked scar from when he got his appendix removed.

I’m in my black bikini and a black tank. I push Tim’s girlfriend out of the way so I can sit next to Ricky.

“This place is sick!” one of the guys says.

“Damn, I wish I was loaded,” says Skeeter.

It sort of pisses me off, because most of these dudes will never have money, will never get to experience this side of Jar Island living. Unless they become pool boys. Which some of them might.

Tim asks me, “You know the guy who lives here?”

“Yeah.”

Ricky says, “You ever hook up with him?”

“Hell, no,” I lie, because I know what my friends think about these kinds of people. They aren’t like us. Though it may be racist, or classist, or whatever . . . it’s freaking true. Alex isn’t like me. After all, he’s in a goddamned private plane, going to visit a school where his parents will most likely make a huge donation to get him accepted. I don’t know why he’s even in the college essay class with me. He doesn’t need a good essay when he’s got a blank check. I finish my beer and throw the empty can in the yard, like I don’t give a shit. I get close to Ricky. He puts his arm around me for, like, a second, but then takes it back.

Um, weird.

I get a stomach cramp. Have I read the signs wrong? Is Ricky not into me? I don’t know if I could take another Alex Lind scenario. A guy who’s only being nice, not actually pursuing me. My ego ain’t indestructible.

I look across the hot tub, at all of my brother’s friends, watching us.

Oh. Okay. That I can work with. He wants to be alone with me.

“Shit,” I say suddenly. Everyone gets real quiet.

“What?” Ricky whispers.

“I think I heard something.” I climb out of the water. Damn, it’s bitter out. My whole body is steaming.

“What? I didn’t hear anything.”

Dummy. I grab Ricky’s arm. “Come investigate with me.”

He gives me this pleading look, then glances over at the rest of the people in the hot tub. But they’re all back to giggling and speaking in whispers. They aren’t paying attention to us at all.

“Hurry up!” I growl. I’m freezing my ass off.

We walk out of the main yard and around to the side of the pool house. It hits me how awesome it will feel to kiss Ricky, basically right in front of Alex’s bedroom. I push him up against the wall and say, “So, we gonna do this or what?” But it doesn’t sound as sexy as I want it to, because I’m shivering so damn hard.

His lips stop, like, millimeters away from mine. “Everyone’s right over there, Kat.”

I put my hands up on his shoulders and drape myself against him, boobs pressed up against his chest. If nothing else, it’ll warm me up. “What are you worried about that for?” I whisper. My breath comes out in puffs. I close my eyes and wait for him to plant his lips on mine.

Nothing.

When I open my eyes, Ricky’s looking at me with these pathetic puppy-dog eyes.

I let my arms fall to my side. “Seriously, Ricky? You’re blowing me off right now?” My voice is much less sexy. It’s straight-up pissed off.

Ricky shrugs. “Come on, it’s cold. Let’s get back in the hot tub.”

I walk away from him, teeth chattering so loud it’s all I hear. The last thing I need is to get hung up on another ballless guy.

Ricky tries to guide me to face him. “Kat, wait.”

I’m already gone, headed to the hot tub. But instead of getting into the water again, I grab my shit from one of the outdoor lounge chairs. “Hey. The cops drove by and flashed their lights in the yard. We’d better bounce. Now.” Ricky comes back, and he hears me tell this lie, but he doesn’t call me out on it. Everyone rushes out of the water and heads barefoot to where we parked the bikes.

I follow them out, but at the last second I glance over my shoulder at all the shit we left around Alex’s yard. The empty beer cans and the cigarette butts.

“You coming?” Ricky asks me.

I don’t answer him. And he doesn’t ask again before he leaves me behind.

I find a trash bag inside one of the garbage cans and start walking around the yard, using my cell phone light to find the trash in the grass. Not long into it, snow begins to fall. My shirt is soaked; I don’t even have a ride home. FML.