“Well, you know, I need to get home,” I say quickly. “This was really fun, though. Great meeting you guys.”
I nod and begin to back away to walk in the other direction, but Lilly stops me, catching my elbow with her tiny hand. An incredulous smile spreads across her face—as if I’m kidding her. “You really want to go home, Emby?” I’m slightly taken aback by the nickname. She barely knows me, yet I still feel so comfortable around her.
Pete and Tre pass us, talking as they go. Tre catches my eye, and he runs his hand through his thick, wet hair. His eyes lock onto mine for a moment and then flick away. Every moment of eye contact with that boy sends a dopamine rush to my brain.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
Lilly turns me to face her squarely, placing her tiny hands on the sides of my cold arms. “You say you need to go home. But do you want to go home?”
Gram probably would want me home. Maybe. Maybe not. I inhale, thinking of Gram’s house. Of the sad faces people give me every day. Of being alone. Of what happens after graduation. Of the pills. My stomach twists.
“No, I don’t want to go home.” It’s the truth. I don’t. I don’t know where I want to be right now. Where I belong.
“There,” says Lilly. “Then don’t. Come with us.”
She takes my elbow and leads me to catch up with the others in the field. I’m surprised when I accept her welcoming gesture yet again. Even a few weeks ago, if I were to run into this perky, feminine Lilly in Leadville, I might roll my eyes at her sugary personality. Yet here, right now, she’s offering what I’ve been missing: a cure to loneliness.
The five of us walk through the grassy field, and soon Lilly points up a small treed hill. “There it is!” An enormous gorgeous timber house sits tucked into the mountainside, almost blending into the earth. I squint to see it clearly. My heart fills with an odd mix of dread and longing.
“Whose place is that?” I ask.
“Home sweet home,” says Tre, a rueful smile on his face.
“Your family lives here?”
“Nope,” he says, studying his shoes as we march through the grassy field.
I gaze up at Pete, who’s shaking his long curly hair like a dog. “You then?”
“Nope,” Pete says, his loopy grin making its way across his broad face. He’s enjoying this guessing game.
My eyes search the faces of Lilly and Chris, looking for answers. They shake their heads, too. “Not us,” says Chris. No smile there. Okay, so this is getting a little frustrating.
“Then who owns this place?” I say quickly. “You’re not camping?”
“Let’s just say we’re all set up here,” Pete says. “It’s cool.”
Maybe I should stop and turn around to avoid anything weird. But being here gives me a little buzz inside my stomach, and I don’t want it to go away.
“Okay then,” I say, letting out a little breath. Just go with it, Ember. Chris has got to be their dad or something. It’s got to be his house.
I think about how Maddie inspired me to jump in the car to drive to Arizona one winter weekend on a whim, how she convinced me to wear that skintight spandex morphsuit with her to school on Halloween freshman year. My face, body, everything was covered in purple—and hers in orange. She’s always up for an adventure. I need to be, too.
Pete must sense my unease because he slings his arm around my shoulder and gives me a little shake. “We’re going to have to work on Ember’s form,” he says. “Sorry, babe, but you looked like a novice swinging on the rope today.”
“That’s because I am a novice, Pete,” I say, looking up at him and grinning. Tall and lanky with hooded eyes and an easy smile, he’s kind of cute. His arm warms my cold skin.
“At least Emby doesn’t look like the flying starfish that is the Expert Pete,” Lilly says. She mocks him by jumping up and splaying her arms and legs wildly, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. She looks ridiculous, almost like a cartoon character. It’s funny how she can seem so oblivious to her own perfection. As if she rejects it somehow. It reminds me of Mom.
“Ah, come on,” Pete says. He keeps his arm around my shoulder, which is a little weird. I can’t figure out if he’s being flirtatious or just big brotherly. “I got the professional moves.”
I try to relax even though flirting isn’t in my DNA. After so many years in a small town with the same kids, boys became like brothers, and I found myself on the outside of a thick glass tank looking in, listening to other people’s conversations in the cafeteria, overhearing stories of dating, boys, river parties, and hooking up. Then, after everything I went through, I really couldn’t relate. I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit. But with the weight of Pete’s tanned arm over my shoulder, I like the attention and the feeling of being included.
“The kick? What about the kick?” Pete says. “The kick was brilliant. It took Olympic skill. Brilliant.”
“Not brilliant,” I say, shaking my head and grinning. “No way at all brilliant.”
A glimpse of Tre, head down, drifting toward the far edge of the group, tells me he is not into the conversation at all. It’s as if there’s a sort of a weight hanging over him. Chris, too, is silent, sucking on his cigarette and gazing straight ahead as if we’re not even here. All I can think is they must see me for the weird girl that I am.
Enter: insecure Ember. Armpits: please don’t sweat.
Barefoot, we wind through the spongy grass up the hill to the house. The closer we get, the higher the building extends into the air. With clean lines, long windows, and a stone base, it’s stunning—far cooler than anything you’d see in my stupid mining town.
“Wow,” I say, my voice breathy. Trinity was supposed to be darkness and trees and death. Not this.
“I know!” Lilly turns around and walks backwards in front of me. “To die for, right?”
Pete opens the front door like a butler, bowing and waving us inside dramatically with one arm. Inside the entryway, the smell of freshly cut wood fills my head. My mouth gapes slightly and my pulse quickens. Are we breaking the law, sneaking into someone’s huge house in the woods? It’s a mansion. An honest-to-God mansion.
“Let’s get you some clothes,” Lilly says, leading me by my arm up the curling stairway lit by a skylight. My hand trails over the stainless steel banister. Everyone else disappears inside the house.
“This,” Lilly says, swinging open a door, “is your bedroom.” Inside is a stylish room with a bronze quilted comforter and sleek modern furniture. A funky golden chandelier hangs from a navy blue ceiling. I am a giant spring, ready to burst from excitement.
“Let’s see…” Lilly calls to me from a walk-in closet. “You’re a size four? Size six?”
“Yeah, I guess, something like that,” I say mindlessly, my fingers grazing the silk bedding.
This room is a world away from my prison cell at Gram’s. It gives me the same kind of contented vibe as my tiny room sophomore year when we finally moved into a real house. Back then, it felt like a mansion because Jared and I finally got our own rooms. He put up all these stupid motorcycle posters in his, and I painted mine a sunny yellow and strung white Christmas lights from the ceiling over my bed. Some days, I wish I could have folded up that sunny space and taken it with me to Gram’s or wherever I landed next. Just to feel at home.
Something flops onto my head. Lilly giggles. “Ooops,” she says. I pull the fabric off my head to see a red dress made of the softest, silkiest material—exactly what you would expect in an expensive house. Lilly throws her arms into the air, grinning. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Love it.” And I do. I really do. She laughs a high-pitched giggle, and whatever it is about her laugh or the endorphins from being here, it makes me laugh, too. A contagious laugh. This girl and this place turn me into a different person.
“Put it on,” Lilly says. “It will look amazing on you.” She points to a doorway to an adjacent room. “There’s a shower in t
here.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got my own clothes,” I say, waving to my backpack. I don’t want to wear anything from this stranger’s closet—who am I? Goldilocks?
“Yeah, but there is no way your clothes will look like that on you,” she says, tilting her head and pointing emphatically at the dress in my hands.
She smiles like it’s Christmas and backs up slowly toward the hall, leaving her craning, sunny face to disappear last before she closes the door. When she’s gone, I shut my eyes, open my mouth for a silent happy scream, and then stomp my feet quietly and do a little hip-shake dance. Oh. My. God. This is crazy.
I flop back onto the bed, sinking into the silky bedding. I cannot at all for one minute believe I’m here. Super cool new friends. Amazing mansion. Risk-taking. Escape. It’s all mixing and stirring inside me. I am going to explode.
After a moment of lying there with a huge grin on my face, I can feel the dampness of my wet clothes and hair seep into the bedding, and I bounce up quickly, glancing back to ensure I didn’t ruin anything.
I strip down, turn on the hot water, and take off my watch. It still says 6:12 a.m. I shake it as if that will fix it and then toss it on the counter. Inside the marble shower, steam rises around me as my mind plays out the day in my head. Staying here tonight is so spontaneous. Like something the old me would do—only without Maddie. I remember when she convinced me to build that sledding jump on her roof when we got ten feet of snow one winter in eighth grade. Mom was so mad when she found out. This time, I’m pushing myself to be spontaneous and bold. By myself.
A short little hysterical laugh invigorates me. “I cannot believe I’m doing this,” I say over and over.
Once out of the shower, I gaze into a clear opening in the fogged-up mirror. My rounded face doesn’t look too bad. I look fresh. Happy even? I hardly recognize myself.
The dress fits like it was made for me, the soft fabric clinging in just the right places. It feels amazing. I feel amazing. My fingers run through my hair. Normally I would twist it into a bun atop my head. Tonight, I decide to just let it be.
10
A weird paranoia ignites inside me as I walk into the too-silent foyer. I can only imagine how this would play out if these people tricked me into breaking into a stranger’s home, showering there, and wearing their clothes—and then they left me to get caught. I would die if this were just some cruel joke.
Shoving down the thought as completely irrational, I stride casually into the contemporary living room and over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Out on the deck, someone lies on a lounge chair. What a relief: they didn’t abandon me.
But when I get to the screen door, my heart catches in my chest. The person outside is not one of the three people I met at the water. She’s a striking young girl—long and lean with black hair, dressed in a killer gold-and-black dress.
Is everyone here gorgeous? When I put on this silky red dress, I felt amazing, even pretty, but now standing next to her, the feeling vanishes. This is like land of the goddesses and gods. And I, well, I am just Ember—the short, curly-haired girl from Leadville. I wrap my arm around my waist and command my armpits to stay dry again.
“Hello, Ember,” the new stranger says without turning her head. The sound of her voice elicits something equally unusual in my Color Crayon mind, a blood-red triangular shape that floats and pulses.
“Oh, hi,” I say, opening the screen door. “Lilly invited me to stay for a bit.”
“I know,” she says, sweeping her long bare legs off the lounge chair like a delicate spider. “And you must. You must.”
She extends her hand, jiggling a series of metal bangles. “I’m Zoe.”
I smile and shake her delicate hand. She cranes her neck to look up above and beyond me into the house. “Everyone else is somewhere around here,” she says, then breezes past me into the house. I turn to follow her.
“You hungry?” she asks.
“Um, yeah, kind of,” I say. My stomach has been growling for hours and I am dying to eat. “I don’t want to impose.”
“No imposition at all,” she says.
She reaches for a bowl of bright red strawberries from inside the refrigerator and hands them to me. I love strawberries. I pick one up and put it in my mouth. The flavor of the berry explodes in my mouth, tangy and sweet. It’s like nothing I have tasted before.
Juice dribbles down my chin, and Zoe watches from a few feet away with her chin turned up, her mouth in a thin line. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and let out a nervous laugh when the others come up the stairs.
“Wow, you look great, Ember!” Lilly says, coming into the kitchen. She’s wearing a plain black cotton T-shirt dress. So simple, but she looks fresh-faced and beautiful.
“And Tre-boy… whoa… you look amazing!” she says, her gaze drifting behind me.
I almost choke on my strawberry when I turn and catch a glimpse of Tre, leaning against the wall, wearing a black leather jacket and black skinny jeans. His dark hair stands up tall, as if he spiked it out with some kind of gel. He’s wearing black eyeliner.
He glances at me with icy eyes, which, thanks to the eyeliner, practically jump out of their sockets. I realize that I look like this short strawberry-eating chipmunk from Leadville who stares. Quickly, I finish chewing, swallow, and gaze down at my fingers.
“Everybody,” Zoe says, snaking her arm around my shoulder. “I think our new friend is going to stay for a while. She likes this getaway. Right, Ember?”
She smells like sweet candy, and I want to sink into her embrace. My whole body purrs like a cat. So. Weird.
“Great!” Lilly says, madly chewing gum.
“The food should be ready soon,” Zoe says.
“Who cooks?” I ask, glancing around to each of them. I still can’t figure out how they’re squatting in some stranger’s house.
“A chef makes us food every night,” Lilly says, leaning forward to lightly touch my arm. “Isn’t it to die for?” The whites of her eyes get bigger.
This is a perfect day. Five strangers. Beautiful house. Dinner. I push down the thought that says too good to be true and follow them to the living room. We each take our seats and wait for dinner to be served, like a bunch of rich adults. This is so much better than Leadville.
Zoe glides in last, shifting the air in the room. “I hope you’re hungry,” she says. Her voice is like velvet. Her golden-brown eyes gaze into mine. I swallow. I can’t put my finger on how I even feel about her. She’s captivating, as if I’m in the presence of someone famous. Maybe this is her place and she’s like a rich supermodel who owns the property.
“Love these chairs,” says Pete, sighing as he sinks down. His eyes look glassy and bloodshot. “Can’t get enough of them.”
Lilly must see my confusion. “He’s stoned, Emby,” she explains. “Again.”
“I’m telling you, it’s the life,” Pete says, punctuating the comment with a little machine-gun laugh. He sounds like an idiot.
The talk of being high makes my entire body fold in and shrink, as I think about how all week I’ve escaped and numbed myself in Zach and JT’s pills. Bits and fuzzy, hazy pieces of this week come back to me. One of those nights in particular, Zach and I lay side by side on our backs on the hood of his truck. What came next? The memory hovers at the edges of my brain. The stars, dreamy and soft above us as Zach and I reclined on the hood of the truck. The pills made me warm, numb to everything. All that pain disappeared. Sometime during the night, JT went home, leaving me and Zach alone.
It all comes flooding back now. Music from the truck created a spinning fireworks display of bright reds, majestic blues, and orange streaks so bright they looked alive. I could have watched the synesthesia show for hours that night, but Zach turned his head sideways to look at me. Fluffy affection sprang up inside me. He was the doctor who took the pain and guilt away.
He scooted a little closer, and then he was kissing me. He smelled of sweat and cigarettes but his mouth
was soft like the stars.
“You’re so hot,” he whispered into my mouth.
I’m so high, I thought.
He sat up on one elbow and took my hand, leading me off the truck. The world tilted as I followed, stumbling into the cab and onto the gray seat. He pushed me down onto my back and then climbed on top of me. The more he kissed me, the more I disappeared.
His hands were everywhere, moving through me, around me, under my clothes, undressing me. I felt halfway in my body, halfway floating in the sky, swimming through stars, touching them with my fingertips.
I shook my head no, but the words didn’t come. Wet, silent tears ran down my cheek. His tongue probed my mouth. Hands running over my body. Pain. Searing pain from penetration. I wondered for a split second how everything might have been different if I’d stayed silent the night of the accident. Perhaps I never would have been lying there high, numb, and virtually immobile beneath a grunting Zach, not caring what happened to me or my body. The thought passed through me and was gone with the rest of my mind. Into the sky. Into the darkness.
The memory of that night is suddenly whole. Shame coats me like a sticky sap I cannot wipe off. Now, I know.
I always imagined my first time to be fairytale perfect: white feather bedding, red roses, and a beautiful guy I was madly in love with. Instead, I let greasy Zach, a guy I barely know, have me in his truck, ripped on a bunch of pills. I don’t even know myself anymore, and that gargantuan elephant shows up again, pouncing on me like a pro wrestler. I can’t breathe.
The high-pitched tone of the music from the stereo brings me back to Trinity—the conversation, these people and this house. The sound elicits yellow-orange electric sparks that stab me in the eyes and temples. Add that pain to my feeling of total disgust. I did that with Zach.
Lilly dances away from a stereo, where she has just turned on that god-awful song.
“Turn that down,” Tre says, and Lilly dances back to adjust the volume. Well, there’s one redeeming quality of ice-cold Tre, besides good looks; at least he can identify painful music.
Ember Burning Page 5
