Torched Read online

  “Wow,” Paxton whispered. “On the scale of dorkitude, this is reading a nine-point-five.”

  “Says the guy who had to be dragged away from the planetarium last year on that field trip,” I murmured back. Paxton elbowed me again, and I was distracted from my disappointment by the necessity of elbowing him back.

  “Okay, everyone, we should get to today’s library scavenger hunt,” one of the guys said. I heard shuffling, and then, “Here are the papers. First team to find all the answers wins ...” he paused dramatically, “...bragging points.”

  I could practically feel the rolling eyes, but the club paired off. Most teams departed for other areas so the duo left at the blue-top table wouldn’t overhear their answers. I turned off the digital recorder and stowed it in Paxton’s bag.

  “Name five constellations of the summer sky in the northern hemisphere,” one of the remaining girls read from the list.

  “No, let’s start with the scientific name for the Canada goose.” They set off, roaming through the stacks.

  “What, no one has a smart phone?” I whispered to Paxton. “They’ve never heard of Wikipedia?”

  “I bet that’s against the rules,” he said.

  I glanced past him at the books that shielded us from view. My eyes widened. “Oh, no. We’re in the astronomy section.” We both scrambled up and peeked around the corner, only to duck out of sight again. The science club pairs were everywhere.

  Paxton nudged me. “The window.” We managed to shove it open without making too much noise. I poked my head out. Twelve feet below, the ground not covered by bushes looked dark and hard.

  “Here. I’ll go first.” Paxton tossed his bag out. It landed in a shrub. Paxton climbed out onto the sill, then leaped off. I heard him land outside, and then it was my turn.

  Okay. Being at the top of a cheer pyramid wasn’t scary, but I’d never jumped out of a building before. Maybe I should just walk out the front door. After all, what did it matter if the Science Club saw me now? I had my answers.

  But Paxton grinned up at me as if we were on some grand adventure, and I hadn’t had this much fun since my last road trip with Alina. I swung my legs over the sill so they dangled into the night. Beneath me were a bunch of prickly-looking shrubs. Paxton stood in the mulch, reaching up towards me. I waved him to the side, but he didn’t move.

  “Jump! I’ll catch you.”

  It would be better if he let me land on my own--it’s not like I didn’t have tumbling practice--but two Science Club voices were approaching, and fast, so there wasn’t time to argue. I took a deep breath, pushed myself from the window sill ... and crashed into Paxton.

  We tumbled into the bushes, and I barely held back a yell of pain as my leg caught underneath him.

  Paxton scrambled up and grabbed the bag.

  “Come on.” Then he noticed my expression. “You okay?”

  “My knee.” I tried to stand, and gasped. “Oh, crap.”

  “We have to get out of here.” Paxton glanced up at the window. Any moment Science Club scavengers in search of astronomy clues might poke their heads out. He turned his back to me and crouched down. “Hop on.”

  I looped my arms around his neck and used my good leg to jump up.

  “There you go. Like a lemur.” Paxton started off.

  “You don’t know what a lemur is.” I gritted my teeth against the pain in my knee.

  “It’s a rodent. I think.”

  “No, it’s not,” I said. “It’s a monkey or something.” Paxton’s shoulders were hard and broad underneath me, and I tried not to think about how my good leg was sort of wrapped around him in the most awkward piggy-back ride ever.

  “I will bet you three million dollars it is not a monkey,” Paxton said.

  We bickered all the way to his car, where Paxton set me down. In the darkness, the window we’d jumped out of was a rectangle of light, but our corner of the parking lot was pretty secluded. Paxton steadied me with a hand on my shoulder.

  “How’s your knee?”

  “Okay.” Stretches would help, and I’d ice it. The squad couldn’t afford for me to get injured. “Let’s get in the car before someone sees us.”

  We did, but Paxton didn’t start the engine.

  “So,” he said. “Our arsonists are not from the junior contingent of Rose-haters.”

  I rubbed at my knee and sighed. “How come I accumulate people who loathe me, while you get squealed over by a bunch of underclassmen?”

  Paxton gave a cocky shrug. “Because I’m the quarterback.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Anyway. Yeah, I guess I’m back to either Georgette or Elizabeth. Or Beverly.” My hand stopped on my knee, and I looked out the side window to keep a sudden attack of tears at bay. “Everyone hates me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  I turned to look Paxton in the eye. “It is. Before this all started, I thought I could count the people who hated me on one finger.”

  “Your middle finger?”

  In the midst of feeling sorry for myself, I smiled.

  “Why’d you start our war?” I asked again.

  Paxton looked away, then started the car and pulled out of the lot. He shrugged.

  “Don’t remember. It was probably something stupid.”

  I watched him as he drove, sure he was lying but not brave enough to call him on it. If I pushed, would he turn on me again? Afraid of losing the friend I’d thought I’d never have again, I dropped it.

  ~ ~ ~

  Friday night. Another football game, this time away. Our opponents were the Hornets, and every one of their cheerleaders was cut from the same dough. The same snotty, fake-blonde, anorexic dough. The kind of dough that gave cheerleaders a bad name.

  “Hey, Rose,” one of them said to me now. I was alone at our jug of ice-water, refilling my personal water bottle. The Hornets were supposed to keep their distance from our squad’s bench and cheering area. The rule had been instituted last year, after one of their cheerleaders started a catfight. Seriously. With hair-pulling and everything. Who did that?

  “Dude,” I said, pointing to the ground, then over towards their bench. “I know you guys aren’t the greatest at geography, but your turf is over there. Far enough away that your stench is bearable.” The trio of willowy girls in green and yellow uniforms just flipped their hair and crossed their arms.

  “How does it feel to be the girl whose boyfriend slept with the biggest slut in California?” their squad captain, Daisy, asked me loudly. Anger surged, and humiliation, plus a dash of confusion: not that I liked Francesca, but since when was she the biggest slut in California? Still, I knew better than to encourage these idiots. I started walking away towards Hayley, who was cheering with the others for the first down the Panthers had just snagged.

  “I guess Francesca banged both of the Appleton hotties,” one of the other girls said. I stopped in my tracks, the heat flaming up my neck turning cold. What was this? I turned back around. Were they joking? Was this just a nasty rumor they wanted to spread?

  “She’s got good taste, at least,” the third Hornet cheerleader put in.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept with their dad too,” said the second. The third scrunched her overly made-up face.

  “Ew. Let’s not even go there.”

  “It must burn,” Daisy said, holding my gaze, “to know that your boyfriend picked her over you.”

  “Shut up,” someone said from beside me. It was Natalie. She glared at Daisy. “Just walk away, or you’ll need new hair extensions after I pull all those ratty things out.” Nat might try to undermine me within the squad, but against a rival team she had my back. I tried not to be too grateful for it.

  Hayley appeared on my other side, and the Hornet cheerleaders made a show of being al
lergic to us, mock-sneezing as they slunk back to their designated cheering area.

  “Thanks,” I said to Natalie. She raised a brow.

  “Thank me by promoting me again.” She started to turn away, but I caught her arm.

  “Is it true? That Francesca’s seeing Dane too?”

  “No idea.” She pulled away, then paused. “For the love of all that’s holy, wipe that pathetic look off your face or I’ll throw you back to the Hornets.”

  “Chill, Natalie,” Hayley said. She cocked her head at me. “You okay?”

  “Have you heard anything about Francesca and Dane?”

  Hayley looked away, then shrugged. “I heard a rumor. I don’t know if it’s true.” She linked arms with me. “Come on, let’s cheer. We’re at the thirty yard line now.”

  I tried to focus on cheering, but my knee still hurt a little from Wednesday, so after a few minutes I sat back down next to the water cooler and let the rest of the girls continue revving the red and gray contingent of the crowd. Daisy’s words kept circling me like hyenas. Dane and Francesca, seeing each other on the sly?

  Despite coming from the bitchiest girl this side of the Rockies, the info had the ring of truth. And somehow, it made sense. It felt like the missing piece, if I could only discover where it fit. I put my head in my hands, trying to figure this out.

  If Dane was secretly sleeping with Francesca, then ... I grabbed onto an idea. Maybe it was Dane in the photos, and Ryan only told the police it was him to cover for his brother. That had to be it. But why?

  This was the key. Think, Rose, think. I knew Mr. Richmond hated the Appletons, but why would Ryan dating Francesca be any better than Dane dating her? Dane and Ryan were pretty similar: good grades, athletic, et cetera. Their only major difference was their ages.

  Their ages.

  Oh. I lifted my head. My eyes were wide, but I barely saw the field before me. Dane was twenty. Francesca was still seventeen. “Statutory rape,” I muttered, then glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear.

  Statutory rape. That had to be it. Francesca’s dad would have Dane charged in a heartbeat, with or without his daughter’s agreement. In California, it didn’t matter if the relationship was consensual.

  My mind started to build the scene. The police come to the Appletons’ door, waving those photographs and asking questions. Ryan figures I must have taken the pictures and set the fire, decides I already hate him, and lies to protect his brother. Francesca, knowing what her father would do to Dane, says nothing.

  I rolled the scenario around in my mind, looking for flaws, but it fit.

  We’ll talk soon, Ryan had said. Soon as in ... Francesca’s eighteenth birthday? When his brother would be in the clear? Well, sort of--I was pretty sure the statute of limitations didn’t run out as soon as all parties were eighteen. But it made sense. I still didn’t know who might have set the fire in the first place, but the rest of it finally made sense.

  So Ryan hadn’t cheated. I’d suspected since the Halloween party, but now I was sure. Part of me was relieved, but overall I found myself less thrilled than I’d thought I’d be at the revelation. Which was weird. If I hadn’t set the fire, and Ryan hadn’t cheated, then ... we were both innocent. Both still in love with each other.

  Right? I frowned. He might not have made out with another girl, but Ryan had still betrayed me by not believing me, not standing by me. It had taken me until the moment I saw Ryan in school to think he might have cheated, but Ryan had decided I set fire to his dad’s yacht in the space of a heartbeat, without even asking for my side of the story.

  And while I’d never lied to him, he’d sure as hell lied to me.

  A roar went up from the crowd. The green and yellow fans were cheering, while our Panther supporters looked angry. The ref blew his whistle. I stood to look out at the field.

  Oh, great. One of the Hornets had sacked Paxton. That wasn’t going to help the scoreboard, which already teetered on the edge between victory and loss.

  I propped my pom-poms on my hips and waited for Paxton to get up and shake it off. Paxton rolled up onto his elbows and started to lever himself off the ground, then stopped.

  His face went white, and he fell back to the turf.

  Chapter 16

  “So?” I asked as my dad put down the kitchen phone.

  “Broken ankle. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple days--he suffered a mild concussion too, so they want to keep him for observation--but it looks like he’ll make a full recovery.” It was the morning after the football game, and my dad had just checked in with Mr. Callaway. Relieved that Paxton’s ankle wasn’t shattered to bits the way some of the rumors claimed, I poked at the cheesy sausage-onion omelet my dad was cooking on the stove.

  “I think it’s done.” Anytime I tried to make an omelet, it turned into scrambled eggs, but it was my dad’s signature dish. My dad wielded a spatula to cut the gigantic thing in two, then shoveled each half onto a plate. He handed one to me, and we sat down to eat.

  “This is good,” my dad said after a bite.

  “Way to compliment yourself,” I said, but added, “it is really good.”

  “No, I mean this.” My dad used his fork to indicate him and me. “We haven’t really spent much time together lately.”

  I started to reply around bite of my omelet, but my dad gave me a look so I swallowed before saying, “That’s because we only talk when there’s a crisis.” Hm. I’d meant to say because things had been busy. The way I’d put it I sounded like I was accusing him.

  Then again, maybe I was. I stabbed another bite of omelet.

  “Rose ...” My dad’s lips compressed, but then he nodded. “Okay, so let’s talk now. How are you doing?” I just stared at him, my fork halfway to my mouth, and he added, “At school, and everything.”

  I put my fork down, the whole terrible Homecoming weekend rising like bile in my stomach. Should I tell him about it? Or explain that Ryan lied to me and Alina won’t give me the time of day and my friends all think I’m full of myself and according to Beverly half the school loathes me at least a little? How exactly did he expect me to respond?

  “It’s great, dad, just swell,” I said finally. “Best time of my life.” I dared him with my eyes to ask for the real story. My dad studied me, then leaned forward.

  Before he could say anything my mom walked in, made up for a day out shopping. She swooped down next to me and kissed my cheek, then picked up my abandoned fork and nabbed a bite of omelet.

  “If it isn’t my two favorite people in the world,” she said cheerfully.

  I pushed my plate away, not hungry anymore. My whole life I’d thought of my mom as this luminous being, an angel who brightened every room she was in, but the way she’d so epically failed to be there for me these last few weeks had taken a shark bite out of her halo. My mother would rather banter and shop and get facials than really talk to me.

  Before, I’d always ignored my hurt at my mom until it faded. This time I couldn’t.

  “I have homework to do,” I muttered, and left the table.

  I spent the day writing college application essays. Not a single one mentioned the word arson. When the afternoon sun started to fade, I borrowed my dad’s car and drove to the hospital. The nurse at the desk pointed me down a checkered-floor hallway. As I made my way past rooms of unfortunate hospital inmates I caught sight of a familiar head of brown hair. I waved.

  “Hi, Hayley,” I called. She came over, and we ducked into a doorway to avoid being flattened by a wheelchair-bound woman who must have been doing forty mph down the hall. “She should race in that thing,” I said, laughing.

  Hayley smiled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Same as you, I think.” Hayley and Paxton were now quasi-friends again, she’d told me Thursday, but she cock
ed her head as if not understanding. “Visiting Paxton, right?”

  Hayley looked surprised. “Oh. I didn’t think you and Paxton got along.” She searched my eyes, and suddenly I felt like an ant under a magnifying lens. Hayley had to be the nicest person in the world for visiting the guy who recently broke up with her, but maybe she wasn’t so keen on her friends being nice to him too. I shrugged.

  “We don’t, not really, but we’re neighbors. And--” I hesitated. Maybe I should keep quiet about my clear-my-name goals. Then again, Hayley had already proven to be more of a friend than, say, Alina. I could trust her. “And he’s been helping me try to figure out who set me up.” Hayley looked confused again. “You know, framed me for arson?”

  Hayley blinked at me like I was speaking Chinese.

  “Last I heard, you thought Paxton had done it,” she said. “And then you signed a confession.”

  “If I didn’t sign, Ryan’s dad was going to have my dad fired. But no, I realized Paxton wasn’t the one who framed me. And now he’s helping.” Hayley frowned at me. “Or he was until he got himself a broken ankle. How is he?”

  “He’ll be okay. He’s pretty upbeat about it, actually.” Hayley’s voice was flat, like someone had stepped on it. She moved past me. “Well, see you.”

  “You want to hang out tonight?” I asked. “We could--”

  “I’m busy. But thanks. Bye.” She bobbed quickly down the hall. I stared after her--what had that been about?--then continued on my way, breathing through my mouth to avoid the astringent smell of sickness and cleaners.

  Paxton’s room was a cool blue. The bed closest to the door was empty, so Paxton had the place to himself. He lay on his hospital bed, throwing a football straight up at the ceiling and catching it. Below his gym shorts, a cast swallowed his left leg almost to his knee.

  Seeing him made something inside of me relax, a tangle that had knotted at the game when he’d failed to get up. I’d nearly run onto the field, but then the coach and team doctor were leaning over him. The images flitted through my mind--the dark night and harsh spotlights, the stretcher carrying Paxton off to the blaring ambulance. I didn’t remember the rest of the game, except that we lost and I think our squad group-vowed to punch Daisy if she said even one snotty word about Paxton, but she hadn’t and we’d all gone home shaken. I had, at least.