Fire with Fire

TUESDAY, I’M LATE LEAVING LAST PERIOD BECAUSE OUR test goes long. I run straight to the pool, expecting to see Reeve in the water doing laps. But the pool’s empty; he’s not there. I wait for a few more minutes; then I go sit on the bleachers and text him.

No pool today? 🙁

Nah. I’m done with that.

???

Can’t talk now. I’m working at my dad’s office.

Huh. What does that mean, he’s done? With what? With working out or with me? If we don’t swim today, I won’t get to spend any alone time with him before Thanksgiving break, because tomorrow’s a half day.

I think fast. The only thing for me to do is go to him right now and ask him what he meant. Make a show of how much I care.

I hightail it out of the gym and drive over to his dad’s office. It’s not far from school. It’s a small colonial house. It has a white-and-black sign that reads TABATSKY PROPERTY MANAGEMENT.

Reeve’s truck is parked out front, no other cars. I flip down my vanity mirror and dab on some lip gloss and fluff up my hair. Then I grab my purse, hop out of the car, and walk up to the door.

Reeve’s sitting at a desk; there are keys all lined up in front of him, and he’s sorting through them. He looks up and starts to say, “Hi, can I help—” His eyes widen when he realizes it’s me. “What are you doing here?”

“I was worried when you didn’t show,” I say. I scooch closer to him and perch on the edge of the desk, which is when I notice he’s not wearing his walking cast. Both feet are in sneakers. “Oh my gosh! No more boot!”

“Yeah. Earlier this afternoon.” Reeve keeps sorting keys, making piles, and not looking at me. And he doesn’t sound that happy about it.

“So why the face? We should be celebrating! Pancakes on me.” I poke him in the side so he’ll finally look at me. “I knew all your hard work would pay off.”

Flatly he says, “It didn’t.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Reeve stares straight ahead and says, “I asked Coach if he would time my sprints today. I was pumped to show him how much progress I was making in the pool, and I figured if I could win him over, he’d help me train and maybe make some phone calls for me to the scouts. Tell them I’m back on track, that I’ll be in fighting shape by the time spring workouts begin, and to save me a roster spot.” He clears his throat, like the words are getting stuck, and I feel my heart sink for him. “Well, it was a complete joke. I’m nowhere near where I used to be. I’m slower than the defensive line, and those guys weigh like three hundred–plus pounds, and there’s no way I’ll get back to top form in time. It’s over. I need to face facts, figure out what I’m going to do now.”

“Wait. Maybe you won’t get the top programs, but I thought there were still a few D-three schools,” I begin. “Like what about Williams?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not even good enough for a practice squad, Lillia. I’m done. My ass isn’t going to college. No football scholarship. I’m staying right here on the island.”

I stay still and quiet as he tries to yank open a file drawer. It’s stuck, and he pulls on it so hard that the keys he’s organized slide together into a heap. Reeve’s face goes red; he looks like he’s going to cry or maybe punch a wall. “Fuck!” he yells.

I jump in my seat and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he lets out a choked sound. He’s crying. Reeve Tabatsky is crying.

I’m not sure what to do. Rennie’s so good at comforting him, at saying all the right things. I’ve never been great at comforting people.

“Don’t apologize,” I tell him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

I’m the one who should be sorry. Next fall, Reeve should be a football god at a division one school, doing keg stands and hooking up with random girls. That’s his destiny. The thought of Reeve stuck here on the island, going to community college and living at home . . . it’s too sad to even think about.

Reeve sinks back into his chair; he hangs his head in his hands, and his shoulders start to shake. He’s sobbing like a little boy. Meanwhile, I keep my eyes on the floor.

He gets quiet all of a sudden and he says, “Remember what you said to me on Halloween night?”

You deserve everything you’re getting, because you’re not a good person.

My stomach lurches. “Reeve, I was—”

“No, you were right. I’m not a good guy, Lillia.” He wipes his eyes with the backs of his hands. “I did something to someone a long time ago. I hurt someone bad.”

“Who?” I breathe. Mary. He has to be talking about Mary.

“A girl . . . The more I think about it, the more I think maybe this is me getting what I deserve, so I can’t—I can’t even be upset about it.” He nods to himself. “In a way it’s like a relief. I’ve been waiting all this time for my punishment. Maybe . . . maybe this is it.” He sounds so resigned. So hopeless. It makes my heart hurt.

I rest my head on his shoulder. “Don’t talk like that,” I whisper. It’s crazy, but I feel genuinely bad for him.

He lets me sit like that for a moment and then he says, “Can you please go?”

I sit up straight to look at him, but he won’t look me in the eye.

That’s when it comes to me. An idea. And before I’ve really thought it through, I’m telling him a way to fix things.

“We have this family friend. He’s my dad’s coworker’s son. He’s a football player. Not a star quarterback like you, but still. He took a fifth year of high school at a prep school, and it was like a whole other year for recruits to check him out.” I say all of this super calmly, like he hasn’t been crying and he didn’t tell me to leave. I say, “You could do that, Reeve. If you train hard, and you get your grades up, I bet you could get a scholarship at a prep school somewhere, and then colleges would look at you again next spring. It would be your second chance.”

He lifts his head; his eyes are red. “I told you, Cho. I don’t deserve a second chance. I’m no good. You shouldn’t even be around me.”

“I don’t want to hear you talking like that,” I snap. I never thought I’d feel this way, but maybe Reeve does deserve a second chance.

Reeve looks startled. Then he says, “Why would some fancy school give me a scholarship? My grades aren’t good enough for a scholarship.”

“Duh, you’re an amazing quarterback. If their team sucks, they’re basically paying to make it better by having you go to their school. I could ask my dad to talk to his friend, get more information. This could be your ticket out.”

“I don’t know. It seems like a long shot.”

“Don’t give up on yourself. All you need is more time to heal and get strong again. Sure, spring workouts in a few months might be too soon for you, but what if you had another year to recuperate? You might not get to go to some big football school, but at least it’ll be a real college and not the JICC.” Reeve opens his mouth, but before he can answer, I grab him by his shirt collar. “Listen to me, okay? It’s worth a shot. I’ll help you study, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

Reeve almost smiles, which makes me feel so good. “Oh yeah? That’s generous of you, Cho. Just so you know, I’m actually not a Neanderthal; I’m a pretty smart guy.”

“I never for one second thought you were dumb,” I tell him, dropping his collar and smoothing it out. And then, like it’s already decided, I say, “Tomorrow you make an appointment with Mr. Randolph and see what he knows about this kind of thing. He’s bound to have some contacts at prep schools; I think he went to one. Then you register for the December SAT test date.”

“I already took the SAT,” Reeve says. “My score was fine.”

“Fine?” I repeat. I give him a doubtful look.

“Yeah. It was easy. At one point I put my head down and took a nap. I think maybe I had a hangover that day.”

“Well, what was your score?” I challenge.

“1920.”

Oh. That is pretty good. I’ve taken it three times, and it was only on the third try that I broke 2100. So Reeve is smart. He does have a chance at going to college. “Then take the test one more time. If you scored that high without even trying, who knows what you could do if you studied?”

I tell myself not to feel guilty for helping him. If I can fix this, if I can help make it so he still gets his football scholarship . . . Everything will still end up the way it’s supposed to. Mary can still have her pound of flesh, and Reeve can still go to college.

I clap my hands together, cheer-style. “So first we reorganize these keys and then we go to the library. And if you do a good job, you’ll get a snack after.”

Reeve smiles for real this time. “You’re a piece of work, Cho. Did you know that?”

I smile back smugly. “Oh, trust me. I know.”