SLOW BURN

by Christie, Nicole

  “Oh, I just help out once in a while. I’m not even…” I trail off self-consciously. For some reason, I’m embarrassed. I study the hot pink nail polish on my toes.

  “There’s a lot of jobs out there where you can work with kids with special needs. You’d be good at it.”

  I flush. “Hm. Maybe. What’s your favorite place in the world?”

  “On a boat in the ocean. Yours?”

  I almost say “my shower,” but hastily change my mind. “The zoo. More specifically, on a bench in front of the gibbon exhibit. I could watch those suckers all day.” I point my finger at him. “What are you afraid of?”

  “The dark.” Dean shrugs at my gaping surprise. “Only when I’m trying to fall asleep.”

  He doesn’t offer anything else, even when I stare at him expectantly. He just looks back at me, unashamed. Hm. Dean Youngblood is scared of the dark, Big Mack Aina cries when he’s mad, and Nick Adler gets lost in his own neighborhood…what I could do with this information if I were evil!

  Mentally shrugging those thoughts away, I look around the room. “So, do you sleep with the light on, or night lights?”

  “No. When I was a kid, my dad said the only way to get over a fear is to confront it head on. Every night before I went to sleep, he’d take the lights out of my room, and lock the door. I used to lie awake for hours.” Dean flips open his lighter and stares into the small flame. “I guess that’s why I don’t sleep much now.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause your dad traumatized you!” I can’t keep the disgust out of my voice. “That’s horrible, Dean.”

  “I’m not traumatized.” He’s amused at my outraged expression. “I’ll be okay, Juliet.”

  I’m quiet while trying to picture a little Dean, lying in bed, his odd-colored eyes wide with terror. Poor little Dean…my heart melts a tiny bit for him. His dad is a jerk!

  “Okay, challenge time!” I announce after a thoughtful pause. “After a certain amount of questions, you have to choose a challenge.”

  “You asked all the questions,” he points out.

  “Exactly, so you’re due for a challenge. Let me think.” I tap a finger to my lips. “Okay, I got it. For one week, you have to let yourself make mistakes. Stupid little things, you know? Like deliberately get a question on a test wrong—or, uh, wear your pants inside out. Trip. Let yourself fall.”

  I look him in the eye, challenging him with a raise of my eyebrows. He stares back at me, slightly incredulous.

  “You want me to be a clumsy idiot for a week?” Dean sums up. “No—hell, no. Why would I do that?”

  “So you’ll realize that it’s okay to be human.” I make my voice super caring and compassionate, tilting my head to the side. “You need to learn how to laugh at yourself, Dean. It won’t hurt as much you think, I promise.”

  “Can’t I just laugh at you?”

  I pretend to scowl at him. “Hey, if you don’t want to accept the challenge, that’s cool. Be warned, though, that there are penalties for your refusal.”

  “Oh, yeah, like what?”

  “As soon as I think some up, I’ll tell you.”

  He chuckles at that, shaking his head. Then he shifts in his chair, leaning forward. “I’ll do it,” he relents. “If you accept my challenge.”

  I brighten, changing positions so I’m resting on my knees, bringing me closer to him. “I accept. What do I have to do?”

  I’m caught by the sudden serious intensity in his stunning face. He looks at me searchingly before he finally speaks.

  “Forget the past, and give someone a second chance,” he says quietly.

  What? I almost fall over from shock. Sitting back on my heels, I try to absorb his words before saying anything. He wants me to forgive Johnny? I thought he wanted us to break up.

  “Dean, I can’t,” I say finally, staring down at the carpet. “Johnny and I are over. At this point, the best I can hope for is to remain friends.”

  “I didn’t—”

  He’s interrupted by someone calling his name from outside. A second later, the doors are thrown open, and Kara comes stumbling into the room.

  “Dean, there you are!” she exclaims. Then she realizes I’m there as well, kneeling on the carpet in front of Dean’s chair—and she freezes.

  I’m not sure what kind of thoughts are running through her dirty little mind, but a terrifying gamut of emotions run across her features, ranging from psychotic fury—to a sly satisfaction. It’s so weird that the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says in a smooth voice. She tosses her red hair over one shoulder, and gracefully backs out, pulling the doors shut along the way.

  “Great,” I mutter, scrambling to my feet. “I can just imagine the rumors she’s going to spread now. I’d better go back out there. Thanks for letting me hang with you. It was fun, except for that last part.”

  I dash outside. Kara’s sitting at the table, casual as can be. She’s talking to Arianna and Ben, but gives me a smile and small wave when I come out. I just narrow my eyes at her, and her attention moves back to the others. She’s so weird.

  Heather and Sloane have disappeared. So has Johnny, and Sara’s friend, Sidney—Jasmine. Are they together? Probably. Mack’s still here, at least. He’s talking to that tiny girl from homecoming. He spots me, and waves me over. He introduces the pretty dark-haired girl as Lorena, whom he met through mutual friends. Lorena, who is home-schooled, turns out to be funny and direct. It’s obvious she really likes Mack—and judging by the way he keeps his attention focused on her, the feeling is mutual.

  I spend the next hour talking with them, then decide I’d better check in with Heather. I don’t find her, but I do bump into Tanya. She’s huddled around a patio heater with Celia Chu—a cheerleader, and a tall cute guy she introduces as Dalton, whose father works as a janitor at Leclare. I don’t know why I need to know that about him, but then I remember Tanya is crazy rich. Maybe that kind of thing is important to her? Dalton doesn’t seem to mind. He continues to smile as he stands too close to her and stares down at her chest.

  I text Heather, but don’t get a response. I still don’t see Johnny around, but I don’t look too hard for him. I wonder where Dean is, but then someone says he took off on his bike a while ago. Hm, where did he go?

  Ben texts me to ask for help taking a video of the party, which he plans to upload to his website. So I spend the rest of the night following him around with his phone on video mode as he makes his rounds through the party. The things he gets people to do! He convinces Ryan and Jason to wrestle in front of the camera to see who can choke his twin out first, and several girls (drunk) lift their shirts for him upon request. I make faces at Ben, but he just laughs and gestures for me to keep filming. One of the girls gives him sloppy tongue on camera, after which he reminds himself to edit that part out.

  Sometime around two a.m., Heather finally appears, flushed and a little drunk. I’m annoyed because she promised me she’d be okay to drive us back tonight. Well, I’m not making two stops, so she’s sleeping over whether she likes it or not! She makes me drag her to her car by her arm.

  It’s a harrowing ride home, and I almost get us into an accident when I think there’s a cat sitting in the middle of the street. There’s no cat—I’m just seeing things. When we get to my house, Heather immediately climbs into my bed and falls asleep—sprawled sideways, and with a big smile on her face. Awesome.

  While I’m getting ready for bed, I get a brilliant idea for a present for Dean. Heck, I’ve already got most of the equipment in the garage. I’d have to set it up here, then have Mack and the other guys help me move it to Dean’s. I start to mentally plan everything out, and guess what?

  I end up falling asleep with a big smile on my face, too.

  ******

  Chapter 34

  Very early Sunday morning, I’m jolted awake by someone shaking my shoulder.

  It’s Dad. “Get dressed,” he says tersely. “Mic
helle’s in the hospital. It’s the baby.”

  I jump off the couch, and grab my hoodie and phone, then Dad and I are running out the door. I’m praying as he speeds to Hidden Cove Hospital, but deep down I have a hopeless sense of dread.

  I don’t know what time it is. We’ve been sitting in the waiting room for hours. The sun is up, and with it comes terrible news. Michelle lost the baby. She went into full blown labor so quickly, and since she wasn’t far enough along in her pregnancy, there was little they could do.

  Dad and I huddle together on a pastel flowered couch. Two of Michelle’s best friends are there, both devastated and hugely pregnant(!). They only know that the baby was a girl, and that she was born sleeping. We haven’t seen Michelle yet, just a very pale Uncle Derek, for a couple of minutes when he came out to tell us about Michelle’s condition.

  Tears keep coursing down my cheeks. I brush them away absently as I shiver in my hoodie and pajama pants. I am just…stunned. It’s not fair, damn it. It’s not fair! Michelle’s such a great person—she wanted to be a mother so badly, then when it finally happens…oh, god, poor Michelle. I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling right now. God, I don’t want to.

  Dad and I go down to the cafeteria around nine to get some breakfast, and when we come back, Michelle’s friends are gone, and Derek is waiting for us. He says we can see Michelle for a little while, and we follow him through a set of automatic doors that a nurse opens for us.

  She’s in a private room, pretty and cheerful, done in shades of mauve. She looks so small and broken in the hospital bed—and the expression on her face…my heart breaks for her.

  “Oh, Michelle.” I touch her leg, covered by a scratchy-feeling blanket.

  Her eyes are like twin caves of despair. “It’s because I wanted it so much!” she sobs.

  There is absolutely nothing we can do to make this better. We can only hold on to each other and cry with her. It’s the worst moment of my life.

  We go home after that. Someone is coming to talk to them about what happens next, though I don’t think Michelle is in any shape to deal with any of that. Uncle Derek promises to call if they need anything, and there’s nothing left to do but go home and wait for updates.

  I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t stop thinking about the tiny little cousin I’ll never get to meet. She’ll never know how much she was loved and wanted, never know what her parents went through to bring her into the world—only to lose her before she could begin.

  It’s not fair. It is so epically unfair, I can’t accept it. I don’t know what to do…I don’t know how to help—what am I suppose to say?!

  God, Michelle…I’m so, so sorry.

  I tell Mom about Michelle’s loss, and she promises to send her flowers. I was thinking she’d call her, because at one time, the two of them had been very close. But Mom says she’d feel awkward about calling her now, after years of not speaking to each other. I guess Michelle probably wouldn’t feel like talking, anyway.

  I send my aunt a text, just to say I’m thinking of her, and anytime she wants to talk, I’ll be there to listen. I don’t get anything back, but I don’t expect to.

  Uncle Derek calls me as I’m walking to my car after school. He asks if I can help pack up all the baby stuff for the charitable donations truck that’s coming by to pick it up that evening. He wants all of it gone before Michelle comes home.

  “She doesn’t want to see anything that will remind her of the baby,” Derek says. “I know it’s short notice, but she doesn’t want anyone else in there. With Lisa and Andie being pregnant…”

  “No—I understand. Whatever you need, Uncle Derek. I can head there right now,” I reassure him quickly, eager to do something for them.

  “Thanks, honey.” He pauses. “We were going to name her Eleanor Lily—after my mother.”

  His voice breaks, and all I can do is cry along with him.

  After I hang up with Uncle Derek, I call Kathy to let her know I won’t be coming in tonight. After I explain the situation, she assures me she’ll make do without me, and sends her thoughts and prayers with my family. Then I call Heather, and she immediately agrees to help.

  Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m texting Dean, asking him to come, too. He calls me back right away, and says he’ll pick us up in twenty minutes.

  Turns out, it’s a good thing he came. I didn’t realize how much stuff Michelle bought already. The nursery is fully-furnished, and then some, spilling out into the rest of the house. The crib, bassinet, and other baby furniture are already set up, little outfits already hanging in the nursery closet. The pink polka dot dress is in there! Did she know she was having a girl, or was she just hoping?

  Poor Michelle. I remember her telling me she knew she shouldn’t be buying baby stuff yet, but she just couldn’t help herself. She had waited for so long.

  The house feels haunted as Heather and I carefully fold the tiny clothes and put them in shopping bags. We’re both crying our eyes out. Dean is silent and efficient, moving all the heavy stuff out to the driveway.

  It’s an absolutely horrible day, and I’ve never been more grateful for my friends. I give Heather a huge squishy hug, which she reciprocates, holding me tightly. But when I go in to hug Dean, he actually backs away. So I end up patting the air where his arm just was. Oh, well.

  We get almost a whole week off for Thanksgiving break. Most of my friends are going out of town—including Heather, who invites me to the Jones family Thanksgiving bash at Disneyland. I’d love to go with her, but Mom and I are spending Thanksgiving at Grandma’s house—the usual tradition since my parents split up years ago.

  To my surprise, Aunt Jo joins us for dinner this year. That’s how I find out about the fire in Mr. Rigby’s office at school.

  “Fortunately, there wasn’t much damage,” Aunt Jo is saying grimly. “Someone poured some type of accelerant over Cal’s desk. Fortunately, it wasn’t enough to light the whole thing on fire, and it extinguished on its own. Still, this is the last straw. I’ve spoken with the board, and they agree. CCTV will be installed over the break.”

  She looks defiantly at me, but I continue to stuff my face with Charlie’s (Grandma’s excellent cook of fifteen years) delicious stuffing. I personally don’t care. It’s not like they’re going to catch me having sex on their surveillance video—Ben and Arianna, probably, but then they’re just asking for it with the public places they decide to hook up at. They’re going to be so pissed…I don’t want to think about the drama that will ensue when everyone finds out.

  We’re back at school, and the protests have begun—and even some of the teachers join in with the students against what they consider a violation of privacy. Ben masterminds half the demonstrations, staying behind the scenes, of course, so he doesn’t get in trouble. I wonder if I’ll still know him when he becomes an underground kingpin. I kind of hope so. In unrelated news, he confides to me that he’s been cheating on Arianna with a foreign exchange student named Katerinka. I really don’t know what to do with that information, and I really wish he hadn’t told me. There might have been a time when I would have thought Arianna deserved it. Now I kind of want to smack some sense into Ben’s blonde head.

  Heather and I spend the next week working on our college applications. I’m applying to seven different places—Heather, two. Her first choice has always been UNLV, and I question where NYU came from. She’s never expressed a desire to live on the east coast.

  “What?” she says airily, clicking her pen. “Who doesn’t want to live in New York? It’s exciting, and different—and far away from my parents.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Sloane’s going there, isn’t she?”

  Heather grins like an idiot. “Maaaybe,” she drawls out.

  “Oh, Heather,” I groan, putting my notebook over my face to hide my expression.

  Laughing at me, she starts singing at the top of lungs about how someday her princess will come. Groping around on the carpet, I fin
d something soft and squishy. A marshmallow. I throw it at her. She sings even louder.

  “Stop! My brain!” Laughing, I clap my hands over my ears.

  Heather throws herself on her bed, spread-eagled. “I’m in loooove, Jule!” she announces—as if it wasn’t obvious.

  I’m glad she’s not facing me, and can’t see the worried frown I’m wearing. I can’t help it. I don’t trust Sloane, and I’m not convinced she’s as into Heather as Heather would like to believe she is.

  “So is she taking to you to the dance on Friday?” I ask in what I hope is a casual tone.

  “Nope.” She rolls over onto her stomach. “We’re going to a party.”

  “Whose party?”

  Heather hesitates. She looks away from me with a shrug. “Misha’s.”

  I sit up straight and give her the beady eye. “Misha Compton, or drug dealer Misha?”

  She faces me again, rolling her eyes. “You don’t know he’s a drug dealer for sure. Those were just rumors.”

  “You’re the one who told me he is! Damn it, I knew! I knew Sloane was going to use you to get drugs—”

  “Just stop, Jule.” Heather cuts me off, her tone unexpectedly furious. “Why do you always think the worst? Has it ever occurred to you that Sloane likes me for me, and not what I can do for her? Shit, it’s just a party! Yeah, there might be drugs there, and there’s probably going to be alcohol, too—like ninety percent of the parties we go to. So what? I don’t do drugs, you know that.”

  “Okay, yeah, but Heather, you know Misha’s trouble. You know the guys he hangs out with—they’re trash!”

  “Trash?” She smirks at me. “You know, ever since you started going to Leclare, you’ve become a huge snob. You used to go to school with the ‘trash.’”

  “Oh, come on!” I gesture impatiently. “You know they’re trash, too. You would never go—”