by Kelli Kimble
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “He had something coming.”
He leaned forward on his arm like he was going to ask me to tell him a secret. “How’d you do it? I heard he nearly died.”
The taste of the sandwich faded in my mouth.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I finally said.
“Oh. That’s too bad. I’d have liked to have heard it. I didn’t get to have my revenge at school.”
I was halfway to the kitchen door before I realized I’d moved. “It wasn’t my revenge,” I said, turning back to him. “It’s done nothing but bring me misery. I got treated badly at school; my parents are afraid to let me go anywhere,” I ticked them off on my hand. “Someone burned down our house, and the sheriff thinks my father did it. And worst of all, I had to apologize to that two-bit son of a —” I stopped. Mother would be angry if I completed that sentence.
He held up his hands. “Whoa, sorry. I didn’t know you were having such a tough time.”
“It’s . . . it’s okay. I’m going back to bed.”
“No, please. I apologize. Come finish your sandwich.”
I’d left half my sandwich on the plate. “I wouldn’t want food to go to waste.”
“Yeah. Food waste is the worst. Starving children in China and all that.” He smiled and stuffed the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.
“Tell me about what happened at your school.”
His smile faded. “Oh. It was the usual stuff.” His shoulders sagged. “Someone decided he didn’t like the way I looked or smelled or talked or dressed. What difference does it make?”
“It makes a difference to me.”
“It’s done and over with. I’m not especially excited to talk about it.” His eyes dropped to his empty plate.
“So, you do understand.”
His eyes came up sharply.
I smirked. “I’d have liked to have heard about it.” I licked my fingers as I finished my last bite.
He stared at me for a moment. He’s so angry he can’t even speak. But then, he laughed. Hard. it was a belly laugh, and he grabbed his stomach and leaned over. Tears started running down his face.
I laughed, too, though it didn’t seem quite that funny to me. Our suffering wasn’t a joke.
He wiped his face and let out a deep sigh. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
“Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.” This time he followed me out of the kitchen.
“Good night, soulmate,” he said when we reached the top of the steps. We went our separate ways. I closed my bedroom door and leaned my forehead against it. His door clicked shut, then a floorboard squeaked as he crossed the floor.
I had to admit that I felt drawn to Jacob. Being Tessa’s brother meant that he was probably smart and grounded. He was handsome, and we had some things in common. But I also couldn’t help but bristle against Mr. Anu’s insistence that Jacob was my soulmate. Such things didn’t exist.
Whatever happened to free will?
Chapter 16
Lessons with Jacob and Tessa turned out to be quite challenging.
Tessa gave us an assignment the next morning. She’d spent a short period giving us the background, then handed us a stack of textbooks — I don’t know where she got them from — and, after informing us that the assignment was due at lunch, left us on our own to flounder.
My first assignment fell far short. She handed back my essay, marked so thickly with a red grease pencil that I could scarcely read what I’d originally written. She set it on the table in front of me with a casual air. She’d written across the top, ‘Do over.’
“But,” I said, trying not to let my voice rise into a whine, “I have the afternoon assignment to do.” She’d given us another assignment to begin while she went to grade our morning work.
“Right,” Tessa said. “You’d better get cracking.” She headed to the steps to go upstairs.
Jacob and I were sitting on the floor of the living room with the coffee table as our workspace. Books littered the floor around us. He raised his hand to cover a smirk too late to hide it from me. My body flushed with the heat of embarrassment. I grabbed the paper and rushed after her.
“How will I finish them both? This one took me all morning.” I waved the marked-up page at her.
“You’ve got a start on that one.”
“You crossed it all out!”
“That’s not true.” She pointed to a single, undisturbed line of text. “You’ve got that right there.”
“This isn’t even a complete sentence,” I complained.
“It’s not?” She snatched it from my hand, went back to the table and proceeded to add markings over the sentence. “There. That’s better.” She pushed it across the table towards me.
“Ugh.” I put my hand over it, trying to conceal the severity of the markings from Jacob.
“Iris, I know you’re a good student. But this level of work isn’t up to college admission standards. You’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of you.”
If my face wasn’t already flushed, it was surely bright red now. I crushed my lips together to keep from saying something rude, and my hand clutched at the paper, crumpling it.
Tessa’s eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rough on you.”
“It’s fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ll do the paper over. And do the afternoon assignment, as well.”
She smiled. “Very good. I’ll leave you be.” Jacob’s paper was still on the table. When he noticed me looking at it, he swept it into a folder. But I’d seen that it had only a few small marks. Tessa left us alone.
“You should have seen my first paper,” he said, giving me a half-smile. “The corrections were so thick I couldn’t even read what she’d written.”
I didn’t answer. I’d put in my best effort on the essay thinking that I’d impress her. I held it with shaking hands, my watering eyes blurred my vision and made it look like a giant pink smudge.
“Here, why don’t you let me help you? I know how she works, what she’s looking for.” He touched the top of the paper with a tentative finger.
I slid it out of his reach. “No, I can do it,” I said.
“All right,” he retreated and heaved an extra-large textbook on the table, opening it and flipping through the pages.
Did I just hurt his feelings?
“Um, well. Maybe without looking at my paper, you could give me a few tips.”
He grinned so big that his pointy canines were exposed. My heart sped up in response. “It’s easiest if you start with an outline.” He pulled a paper from his folder. “This is from one of my assignments last week. Start with a draft like this, see? It should have three main sections.” He moved over to sit beside me. His leg brushed against mine.
He pointed to the individual sections and explained what they were, though I didn’t hear half of what he said. His closeness was making it difficult to concentrate. It was the first sign that maybe Mr. Anu knew what he’d been talking about.
* * *
When I went to bed that night, I paused outside the room that Mr. Anu had given my parents. The door was shut, but it didn’t stop the sound of sniffling inside.
“Mother?” I knocked. Everyone else was in bed. The sound stopped. I imagined her drying her eyes with her hankie and smoothing out her dress before she answered the door.
“Sweetheart,” Mother said in a hushed tone. “Are you finished with your schoolwork?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”
“Oh. Of course.” She kissed me on the cheek and hugged me. When she pulled back, her eyes were glistening.
“Mother. I’m so sorry about Daddy. What does Mr. Finch say?”
She shook her head and pulled me into the room, closing the door. “He says it’s hopeless. Sheriff Stone found evidence at your father’s office.”
“But we both know that Daddy didn’t set the fire.”
>
“I know. I know.” She pressed the hanky over her eyes in a dainty motion. “But the sheriff is like a dog with a bone. And the fire chief is deferring to him, other than to agree that the fire was set intentionally.”
“What kind of evidence? Where did it come from?”
“For all I know, Mr. Scarbough left it behind. But I don’t know what he found.”
“Mr. Finch will help us to figure it out,” I said. I wanted to believe that.
“I’m sure he will. You go on to bed, sweetheart. You need your rest.”
I went to my room and got ready for bed. There had to be something that we could do. Daddy had an alibi: Mother. Was it his fault that the stupid sheriff didn’t believe him? And what kind of evidence could he be talking about?
The bed creaked as I got in and pulled up the covers, but sleep eluded me; my thoughts ran wild. What if Sheriff Stone succeeded in charging Daddy and sending him to prison? What would become of me and Mother? She had no marketable skills. Surely, she’d do no better than waitressing or shop-keeping. And though working for Mr. Anu had been lucrative, I couldn’t assume that he wanted me to work for him forever. I’d need to get a real job to help Mother with the bills.
I sighed and turned over. I’d neglected to close the curtains, and it was a clear night. The stars pierced the sky, and I finally drifted off to sleep while staring at the patterns they made on the inside of my eyelids.
In the morning, I woke with an idea: we had only to do what we’d done with Gary’s attack. We needed an outside unbiased party who had authority over Sheriff Stone to squash his ridiculous claims.
Bacon and eggs were already drifting up the stairs; Mother was awake and cooking. I threw the covers back and ran to the kitchen without bothering to get dressed or even put on a wrap. I burst into the kitchen.
Everyone was there.
“Iris,” Mother admonished. “You’re not dressed.”
“I have an idea,” I said. “We need to get the state involved. Just like we did with Gary.”
Mother clucked at me. “We’ll talk about this when you get dressed.”
Mr. Anu was drinking his coffee with an unperturbed expression. Tessa was reading a newspaper with forced intensity. Jacob was looking out the window with an amused expression, and Kal was nearly falling out of his chair with silent laughter.
“Mother. This is important. Who cares about what I’m wearing?”
“I care.” She smacked the counter with the spatula she’d been using to scramble eggs. “Your father might be in jail and we’re homeless, but you will not rob me of basic niceties! Get upstairs and get dressed.”
I stared at Mother. Tessa rattled her newspaper. The only other sound was Kal trying not to laugh out loud.
“Fine.” I turned on my heel and stalked from the kitchen. Mother and her manners. But what about Daddy? Didn’t she care about Daddy? I went to my room. I wanted to drag my feet and make her wait. I was tired of her treating me like a child. But I was desperate to help Daddy, even if she wasn’t. I quickly went through my morning routine and went back downstairs.
Mr. Anu had disappeared, but everyone else was still assembled in the kitchen. Mother looked up when I entered. She’d finished cooking and was sitting at the table with the others, sipping coffee. She was respectably covered with her housecoat wrapped firmly over her nightgown and slippers over her bare feet.
I opened my mouth to shout my idea again, but Tessa looked up and caught my eye. No. I needed to be calm and state the facts if I wanted to be taken seriously.
“Good morning,” I said.
The kitchen stirred into motion, and everyone greeted me. Mother stood up to get my breakfast, but I stopped her.
“It’s all right, Mother. I can get it.” I’d meant it as a gesture to keep her from being bothered, but a quick look of pain crossed her face. She sat down.
I made myself a plate and poured a glass of orange juice. I went to the table and put a napkin over my lap.
“Iris. You had an idea?” Mother said.
“Yes, Mother,” I set down my fork and blotted my mouth with my napkin. “I thought we should try to go above the fire chief like we did with Gary’s investigation.”
Tessa folded her newspaper. “There isn’t a single authority figure over the fire chief,” she said. “He reports to the city council.”
The eggs I’d just eaten rolled around in my stomach. “Maybe they can be convinced,” I said.
Mother shook her head. “We can’t take that chance, Iris. Everyone in town regards us as outsiders. And we don’t know who started the fire. What good is appealing to a higher authority when all we have is our word?”
I frowned. It’d seemed like a good idea. I pushed my plate away.
Tessa gave me a sympathetic smile. “You need some kind of proof that your father is innocent. Something really solid.”
“I don’t know anything about how to get clues out of a fire,” I said.
“No. None of us does,” Tessa said, frowning. Then she clapped as her face brightened. “Iris, you’ve given me an idea. How about today our lesson goes on a field trip?” She smiled.
“Sounds great to me,” Jacob said. “Anything to get out of another essay assignment.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so sure about that.” She closed her eyes and held her fingertips to her temples. “I’m picturing a theme. Yes, a theme about the process of fire investigation.”
Jacob grunted.
“I don’t care what the assignment is. If it could help my father, I’d do a thousand themes.”
Jacob balled up his napkin and threw it at me. “Don’t give her any ideas.”
“I need to use the telephone,” Tessa said, laughing as she left the room.
* * *
Mother said we could take her car, since Tessa’s convertible would only seat one other person. Tessa took the keys with reverence, which I’m sure Mother appreciated. It was, after all, our only remaining asset — besides whatever money Mother and Daddy had put away, which I doubted was much.
Tessa and Kal piled into the front seat. Jacob gave Kal a dirty look before climbing into the backseat with me.
“Why’re you coming?” Jacob asked.
Kal shrugged. “I don’t have to work today, and I thought it would be educational.”
“You don’t even know what we’re doing.” Jacob crossed his arms and looked out the window.
“Cut it out, you two. I need to concentrate on figuring out this car.”
“It’s just a car like any other, Tessa,” Jacob said. “Maybe Kal should drive.”
“I’ve got it, thank you very much.” She eyed Jacob through the rear-view mirror. “And I’ll thank the two of you to act like we have a guest with us. Because we do.”
“Fine,” Jacob said.
Kal turned around and grinned at me. “Hey there, guest. Better get used to this family dynamic.”
“Shut up,” Tessa said, swatting at him.
“Maybe you could tell us where we’re going,” I said, trying to redirect the conversation.
“To your house,” Tessa said.
“But there’s nothing there.”
“We’ll see.”
We drove through town. I hadn’t been away from Mr. Anu’s since the fire, and I felt eyes on me even when nobody seemed to be looking. If people hadn’t liked me after I’d attacked Gary, they certainly didn’t like me after my father was accused of burning down the house while Mother was inside.
Tessa parked on the street in front of where the house should be. The blackened bricks of the foundation and chimney were all that remained of the main structure. My chest constricted and it felt hard to breathe. I got out of the car, and the scent of smoke assaulted me.
I leaned against the car. Even the flowers that Mother had planted along the walkway were gone; perhaps they’d been trampled by the firemen.
“Hey,” Jacob approached. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I took as
deep a breath as I could manage. “It’s just worse than I thought it would look.”
“There’s nothing really left.”
“No,” I said. It hadn’t been real until now. All of my favorite things were gone. Books, photographs, the heirloom quilt passed down to me from three generations back. Tears pricked at my eyes.
“You still have your health,” Jacob said. He touched my arm. His fingers were warm. “And your parents.”
But my father is in jail. “Yes, I have my mother. Where’s Tessa?” I turned around. Her and Kal were across the street, talking to a man wearing what looked like the pants and boots from a fireman’s uniform with a flannel shirt on top.
“I wonder who that is,” Jacob said. “Let’s go see.”
We crossed the street.
“Iris Hond, I’d like for you to meet an old friend of mine, Mr. McKinney.”
“How do you do?”
“A pleasure, Miss Hond. Tessa tells me you have a little fire problem.” He smiled, revealing deep lines around his mouth. He had faded red hair and age spots were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“We’re going to see what we can do about that.” He grabbed a clipboard that was sitting on the trunk of a car nearby. “Come with me, Miss Hond.”
I followed him back to the house. There was a rope strung around the house, I suppose to keep anyone from falling into the open foundation to the cellar. He lifted the rope and held it up for me, then ducked under it.
“I’m a criminologist. Have you ever heard of that?”
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
“A criminologist investigates the evidence left behind by a crime. I specialize in the crime of arson, sort of as a hobby. That is what your father has been accused of, I believe.” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “This here, it led to the front door, yes?” He pointed to the cement of the walkway leading to the stone porch steps. The porch itself had burned, being made of wood.
“Yes, sir.”
He scratched some notes on his clipboard. He pulled a tape measure from his pocket and began measuring the foundation. “Would you mind holding this here?” He extended the tape out and walked to the other front corner of the foundation, then noted something more.
