A dark, hooded figure darted through the rain, toward the glass double doors. Kirk. Gretchen wondered what he thought of school. She was sort of surprised to see him going to class just like a normal person.
In the end, the only available parking spot was between two oversized SUVs. Gretchen pulled in carefully. “Do you have enough room to get out?”
Will peered out the window. “Barely,” he said.
The wind howled again as Will reached over the rear of his seat for his backpack. “Grab my umbrella—it’s in the backseat,” Gretchen said as she yanked open the handle and ducked into the rain. The wind blew harder, splattering her skin as it flew at her sideways.
The bell rang just as they hurried through the double doors. Water lay across the floor, and wet tracks led down the hall. A few students still loitered near lockers or strode past doorways, looking for classes. Gretchen pulled her damp class schedule from her bag. “Where am I going?” she asked, showing the limp paper to Will.
“That’s right down the hall.” Will pointed it out to her. “Third door on the right.”
“Where’s yours?” Gretchen asked.
“English is in the other wing. I’d better haul.”
Gretchen bit her lip and gave Will a half wave as he hurried in the other direction. Until she saw him rushing away, she hadn’t realized just how much comfort it gave her to know he was there. She was hit with another sense of vertigo, similar to the one she’d had going over the bridge. She didn’t like the thought of him being in the other wing. She wanted to keep him close.
Gretchen turned toward her class, remembering the moment a few weeks earlier when she had awoken in the hospital. Will had been there. He had kissed her on the forehead, and the soft touch of his lips had sent warmth through her whole body.
She had loved Will for years, but it was a love that almost frightened her with its intensity and implications. That was why she often sought out other boyfriends—guys who were fun but didn’t mean much to her. Like Jason Detenber. He was smart and handsome, but he’d had a mean streak.
Class had already started by the time Gretchen arrived at advanced-placement chemistry. She stood in the doorway, waiting for the teacher to look up. Blood was still pounding in her ears, and she felt hot, despite being drenched to the skin. She shivered, although she wasn’t cold.
The teacher stood before a whiteboard, already talking about the requirements for labs. She was petite, and wore rimless glasses before large brown eyes. Her close-cropped hair and tailored clothes told Gretchen that she was the organized type, someone who would hand out a syllabus and expect all assignments on time—no excuses.
“Mrs. Hoover?”
“It’s Ms.,” the teacher corrected automatically, a fraction of a second before her eyebrows lifted archly. Looking my best, Gretchen thought wryly as the teacher’s face registered surprise at Gretchen’s disheveled appearance.
A murmur ran through the class.
“May I help you?” Ms. Hoover asked, as if Gretchen couldn’t possibly be one of her students.
Gretchen walked in and handed her teacher the schedule. “I’m in this class.”
Ms. Hoover read it, sighed, and looked at Gretchen. “Okay, there’s a seat at the back. We’re reviewing our equipment.”
Gretchen nodded and made her way to a table at the back, where a girl with long brown-black hair and golden skin sat beside an empty lab stool. As Gretchen passed, the other students smirked and snickered, but her lab partner just nodded as Gretchen slid onto the stool. She didn’t seem at all surprised or disturbed by Gretchen’s appearance. As the dark-haired girl surveyed her face with mysterious black eyes, Gretchen was hit with a sudden, stabbing headache, and she put her fingers to her temples. It subsided as suddenly as it had arrived, and Gretchen raked her fingers through her damp hair, trying to force it into some sort of order.
“Now I’d like you to take a moment to inventory and explore your equipment,” Ms. Hoover announced. “I’m passing out a list of everything that should be at your station.” She gave a stack of papers to a good-looking guy in a letterman’s jacket, who handed a list to someone at each table. “Make sure it’s all in working order. Our first lab is on Wednesday, and I don’t want to hear any excuses.”
Gretchen was fighting a persistent sense of unreality—trying to jam thoughts that didn’t go together into her mind all at once.
“Who’s your new lab partner, Mafer?” the letterman asked as he handed her an inventory sheet. He had cocoa skin and a brilliant smile, and Gretchen was sure that he was used to having every female in a ten-mile radius sigh over him.
“Her name’s Gretchen,” Mafer replied.
Gretchen cocked her head. “How did you know?”
“Mafer knows all,” the letterman joked. He flashed a killer smile at Gretchen before heading off to his table.
Gretchen placed her hands on the table, trying to steady herself. “No, seriously, how did you know?”
“I’m psychic,” Mafer said. “Also, Ms. Hoover called roll. You were the only one who wasn’t here.” Her dark eyes were large and liquid, and her glance was cut with keen intelligence. There was something about Mafer that made her seem ancient. Gretchen shifted in her chair, uncomfortable.
“Oh. Right.”
Mafer held up the paper. “Should we run down this list? Want to see if all of the proper tongs are in the proper drawer?”
“Sure.”
Mafer read out the list of supplies, and Gretchen checked to make sure they were in the drawer. Everything was in excellent condition; nothing was missing.
“So, what kind of name is Mafer?” Gretchen asked when her lab partner pulled out the beakers. “Does it have a meaning?”
“It’s a nickname—short for Maria Fernanda. Maria Fernanda Aguilar Echevarria.”
“Why would you want to shorten that?” Gretchen joked.
“Right.” A dry smile. “My grandparents are from Mexico.”
“Were you born in Walfang?”
“No, Chicago. But my mom’s on a deployment. My brother and I have been living with my grandmother in Waterbreak. How did you end up here?”
How did I end up here? It was a good question, one with a complicated answer. “My dad and I have always spent summers out here. He decided we should move out full-time.”
“You’re close to him.”
“Yeah.” Gretchen smiled at the thought of Johnny. It was funny to think that he would come in for a parent-teacher conference with buttoned-down Ms. Hoover. Wonder what she’ll think of him, Gretchen thought.
“So—are you feeling better?”
“Better?”
“You seemed upset when you came in. Are you okay now?”
The thought of the howling wind, the journey over the bridge, made Gretchen’s heart pound again.
Mafer must have read her face, because she said, “Sorry.”
“No, I—” Gretchen shook her head. “I just don’t like water much.”
Mafer nodded, sympathetic but unsurprised, and waited a moment, as if inviting her to say more. But Gretchen didn’t want to say more. She just focused on calming her breaths, making them even. Fifteen seconds ticked by, and Mafer handed Gretchen a box of matches and nodded at the Bunsen burner. “Let’s light this thing up.”
Gretchen checked to make sure that the holes in the burner were closed. Then she lit the match.
Gretchen pushed the button, then turned on the gas tap and held out the light. The burner lit, then flared unexpectedly, sending up a gout of flame. She shrieked as the edge of her sleeve caught fire.
The class erupted into chaos—everyone yelling at once—as Gretchen waved her flaming arm before her face. Mafer grabbed the sweater from the back of her chair and tossed it over Gretchen’s arm, then turned off the gas.
“What happened?” Ms. Hoover ran over, shouting. “What did you do?”
“Gretchen is going to the nurse,” Mafer announced. She took Gretchen’s other elbow an
d started to lead her out of the classroom. The students cleared a path for them. It flashed into Gretchen’s mind that her classmates were a little afraid of Mafer.
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Ms. Hoover looked serious. “Okay, everybody back to work. Nobody come near this burner.”
The noise subsided as the door to Ms. Hoover’s class shut behind them.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Gretchen said.
“You’re in shock.”
Gretchen followed obediently as Mafer drew her away from the door. “Just down the hall,” Mafer said before Gretchen could ask the question. They walked to a small door, and Mafer pulled it open. A bored-looking overweight woman looked up from her desk.
“This girl probably needs to go to the hospital,” Mafer said. “She’s got a bad burn.”
“What?” The nurse hurried over to Gretchen. Her large hands were gentle as she pulled away the red sweater wrapped around her arm. The sleeve of her orange shirt was charred. Gingerly the nurse peeled the fabric away from Gretchen’s arm.
The skin was pink, completely unharmed. The nurse pushed the fabric up further, and Gretchen held up her whole arm. There was no sign that the fire had ever touched her.
Gretchen looked at Mafer, whose eyebrows lifted slightly.
“You’re lucky,” the nurse said after a moment. “You put it out in time. It just caught your sleeve.”
Gretchen stared at her charred sleeve. How had she escaped getting hurt?
“So … should we just head back to class?” Mafer asked. “I mean, she was just on fire.”
The nurse looked at her sternly. “You can go back to class. This one has to fill out an injury form.”
Mafer put a gentle hand on Gretchen’s shoulder. When Gretchen looked up, they locked eyes for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“I guess,” Gretchen said. She didn’t really know the answer.
Mafer nodded. “All right. Take it easy. Go home after this. It’s just the first day—you won’t miss anything.”
“She can’t just go home,” the nurse said primly.
“Oh, come on.” Mafer shook her head and walked out the door.
The nurse frowned after her, then stood up and turned toward a large black filing cabinet. “Name?”
“Gretchen Ellis.”
The nurse flipped to the E’s and pulled out a folder. She flipped it open, then frowned. “This isn’t complete.”
“It isn’t?”
With a snap, the nurse pulled the paperwork from the file. “Your parents forgot to fill out some of their medical history.” She handed it to Gretchen. “Please bring this back to me tomorrow, along with the signed injury report.” She sat down heavily in the office chair and pulled a blank form from a drawer.
Gretchen looked down at the paperwork in her hands. Her mind swam, and she had to lean back on the table.
“Are you all right?” the nurse asked.
“Not really,” Gretchen replied.
The nurse came over and touched Gretchen’s hair. It was a kind gesture, almost motherly, and it left Gretchen feeling tired. “Maybe you should go home,” the nurse said after a moment. “You’ve had a scare. Do you have a ride?”
Gretchen nodded. She had her car. Not that she wanted to face the journey over the bridge alone, not with the howling wind outside. Besides, she didn’t want to strand Will at school. She let out a sigh. “It’s the first day,” she said at last. “I think I’ll stay.”
“Hey.” Will smiled at her warmly and indicated the seat across from his.
A few hours had passed, but Gretchen was still getting over her scare from the morning. It was good to see Will, though. Peace settled over Gretchen as she took the seat by the window. Outside, the rain had quieted to a steady patter, the clouds lining the sky with a smooth blanket of gray. The weather didn’t seem menacing anymore. Here, tucked in the corner of the crowded cafeteria with Will, it somehow seemed cozy to have a dreary day outside.
“So, how’s the first day going?” Will asked.
“Oh—not too bad.” Gretchen pressed her lips together in something she hoped resembled a smile. “Although I’m starting to wonder why I’m taking all of these AP courses.”
“Because you’re a glutton for punishment?” Will suggested.
“It’s starting to look that way.”
“Hey, guys!” Angus descended on them with his usual ton-of-bricks suavity, dropping into the seat beside Will and letting his tray clatter on the table. “So, what’s all this about catching fire?”
Gretchen hid her face in her hands as Will let out a strangled “What?”
“It’s nothing—my sleeve got caught in a Bunsen burner.”
“So!” Angus pulled a notebook out of his back pocket. “Are you going to sue the school, or what?”
Gretchen rolled her eyes. “Get serious.”
“I am! Word on the street is that you want to take the school district to court for unsafe building practices and faulty lab equipment.”
“That is a complete fabrication.”
“No comment,” Angus said, writing on his pad.
Will glowered at his friend and twisted the notebook out of his hand.
“Hey!” Angus protested.
“Find another story.” Will swiveled in his seat and tossed the notebook into a nearby trash can.
“You know, that had my homework assignments in it,” Angus told him.
“It’s only the first day of school, Angus,” Will pointed out. “See if you can remember.”
“Seriously, Gretchen, would you consider doing an interview with the paper?” Angus asked. “Even just a first-person I’m-so-lucky-to-be-alive kind of deal?”
“Angus, I’m already the new girl—I’m not looking for attention,” Gretchen said. “I just want to blend in a little.”
Angus laughed. “Good luck.” He nodded over at someone sitting in the corner, peering at Gretchen over the top of a notebook.
“Kirk doesn’t count.” Gretchen’s voice was soft. Kirk smiled at her with a sweet, innocent grin. He reminded her of a pet, or a little brother, or something.
“Yeah, he’s always had the stares for you,” Angus admitted.
Will shuddered. “God, he gives me the creeps.”
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Gretchen said as Kirk went back to sketching.
“Except that he’s crazy and potentially dangerous,” Angus said brightly.
“He isn’t dangerous,” Gretchen protested.
“You don’t know that. He’s unstable, at least.” Will looked at her closely. “I don’t want you hanging around him, Gretchen.”
“Ah, news flash, Will.” Gretchen’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “You’re not my dad.”
“No, because your dad wouldn’t even try to make any rules, would he?”
“What are you saying about my father?” Gretchen demanded. She realized that she must have looked pretty intimidating just then, because Angus leaned forward.
“Okay, let’s not bring parents into any of this,” he said. “Let’s just all take some nice, cleansing breaths—”
“Shut up, Angus,” Will snapped.
For a moment nobody knew what to say. The silence was broken by the bell signaling the end of lunch.
“I’ve got to get my stuff for my next class,” Gretchen said, jamming her lunch into the bag. She pushed back her chair and started toward the door. “See you, Angus,” she called over her shoulder as she joined the general exodus from the cafeteria.
“Nice going,” she heard Angus say to Will.
Gretchen’s mind was fogged with irritation, and it took her three tries to open her combination lock. It finally gave way with a yank, and she slammed her books inside.
“I don’t want to have to report you to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Literature,” said a voice.
Gretchen looked up. Mafer was leaning against the metal locker beside hers, grinning.
“Be nice to the books,” Mafer said.
Gretchen sighed. “I’m just—”
“Pissed at someone?” Mafer guessed.
Gretchen’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “How could you tell?”
“Lovers’ quarrel?” Mafer asked.
Gretchen felt her face flush hot. “What?” She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled. “No!”
Mafer shrugged. “Okay.”
“Don’t say okay like that. Like you know something. Which you don’t.”
“Okay.”
Gretchen breathed out an exasperated sigh.
“Boys and girls can be friends, right?” Mafer said brightly. “It always works like that.”
“It can,” Gretchen said.
Mafer looked down the hall, where Will had reappeared. He was drifting slowly toward class beside Angus. “He’s that boy …” Her voice went soft, almost dreamlike. “The one who went crazy when his brother died. What was his name?” She closed her eyes. “Timothy Archer.”
Gretchen stared at her. “Will didn’t go crazy.”
“No?” Mafer opened them again, her dark eyes frank yet languid.
“He’s not crazy. Not at all.”
“Let me tell you a little secret.” Mafer leaned in close enough so that Gretchen could smell the slight almond scent of her hair, the mint of her breath. “Everybody around here’s a little crazy.” She pulled back and looked Gretchen full in the face.
Gretchen didn’t know what to say. Her head was spinning. I’ve been locked in an asylum, she thought. Trapped with the lunatics.
“So, when can we get together to talk about our project?” Mafer asked. Just like that. As if they had been passing the time or talking about the weather. It took a moment for Gretchen’s thoughts to realign.
“Project?”
“Hoover assigned a report, due before our lab next Wednesday. It’s about matter. When can you get together?” Mafer chewed on the end of her blue pen.
“I—I don’t know,” Gretchen stammered. “Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Perfect.” Mafer scribbled a note on the back of her hand. “See you in class, lab partner.” And then she walked off down the hall just as the first bell rang.
Fury's Fire Page 4
