He pulls away so fast I fall out of his arms. “Han, what are you doing?”
He wipes his mouth dry, and heat glides to my cheeks. God! I repulse him! “I’m sorry.” I press my lips together and stare at my hands. My heart vanishes back into its cave.
Drummer fidgets, glances at Violet, who’s still checking on Luke by his car. “We’re going to be okay,” he says to me. “You feel better now?”
I nod but I want to scream with shame. What is it about me that’s so unlovable?
Violet returns and interrupts, a hard edge to her husky voice. “Luke needs a ride home.”
She scowls at Drummer, then me, and I wonder if she saw me try to kiss him. I straighten up and lift my chin. “We probably shouldn’t hang out together until this investigation blows over.”
“Huh?” asks Luke.
“I said, we should lie low and stay away from each other.”
Luke hiccups. “Right, so we don’t start another fucking fire.”
“Shut up,” Violet snaps, glancing around, but the parking lot is quiet. There’s no one around to hear.
“We’ll drive you home,” I say to Luke, trying to wrangle him into Violet’s car.
He lunges past me and wraps Drummer in a viselike hold. “Let’s go back inside,” he slurs, laughing.
Drummer tries to fight him off, but he’s no match for Luke. They wrestle and Luke gets heated and starts to choke Drummer for real.
“Stop it, would you?” Violet cries. “We’re supposed to be talking about Mo. She’s in jail!” The boys stop and we stare at one another in the parking lot that’s surrounded by whispering trees and littered with pine needles. “Mo’s mom said your dad yelled at her and then took her away,” Violet says to me.
I let out my breath. “Well, he’s under a lot of pressure to find out who did this, you know.” The Gap Fire is the deadliest and costliest crime of his career. As far as my dad’s concerned, the gloves are off. I chew my lip. “So why did he arrest her anyway?”
Luke answers: “Her dad remembered she went swimming at the lake on the seventh and mentioned it at the bar, thinking Mo might be a good witness. He had no idea she’d already lied to the police about where she was. It got back to your dad, and he arrested her for giving a false report.”
“Shit,” I mutter. “Now he can get her DNA and fingerprints and maybe match her to the beer bottle.”
“I can’t believe this,” Violet says, tapping her foot. “It’s gone too far.” Her eyes flip to mine. “If we come forward, will your dad go easier on us?”
I laugh out loud. “It’s not up to him, V. If we fess up, we can plead to a lesser charge, but that doesn’t mean the district attorney will let us go. It means we’ll spend two years in prison instead of six, that’s all.”
“Can’t your dad give us community service hours or something?” Drummer asks.
I shake my head. My friends don’t understand. “Look, the sheriff has no control over our sentencing, and the fact that I’m his daughter won’t help me. If anything, it will hurt me. Of all of us, I’m the one who should have known better.”
Violet crosses her arms over her flat, exposed stomach. “Well, I’d rather go to prison for two years than six.”
“I’d rather not go at all.”
Luke exhales smoke like a dragon. “They have my pipe and my matches,” he murmurs. “When the lab is done with them, I’m going to jail, aren’t I?” His dark eyes meet mine. His unruly hair flops over one eye. “But I can’t—I can’t leave Aiden.” A sob rips from his chest, startling all of us.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” I peer over Luke’s shoulder and meet Drummer’s gaze. He looks as shocked as I feel.
“I can’t,” Luke repeats. He rushes to his car, vomits all over the back tire. Violet shakes her head and glares at me, as if this is my fault.
“Let’s go home,” I say to Luke.
He wipes his mouth and points at us. “All of you stay the fuck away from me.” Before we can stop him, he leaps into his Chevy and peels out of the lot. Smoke wafts from his spinning tires.
“Jesus!” Violet cries.
“Go after him!” says Drummer. We dive into her car, and she follows Luke with me in the front seat and Drummer in the back. Luke veers onto a side road and accelerates into the mountains. Violet stomps on her gas pedal.
“No, slow down,” I cry, my muscles tensing. But Violet doesn’t listen. She steps harder on the gas and tries to keep up with Luke. Her big car leans and drifts around the tight mountain turns.
Ahead, Luke’s Malibu is swift, cutting corners and flying around blind curves as we climb higher toward the peaks. Tears blur my vision. “Please, Violet, not so fast,” I murmur. I don’t mind speed when I’m the driver. I hate it when I’m not.
Drummer’s hand snakes up from the backseat and gently touches my shoulder. He understands why I’m scared.
I was six when my mother crashed our car. It was dark and I rode illegally in the front seat. As the road looped ahead, I laughed and my stomach twirled. I thought my mom was playing a game, veering from lane to lane with the music blasting. I threw up my hands. “Go, Mommy!”
She’d taken me with her to the bar that night because my dad was at work. I’d colored pictures and drunk Shirley Temples while she tossed back shots and argued with whoever would listen. She called it our “special date,” our secret.
No one noticed when we left out the back door, because that was also the way to the restroom. Soon after I said Go, Mommy, she sideswiped an oncoming car, and my broken crayons slid off my lap. The other driver slammed headfirst into a tree, and I heard the long, lonely beep of a horn as we drove away. Mom stared at me, her blond hair tangled, mascara running down her face, and said, Don’t tell Daddy.
I glimpse my reflection in Violet’s side mirror, and it makes my heart kick into high gear and my chest squeeze tight. With my streaked makeup and unkempt hair, I look just like her. Just like Mom.
Violet’s tires squeal around a turn, and I think I’m going to puke.
“Hannah?” Drummer says, prodding me. “Violet, pull over. She’s not okay.”
“What? No!” Violet drives faster.
“Slow the fuck down!” he screams at her.
She slows but continues to follow Luke’s vanishing red taillights.
Drummer shakes me hard. “Hannah, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
I sputter and draw a breath. Violet finally slows and glances at me. “I’m not going that fast.”
I shake my head, wishing they would both disappear. “Where’s Luke?” I ask.
Suddenly, Violet screams and slams on her brakes, throwing us forward. “Look!”
Ahead, I spot rising dust and dimming lights. For the second time in my life, the long, lonely sound of a car horn pierces the mountain air.
Luke drove his Malibu off a cliff.
20
August 2
Gap Fire: 75% contained
Fatalities: 10
Time: 6:00 p.m.
After Luke’s crash, Drummer called 911 from the road, and medics airlifted Luke to a county hospital in Fresno. A week later, the hospital released him. Luke had a moderate TBI, traumatic brain injury, but that didn’t stop my dad from charging him for driving while under the influence. “I had to, Han. The law is the law,” he said, just like when he arrested Mom.
Mo’s free on bail. Her parents dipped into her college fund to pay her bond and hire an attorney. Luke has a court-appointed lawyer. He calls her the Pit Bull and can’t stop talking about her. For the first time in his life, Luke has an adult on his side. His mom isn’t as sympathetic. When she learned that Luke totaled his car, she kicked him out, so he’s staying at Mo’s for now.
Reporters camp out at the police station, harassing my dad, and Mo and Luke when they can find them.
Since Luke’s accident, I’ve lost my appetite and I feel zero joy for anything, even my dog and my horses. I stand in the middle of rooms, frozen. I can’t remember how to work the register at the Reel Deal. I have nightmares about my mother and see broken crayons when I close my eyes. I remember my mother’s screams when my dad’s partner took her away: I’m your wife!
On top of all that, I’ve had sex for the first time and still haven’t told anyone. My friends have their own problems right now, and anyway, the sex feels surreal, like it happened to someone else. Justin has texted me twice, but I haven’t responded.
The Gap Fire, which continues to terrorize Yosemite National Park, no longer feels like our fire. If no one can stop it or control it, how can five teens be held responsible for it? It’s not like it’s doing our bidding. No, the fault lies with fossil fuels and melting ice caps and a quickly heating planet!
This lie that started so small is now blazing through our lives like the wildfire that roared through our town. Each piece of evidence is going to lead to a new piece of evidence, and there are too many factors we never considered or thought to consider. In wildfire terms, our lie is zero percent contained. Luke and Mo are suspects now. Who’s next?
* * *
—
The day after Luke gets out of the hospital, the monsters meet in Violet’s attic. Lulu lets me inside, and she looks every bit her age today. “Luke’s going to be all right. He’s a fighter,” she says as she hands me a pitcher of lemonade and a platter of cookies. “You can take the back staircase, Hannah, it’s closer.” She points to the narrow staircase behind the kitchen. “Keep your voice low, and don’t say anything that might upset Luke.”
Is she serious? Everything we have to talk about could upset Luke, but I agree and tiptoe to the attic. “Hi,” I say as I shoulder open the small door and enter the attic from the backside. All the monsters are present. “I brought snacks.”
Violet huffs. “Grammy can’t stop feeding us.” The shades in the attic have been pulled down and the lights dimmed.
I sigh. We’re together for the first time since Luke drove off the cliff, and it’s the only thing that feels right.
“I’ll take some of those,” Drummer says, grabbing a fistful of cookies. I stiffen because I’m still embarrassed about that awful kiss I gave him. I should have known better. I’m his best friend. I might have fallen for him, but he’s still floating free. Drummer smiles and I let out my breath. So we’re going to pretend it never happened—maybe that’s for the best.
Mo sits cross-legged on the sofa, looking small and frail in her skinny jeans and halter top. “How are you?” I ask her.
She waves her hand. “Better than I was.” Her texts after she was released from jail went like this:
no fucking privacy!
I’ll never be clean again.
if the inmates don’t kill you, the food will!
We’re all glad she’s back.
Last, I see Luke. He slouches against the wall, his dark eyes burning holes in the rug. The hair on his head has been shaved off, and there’s a fresh incision on his scalp from some hospital procedure. He looks like he’s either sick or has just joined the military. In spite of his already pale skin, I can tell he’s lost color. His lips flicker into a smile. “Hi, Han,” he croaks.
“Hi.” I sit cross-legged next to him. “How’s your brother doing?”
Luke’s voice is bitter and charged with grief. “How the fuck should I know? Mom doesn’t answer the phone, says she’ll call the police if she sees me.” He rubs the stubble across his head.
“So you’re staying at Mo’s?”
“Yeah, and Violet’s grandma is helping me with the hospital and legal stuff.”
Luke’s Chevy crashed into a tree after sliding forty feet off the embankment, and his head struck his side window. He’s lucky the airbags deployed and his brain injury is moderate, but via a text from Drummer, I know Luke’s suffering severe mood swings.
Because he was stoned, his blood alcohol was over the limit, and he’s underage, my dad impounded his car as part of the DUI investigation. Did Luke crash due to drunkenness or distracted driving, or did he swerve off the road on purpose? We don’t know and he’s not saying.
There’s a long silence as the monsters avoid looking at one another. Our summer hasn’t turned out the way we hoped, and I don’t know how to fix it. I wipe my face, feeling miserable. “I’m sorry,” I offer to the group. My lips tremble and stress courses through me, making me shiver. “I’m sorry for everything.” And I am—for the arrests, for the accident, for Luke getting kicked out, and for grabbing his arm that day.
“We’re sorry too,” Drummer says, sliding down next to me.
Mo gathers our attention: “So I heard from my lawyer this morning. The fingerprints and saliva on that beer bottle are not mine. I’m cleared of that, at least.”
Luke slaps his hands over his face and groans.
“They still have me for lying about my alibi,” she amends, adding a sad wink that assures Luke you’re not alone. “But now they’re looking for another suspect.”
“God, will this ever end?” Violet moans.
“Will this affect your college admission?” I ask Mo.
Tears glitter in her hazel eyes. “The judge gave me permission to attend, but I have to commute for now, because my parents canceled my campus housing. They can’t afford it with my legal expenses. Besides that, my lawyer warned me that if I’m convicted of giving a false police report, my acceptance might be rescinded.”
“But that’s a two-hour drive each way!” Drummer says.
She shrugs. “I rearranged my schedule so I only go Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
I dig my fingernails into my palms as my chest tightens. “That’s not fair.”
We stare at our shoelaces, helpless. Mo peers at me. “Did you know we could get in this much trouble for lying?” Her tone is not critical, but I feel my cheeks go hot all the same. I glance at Violet, because I was not the first to lie.
Violet sucks on her lower lip and then exhales. “It’s not her fault, Mo. When Hannah and I rode into town, I could have told Sheriff Warner the truth when he asked me what I’d seen, but I didn’t. The fire department was on their way, and I thought they would put the fire out, plus, I was high, remember? I didn’t—I had no idea…”
Her eyes go round and soft, and she scrunches herself into the smallest size she can. I don’t know if she does it on purpose, but she softens everyone in the room, including me. I wish I could draw sympathy the way she does, but there is nothing helpless or cute about my tall, wiry body. Still, I’m glad she took the heat for telling the first lie.
Luke moans and rubs his head. “I don’t want to talk about this.” Mo snuggles up to him, and he hooks his arm around her.
“Let’s watch a movie,” Drummer suggests. He selects a horror flick—something that will entertain us and make us forget.
Halfway through the movie, Drummer tosses a piece of candy at me, making me smile. Luke takes off his socks, and we all complain about his smelly feet. Then Mo runs downstairs to carry up more snacks from Lulu’s kitchen, and Violet lays her head on my shoulder.
As the jump scares increase, we merge into a ball, a mass of limbs and hair and skin, just like when we were kids. I have an elbow in my side, a head on my lap, and breath in my ear, and I don’t want this moment to ever end.
We are the monsters because none of us wanted to play the human in that community center rendition of Where the Wild Things Are when we were kids. Now we are facing capture and separation, and we are terrified.
* * *
—
The final blow comes to our group after the movie. Mo and I are playing checkers, the boys are watching YouTube, and Violet is changing the music when we hear cars drive up the circular drivewa
y and skid to a halt.
Luke rushes to the third-story window and peers out. “No fucking way!” He covers his head, and his chest begins to heave. “I can’t do this again.” He throws a punch at the wall and leaves a gaping hole.
Violet backs into the desk and almost knocks over the glass unicorn I gave her when she was ten.
Mo leaps to her toes. “What’s happening?”
“Police,” Luke answers, and his expression shatters into a thousand pieces.
My scalp goes cold. Downstairs, we hear Lulu throw open her twelve-foot-tall front door. “What in the hell do you want now?” she shouts.
I recognize my dad’s voice, and then Lulu Sandoval emits a slew of curses and threats, but they don’t stop what is coming. My dad and his two deputies plod up the stairs, holsters creaking, boots thumping, and radios hissing.
My heart hammers. Oh god, oh god! I want to hide, but I race to Drummer’s side instead.
“What is this?” he asks me.
I don’t know, I mouth.
My dad’s large frame fills the door, and the five of us gather together, arms linked. We face him as if we’re facing a firing squad.
“You’re all here,” he says, his eyes burning into mine. “All the monsters.”
Violet inches away from the desk and clutches Drummer so tightly her knuckles turn white.
I imagine we five look as guilty as hell.
Dad’s hand automatically rests on his handcuffs, and I see that he’s not fucking around. “Lucas O’Malley,” he starts, “new evidence has placed you at Gap Lake on July seventh when the wildfire started, and I’m arresting you for malicious arson, giving a false police report, and obstructing an arson investigation.”
Malicious? My eyelids spring wider.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”
Lies Like Wildfire Page 14
