Playing with Fire

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  “You need to see it,” Reid says, and I nod.

  Cassy looks down, one hand combing through her loose hair. She opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s cut off by the shrill ringing of the bell. Grabbing my tray, I follow Bianca to the trash, leaving Reid and Cassy to finish their conversation, but when I turn around, Reid is right behind me and Cassy is halfway out the door. I feel genuinely bad. I know all too well what it’s like to be excluded. In the back of my mind, I make a note to try to keep her in the conversation next time.

  That afternoon, we all hang out in the parking lot after school. Cassy manages to secure an invite to go watch movies at Reid’s house that weekend, and I’m invited too. I watch her expression fall a little at the change of course.

  “I dunno. I’m on laundry mat duty this weekend,” I say honestly. The conversation drifts again, and we all split up before Reid finally hops on his scooter and putters away.

  As social lives go, I’ve had worse.

  My alarm goes off Friday morning about three hours too early for my liking. When I finally drag myself into the dull, off-white kitchen for breakfast, Dad is facedown into his laptop, clicking away furiously. I sit down beside him, my Tasty Os nearly overflowing their green ceramic bowl. Dad slides a fifty across the table to me without looking up.

  “What’s this for? You need to put a hit out on someone?” I ask, my mouth full of cereal.

  “Sweetheart, if you’re only getting fifty bucks for a contract kill, you need to up your rates.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” I say through another bite.

  He snickers. “It’s lunch money, oh daughter of mine. Begging for money is a time-honored teenage tradition. By never participating, you’re throwing the whole cosmic system out of balance.”

  I nod and stuff the bill in my wallet. And to think I just got used to prepackaged pastries and sports drinks, too.

  A few more minutes of clicking and I’ve had it. Dad is great at many things, but computers are not on that list. He’s about as gentle as a bull in a china shop, and I can practically hear the poor keyboard crying for help.

  “Dad, is everything ok? Do you need something?”

  He sits up, sighing heavily. “Can you do that thing?”

  I blink.

  He waves his hand, sliding the computer across the table to me. “That thing where I can wirelessly connect to my desktop from this?”

  I laugh, taking the computer, “You got the IP address of the other computer?”

  He nods, sliding a scrap of paper my way.

  Opening his system files, I begin rooting around. “You know, there are people who get paid for this kind of thing,” I say.

  Dad stands up, shrugging into his camouflage jacket. “What’s your point?” he asks.

  I bite my lip. “Well, in the spirit of teenage begging, I was hoping you’d let me use the credit card to pick up a few new things for my room.”

  He frowns, his eyebrows knitting together in the center of his face. “What’s wrong with the stuff you have?”

  I shake my head. “Well, first off, there’s no overhead lighting, so I need a few lamps. Also, my old curtains aren’t the right size for the new window. Plus, I’ve had that same comforter since I was nine. Pink flowers aren’t really my thing anymore.”

  Reluctantly, he pulls out his tattered brown wallet and flips the silver Visa card onto the table. “Okay. Just try to keep it reasonable, huh? And why don’t you swing by the squadron today and I’ll give you a tour?”

  I wink and stuff it in my pocket behind the cash with one hand, still typing with the other. “Here,” I say, sliding the computer back to him. “All fixed.”

  He leans over and kisses the top of my head. “What would I do without you?”

  “Work from your desktop like a caveman?” I grin.

  ***

  I get an early text from Kayla asking for a ride to school, so I clean up quickly and head to her house. It’s a row of enlisted housing not far from my own, only the duplexes are a pale rose color rather than tan and her house has huge eggplants growing in the three-foot square patch of dirt under the living room window. Derek and Kayla sit on the narrow stoop, their heads so close together that at first I think they’re kissing. Then Kayla leans back, tilting her chin skyward. I roll down my window and shout to them.

  “Hey guys, you ready?”

  Derek is wearing black denim jeans, a sliced-up grey T-shirt, and a leather dog collar with silver spikes. It’s a conservative look compared to what he normally wears. His jet-black hair is stretched together at the crown of his head in a faux-hawk, his eyeliner thick and perfect around his caramel-brown eyes. I try really hard not to envy his long lashes and high cheekbones. Had Derek been born a girl, he would have put me to shame.

  “Hop in,” I offer, turning down the stereo, the only non-authentic component in the entire car.

  Derek slides in the passenger side and Kayla climbs over him, maneuvering her petite little body to sit on the console between us, her red-and-black plaid skirt bunching under her. I don’t know what kind of perfume she’s wearing, but it immediately fills the cramped car with the scent of lavender—not real lavender, but the kind they use to artificially scent cleaning products. It burns my nostrils.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, leaving my window down, hoping to dissipate the odor as we drive.

  Kayla flips her hair over her shoulder. Today, it’s separated into hundreds of delicate braids, each with a multicolored rubber band at the bottom.

  “Nothing. Just hanging out,” she answers, turning the music back up. “Derek likes to get out of the house before his stepdad wakes up and starts giving him shit about his ensemble.”

  Derek turns his head, looking out the window as we pull into the parking lot. “Yeah,” he says simply.

  Not sure what to say to that, I reach out and touch one of Kayla’s earrings. It’s a tiny guitar pick with a hole drilled through the tip.

  “Nice,” I offer.

  “Thanks. I got it in Raleigh.” She fiddles with her tall, black boots. “We should go up there and go shopping. I know where all the good places are.”

  “Sure. That’d be cool,” I say, thinking it over. I imagine myself stepping out of my room in an outfit like hers. Then I imagine my dad clutching his chest as the heart attack drops him to his knees.

  “Kayla lives down the street from me, so we walk together,” Derek says as he slips on a pair of dark sunglasses with silver skulls on the sides. “But today…” He trails off, pointing to her boots. I raise one eyebrow, not needing further explanation.

  “Yeah. We can’t all have fancy cars to tool around in. But it would be handy,” Kayla says, running her hand across the dashboard like she’s petting a dog. “She’s so pretty.”

  I pat the dash proudly. “This car was just a hunk of scrap metal when Dad brought her home. It took us years to rebuild her, piece by piece.”

  Rebuilding this car had been one of the only things that kept Dad sane while Mom was getting sicker and sicker. When he was working in the garage, he didn’t have to think about anything else. For a long time, I resented that, the time it took away from Mom. Then he started letting me help, and it sort of brought us together. No, Lucy was much more than a car, fabulous though she was.

  Kayla looks me in the eye, cocking her head to the side. It’s like she’s reading my mind, or maybe just my expression. It makes my back stiffen and my muscles tense.

  “Fair enough,” she says finally, not pressing for more details. “So, about that shopping trip…”

  The rigidity eases out of my body. Kayla picks at her chipped, black nail polish while describing the city layout. I’m only half-listening. A familiar truck pulls into the lot, distracting me.

  Oliver parks a few rows in front and to the left of me. After not seeing him for days, the sight of him makes my breath catch in my lungs. Trying to be subtle, I watch from the corner of my eye as he jumps out of his truck, slingi
ng his dark blue backpack over one shoulder. He isn’t wearing a football jersey today; rather, he’s looking super formal in tan slacks and a white shirt with a blue tie. He was cute the last time I saw him; today, he’s downright sexy.

  “They make the players wear dress clothes on game day,” Kayla says, catching me staring.

  “There’s a game tonight?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “Yeah,” Derek answers now. “We don’t usually go, though. Besides, you’re going to the beach with us tonight, right?” His voice holds a note of unmistakable accusation.

  I recognize the tone instantly. It’s the tone of someone who has been let down, a lot. It’s one I hear in my own voice sometimes. “I wouldn’t miss it,” I answer back, smiling.

  Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I’d have agreed to go if I’d known Oliver was playing that night. As silly as it sounds, I kinda like Oliver, and the idea that maybe he likes me too, well, all the better.

  I feel myself blush, trying to decide whether to confide in my new—and only—girlfriend about hanging out with Oliver on Monday night. Twisting my hair around my index finger, I see something that makes the decision for me. As I watch from my driver’s seat, a gorgeous blonde slips out of the passenger side of his truck. He closes the door for her, hefting her backpack onto his empty shoulder. They walk together toward the building, laughing and smiling.

  A knife twists in my gut. Of course he has a girlfriend. What was I thinking? He isn’t interested in me; he was just being nice, or being a total dog. I’m not sure which. My surprise quickly turns to indignation.

  The first bell rings, and we gather our things and head inside. Reid catches up with me outside homeroom.

  “So, how was your night?” he asks, handing me a plain white bag I know contains my daily glazed.

  Reid looked much more relaxed than usual today. He often carries this almost-unnoticeable anxiety that makes his shoulders slump and his chin tilt downward. But not today.

  “Uneventful,” I reply. “Finished unpacking. Finally. You?”

  “Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that. You excited about tonight?” he ask.

  Luckily, I’m busy digging my notebook out of my backpack when he asks, so he doesn’t see the flash of annoyance cross my face. I’d have liked nothing better than to show up at the game tonight and call Oliver out in front of a crowd. It’s an errant thought though; I know I’d never really do that, but it’s a nice fantasy. I sigh, reminding myself it’s not Reid I’m upset with, and I’d feel bad if he took it that way.

  “Can’t wait,” I say, mustering my enthusiasm.

  Kayla waves, and the boys exchange a head nod as we go our separate ways.

  I don’t talk to anyone else all morning, quickly darting past Oliver where he stands outside my first-period classroom. I don’t know if he’d been waiting for me or not, and I don’t look back. Lunch comes quickly and I take refuge in my small band of friends. Derek is leaning over his geometry notebook as Reid shows him how to solve whatever equation he’s working on. Most of Reid’s classes are Advanced Placement, including the chemistry class we share. As the resident brain of the group, he gets stuck tutoring the others a good deal, or so it seems. But he’s always cool about it, always willing to lend a hand. No wonder Cassy has a thing for him. Reid might actually be the last genuinely good guy in the universe.

  I grab my tray and scoot into my seat beside him. Unfortunately, today’s cuisine—a scoop of something that could either be spaghetti or meatloaf—lacks the flavor of Monday’s pizza. The word “surprise” in the name makes me regret not bringing something from home. I poke at it experimentally with my spork, looking for signs of life.

  Kayla munches loudly on a chef’s salad, which I eye enviously. “Where’d you get that?” I ask.

  She points. “À la carte line. Over there.”

  I file that away for future use and take a bite of apple, the only semi-edible thing on my plate, while my lime-green Jell-O sloshes dejectedly. Derek is staring at me with an odd expression on his face. I hold out the apple. “You wanna bite?”

  The side of his mouth twitches up like he might smile. “Apples are Satan’s carbs.”

  I almost choke on my bite as I try not to laugh and fail. Reid sits up and pats my back gently. “Hey, you okay?” he asks. “I don’t want to have to Heimlich you, but I will.”

  This just makes me laugh harder and in my peripheral vision, I see Oliver watching us. I lean forward, letting my hair fall loosely over the side of my face. “I’ll live. I think.”

  He begins to fan me with his spiral notebook. “He’s been staring at you all day,” Reid says, following my gaze toward Oliver and back. “Did something happen?”

  I sit up, fiddling with the stem of my apple. “Sort of. He…he kind of showed up at my house Monday night.”

  Reid stiffens. “Did he try anything?”

  I wave my hand. “No, nothing like that. He just, I don’t know. It was weird, he was being all nice, and then he was gone all week. I dunno. It’s just weird.”

  I’m not going to tell them I fell for his charms. I’m not going to tell them that seeing him with another girl today hit me like a kick in the lady balls. And I’m certainly not going to tell them how stupid I feel about the whole thing now.

  “Whatcha working on?” I ask, finally composing myself.

  “Derek is pulling a C in biology. He needs at least a B,” he says, slapping the book closed and stuffing it hurriedly into his backpack. “I took it last year so I’m helping him out.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you wanna be lab partners in chemistry,” I mutter around another bite of apple.

  “Yeah, because you two definitely have chemistry,” Kara says with a wide, cheesy grin.

  Derek elbows her in the ribs even as Reid groans and I roll my eyes.

  “That was a bad joke,” Reid says.

  I nod. “Seriously bad. Not even a little punny.”

  She shrugs. “I do my best.”

  Beside her, Cassy pushes a scoop of mystery meat around her plate, not looking up. Bianca leans over, whispering something in her ear that makes her smile.

  “You guys want a ride home after school? So I know where to pick everybody up tonight?” I ask, stealing a wedge of tomato from Kayla’s salad and making her smile.

  “Sure.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I walked today anyhow.” Reid smiles. “Decided it would be faster.”

  We all laugh, because it’s probably true.

  “We’ll meet at your car after school,” Kayla says, stuffing the last bite of food into her mouth as the bell rings.

  She and Derek walk hand in hand out of the cafeteria. I hang back, collecting my things with deliberate slowness. I’ve been trying, and failing, to not look at Oliver’s table the whole half-hour. I’m trying to give him a window to apologize or explain himself or something. Unfortunately, Reid lags behind as well, determined to wait for me. After dumping the slimy contents unceremoniously in the tall, black trash can, I toss my empty tray in the return bin and head for the door.

  We’ve made it all the way to the classroom door before I feel a hand on my shoulder.

  “Where’s the fire?” Oliver smiles, turning me toward him.

  “Get lost,” Reid says, knocking Oliver’s hand off me.

  Oliver’s smile falters. “Excuse me, I’d like to have a word with Farris. I think whether or not I get lost is really up to her.”

  They both look at me expectantly. “You have two minutes,” I tell Oliver. “Reid, I’ll meet you in class.”

  “Yeah, she’ll meet you in class,” Oliver echoes, waving Reid off rudely, which only makes me angrier.

  Reid looks annoyed, but he ducks into class, mumbling something rude and possibly four-lettered under his breath as he goes.

  I shrug, trying to keep my face unreadable as I turn back to Oliver. “If you’re trying to tick me off, being an asshole to my friends is a great plac
e to start.”

  He holds up his hands. “Whoa. Sorry. But he kind of started it. I just wanted to say hello. I was out sick for a few days and I missed you.”

  I feel my eyes narrow. Oliver hasn’t actually done anything wrong, not technically. It isn’t like he made a pass at me or anything. Still, if I were his girlfriend, his getting friendly with another girl would be grounds for a serious nard kicking. I stare at him, trying to read his eyes. Is he one of those guys who flirts with everyone? Or is this just how he does nice?

  “Hello, Earth to Farris. Do I have something on my face?” He chuckles uncomfortably.

  I’m still staring intently at him, as if he were a bug under a microscope or a line of code. Those things I understand. Those things make sense to me. The boy in front of me does not. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

  He breaks into a satisfied grin. “I’m not that complicated. But chicks dig the mysterious thing, so…”

  I don’t smile. I’m still waiting. Not sure for what, exactly.

  “What do you want?” I ask finally. There are a hundred things running through my head to say, but to be honest, they all sound a little frazzled, so I just blink impatiently.

  “Well, there’s a game tonight, and I was wondering if you were going.”

  “Are you going?” I ask.

  “Well, yeah, I’m kinda playing in it.”

  I blush. What, is my brain on pause? He’s not that cute, I think grumpily. Only, he kind of is. Disarming. That’s the word of the day. He’s disarming.

  “Oh yeah. Right,” I mutter.

  “So?” He waits.

  “Uh, no. I have plans tonight actually,” I say flippantly.

  “With Reid?” he asks, annoyance finally creeping into his voice.

  My hands tense on my chemistry book. That’s what I need. Anger. If I can funnel that, I can use it to clear the cobwebs out of my brain. “That’s not really any of your business, but yes. He and my other friends invited me to go to the Circle tonight. Why do you care?”

  For a split second, Oliver looks like I slapped him. Maybe he just isn’t used to losing.