Fire with Fire

I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT WHAT KAT SAID—how Reeve isn’t sorry, how he only told that story to impress me. She made a good point. Why didn’t he apologize to Mary when he had the chance? But then I remember the way he looked at me, how he cried like a little kid, and I feel sure that he was telling the truth. And who else could he have hurt worse than Mary?

Only it doesn’t matter, either way. Because it isn’t my responsibility to make Reeve apologize. Or to try and figure out if he’s sorry for what he did. My loyalty lies with my friend. I have to get Reeve back for what he did to Mary. That’s all. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

A broken heart for a broken heart.

We’re supposed to meet at Java Jones at noon. I’m planning to finish up my AP English essay on mother figures within the works of Shakespeare, which is due Monday. I packed a CD-ROM of timed practice SAT questions for Reeve to work on. He’s already blown through the two test workbooks I let him borrow.

I decide to go to Java Jones an hour early, because this essay isn’t going to write itself, and to make sure we score a good table near an outlet, so we can plug in our laptops in case we run out of battery. Luckily, the one I want is free when I get there. I put my princess coat on the back of a chair and my laptop bag on the other. Then I order a hot chocolate with whipped cream and a peppermint stick at the counter. While I’m looking through my change purse, my phone begins to buzz.

It’s a text. From Reeve. Leg is pretty sore this morning. Don’t think I can make it. Sorry. 🙁

I frown like the face in his text. I keep telling him that he needs to make sure he’s not overexerting himself in the weight room. You can’t rush physical therapy. You need to be patient. My uncle broke his ankle running two years ago, and he finished his physical therapy, like, one week early, and he says his ankle still bothers him when it rains.

I’ve opened up a text to write him back when I see Reeve drive past the front window in his truck.

What the—?

And then it hits me. Reeve could very well be on his way to Rennie’s.

I get my things from the table and leave behind my hot chocolate on my table, to save my spot. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the barista and step outside. The sun is bright, and I have to shield my eyes with my hand. For a second I think I’ve lost him, but then I catch sight of Reeve’s truck making a left into the ferry parking lot.

Okay. Maybe not.

I hustle down the sidewalk. I’m mad, but I’m trying to stay calm. Maybe he’s picking up one of his brothers? I send Reeve an innocent text back. Should I swing by? We can study at your place. As soon as I hit send, my heart fills my throat, because I have this terrible feeling that he’s about to lie to me.

He doesn’t text me back right away, which gives me a chance to catch up to him.

When I get to the parking lot, I’m careful to keep camouflaged behind trees and the ticket booth. Reeve’s parked his truck in line with the cars waiting to drive aboard the next ferry. I’m close enough to see him looking at his phone; he’s probably reading my text. He writes me back. I think I should take it easy and ice it for now. I’ll text you later if it feels better.

My body goes cold. Kat and Mary were one thousand percent right. Reeve’s not a trustworthy guy, not at all. I’m so mad at myself for falling for it when I know better.

Reeve doesn’t see me coming. He’s fiddling with his radio. I can hear the music as I get closer. It’s hip-hop, the volume turned way up. And he’s drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Whoever he’s off to see, he’s sure pumped.

I knock so hard on the glass my knuckles hurt. Reeve startles, and when he sees that it’s me, his jaw drops. He fumbles to turn the radio off and then tries to get his window to roll down.

“Hey, there,” I say, all fake sweet. “So nice to see that your leg’s better.” I drop the act, let my smile go flat. “Don’t bother texting me later. Or any other day.” I walk away.

I hear his truck door open and then slam shut, his feet pounding the pavement. I’m speed walking as fast as I can, but Reeve must be sprinting, even with his bum leg. I let my laptop bag fall on the ground; I don’t even care. I don’t want to look at him.

Before I know it, Reeve wraps his arms around me from behind.

“Let me go!” I try and break out of his bear hug, but his hands are locked around me.

“Lillia, wait a second!”

I don’t wait. I struggle and wriggle to get free until I have no strength left. “Let go of me!” I shriek.

Some of the people in the parking lot have stopped to watch us. “You’re making a scene!” he hisses. He’s right. I don’t want the cops to come; I just want him to let go of me. The only way he’ll do that is if I stop.

“Please, Lillia.” I go limp and he drops his arms.

I’m panting as I turn around to face him. “Care to explain why you lied to me?”

Reeve sets his jaw. “No. Not particularly.” He walks back a few steps and picks up my laptop bag.

I feel something mean bubble up in my throat. The over-whelming urge to tell Reeve everything, how I’ve been only hanging out with him to hurt him for Mary. How it’s all a lie. I’ve been pretending to like him, when in actuality he disgusts me.

But I can’t, because those words won’t mean anything. They won’t hurt him. Because if Reeve did care, he wouldn’t have lied to me so he could sneak off, probably to see some other girl.

“Tell me where you’re going.” I know I sound jealous. And I hate it.

He hands my laptop bag back to me. “It’s better if I don’t.” I snatch it from his hands and hear the bits of broken plastic shake around. It’s broken.

I feel the sting of tears, and my vision blurs. “I hope this other girl knows a thing or two about the SATs. Or else maybe she doesn’t care that you won’t get into college!” I think of all the time I’ve wasted, trying to help Reeve. I should have stuck to the damn plan. I bet I could have kissed him weeks ago.

Reeve’s face goes blank. “You think I’m going to see another girl?”

I walk away.

He’s following me again. He speeds up so that he’s standing in my way. “Fine, you want to know where I’m going?” He fishes something out of his pocket. A piece of paper. He hands it to me.

I wipe my eyes so I can read it. There are two names written down, and neither of them are girls’ names. And an address for a fraternity house at UMass.

I look up at him, because it doesn’t make sense.

His mouth is set in a grim line. “I’m going to whoop those fuckers’ asses.” And then he starts walking back toward his truck.

It takes me a second to put it together. “Oh my God,” I say, staring down at the paper. At the names. Ian Rosenberg and Michael Fenelli. “Oh my God.”

And then it’s me who’s chasing him. “Are you crazy?” I scream.

Reeve doesn’t slow down. “I’m an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. That house those turkeys rented, it was one my dad manages. All I had to do was look up the address, and boom. I found their addresses, their phone numbers, their birthdays. I’m going up there, and I’m going to make them wish they never, ever laid eyes on you and Rennie.”

“I don’t want you to do that!” The ferry horn sounds and the cars waiting to drive aboard start their engines. “I don’t want you going anywhere near them!”

Reeve opens his door. “Why?” he demands. “You don’t think they deserve it?”

I struggle to answer him. Because as much as it was the guys, it was my fault too. I was the one who went to a stranger’s house. I was the one who got too drunk. I was the one who created the situation where something terrible could happen. And I was unlucky enough that it did.

“It won’t change anything!” I reach out and grab hold of his sweatshirt. Two fstfuls. “I am telling you don’t go there. If this is for me, I don’t want it.”

Reeve’s already shaking his head. He’s not listening to me. “Those guys have to pay for what they did. There have to be consequences. They can’t just get away with it.”

It’s hard to breathe now. “I know you want to help. I know that. But nothing you do can change what happened.” I’m trying to stay strong so I can make him hear me, but I can feel myself start to shake. “You going over there, it will only bring everything back for me. All I want to do is forget.”

I see him soften a little. “You can’t bury it, Lil. It happened. You have to deal with it.”

“I know. But let me do it my way.” I look up at him with pleading eyes. “Not like this.”

We’re staring at each other, neither of us blinking, and Reeve finally bows his head and nods. “I just—I wanted to make things right for you.” He reaches out and takes my hand and locks his fingers around mine. I let him do it, even though I feel like I shouldn’t.

Later, when I think about the look in Reeve’s eyes, and I remember what he said about how there should be consequences for the bad things people do, I feel dread, because I know he’s right. There will be consequences, for all of us. Maybe me most of all.