by Sara Wolf
“That’s why you accepted my party invite?” I frown. She nods, unable to meet my gaze. She can meet Burn’s just fine.
“I’m sorry,” She says with a wavering voice.
“You’ve said sorry.” Burn says. “You did what you came to do. Now leave.”
Kristin breathes in deep, then out. “Right. Okay.”
I follow her back to the door, and she turns with a watery smile.
“I’m really sorry for using your birthday party like this, Bee.”
“It’s okay. I know what it’s like, to want to apologize so badly you’d do anything. You’re welcome to stay.”
“No,” She shakes her head. “I’ve pushed my luck already. I have to be honest – I’m a little jealous.”
“Of what?”
“How much Burn likes you,” She laughs.
“He doesn’t, like like me –”
“No, I know. Just as a friend, he likes you a lot. I can tell. Take care of him, okay?”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
She walks down my steps, then turns, calling back up at me.
“We sort of learned our lesson together, huh?”
“To not trust image-obsessed pricks like Mr. Blackthorn?” I ask.
“To not go so hard after the things we want, if it hurts other people,” She corrects. I’m quiet, the gravity of her words pressing down on me.
“Yeah. Definitely learned that.”
She waves, and walks to her Prius. Just as she gets in, the roar of a motorcycle turns my insides upside down. Wolf pulls up to the curb, taking his helmet off. In the dim light of dusk, I can’t see his expression when he sees me. He carries something under the arm of his leather jacket.
I still my breathing, trying to calm myself down. But my heart won’t stop freaking out. He’s even handsomer than yesterday, somehow. And his words – I can’t shake his words from my brain. Everything piles on top of itself to reduce me to a trembling mess.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey,” His jaw is tight, his fists against his sides. He’s nervous. Maybe even more nervous than I am. He offers the package under his arm, wrapped in silver paper. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh man, you didn’t have to –”
“I wanted to,” He asserts.
“Well, uh, thanks. It means a lot.”
“You don’t even know what it is,” He laughs softly.
“Well it’s probably not socks, so I think a thanks is in order.”
“Fair enough.”
There’s a stiff silence between us, and then Fitz comes barreling behind me.
“There you are!” He pulls Wolf inside, Wolf’s body narrowly missing brushing against mine. “Burn says I’m cheating and you have to come and beat him.”
“At what?” Wolf looks bewildered.
“Clue, duh. You’re the best at all those nerd-ass board games.”
Wolf rolls his eyes, but follows Fitz anyway, and I laugh and follow the both of them. Wolf gets wrapped up in the Clue game immediately, Fitz and Wolf tied to win by a long shot until Keri pulls the rug out from under him. Burn gets taken out, and he stands up and sits with me on the barstool.
“Is there any food?” He asks. I lead him to the kitchen, where it’s a little quieter. I pull out the chips, the roasted pigs-in-a-blanket, and all the dips Mom and I made. He picks at them.
“We’re moving,” Burn says around a mouthful.
“What?”
“I turn eighteen in three weeks. And when that happens, I’m filing for legal guardianship of Fitz and Wolf.”
“Seriously?”
“Dad’s looking to put Fitz in a rehab center,” He says. “And Wolf in a ‘reorientation’ facility.”
I feel sick all of a sudden. “Oh god, I should’ve told you – but I didn’t think –”
“He talked to you about it?”
“He mentioned it, but I didn’t think he’d really do it. Not to his own kids.”
“He’s trying. And he’s very serious about it.”
“Where are you guys gonna live? Do you have a place to go? You could stay here –”
“I’m not going to put anyone out like that,” He insists. “Jakob offered us a place to stay in exchange for helping him around the business.”
“The skydiving guy?”
He nods. The panic in my throat loosens.
“That’s good. That’s good, right? You guys will be okay, right? What about Lakecrest? Your dad practically owns the place –”
“They’ll be enrolling in public school nearby.”
“They? What about you? You don’t finish until next year.”
Burn stares into the guacamole. “I’m applying to jobs.”
“Burn, you can’t seriously drop out –”
“Someone has to,” Burn says. “And it should be me.”
“But – but there has to be another way –”
He puts a hand on my shoulder, a faint smile lifting his serious face.
“It’s what I have to do. To make up for some things.”
“Burn –”
“I can always go back to school,” He insists. “I’ll get a GED later. But right now, I need to secure a safe place for my brothers. I owe them that much.”
His bravery, his sacrifice. All of it looks so familiar. I tried to do a lot of things on my own, too.
“I won’t let you do this alone,” I steady my lip. “You have to let me help. If you guys need food, or clothes, or – god, did he let you keep anything of your own?”
“We brought only what we could carry,” He shakes his head. “Except Fitz has his computers, which is good. He tried to sell them, but I wouldn’t let him.”
“He’s acting like I can’t hack with a dinky old laptop,” Fitz’s voice resounds, and we turn to see him leaning against the doorway. “They pay good money to good hackers, you know. I’m looking into some leads.”
Burn makes a displeased grunt, and Fitz waves his hand.
“Don’t worry, it’s white-hat work. No police busting down our shabby little door, I promise.” He looks out the door to the living room, where Keri and Wolf still are. “Wolf’s trying to get a part-time job at a car garage, too. He’ll be good at it, if they just give him a chance.”
I’m quiet. Fitz pats me on the back.
“Don’t look so worried, Bee. We’ll be fine.”
“What if – what if your Dad won’t let Burn become your guardian?”
“It will be tough,” Burn says. “Getting the courts to agree with my side. But if I drop out and get a steady job once I turn eighteen, and with all the evidence of trying to get Wolf into one of those terrible ‘reorientation’ places, I’m hoping the courts will choose correctly.”
“And if they don’t?”
“They will,” Fitz says, his wink making the words no less ominous.
I watch Wolf from the doorway, his expression in deep concentration on the board game.
“I can’t let him get hurt,” I murmur. A hand ruffles my hair – Burn’s.
“I know. Me either.”
“Maybe stop worrying for half a second of your life,” Fitz drawls. “And try to have fun on your own damn birthday.” He’s been rummaging again, but this time he brings up a box of candles from a drawer. He empties it, one lone candle falling out. “This is seriously all you have? One candle?”
“It’ll be fine,” I assure him. “It’s just candles.”
“Oh no, absolutely not,” Fitz straightens, pulling Burn by the hand out of the kitchen. “We’re going to get you a full-ass set of candles if it’s the last thing I do on God’s green earth.”
“But –”
“We’ll be back soon,” Burn assures me. “Promise.”
“Keri!” Fitz screeches. “C’mon! We’re getting candles.”
“Candles?” She looks at me, confused. Her eyes slide over to an equally confused Wolf. “Uh, sure. Candles.
”
And just like that they’re gone. Just like that, it’s me and Wolf and only me and Wolf in the house. My heart starts beating like crazy as I sit on the couch.
“Well that was a quick exit,” I say.
“I wanted to apologize,” Wolf murmurs. He’s staring at the Clue board like it’s the only thing that’s real in the world. “For what I said the other day.”
“Apologize?”
“You were under a lot of stress,” He continues. “And me adding to that…didn’t help.”
“Well, yeah. It kind of came out of nowhere.”
“Yeah.” He nods, his inhale sharp. “Well, you can go ahead, then.”
“And do what?”
“Tell me to fuck off?” He suggests. “Tell me I’m creepy? Something? Anything?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because what I said was….weird. And creepy. I wasn’t planning on telling you how I feel. Ever.”
I look at him, his fingers turning his wolf ring quickly.
“Why?”
His eyes get sharp, jade green boring into me. “You ask why too much.”
I laugh. “Sorry. Shrink habit.”
He’s quiet, and then;
“I wasn’t planning on telling you…because you deserve someone better. Someone who doesn’t try to expel you. Someone who can touch you without shaking. Someone who doesn’t make you cry like you did that night at Ciao Bella.”
His fists clench on the Clue board.
“I left you there. Alone. I didn’t look back once. I didn’t once think about the shit I did to force you into trusting my Dad. The whole reason you were in with him was because of me. And you got hurt by it. Because of me.”
Wolf looks up, hair shading his broken expression.
“So just tell me. Tell me to fuck off, once and for all. And I will.”
I’m struck silent, the burning force of his gaze charring my thoughts to ash. I can’t think. I can barely move. I keep trying to say it, to make my mouth form the words, but they refuse to come out. Wolf’s face falls, slowly, then all at once, like a cliff crumbling into the sea.
“Right,” He stands up, pulling his jacket back on. “I get the picture.” He walks over, grabs his present, and places it on the couch by me with a bittersweet smile. “Happy birthday, Bee.”
The clunk as the front door shuts behind him echoes hollowly in my chest. Like a rusted robot, I pull off the wrapping paper, and open the box.
It’s a book. A hardcover, gilded-edged book of illustrated fantasy creatures. Wizards, witches, dragons and gryphons and priestesses and mermaids in glorious, delicate detail; wild and free. Everything I used to love - everything I still love. Everything I want to write.
Everything I want to be.
Wolf.
He’s always known. He’s always tried to tell me to make myself happy, instead of others. To be selfish.
Maybe it’s time I try it.
I stand up, tearing the door open and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s almost to his bike. I fling my arms around his waist and hold tight.
“I like you,” I push the words out of me, finally. “I like you a lot.”
I feel all his muscles freeze beneath me.
“You’re just saying that,” He says. “To be nice.”
“No!” I shake my head against his spine. He smells like oil and leather and the wilderness – he smells like a Wolf. “It’s not like that.”
“I’m mean,” He insists.
“You can say that, but you do the red-cards. You try so hard to look out for everyone. Even me. The stuff I said at Ciao Bella wasn’t a lie – I’ve had the most fun maybe ever in my life, hanging out with you.”
“And my brothers.”
“No, just…you. Just touching your hand, or your hair, or any part of you. Just arguing with you. All of it. All of it was fun. I had – I had so much fun.”
“You cried,” His voice is soft. “I made you cry.”
“Newsflash,” I feel tears start to well up, out of gratitude this time. Out of happiness. “I only let people who are important to me make me cry.”
“That isn’t a good thing, Bee.” He turns in my arms to face me, his gaze like silk and fire.
“Crying can be a good thing!” I insist, rubbing my eyes with my fists. “Like – like right now. I’m crying because I –”
I lift my chin, and smile.
“Because I’m happy. That you like me. Because I like you too.”
His face, so apprehensive before, melts into a smile. It’s slow, like the last snow in spring, but it’s just as gentle and glowing. He pulls me against him, our hips close.
“This time I’m the one who gets to ask if it’s alright to touch you,” He says, voice rumbling in my chest.
I can’t help my laugh. It bubbles up from me fast and true and bright. I lean up, his mouth tantalizingly close, our fingers and breaths intertwining.
“It’s more than alright.”
EPILOGUE
Dear Sarah Lawrence,
You asked me to write about where I see myself in five years, so here I am. Writing. It’s not something I’m good at, but I want to get good at it, and I think that should count for something. Wanting to get good, the drive and focus it fosters, is something a lot more people should treasure. Some people just don’t care. Some people are fine with living as they are, without pushing their limits or boundaries in ways that will make them grow.
And I get it.
Growing is painful. I spent a whole year watching three brothers grow. Their father abused them, emotionally, but they broke out of it. I don’t know where I’ll see myself in five years, but I know where I’d like to see me – with them.
But I guess I should start from the beginning.
A year ago, I was studying my ass off to become a shrink, and go to NYU for it. It was for my dad – he has pretty bad depression, and when he was diagnosed I wanted to do everything in my power to help. And all I could think of was learn to treat him like I couldn’t. Like we didn’t have the money to. But the three brothers showed me that no matter how painful it is, no matter how selfish it may seem, you have to pursue your own dreams as hard as you can. They taught me that it’s noble to want to help, but you can’t help anyone if you don’t help yourself first. So I thought I’d write my essay about them, instead of whatever boring thing you wanted me to do.
There’s Fitz, the flippant and sarcastic golden baby of the three. He used to do a lot of drugs to take the edge off of losing his mother, but he went sober a year ago. Because of me. Because I passed out at a party from a tranquilizer he gave me. I landed in a pool and nearly drowned. He hasn’t touched a single substance since then. I know it started out as his way of punishing himself, but he told me yesterday he’s glad he did it. He’s glad I almost drowned. And as weird as it is to say something like that, that’s just how Fitz is. He says it with a smile all the time; “I’m glad you almost drowned”. And I know what he really means. He’s thanking me, in the only way he knows how.
And then there’s Burn, who doesn’t need to say anything at all. I used to be scared of him, since he’s extremely tall and never smiles. But that was just me judging a book by it’s very intimidating cover. He didn’t used to show much emotion at all. That was his way of dealing with his mother’s death; the less words he had to say, the less he had to interact with people. The less he had to explain his feelings to people – feelings he didn’t understand himself all that well. We ask how people are feeling all the time, but I never thought about what a flimsy and useless platitude it is. If we’re asked that, we never answer truthfully. Burn taught me that sometimes asking how someone is is the worst thing you can do. He taught me the truth is sometimes more important than being polite.
Finally, there’s Wolf. Wolf taught my heart how to beat. Not just survival-beat, slow and easy, but thunderously, like a storm rumbling your windows in the sills.
He was slow, coming into my life with the speed of a far-off cloud, but he held the same pressure. You know, the pressure just before a storm, suffocating and everywhere. Not in a bad way. In a rain-after-a-drought way. I couldn’t hate the pressure when I knew it was here to water my crops and save my life.
Maybe not my life. Maybe just my heart.
He taught me it’s alright to burn. He taught me that fire doesn’t only destroy – it reveals the new, tiny sprouts lying in wait to grow; sprouts you would’ve ignored, sprouts that would’ve died otherwise.
Wolf’s sitting right beside me as I write this. He’s telling me to tell you guys to burn this essay before you read it, before you fall in love with me, too. That’s how he met me – through my writing. He tried to get me expelled. It’s a long story. One I might write about someday. And if you accept me into your college, I might write about it a little better than I would if I’d gone elsewhere. I’ve got dozens of stories in me. Hundreds. And you’re welcome to help me get them out into the world. You’re welcome to be a part of my journey.
My name is Beatrix Cruz, and no matter what anyone says, no matter if you accept me or not, I’m going to be a writer. No matter how many times hardship overshadows me, I’m going to write all the stories inside of me. Because it’s selfish. Because I’m me, and I’ve learned to be selfish. Because there are always sprouts waiting just below the surface of the ashes.
So go ahead. Reject me. Accept me.
Whatever you do, burn this before reading.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wanted to thank each and every one of you. Yes, you. The one who read this book to the end, and beyond. You are wonderful. You too have sprouts beneath your ashes.
To my family; my mother D especially – thank you for your support and love. You are the light shining in my heart when all else is dark.
To the reviewers, bloggers, librarians, bookstagrammers, and every other amazing person who loves books and squeals about them as much as I do – thank you. My undying love and gratitude goes out to you for being so thoughtful and passionate.
