Burn Before Reading

by Sara Wolf

  I couldn't just walk in. I could barely even think about speaking to him, after the pool incident. What would I say? 'I'm sorry'? 'I wanted to check if you really did have a touching phobia like a total asshole'? Sitting in Auto Class with a bunch of people around us was totally different from a one-on-one with him. Before I could turn and walk away, he spotted me, and quirked one hawkish brow in my direction.

  "Well?" He said. "Are you coming in, or not?"

  "BurnwantedmetogiveyouthiswinethanksforhelpingwithEric," I blurted quickly, stepping over the threshold only to put the wine on a nearby dresser. "Okaybye."

  "Scholarshipper." His voice stopped me at the door, and I turned. He took a swig from his already-open wine bottle and stood up, playing with the silver rings on his fingers. "You and I have things to discuss."

  Irritation won over anxiety for a brief moment, and I gritted my teeth.

  "For. The. Last. Time. I. Have. A. Name."

  "As do I," He said. "And yet I've never heard you use it."

  "That's because you - you haven't said mine either!"

  "Are we going to be stuck in a loop forever, avoiding each other's names until one of us gives in and says it?"

  I glared at him. Or, more accurately, his shoes.

  "We are," He finally asserted. "Because I'm prideful and you're childish."

  "Childish?" I sneered. "That's rich, coming from the guy who puts slips of paper in people's lockers."

  "You're really hung up on that, aren't you?" He scoffed. "There's more to me than that, you know."

  "I wouldn't know," I said. "I don't know anything about you, except that you hate me for some reason and want to take my scholarship so I'll get kicked out."

  He was quiet. It fueled the molten pool of anger that I'd kept quietly seething in my heart all this time.

  "No – wait. That's a lie. I know you. I know you had Fitz hack your Dad's computer to read my essay. I know you like motorcycles. I know you -"

  I stop myself from saying 'hate being touched', or 'your mom died'. Those are private things I'm not supposed to know.

  " - I know you fought Mark," I finished. "And the day after, he stopped coming to Lakecrest."

  I expected Wolf to get angry, to bark, but the only sound was that of the wine bottle rising to his lips and being put down again.

  "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand," he said finally.

  "Understand what? That you fought a guy and he was beat so bad he left?"

  "It wasn't like that," Wolf snarled. "You wouldn’t understand.”

  "I sure as hell can't understand if you don't tell me!" I shot back, my gaze finally daring to drift to his face. His jade-green eyes glowed with furious fire, and I managed to withstand it for a few seconds. But I wasn't the first to look away. For once, it was Wolf who broke our stare.

  "Look -" I started. "You're right, okay? I'm only gonna say that once - you were right. I judge people harshly. I freaking can't get past my own judgement of people. And it sucks! It super sucks to realize maybe you were the asshole all along, but that doesn't mean I can't change it. I'm gonna. Just slowly. At my own pace. No matter what it takes, I'm going to change it."

  "Why?" He demanded.

  "Because I have to."

  "Why?" He shot again, harder, like he was trying to cut me with his words alone.

  "Because - " I swallowed. "Because if I don't, I can't be a good shrink."

  "There's more to life than becoming a good shrink," Wolf said. "For instance, becoming a good person, maybe?"

  "I'd say I'm already -"

  "You're not," He snapped. "None of us are. You don't attain it, like some trophy, set it aside and rest on the laurels of it. We have to work at it. Being a good person takes work, every second of every day. That's why so few people do it - because it's exhausting."

  He sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands in his chin.

  "You're so focused on becoming something to help your Dad," He said, suddenly sounding tired. "That your life is passing you by."

  I felt my hackles rise. "You know nothing about my life."

  "I read your essay," He shot a glare at me.

  "That's not all of who I am! It's just a piece of paper!"

  "It was your writing," He insisted. "Very determined, very honest writing, written to chase your dreams. I read it. I read it over and over again. That essay bared your soul. Whether you deny it or not, that essay was you - down to the very last comma."

  "You don't know me from an essay."

  "No," He agreed. "But I know you're burning yourself at both ends in a misguided attempt to 'save' your dad. I know you abandoned your dreams of writing to help him. You're holding the world on your shoulders, and eventually it's going to crush you."

  Something in my chest twisted around, hard and aching.

  "So?" I retorted. "It doesn't matter - if it works, if I can make a difference, I don't give a shit if it crushes me.”

  "Of course you don't," He spun a silver ring around his finger. "Because you don't care about yourself. You don't think you're valuable, or worth caring for."

  It got hard to swallow, all of a sudden.

  "Why are you acting like this?” I asked. “Why do you give a shit at all? I'm just the scholarshipper to you."

  Wolf stood up again, and moved towards me. He hovered there, inches away, his voice low and gravelly. He smelled like wine and wool and something distinctly boy - spice and sweat. The cuffs of his sweater hiked up, the gauze on his knuckles showing.

  "Because I was you. Once upon a time."

  I didn't dare look up at him. He laughed, the sound black with despair and rumbling in his chest. He spun a ring around his finger faster.

  "I tried to save someone, too, no matter what it took. And what you see is everything that's left of me, after it all came crashing down."

  He was so close, I felt that strange urge to reach out to him again, to feel the softness of his sweater, the smoothness of the skin of his collarbone. There it was – that weird something arcing between us like electricity again. I hardened myself and looked up at him. His gaze was squarely on me, taking in every inch of me as if he was trying to memorize it.

  "You shouldn't have come," He said.

  "To the party?" I asked.

  "To the party. To Lakecrest. To this room. To me, at all."

  "Not everything revolves around you."

  He laughed that sad laugh again. "You even sound like him."

  "Like who?"

  Wolf stepped back, and shook his head. "No one. Nothing. You should leave."

  "You can't just say something like that and then dismiss me like I'm some servant. I deserve answers."

  "You deserve to be selfish. You deserve to pursue the things that make you happy. You deserve to live your own damn life," Wolf said. "But you won't, because you're stubborn. You'll bury yourself in duty and your savior complex until you start to think misery is all you deserve."

  "I -" I set my jaw. "I am happy."

  Wolf scoffed, so derisively it bounced off the walls. I thought of all my old things stored away in my closet, of my phone empty of texts and calls from friends, of crossing Sarah Lawrence off my wishlist, of my desk crowded with textbooks and only textbooks.

  "I - I will be happy," I corrected. "Eventually."

  "When?" He asked. "When your dad gets better? When you've decided you've 'fixed' him? When, Beatrix, will you make time in your busy schedule to get around to being happy?"

  I bristled. "You're not exactly sunshine and rainbows yourself."

  "If insulting me makes you feel good, then fine. Do it. I'll take as much as you want to give, if that's the only way you can take your frustrations out."

  It hit me, then.

  "You said it," I marveled.

  "What?" He snapped.

  "My name. You said it.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it. "I suppose my pride isn't
as strong as your childishness, then."

  "For the last time, I'm not a child -"

  He rounded on me, coming close again, his fingers playing wildly with his silver rings.

  "No, you're right. It's impossible for someone who gave up their childhood for their father to be childish. You're just stubborn. Stubborn and naïve and -"

  We were so close, I could see the golden streaks in his eyes, feel the heat thrumming off his wine-flushed skin. It was so stupid, so wrong, but I couldn’t ignore how handsome he looked, even frustrated. Especially frustrated. I must’ve been seeing things – the pot smoke must’ve done something to my eyes, because I saw him raise his hand, his palm hovering just beneath my jaw -

  "Knock knock!" Fitz announced as he walked in, cutting the thick string of our tension. "What's going on in here, hrm?"

  In a blink, Wolf backed up from me and settled on the bed. Fitz waltzed over to him and picked up the wine bottle on the bedside table.

  "Oh wow, you really chugged down tonight, huh? I guess it's a good change from your usual 'glowering alone in a corner' thing." Fitz fixed his smiley eyes on me. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact I told you Bee was coming, would it?"

  "Fuck you," Wolf shot.

  "So testy!" Fitz laughed, and winked at me. "Don't take it personally - he gets that way around people he likes."

  Wolf fisted the collar of Fitz's gaudy shirt and stood up all in one swift movement, but Fitz never lost his smile.

  "You're starting to grate on my nerves, Fitz." Wolf growled.

  "I'm so tired of seeing you mope around for the past two years. Why can't you just admit it?" Fitz motioned to me. "She reminds you of Mark, doesn't she? The army jacket, the glasses, the head-stuck-up-their-own-nerdy-ass personality. Except this time around, she’s the one who wants to make out with -"

  Wolf threw the punch so fast I only heard the smack of flesh-on-flesh. Fitz's head snapped to the side, his cheek bright red, but he turned and came back swinging, the smile never leaving his face. The Blackthorn boys scrabbled over the bed, kicking and punching and blocking. Fitz even laughed, like he was having the time of his life.

  I was frozen to the spot, but someone behind me called out; 'Blackthorn fight!', and the stampede up the stairs as people pushed past me to watch was deafening. Fitz put up a good fight - Wolf's lip was bleeding - but his own face was already swelling with bruises. This was for real. Wolf was furious, the fire in his eyes now a towering inferno. People cheered, but I couldn't move, my stomach feeling sick. Why were they fighting? Because of me? If I wasn’t here, would they be -

  A lumbering figure pushed through the crowd like a hot knife through butter - Burn. Wolf had Fitz pinned to the wall, but Burn walked over and separated them with his massive arms as easily as a child pulling two dolls apart.

  "Enough," He said. Fitz lunged for Wolf through Burn, but Burn held him back, raising his voice for the first time I'd heard. "I said, that's enough!"

  The sound echoed, everyone going silent, and Fitz and Wolf went limp. Burn turned to the crowd, glowering.

  "Get out."

  The party-goers didn't need to be told twice, and feeling somehow guilty, I shuttled out of the room with them. Excited chattering filled the air as we made our way downstairs.

  "Did you see that? Wolf fucked him up!"

  "I had no idea they didn't like each other - they're like, glued together at the hip."

  "Brothers fight too, dumbass. It was only a matter of time."

  "I wonder what they were fighting about?"

  "What if Wolf gives a red-card to his own brother? How messed up would that be?"

  "For fighting him? No way - red cards are always something way worse than that. Something that's super fucked up."

  I collapsed on a couch, feeling somehow comatose. Everything Wolf and Fitz said started swirling in my head, until I couldn't make sense of it anymore. I remind Wolf of Mark. Wolf's pained face when he talked about Mark - I knew that look. It was heartbreak. Were Wolf and Mark -

  "There you are, Bee!"

  I looked up to see Kristin standing there, arms crossed.

  "Geez, I've been looking all over for you. Are you okay? I heard you were there for the Blackthorn fight."

  "I'm - I'm fine."

  Kristin put her hand on my forehead, checking me over like she was looking for wounds. "Yeah, you seem okay, maybe a little shook up. Do you wanna talk about it?"

  "I just - If it's okay with you, I just want to go home."

  "Yeah, sure. Of course. Let me get you something to drink in the car, and we'll go."

  She led me out of the house and into the quiet serenity of her Prius. She handed me a cold Sprite, and I nursed the sweet soda the rest of the way home. I didn't think it would help, but it did. By the time she pulled into my driveway and shut the engine off, I felt a little better.

  "What happened?" She asked.

  "I - " I shook my head. "Wolf and I talked, he said I was - burning myself at both ends for my dad. And a bunch of other stuff. Like he knew me. He thinks just because he read my essay he knows what I'm going through."

  "He doesn't?" She blinked.

  "No! I mean -" I looked at her. "Please, you've gotta tell me about Mark. Otherwise everything is just a jumbled mess and I'm so confused."

  Kristin gnawed her lip. "Okay. It's mostly rumors, though."

  "That's fine," I insisted. "I just need something right now. Anything."

  She inhaled, steadying herself on the steering wheel. "Mark and Wolf went out. When they were freshman. Some people say it was four months, some people say it was the whole year."

  "So," I said slowly. "Wolf's -"

  "Gay, yeah." Kristin nodded. "But, before that Fitz told me he had a crush on Vanessa, in like, middle school, so maybe he's bi? I don't know. He doesn’t tell anyone. All I know is he and Mark were a thing for a while. It was big news because we never really dated outside of...us, you know? It's been Lakecrest kids, from kindergarten up until high school. So someone dating the scholarship kid, the new kid? It was weird to us."

  "So the gay thing wasn't a big thing?"

  "I mean, no," she shrugged. "Riley's gay, and there's Carter and Dreyon - it's not like Mark and Wolf were the only ones." She cut herself off. "They were just, like, total opposites, you know? We never in a million years thought they'd hit it off, but they did."

  I moved my finger around the scarce few particles of dust on the dashboard. "What was Mark like? Do you remember?"

  "Yeah, pretty well. Hard not to remember the scholarship kids. No offense."

  "None taken."

  "He was like -" She chewed her lip. "Mark was like, not really friendly. He didn't talk to anyone. But he was smart, and he studied a lot."

  "Like me."

  "Sort of," she laughed. "I mean, yeah. Pretty much exactly like you. I remember - at the Open House, when all our parents came - that his were weird. They frowned all the time. And when they talked to Mark it was like - I dunno. They were super strict with him, to the point it kinda freaked my own Mom out. She told my Dad she wanted to call Child Protective Services, but he talked her out of it."

  I waited for her to continue. She squirmed in her seat.

  "But, when he and Wolf started going out, you could definitely see the change."

  "Change?" I led on.

  "Yeah. Mark got...happier. Friendlier. But it was weird, because the whole time Mark got happier, Wolf just - " She inhaled. "He used to be nice. Like, really nice. He smiled a lot, and never really looked pissed-off like he does all the time now. But once he got with Mark, he just clammed up. He started talking less and less, and snapping more, until it was just - he wasn't the same."

  "And then the fight happened."

  "Yeah," she nodded. "Mark hit him first. I remember that. He hit him right in front of all of us, in the quad before first period. They were talking, and then we all heard the sound. And Wolf just....explo
ded is the best word I can come up with. I've never seen someone hit the ground so fast. Mark left the school that weekend, I'm pretty sure."

  “What do you think happened between them?” I muttered. Kristin shrugged.

  “I can only guess. Personally, I think it’s the reason why Mr. Blackthorn tried to get me to spy on them – Wolf specifically. The only people who really know what happened between Wolf and Mark are probably Wolf and Mark, and maybe Fitz and Burn. Maybe.”

  I mulled it over, until Kristin patted me on the shoulder.

  “Hey, don’t look so sad, okay?”

  “Do I?” I felt my cheeks. “Look sad?”

  She nodded. “A lot. It’s sort of like, your default expression.”

  All the things Wolf said to me in the room come echoing back, like a reverb chamber. Did I really look that miserable to people? Did I ever once look happy?

  I thanked her for the ride and went inside. Dad was surprised to see me back so soon, but I told him it was a stupid party. We said goodnight to each other, and I snuck into the bathroom to check his pill bottle – yup, he’d taken two. A little more relieved, I closed the door and started long and hard into the mirror.

  You'll bury yourself in duty and your savior complex until you start to think misery is all you deserve.

  My knuckles gripping the edge of the sink went white. Wolf doesn’t know me. He can’t know me. But then why did everything he say to me tonight feel true? Every word of his felt horribly, crushingly true. Why was it always like that with him? Why could he see right through me, cut to the heart of me like a blade? Was he really that observant?

  No, the mirror-me said. It’s just like he said – he was once you.

  My eyes fixated on Dad’s pill bottle. Was it really so bad? I was being a good daughter – this is what any daughter would do. I loved Dad. I wanted him to get better. Was I wrong for wanting that?