Burn Before Reading

“Sorry, am I distracting you? Let me put a shirt on.”

  Her face goes beet red as I pull my shirt on. Fitz makes a suggestive whistle, and I throw him a glare.

  “What? Are you two the only ones who can enjoy your own flirting? I happen to be starving for entertainment at all times!” Fitz announces. Burn rolls his eyes and takes Fitz by the elbow.

  “We’ll be in the stands,” He says. Fitz complains the whole way as he’s dragged back to his seat. Bee huffs.

  “Fitz said not to expect much from you.”

  “Did he?” I ask, hating how my voice cracks.

  “Apparently you don’t win anything. Um. Ever.”

  “I felt like winning today,” I say. She laughs quietly.

  “Just a bit.”

  People pass us, my team among them, and suddenly Bee stumbles. Her foot slips on the wet cement, and she goes tumbling towards the water. In what feels like slow-motion, I reach my hand out for her, grabbing the biggest part of her I can find – her waist - and yanking her to me. We’re pressed, chest to chest, for a bare moment, our breathing hard and in sync. She’s so close I can smell her; cream and vanilla.

  “Thanks,” She says breathlessly. “But I’m starting to hate this habit of yours where you save me from stuff.”

  We part quickly – too quickly. My hands are shaking, the terror of holding someone so close kicking in. I ball my fists so she can’t see them.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “I think –” She looks around. “I think someone pushed me.”

  I glare in the direction of my team, all of whom are watching us closely. They look away when I look at them, and that confirms their guilt. Most of it, anyway.

  “It’s my team,” I admit. “They’re being assholes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I punched one of the seniors.”

  “Uh, wh-”

  “If you ask why again –”

  “Okay, okay,” She laughs shakily. “I get it. You probably had a good reason to.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  She shrugs. “You had a good reason about red-carding Eric, so. I’ve learned to stop automatically thinking everything you do is for your own gain.”

  “What about Fitz? I punched him at the party.”

  “Well he was sort of…making things really awkward. Between us. Uh, inferring things wrong. I’m not gonna say I was glad you two scrapped, but I got pretty uncomfortable towards the end, there.”

  “It makes you uncomfortable?” I knit my brows. She laughs again.

  “Yeah. When people try to – to set you up with someone, you know? Especially if those people don’t like each other at all.”

  “Like each other at all,” I echo, my chest deflating. “Right.”

  “Ho-lee shit. Is that who I think it is?”

  The voice freezes me in my tracks. I turn my head slowly, so slowly, as a brown-haired boy with glasses and a plaid shirt walks up. His face is a little older, a little more mature, a little fuller, but I remember it all the same. I remember it with searing clarity. I memorized that face when it slept, when it talked, when it smiled. When it got angry.

  It can’t be him.

  With every step he takes towards me I feel like puking, like running away. It’s him.

  He can’t be here, but it’s him.

  “Mark,” I breathe. Bee’s eyes go wide.

  “That’s Mark?”

  “I heard the Lakecrest swim team was competing, but I had no idea you were still on it, Wolf. I’m just here to cheer for my brother on his new team. Redtree High, you know?” Mark smiles at me. I avoid his eyes until he looks away. Burn and Fitz are in the stands, arguing with each other. They haven’t seen him yet. If he doesn’t leave, they’ll lash out. And it won’t be pretty.

  If he doesn’t leave, I’ll shatter. And it won’t be pretty.

  When I don’t respond, Mark looks Bee up and down.

  “And who’s your lady friend? She’s cute, if you like the mousy type.”

  Bee scowls. “Weird. It’s almost like I’m standing right here, or something.”

  Mark laughs. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was rude of me. I’m Mark. Wolf’s friend. Ex-friend, if we’re being completely honest. And you are?”

  “None of your business,” I say through gritted teeth. Mark shoots me a surprised look.

  “Whoa whoa whoa, let the lady speak for herself.” He reaches out an arm to put around her shoulder, but my body moves on instinct. I put myself between her and him, willing my shoulders to stop shaking, willing myself to look him in the eyes, just this once.

  I can’t be afraid anymore.

  Not when he’s inches away from her.

  “Back. Off.” I manage. Mark blinks a few times, bewildered, then he’s all smiles again. Just like that. Bouncing. Always bouncing between moods on the outside, compensating for the dead wasteland of his insides.

  “You haven’t changed at all,” Mark smirks up at me. “Still pretending to be tough, huh?”

  “If there’s nothing more,” Bee clears her throat. “You should go, Mark.”

  “Oh there’s more, hotstuff.” Mark smiles at her. “Don’t tell me he’s roped you in with his pretty boy face. You know he’s a faggot, right? Gay. A huge fucking faggot who likes dicks - ”

  I hear the smack of flesh-on-flesh, and I see Mark hit the ground, but when I turn to see who did it I don’t fully believe it’s Bee. It can’t be Bee, with her fist raised, her eyes glowing with unholy rage. The crowd goes quiet, all of us frozen in the moment. And then she snaps.

  Beatrix Cruz, all five feet three inches of her, pounces on Mark’s chest and beats at him with her fists.

  And then Mark does something I’ve never, not in an entire year of knowing him, heard him do.

  He cries out in pain.

  It’s the cue for the crowd to start moving in outrage, for the ref to blow his whistle and Burn and Fitz to peel Bee off Mark. Mark stands shakily, his nose bloody and his eyes screaming daggers at me. I know that look. He wants more than anything to take this out on me, somehow, any way he can.

  Even after two years, he hasn’t changed. I’m still his scapegoat. In my deepest heart I thought he’d change. I thought he’d at least start seeing me as a person after I stood up for myself. But no. The look in his eyes confirms that; a look that tells me I’m nothing more than trash to him.

  Someone stands in front of me, arms outstretched. Bee, as short as she is, squares her chin.

  “You don’t get to look at him,” She snarls. “Get out of here. Away from here. I never want to see you around Wolf again.”

  “I’m here for my brother,” He spits. “So you can fuck off.”

  “Enough!” Coach’s voice bellows. “Wolf, you’re on the bench for the rest of the competitions, anyway. Get out, before I charge your friend with detention.”

  “He’s the one who –” Bee struggles for words, pointing an accusing finger at Mark. “He’s the one who called him –”

  If she stays, if I stay, there’s no telling what I’ll do. Or what she’ll do, apparently. And Burn and Fitz are glaring at Mark so hard it’s like they’re trying to set him on fire.

  I put my hand on her shoulder, and make my voice low.

  “Bee, come on. Leave it.”

  She whirls to face me. “We don’t have to leave! It isn’t fair!”

  “And I’m not about to see you get punished,” I say. “For standing up for me. Now let’s go.”

  “Ice cream,” Burn agrees, never once taking his eyes off Mark. “My treat.”

  “You do know I could have your ISP in under seven minutes, right?” Fitz calls to Mark as we walk away. “I hope you like frozen bank accounts!”

  “Fitz,” I hiss. “That’s enough.”

  “Oh come on, Wolf! I was just getting warmed up. What’s a few harmless electronic threats between friends, hm?”

  “He’s not yo
ur friend,” Bee says, hard. “He’s not any of our friends’. Ever.”

  Fitz sighs, twirling his black umbrella with flourish. “Okay, miss MMA fighter.”

  “I’m not an MMA fighter, dorkwad.”

  “Tell that to the punch that decked that biphobic dick flat on his ass,” Fitz smirks.

  “I hope she broke his nose,” Burn agrees.

  “Alright, enough.” I exhale. “Let’s just go.”

  “Where?” Burn asks.

  “Anywhere. Anywhere that’s far away from here.”

  “How about the Haagen-Daaz store up north?”

  “Fine.”

  Fitz chants ‘haagen-daaz’ a million times as he slides into Burn’s convertible. Bee looks hesitant, then turns to me as I’m putting on my helmet and shoes.

  “Can I…ride with you?”

  I want to tell her to ride with Burn. To stay away from me. Mark knows her, now. He’s touched her with his filthy tendrils of hate and vitriol. I wanted to keep her away from that. I wanted to keep her safe from it.

  From my past.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  I pass her a helmet, and soon we’re on the road, Mom’s bike eating up pavement. At a stoplight, a warm pair of slender arms hesitantly clasp around my waist, and I feel the pressure and heat of her chest against my back.

  “Is this okay?” She asks. I wait for the tremors in my hands. They’re small, so small compared to what they were just minutes ago. She isn’t Mark. She won’t hurt me. That much is clear.

  I know that much about her for sure.

  I nod, and she rests her head on my shoulderblades, the weight and warmth of her better than any spinning rings on my fingers.

  ****

  BEATRIX

  A week after what Burn and Fitz and I have been referring to as ‘the pool thing’, Fitz hacks me.

  I guess he decided it was a good reward for defending his brother against his abuser, but frankly, I couldn’t understand the logic. Not that I understood the logic of anything that went down that day – I couldn’t understand Mark’s awful, discriminate hate. I couldn’t understand why the pool people didn’t ban him for being so awful instead of asking us to leave. I couldn’t understand why Wolf let me ride on his bike with him again, this time practically hugging him.

  But if there’s one thing I learned with Dad’s illness, it’s that maybe I didn’t need to understand. Maybe I just needed to be there.

  So yeah - Fitz hacked me. And what did he do with his almighty powers over my computational livelihood? He made my entire desktop background a picture of a pizza with corn on it.

  I instantly knew it was him. I texted him.

  Nice one.

  He replied a millisecond later with a smiley face.

  ^_^ I knew u’d like it

  What inspired it?

  i asked burn what to hack u w/and he said ‘something disturbing’ so I did my best

  It’s true, it’s the epitome of horror. You’ve found my one weakness. Corn on pizza. Cizza.

  or porn

  No, thanks. Cizza is slightly better

  ur a party pooper

  And you type like you’re in middle school.

  saves time. Also, stops me from looking like a giant, grammar-correcting douche like u

  Fair, fair.

  so u and Wolf r getting cozy, huh?

  What do you mean?

  u rode home with him last week. Plus burn said he saw u 2 holdin hands in the back of the car after the skydive

  My heartbeat skyrocketed. I tried to change back my desktop picture to the picture of a basket of kittens it used to be, but I couldn’t access my control panel. All I got was a frozen screen. I let out a sigh and my phone vibrated again.

  im holding ur computer hostage until u confirm or deny

  Ugh, fine. Yes. We held hands.

  arent u super excited about it?!

  Yes, but. It’s just hard.

  yea, duh. that’s luv

  I rolled my eyes, but the pit of dread in my stomach only grew. It was fine, letting him believe what he wanted while I did the whole reconnaissance thing for his dad. But what about after? I’d buried myself so deep in these brothers’ lives, I doubted I’d be able to disentangle myself so easily when the time came. They would get hurt.

  And what about me? What did I want? I wanted my scholarship secure. I wanted to graduate from prestigious Lakecrest. And I wanted to go to NYU. But somewhere along the way, Fitz and Burn, at least, had become my friends. Friends I convinced myself I never missed having. Wolf was, despite our commitment to hate each other, important to me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be – it was supposed to be easy, shallow. It wasn’t supposed to turn into something….real.

  I hated the stuck up, spoiled Blackthorn brothers. They hated me. That was the way it was supposed to be.

  Part of me would give anything to go back to the first moment Wolf gave me my red card. Just do everything over again. But that wasn’t the present. That was the past. And I had to put my big girl pants on and buckle up for the bumpy ride of the future.

  “Bee?”

  The knock at my door made me look up. I turned my computer off quickly – I didn’t want Mom asking questions about why a Cizza was my desktop picture.

  “Come in,” I said, cracking open a textbook to look busy.

  She opened the door, entering with cautious steps and a nervous smile on. I might’ve gotten my physical stuff from Dad, but Mom and I were the same when it came to emotions – we were both shit at hiding how we felt. I could tell she was feeling guilty about being out so much, and this was her check-in on me to placate it.

  “Hi,” She said. “How are you doing?”

  “Great,” I motioned to my book. “Just finishing up on studying for this last big test before Thanksgiving break.”

  “And how’s school going?”

  “It’s, you know, the same as ever.”

  Mom smiled. “Right. Do you know what you want for your birthday, yet?”

  “Mom, no,” I groaned. I’d seen the bills on the counter – things were tight as ever. I knew we couldn’t afford something for me. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

  “Come on, sweetie, it’s your birthday! Anything you want. Anything at all.”

  Her guilt tinged her voice, sounding a lot like desperation. I wanted to tell her money wouldn’t fix the fact she was ghosting out of my life lately. Out of Dad’s life.

  “I just want you to – to be home more,” I said. “If that’s okay. That could be my birthday present.”

  “Oh, honey,” Mom bit her lip. “I wish. I wish so much I could be home, but with things like they are at the hospital, I’m covering double shifts.”

  I sniffed the air. Double shifts she had to wear perfume for? I sighed.

  “Okay. Just a cake. A cake would be fine.”

  “You need presents, sweetie. You can’t just have a cake. Is there anything you want, any new boyband tickets I could buy you, or one of your wizard books I could buy you –“

  “I haven’t listened to a boy band in ages, Mom. And I don’t read ‘wizard books’ anymore. Plus I don’t have time to go to a concert. Not with this test coming up.”

  “You work so hard, you deserve a break –“

  “I deserve you in my life,” I muttered. Mom went still.

  “What did you say?” She asked.

  “Nothing,” I shook my head. “Forget it.”

  “Sweetie if there’s something you want to talk about, I –” Her phone rang just then, and she looked to me, then back at it. I waved at her.

  “It’s fine. Answer it.”

  Mom sighed and picked the phone up, walking out of the room. Her voice faded with her. “Jenny? Hey, I didn’t expect you to call so soon. Where are the others? Oh, that’s just down the street. Sure, I’d love to –“

  “Are you going out again?” Dad’s voice came from the living ro
om. Mom said something back, too low to hear, then Dad scoffed. “Don’t give me excuses, Angie. Just go. It’s what you want to do. Far be it from me to keep you from living your life.”

  “You always do this!” Mom raised her voice. “You always make me feel like crap if I try to do anything for myself!”

  “Well how am I supposed to feel,” Dad bellowed back. “When my wife doesn’t come for a week straight? What am I supposed to think, huh?”

  “You’re supposed to let me have my space!”

  “Oh, that’s hilarious – it’s not like you don’t have plenty of space already!”

  I shut my textbook and winced. They’d always used to fight in the garage, but now it’s bled over to the house. It’s like they didn’t remember I existed. I felt sick, and every second I listened to their argument I felt sicker. I picked up my phone and texted Kristin.

  Can you get me into a party?

  Her reply came three agonizing minutes later.

  Sure thing ;)

  I never used my window before to sneak out – my bookworm ass never needed to. I thought it was stupid and immature to do something everyone saw in the cheesy 80’s teen movies all the time. But now I had to. Everything was different; Mom and Dad were different, our house felt different. And me? I was a little different. I was different from the girl who sat at her desk every night, poring over books and notes. I’d been to a party. I’d held hands with someone. I had what resembled friends. This was what life was like for everyone else – normal. And I wanted more of it. Everything was different and I needed normal like a suffocating fish needed water.

  I pulled on my jacket and put my phone in my pocket after I double checked the address Kristin sent me. I didn't even care how I looked - I just needed to get out of the house. I turned back once, listening one more second. The fighting had turned into a screaming match.

  I flinched, and propped open my window.

  It was easy enough to crawl out - my window overlooked the garage roof, and with a bit of foot-flexing and a sort of scary dead drop five feet down, I was out on the sidewalk. I thanked every god who was listening as I started the car - it was so quiet compared to a lot of other engines I'd heard. Mom and Dad wouldn't realize I was gone until it was way too late. If they noticed I was gone at all.