Burn Before Reading

by Sara Wolf

  I quashed that depressing thought and drove. The car was no convertible, but I did roll down the windows to let the chilly air in. Maybe if kept them down, they'd dry the tears on my face by the time I got to the party.

  That was even more depressing.

  I stepped on the gas pedal harder, zooming past trees and houses, but still too scared to do anything beyond fifty. I kinda understood, all of a sudden, why Burn liked driving so fast all the time. It was hard to think about anything else but keeping the car from crashing.

  For a moment, I wasn’t sad. I was just trying to stay alive.

  The address Kristin gave me was, of course, in the upper-crust part of town, a lot farther from Riley's party I first went to, and a lot fancier. This house was on a hill, isolated all on its own in a golden cage of curly wrought iron fences and perfectly manicured hedges. Not a single autumn leaf was left on the ground - that's how you knew they had money; money enough to pay an army of people to rake their lawns spotless at the height of autumn. The glimmer of a moonlit pool caught on the whitestone of the house. Wolf was up there, I knew that for certain. Kristin told me. Something squirmed in my chest as I thought about him, about seeing him, meeting him. Being in the same room as him. I wrote it off as second-party-ever nerves, and pressed the button on the gate intercom. A very drunk voice answered.

  "WhoooooOOO goes there?"

  "Um. It's Bee. Kristin's friend. She invited me."

  "She did, did she?" The voice sounded familiar, but it was so fakely accented like a Victorian grandma and marred by the intercom static that I couldn't tell who it was. "Well, I suppose I'll let you in. If you give me the password."

  I shivered and stomped my boot. "Oh come on! Just let me in! It's freezing out here!"

  "Password, my darling."

  "I don't know any passwords!"

  "Oh, just guess. Entertain me. This party is so boring I'm practically in tears."

  Now THAT speech pattern I could recognize.

  "Fitz? Is that you?"

  "I know not of this 'Fitz' you speak of!" The voice turned offended. "I am....Ms. Pennyworth, a delightfully rich young widow with absolutely no clue about cloche hat colors or moral standards."

  "Fitz, are you okay?" I asked. "You sound really drunk."

  "Pennyworth, darling, the name is Pennyworth!"

  "Is that Bee's voice?" I heard a deeper voice say. "Move."

  "How dare you accost a wealthy widow!"

  Fitz's voice faded, replaced by the deeper one.

  "It's open."

  "Burn, is that you?"

  "Yeah. Come up before you get hypothermia."

  "Thanks."

  I parked the car on the lawn with the rest of the shiny BMWs and Jaguars, and headed to the front door. Burn let me in, his sweater and broad arms and bored expression a welcome sight.

  "Hey," I said.

  "Hey," He closed the door behind me. "Why are you here?"

  "I was invited," I almost used Kristin's name, but saved it at the last second. "Why are you guys here?"

  "Assuming it's the three of us, huh?" He muscled his way through the crowd, and I followed in his wake. This was a smaller party than the last, but still pretty big by my standards. And the house was much fancier - all cold marble pillars and classical paintings on the walls.

  "It's always the three of you," I insisted. "That’s why they call you the Blackthorn Brothers, not the Blackthorn Brother."

  Burn nodded, motioning to the kitchen. The fancy granite countertops were crowded with strangely decadent foods for a house party - a whole cooked turkey, for example, and a three-layered cheesecake. Champagne - the not-bargain-bin-at-the-grocery-store kind. Burn saw my confusion.

  "Catered," He said.

  "Right. Getting other people to cook for you. I forgot that's a thing."

  "Do you want something?"

  "No thanks. Not really hungry right now."

  "Did you eat dinner?"

  "No."

  There was a beat of quiet. Burn didn't blink as he stared at me.

  "Are you going to tell me about it?" He asked.

  "No.”

  He shrugged in a way I'd long started interpreting as his 'fair enough'.

  "Fitz is in the theater downstairs. Wolf is out by the pool."

  Of course this fancy house had a basement theater. "Is Fitz okay? He sounded really bad."

  "I don’t know," Burn answered. "It isn't unlike him to drink this much. But it’s unlike him to mix it with other stuff."

  "Stuff?" I led on.

  "Pills." Burn said. "He's usually smarter about it."

  "Not tonight," I clarified.

  "Not tonight," He agreed.

  "I'll talk to him," I said, and walked towards the downstairs.

  "Bee?" Burn called. I looked back. "It would be nice if you said hi to Wolf, too."

  I suddenly felt flustered. "Sure, I mean, yeah. I wasn't going to like, ignore him or anything."

  Burn said nothing, and walked into the crowd. I hated how shaky my laugh sounded. But it was hard to not shake when Burn pulled that 'see through your soul' bullshit with his eyes. He couldn't know about me and Wolf's resolution to remain enemies. He couldn't know about how I'd thought of Wolf as I stood at the gate and stared up at the house. So why did it feel like he did? And why did it feel like he knew something I didn't?

  The 'basement' was just a lower level of the house, the same marble floors and pillars accentuating guest bedrooms and recreations rooms. There was a tiny gym, an indoor hot tub - drunk people crowding the equipment and hot water. Even if they were rich, they still used those red plastic cups - half-crumpled ones everywhere I turned. Some things transcend trust funds. I spotted the theater room - a dark room with movie noise coming out of it. Two girls stopped me as I walked over.

  "Hey, you! You’re Beatrix, aren't you? The scholarship student?" The taller girl asked. I recognized her as a Junior. She smelled so strongly of fancy perfume I felt like passing out. Why was she wearing so much? Who was she trying to impress? My Lakecrest-tainted mind jumped to judge her as some looks-obsessed idiot, but I shook that thought out of my head. No. I’m better than that, now. I’ve learned better.

  "Um. Yeah," I nodded. "And you are?"

  "Anna," She smiled and motioned to her friend, a shorter blonde. "And this is Taryn. We've seen you around, and we just wanted to let you know we think you're so awesome."

  "Uh, thanks?"

  "Yeah! Holding the McCaroll scholarship is really hard, you know. Like, two people in our year flunked out of it before."

  "They weren't as smart as you are, though," Taryn interjected.

  "For sure," Anna nodded.

  "Well, damn. Thanks for the compliments. You can't see it, but I'm blushing. On the inside. Wait, I think that might be called meningitis."

  There was a beat, and then the girls burst out laughing.

  "Oh that's a good one!"

  I took it as my cue to exit on a high note, but Anna's hand gripped my arm and stopped me.

  "Hey, I know it seems weird, but can I ask you a question?"

  "Sure?"

  Anna shot a look to Taryn. "We were just super curious - you and the Blackthorns are like, a thing, right?”

  I did not like where this was going.

  "Define 'a thing'." I air quoted.

  "You guys hang out at lunch, and in class and stuff. They like, talk to you."

  "Yeah....so?"

  "I don't think you really get it," Anna put on a practiced, patiently condescending voice. "Since you're new to this school and all. But the Blackthorns usually don't talk to anyone."

  "Fitz does,” I said. “To numerous ladies. All the time."

  "Yeah, but it's not just Fitz talking to you. It’s all three of them."

  "Okay? And?"

  "How did you..." They both leaned in, like we were sharing some dangerous secret. "Do it?"

  "Do what?
" I was thoroughly confused.

  "Get them to talk to you, duh." Taryn rolled her eyes.

  "Did you sleep with them?" Anna pressed. "Or was it just, you know, giving head stuff?"

  "What?" My outraged voice echoed, people staring. I took a huge breath to clear the red from my face as I hissed. "I didn't sleep with anyone! Or give them...head! That isn't how I do things!"

  "Then how do you do things?" Anna asked.

  "I just - showed up!"

  Taryn sighed. "C'mon, there has to be something. Why would they talk to you, of all people?"

  She might as well have just reached out and punched me in the gut.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Listen, sorry, but you're not exactly -" Taryn eyed me up and down. " - good material."

  I was suddenly acutely aware of how little makeup I had on and how much they had on.

  "Material? For what, exactly?"

  "Taryn has a huge crush on Wolf," Anna smirked. Taryn slapped her shoulder, looking scandalized.

  "I do not!"

  "She wants to marry him."

  "I do not!" Taryn slapped her again, then giggled madly.

  "She just wanted some pointers, so, you know, she could get to know Wolf better."

  The two girls shared a look at the word 'better'. I felt like I was going to be sick.

  "Why ask me about all this?" I asked.

  "Because you're the only one they've talked to regularly in like, all of their high school career!" Anna insisted. "Wolf isn't going to be here in Lakecrest forever, you know. In two years he's going to college, and guys like him - trust me, my sister told me all about this - guys like him go to college and get snapped up by some pretty, clever girl instantly, and before you know it there's rings on both fingers and babies happening."

  "And cars being bought," Taryn added. "And dresses. Whole closets of them."

  I gaped. "You're - you're talking about him like he's some kind of cash cow!"

  "Well, it doesn't hurt that he's hot," Anna mused. "If you like the whole 'irritated and arrogant and don’t know how to cut my bangs' thing."

  "And I definitely do," Taryn smiled.

  They were talking about him like he was some kind of....thing, like a piece of furniture or an art installment that could be acquired. I shook my head.

  "Listen, I don't have any pointers for you, okay? So just leave me alone."

  "Oh, come on! There’s gotta be something you did right to get Wolf's attention -"

  "She said to leave her alone," A familiar voice cut through. "You heard her. Now get out of here, before I show you how to. With my foot. Repeatedly."

  I looked up to see Keri, the girl who sat with me at lunch. She had a tube top on and nails nearly long enough to be called claws. Anna and Taryn looked between her and me, and finally Anna scoffed.

  "Fine. It's not like we need her for Wolf anyway. There are two more brothers, after all."

  They peeled away, whispering and laughing between each other. Keri's face dropped its hard edges as she approached and smiled at me.

  "Hey. Sorry about them."

  "It's okay," I shook my head. "I mean, it's not okay, they're awful, and -"

  "Oh, they aren't the worst of the bunch."

  "They aren't?”

  Keri rolled her eyes. "There's a whole bet going on among the Junior girls about who will be the first to sleep with Wolf. Proof required."

  I wrinkled my nose and Keri made a gagging motion.

  "Anyway, I saw them hovering over you like vultures and had to do something. I hate 'em."

  "Thanks. I owe you."

  "I take payments in extra helpings of chocolate cake from the cafeteria, thank you very much."

  I smiled. "It's a deal."

  A shrieking sound of ‘KERI!’ came from upstairs, and Keri sighed.

  "I gotta go. Come find me around later, okay?"

  I nodded, and she left upstairs. I made my way into the theater room cautiously, the darkness pressing in on me. It wasn't very big, enough to seat about twenty people or so, but it looked and felt exactly like a movie theater - velvet seats, popcorn machine, and massive screen included. Even the making-out couples were there. I spotted a lone figure in the very front row of seats, the flickering movie highlighting his golden hair. Fitz. Definitely Fitz. His eyes were riveted to the screen - an old Godzilla movie playing with shrieking gusto. I slid into the seat next to him.

  I tried to discern how he was feeling through the obvious physical signs - his eye were heavy-lidded, his body was relaxed. He must've been coming down off whatever high he had when he answered the gate intercom. His shirt was drink-stained and crooked and made of pure red silk, hiked up enough to show his stomach and fabulous pink-heart pattern boxers.

  "What do you want?" He grunted. His sour mood was nothing like his usual saccharine smiles.

  "And here I was, expecting a hello, or a nice to see you, or maybe even an ‘eek’!"

  He slanted his eyes over to me. "You don't look that bad."

  "Sometimes I do."

  "True. Sometimes you look like shit. I've seen your outfits when we aren't in Lakecrest uniform - you have no sense of style."

  "Thanks."

  "I'm serious - you wouldn't be half-bad with the right skirt. Seamus's dress was the best thing that could've happened to your fashion-starved soul."

  "Well at least your priorities are still intact," I reached out my hand to feel his forehead. It wasn't warm. He frowned, all of his freckles frowning with him.

  "Don't do that."

  "Why?"

  "Mom did that."

  I went silent. Godzilla threw a skyscraper at Mothra.

  "Sorry," I said. "I didn't know."

  "Nobody knows," He groaned. "That's why it’s fine."

  I inspected the empty red plastic cup in his cupholder. It smelled like rum.

  "How much did you drink?" I asked.

  "Don't do that, either."

  "What?"

  "Care," He slumped further in his seat. "It's unsightly."

  "Well I'm going to keep being unsightly," I put my hands under his armpits and propped him back up in the chair. "Until you tell me how much you had to drink."

  "Some."

  I stared at him meaningfully. He snorted.

  "Fine. A lot."

  "How much is a lot?"

  "Six shots, two cups of Martin's special punch."

  "Yeah, okay, my ‘second-party-ever’ experience tells me that's a lot. Let's get you somewhere cool and quiet."

  "This is cool. What could possibly be cooler than Godzilla punching the shit out of a giant moth?"

  "Come on," I stood. "Or I'm going to get Burn to carry you."

  Fitz glowered and stood up, wobbly. "You don't have to threaten me."

  "I do," I said lightly, lacing my arm under him and letting him lean on me for support. "Because otherwise you wouldn't do anything."

  "Hey," He paused. "I said that to you."

  "Yup. Our third tutoring session."

  "How do you remember all this stuff?" He asked as we struggled up the theater stairs together.

  "I don't," I panted. "Most of what people say, I forget. I only remember the good stuff."

  "I wish I could do that," He said, softer than I liked.

  "Hey! Stay with me. We're almost there to the bed, and then I'll get you some water."

  He didn't say anything. I limped to the nearest bedroom I could see. It already had a couple making out on it, who looked alarmed when I came in.

  "Go! Shoo! This is Fitz Blackthorn I'm carrying," I hissed at them, knowing nothing else short of the Blackthorn name would get two horny teenagers to move from their chosen love nest. Sure enough, all hesitance on their faces evaporated when they heard his name, and they inched out of the room. I laid Fitz on the bed and closed the door behind me. There was a small bathroom, and a glass for toothbrushes, but it was empty. I filled it wit
h water and sat him up against the backboard.

  "Come on, drink."

  "No." He pursed his lips.

  "Don't make me bring Burn down here."

  "I don't care. I don't wanna drink."

  "Fine. Then I'll go get Wolf."

  This made him grimace harder, and he finally opened his lips and took a sip. He coughed, and when I was satisfied he’d drank enough, I put the glass down. We were quiet, Fitz sulking and me watching the water in the glass.

  “I don’t get it,” Fitz suddenly said.

  “Get what?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve got it way worse than me. You work hard, you actually study. You’re poor – don’t give me that look, I’m just being a realist. You’ve got a sick Dad and it puts a lot of stress on your family, I bet. So why don’t you – ugh.”

  “Use your words,” I teased him.

  “What do you even do for fun?” His green eyes were confused. “What do you do to let off steam? You didn’t party until, like, a week ago, and even then you didn’t drink or dance or – or – anything! How do you deal with it? All the shit in your head?”

  “Is that why you do drugs?”

  He nodded. “The world is like a ball of needles and I’m the fucking pincushion, and it’s the only way I can stop the pain. Or, it’s the only way that works. Trust me, I’ve tried everything else – booze just makes it worse. Girls just make it worse.”

  “But you do those, anyway.”

  “It’s just convenience – they’re there, I’m there, we’re both there drunk. Might as well. It’s just stupid flings with nothing meaningful behind it. Which is why I guess I’m – I’m so gung-ho about you and Wolf.” He exhaled. “If you two got together it would be like…maybe the world wasn’t so shitty after all.”

  He sat up, crossing his legs and turning his full attention to me.

  “But you still haven’t answered my question. How do you deal with it? Are you a robot?”

  I laughed. “I wish. Then things would be a lot better. And math would probably be a lot easier. The only downside is I’d never able to swim again.”

  “You’re avoiding the question.” His eyes were serious. I threw up my hands.

  “Fine. You caught me. I never dealt with it. I’d bury myself in psych textbooks and homework and those would sort of, numb me I guess? It’s easy to busy your mind with stuff so much that it forgets to feel, you know?”