“It should have.” I feel suddenly sick and clutch my stomach. “I’m sorry—I didn’t think the lab would get anything.”
“This is so messed up,” says Mo, her eyes glittering with tears. “It’s so unfair to Luke.”
Violet leans against Pistol. “He’s the one who brought the weed.”
Mo frowns at her. “Hey, I saw you sucking on that pipe too, Violet.”
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant, and it’s not cool. I agree with Hannah, telling on ourselves is stupid, but we all deserve what Luke is getting—all of us. Don’t you fucking forget that.”
Violet, who can’t take a scolding any better than her grammy’s poodles, turns her sad eyes on us. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
Anxiety chews at my nerves, and I just want to go home. “Will you ride the horse back, Mo?”
“Sure.” She mounts Stella with new confidence. I guess in light of Luke’s troubles, my golden mare isn’t so scary. Violet boards Pistol, looking absolutely miserable.
As I ride Sunny home, my heart thundering, the truth hovers over me like a toxic cloud: this isn’t over. I could still end up in prison this fall instead of college.
* * *
—
Mo drives off as soon as we reach my house, and Violet stays to help me put the horses away. As we’re hanging the bridles in the tack room, I feel her arms wrap around my waist. “I’m so scared, Han.”
I hug her back. “I know. So am I.”
“We didn’t mean to do it,” she says, and her warm tears wet my shirt. “None of us would ever hurt anyone. This has been awful. I can’t sleep. I feel like a horrible person.”
I have all the same feelings but the opposite reaction. I want to survive this while Violet wants to pay for it. “You can’t make it right,” I tell her. “Don’t let this ruin your life.”
“It already has,” she whispers.
“No, V, don’t say that. You’re going to Stanford and getting your degree in biochemistry, and you’re going to cure cancer.”
She snorts.
“It’s true. You’re going to do amazing things, and you’re going to fall in love and explore the world and ride horses and have kids. Don’t throw that away.”
I smooth back her dark hair. She’s so small and warm and expensively fragrant, even after riding the horse. She hugs me tighter, and my stomach lurches. Drummer gets this girl, this sweet, smart beautiful girl, every night, and I can’t blame him for loving her, because the thing is—I love her too.
“I really think we should tell before this gets worse,” Violet says.
I watch her, confused by her need to confess when she has no problem hiding her relationship with Drummer. Violet’s not a secretive person, which means it must be his idea not to tell anyone. Is it because of me? Does he think I can’t handle the truth? I rub my eyes as Violet finishes her thought. “We’d feel better about ourselves if we confessed.”
I shake my head. “Do you honestly think you’ll feel better about yourself in prison, V?” I force a smile. “No flat irons, no nail polish, no cute boys?”
She lifts one shoulder. “I’m tougher than I look, Han.”
Our gazes lock and hers is unflinching. I see iron pride and her grandmother’s mountain grit. Violet’s tough, I get it, but what she doesn’t understand is that she doesn’t have to be. In prison, she’ll grow hard and bitter and untrusting. I mean, I’m all for criminals going to jail—but we’re not criminals. We’re just idiots.
“No mojitos,” I add, and Violet blinks at me, looking more hurt than amused.
When we’re finished, she slips into her Trackhawk and pops on her sunglasses. “This isn’t your decision alone, Hannah. I can do what I want.” Then she drives away.
I watch her go, my fists clenched. It occurs to me again that Gap Mountain isn’t Violet’s home. She’s an outsider, and if the others find out how close she is to talking, I’m not sure what they’ll do.
* * *
—
Later that evening, while I’m watching TV, Matilda leaps onto the sofa and licks my face. None of the monsters could get together tonight to talk about Luke, and honestly, there’s not much to say. He’s caught in the investigators’ net. Now we just wait.
Matilda pants in my face, and her bad breath is comforting, familiar and safe. I drape my arms over her warm, furred body, and she flops on top of me with a happy grunt. As the sun sets, soft golden light stripes the room, spotlighting particles of dust as they dance in the air. My dad’s old clock ticks on the wall in the kitchen. Our cabin creaks and breathes with the mountain, feeling peaceful and safe. It’s hard to believe that our worlds are exploding silently, like old stars.
I’m mulling this over when my dad enters the house and spots Matilda and me lounging in the family room. Halting, he stares, as if he’s not sure how to approach me.
“Hi, Dad,” I say casually.
His anger flares. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what happened today.” He nods at my phone. “You kids triangulate information faster than the CIA. I served search warrants on your friend Luke.”
“I heard you arrested him?”
“Not yet. I questioned him, took his phone and DNA, and let him go.” We watch each other like two poker players. I wonder what cards he’s holding, and he wonders the same about me.
Dad breaks first. “I’ve asked this before and I’ll ask it one more time: Do you know anything about the fire you haven’t told me?” He shifts his belt. “This is off the record, for now. Tell me everything and maybe I can help whoever else is involved. I don’t want to put your friends in prison, Hannah, but the evidence against Luke is growing, and there’s not much I can do for him now.”
“Is the case against him that strong?”
My dad flexes from foot to foot; his belt squeaks and his firearm glints in the evening sunset. He needs to shave, and he looks haggard. “His prints match those on the matchbook. Through his cell, we should be able to trace his movements. If we can prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he was at Gap Lake on July seventh around three p.m., then I’ll arrest him and charge him with arson.”
Holy shit. “Dad, it’s Luke. You can’t do that to him.”
His cheeks puff and then deflate in a long, slow breath. “Ten people are dead, Bug. One casualty was a firefighter with a husband and two young daughters. Dozens of homes are destroyed, businesses lost, vacations canceled, and national parklands burned to ash. You know what that means?”
I sigh. “Felony charges.”
“That’s right.” He reaches down to pet Matilda. “The law is the law, Hannah.”
Yes, I’ve heard that before, but what my dad doesn’t know is that Luke keeps his geolocator turned off. Forensic scientists won’t be able to track him through his phone, and the matchbook could have been dropped on any summer day. It’s good news for Luke.
My dad studies me, his expression guarded. “We found a second set of DNA and fingerprints on the beer bottle that don’t match his. We’re looking for another suspect.” He rubs his eyes, appearing old and tired. “I think you know more than you’re saying, Hannah, and I think you’re involved. Is that second set going to belong to you or one of your other friends?”
I throw up my hands. “You know I don’t like drinking, Dad, and you know why.”
His face crumbles. It’s a cheap shot, bringing up Mom. It’s not his fault she got drunk and killed someone, but it feels good to be honest about something. His body slumps, but his tone is edged in steel. “You’re keeping something from me, Bug. I feel it.”
Coldness washes over me even as my heart rate ratchets higher. To calm myself, I imagine the Gap, glittering and fathomless, a magical place that swallows secrets.
My heart rate settles, my breathing becomes flat and even, and I speak as dir
ectly and naturally as possible. “I’m just scared, Dad. We’re all freaking out about Luke. I didn’t see him that day until later, so I mean, it’s possible he started the fire, but I don’t believe it. We swim at the Gap all the time, and you know my friends drink, and you know Luke smokes pot. He’s not old enough to buy a lighter, so he grabs matches from Sam’s practically every day. He could have dropped that matchbook any time this summer.”
“Did you rehearse that speech, Hannah?”
I decide to stop talking. Lying to strangers is easy, but lying to people you know, especially trained investigators like my dad—not so easy. I scroll through the Netflix shows to hide my expression.
He trudges off to the kitchen, annoyed. “Did you get the damn tires?”
My answer bursts from my mouth. “Yes, I got the damn tires!”
Dad reappears and points at me, his voice tight. “Go to your room.”
My mouth falls open. I’m eighteen fucking years old.
“Did you hear me?” His voice is so calm it’s scary.
My heart flutters. “I heard you.”
“If you’re involved, Hannah, you better tell me. We’re getting more forensic results soon.”
God, I want to tell my dad everything, throw the burden of what we did onto him, but he can’t protect me and do his job. He will have to choose, and I know my dad—he’ll choose his job. He’ll arrest and process me, just as he did to my mom twelve years ago, and I can’t put him through that again. I would lose the little bit of father I have left. “If I was involved, I’d tell you.”
Another lie.
17
July 27
Gap Fire: 55% contained
Fatalities: 10
Time: 6:00 p.m.
Four days later, I finish my shift at the Reel Deal and step outside, shielding my eyes from the bright sun that I haven’t seen much of since July seventh. The wind has finally cleared away the last of the smoke. Some residents still wear N95 masks, but most of us have ditched them. The Gap Fire continues to burn miles away, but Gap Mountain proper is safe, and life is shifting into a new normal.
Dump trucks continue their steady parade as they clear debris from Stony Ridge. The dead have been buried, the insurance claims filed, and the lost possessions and vehicles replaced with new ones. Every business that wasn’t damaged has reopened, and the citizens are no longer walking around with shell-shocked expressions and tearful eyes. We are rebuilding. We are strong, but we are exhausted.
Luke was questioned, searched, and released. Now we wait while they dig into his cell phone history and the CCTV footage. We’re also waiting on results of the second set of DNA and his fingerprints. If the prints don’t match anyone in the ALPS system, then Cal Fire or the sheriff’s department will have grounds to subpoena Mo. She remains a “person of interest” due to posting and deleting the lake photo on July seventh.
The first blurb about the recent developments appears on the television’s ticker, running below the main news stories: TWO LOCAL TEENAGERS ARE SUSPECTED OF IGNITING THE GAP FIRE, WHICH KILLED TEN AND DESTROYED DOZENS OF HOMES. So far, Mo and Luke’s names are being withheld from the media, but everyone in Gap Mountain knows they’ve been questioned. Reporters arrive, smelling a story.
Luke’s in hiding and we’re worried about him. He texts us via his prepaid phone, but he won’t come out of his Red Cross trailer. Drummer’s driven by twice and hasn’t seen Luke’s little brother either. The curtains are drawn day and night, and as the heat wave continues, we imagine Luke and Aiden being baked alive inside their aluminum house.
My stomach rumbles and I don’t bother to use the crosswalk but jaywalk instead to the Wildflower Café across the street. The head server, Jeannie, frowns at the sight of me. It’s a small town and everyone knows I’m best friends with Luke and Mo, and since Luke is the kid with the criminal record, he’s everyone’s favorite suspect: That boy is violent. He’s on meth. He started the fire on purpose. Mostly lies.
I grab a seat at the counter, and a boy from school takes my order. “Hey, Hannah, what’ll you have?”
“Hi, Omar. Can I get a tuna melt with fries and a root beer?”
He writes that down and then lowers his voice: “How’s Luke?”
“Okay, I guess. I haven’t seen him. Have you?”
He clucks out of the side of his mouth. “Dude, I’ve barely seen my boy this summer. We hung at the river a couple times in June but nothing since that stupid-ass fire tore through.”
I change the subject. “Which college are you going to?”
Omar grins. “Fresno State, computer science.”
I smile back. “That’s cool. Mo’s going there for nursing.”
“No shit? She’ll be running that place before she’s done.”
Jeannie gives Omar “the eye” for talking too loud. He lowers his voice: “I don’t believe Luke did it. That guy can’t get a break. I mean, his own house burned down.”
“And his cat is missing,” I add.
“Is your dad going to arrest him?” My expression sours and Omar backs off. “Forget it, you probably can’t talk about it. Let me get this order in.” He bustles away, pretending disinterest, but the entire town is waiting to see what my dad is going to do with Luke. I’m waiting too.
Morale is at an all-time low in Gap Mountain. The annual tricounty rodeo and 4-H fair was canceled due to the air quality. I wasn’t barrel racing or selling animals this year, but I know how disappointed other kids must be. Losing the rodeo and fair is a huge blow after working hard all spring and summer raising and training animals.
When Omar brings my food, I scarf it down and then get out of the café as quick as I can. The townsfolk are on edge, they want answers, and there’s nowhere to hide, but I don’t want to go home, and I don’t want to see the monsters (except Drummer), or my barrel-racing friends, whom I usually only see at competitions or trainings anyway. I don’t feel like riding or doing chores. I just want this over. They say it’s impossible to commit a perfect crime; well, it’s more impossible to cover up an unplanned one.
Inside my car now, I text Drummer: want to hang out?
Working, he texts back.
I wonder if working is code for screwing Violet or if he’s actually at the lumberyard? In a moment of self-flagellation, I open the location-sharing app to see where Drummer is, and my stomach floats, as if I’m waiting for AP test results. Immediately, I see his and Violet’s avatars at their separate homes, and relief floods me.
But it’s a trick.
The app simply hasn’t refreshed yet. As soon as it does, his avatar travels at lightning speed to her house, and I see them standing together on the two-dimensional outline of Lulu’s house, in the attic.
Liar!
My foot taps the floor, and my heart thumps in time to it. It’s summer and it’s hot and my dad is hunting my friends, and my best friend is lying to me. I text Mo: what are you doing?
Mo: house hunting with my parents. They decided not to rebuild.
Me: can you talk?
She’s slow to respond: I’m busy, Han. I’ll call as soon as I can.
I stare out the window of my Jeep, sweltering in this parking lot, wondering who else I can hang out with. My thoughts reach like tentacles—Violet? Nope, she’s screwing the love of my life. Luke? No, he has his own problems. My dad? Hell no! Drummer? Fuck him.
I’m alone—as I have been most of my life—and I’m trying to keep my friends safe, but no one cares. They’re all busy. I need—I want—someone to promise me I’ll be all right. I want someone to take care of Hannah. Someone to tell me I’m beautiful, lovable, and perfect just the way I am.
Tears flow down my cheeks, and I slam my fist into the steering wheel. Is this what mothers are for—for when you have no one else? I laugh bitterly. I don’t even have a mother.
&n
bsp; I know one thing: I can’t be alone.
Then an idea hits me: Justin from Bishop—he likes me. He wants to see me. Fuck the monsters. I have other options.
I wait until my pulse slows, and then I text him: Hi, it’s Hannah. I’m free tonight if you still want to hang out. lmk
Little dots appear on my screen. He’s reading my text right now, and my pulse speeds. I instantly regret writing it. What if he says no?
Then he texts back: tonite is good
I stare at my phone in disbelief. Ok. Where?
Justin: Want to see a movie? We could meet at the Pine Street Theater. Should we get dinner first?
Is this a date, a real date? It feels like one, but I can’t imagine keeping up a conversation through an entire dinner with someone I don’t know. Just a movie is fine, I text.
Justin: it’s a date
Me: ok
Holy fuck—I’m going on a date with a man.
I drive home, my mind spinning. What if Justin and I fall in love? What if he wants to be my boyfriend? Maybe he’ll move to San Diego with me and we’ll live together while I go to school.
I enter the house and blindly trip over a chair, laughing at myself. I don’t even know Justin. He could own a house, a business; he could have a cat, or a kid! I didn’t ask his last name. My dad will kill me if he finds out what I’m doing.
I imagine telling Drummer and Violet I have a date and decide to go all out. I’m going to curl my hair, put on makeup, and wear my shortest, tightest skirt. Maybe Justin is a leg guy? I have legs for days. I might even post a picture of us so everybody can see.
Justin likes me, I’m sure of it. I twirl into the shower.
18
July 27
Gap Fire: 55% contained
Fatalities: 10
Time: 7:30 p.m.
I’m standing outside the Pine Street Theater, and my emotions have shot back to earth. Justin is not going to show up. Why would he? I’m just a kid straight out of high school. I’ve never had a real boyfriend or a real job. What are we going to talk about if he does show? I’m an adult, technically, but I don’t feel like one. I lean against the brick wall and try to appear casual.
Lies Like Wildfire Page 12
