Torched Page 20

  Ryan flattened his hands on the bench slats and stared straight ahead. The breeze teased his hair, and blew strands of mine in my face. I swiped them away.

  “Look, you set fire to my dad’s boat without even talking to me about the photographs,” Ryan finally said. “Maybe I thought you deserved to stew a bit.”

  He’d been punishing me? The urge to try and fix things went up in smoke. I stood and grabbed my bag.

  “Ryan, I didn’t take those pictures, and I didn’t set that fire. Until you accept that, I have nothing to say to you.”

  And I walked away. The cold breeze intensified on my face as if to push me back, but I kept going. I spent the rest of the day quietly agonizing over what he’d said, what I’d said, and what it meant. After school I changed in the girls’ locker room, then shook myself out of my funk. A captain couldn’t be preoccupied. Cheer practice was going well, at least. Natalie and Hayley were sharing assistant-captain duties, and I thought we had a pretty good shot at semi-regionals. I was tired but optimistic when Lindsay dropped me off that afternoon.

  I’d just gotten out of the shower when my mom told me Juliette was there to see me. I threw on some clothes and dashed downstairs.

  “Don’t you want to brush your hair, Rosy?” my mom said as I went by.

  “Later,” I said, and kept going. Juliette waited in the kitchen, and I plopped eagerly into the seat across from her. “Hey! News?”

  “Sort of.” Juliette’s blue eyes darted over the kitchen, as if she didn’t want to talk within possible earshot of my parents.

  “Here, let’s go for a walk.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her outside, stopping just long enough to slip on some sandals. We walked to the road, and turned away from her house.

  “So?” I said, but instead of mentioning arson, Juliette frowned.

  “I thought you and Paxton were friends again.”

  “Um. Yeah, kind of.” As long as you defined friendship as ignoring each other. I’d thought about trying to talk to Paxton after school yesterday, but what if he told me to scram again? An apology was only a text away, but I couldn’t make the first move, not after all those weird feelings. Obviously, he didn’t return them, and I wasn’t about to humiliate myself.

  “So why do I have to be the one to drive him to and from school?” Juliette sounded annoyed. “You could drive him in his car, right?”

  “Lindsay drives me,” I said. I had thought, last Saturday, that Paxton and I could start carpooling, but that was before Paxton woke up Sunday morning and wigged out.

  “But you could, right? My parents are making me drive him, even though I have track. Driving him home in the afternoon makes me late to practice.”

  “Well, I have cheerleading practice,” I pointed out.

  “What if we traded off? That way I wouldn’t be late every single day.”

  “I’m squad captain,” I pointed out. “If I’m late, practice doesn’t start.” Besides, with how thoroughly Paxton had ignored me since last weekend there was no way in Awkward Moment Hell I was going to volunteer to drive him around.

  “I forgot that being Rose is so much more important than being me,” Juliette snapped.

  Surprised, I stopped walking. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just that things with Paxton are ... weird right now. He’s ignoring me,” I confessed. Juliette sighed grumpily.

  “I knew you two were still fighting.”

  I gave a weak smile. “Sorry.” We resumed our stroll.

  “I talked to Georgette,” Juliette said.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. At practice yesterday. I told her I was doing an extra credit project about fingerprints. She started talking about crimes she could commit and get away with.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “What?” Adrenaline flooded me. Was this the break I’d been waiting for? Juliette shrugged.

  “Mostly she meant because she and Francesca are identical twins. She said they’d have the same fingerprints. Which isn’t true, by the way--I looked it up. When I told her, she said she could still get Francesca’s prints and plant them somewhere, and since they have the same DNA--which is true--no one would ever know.”

  “So she knows how to lift and plant fingerprints.”

  “It sounded complicated. Something about an ink printer and wood glue.”

  My head buzzed with excitement, but I frowned as we turned and walked back towards my house. Would Georgette babble so freely about planting fingerprints if she was the one to frame me? Then again, it wasn’t like she was a career criminal on her guard, and she did have a tendency to talk her track friends’ ears off.

  “Any word on where she says she was that night?”

  “At home, she claims.” Juliette eyed me. “She also claims Ryan is about to ask her out.”

  “She’s dreaming.” At least Ryan’s and my conversation earlier made me sure of that. My evidence so far was circumstantial, but Georgette was desperate to get her grubby little paws on Ryan, and I seriously doubted she’d been innocently hanging out at home that night.

  The boxes were all checked. Motive, opportunity, know-how: check, check, check. But how to prove it? We reached my mailbox again, and Juliette nudged me with her shoulder.

  “So you’re grateful, right? For the information?”

  “Very. Thank you so, so much.” If I confronted Georgette, would she crack and confess? Maybe I could secretly tape it. I wondered if I was jumping to conclusions. Beverly was still playing coy about her alibi, and Elizabeth Thrasher had supposedly been out of town, but I hadn’t confirmed that yet.

  “Grateful enough to chauffeur Paxton around so I don’t have to?”

  I would rather chew off my own feet. “Can’t. Because of cheerleading. Sorry.” Juliette heaved a sigh and turned towards her house. About to shrug off her attitude, I paused. I didn’t want to take my friends for granted anymore. “Jules,” I called, and she paused in mid-trudge. “You’re a good sister. And a good friend. I owe you like ten million cookies.”

  She waved that off and kept going.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day while walking to Calc, I checked my phone for texts--still none from Paxton. What the hell? I’d finally texted him yesterday with a simple R U mad at me? but he hadn’t even bothered to reply. I shoved my phone into my bag and looked up just in time to keep from running over someone.

  Alina. She blocked my way. Alone. I glanced around--no cronies in sight. She was three inches shorter than me, so I could have shoved past, but I didn’t.

  “I saw you talking to Ryan yesterday,” she said. I waited a moment, but that seemed to be it. I raised my hands and slow-clapped.

  “Good news! Your eyes are in perfect working order.”

  Alina’s dark gaze narrowed.

  “So what, is he forgiving you now?”

  For something I didn’t do? “Seems like.” Did it bug Alina that Ryan wasn’t participating in her Shun Rose Until the End of Time party? She studied me with her trademark arms-crossed glare, and I made a show of checking my watch.

  “This has been fun, but I’ve got to--”

  “What did you mean, before, when you said if we were still friends you’d tell me why you signed the confession?” It spilled from Alina in a rush, like she’d been waiting to ask since Homecoming. I raised my chin.

  “Exactly what I said.” I’d trusted her not to attack me once, and wound up with chocolate milk all down my sweater. Alina was going to have to pony up an actual, verbal apology if she wanted me to trust her again. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t.

  “Paxton says you’re innocent,” she said instead.

  I blinked. “Paxton said that?” To Alina, the girl he blamed for stealing his best friend in middle school?

  “I thought you were trying to say he did
it. So why is he helping you?”

  I shrugged. Once upon a time I would have poured the whole situation out to her and asked for help in deciphering it all, but she’d long since abdicated that privilege.

  “You don’t make any sense.” Alina stared at me, her eyes oddly bright, then whirled and stalked away.

  An arm draped suddenly across my shoulder. I jumped, but it was only Tiffany. She hadn’t spit-balled me in first period since Halloween. I hadn’t told her I’d attended her party as Lisa the peacock, so she thought I’d ditched because of her taunting. Ever since, she’d made an effort not to participate in the Great Shunning.

  “You guys friends again yet?” she asked hopefully.

  “No.” I frowned. Something about Alina’s attitude, her eyes, nagged at me. Had she seemed about to cry, in a way that didn’t seem to be from confronting me? I glanced at Tiffany. “Is everything okay with Alina’s parents?”

  Tiffany looked surprised. “I think so. She hasn’t said anything, anyway. Why?”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t my problem anymore. Alina had made sure of that. “Nothing.”

  “Let’s Calc it up, then,” Tiffany said, and we went in to class.

  Chapter 19

  Light. Heat. People. Rocketing enthusiasm, plus cutthroat glares from other squads. Stomachs wound tight, nerves strung high. Yep, it was Saturday at the regional cheerleading championships. They were at a high school a forty-minute drive from Petalina; I’d carpooled with Hayley and Lindsay, but my parents had promised to come, and we were going out to lunch afterwards. I was excited for them to see me cheer.

  In the hallway outside the auditorium, I bounced on my toes and grinned. I loved competitions. Football games were fun, but let’s face it: no one went to a football game for our cheers. Our skirts, maybe, but mostly the action on the field. But here ... this was what every practice this season had been leading up to. This was the gateway to Nationals in January; after this we’d have to work harder than ever, and none of us could wait. We just had to blow the other regional squads out of the water first.

  “Rose.” Hayley poked me; she was at a side door of the hallway, peeking out at the auditorium. “Guess who’s here!”

  “Who?” My first thought was Paxton, and my heart nearly leapt out of my throat. Stop thinking about Paxton, I told myself. It was probably Ryan, being supportive even though I hadn’t spoken to him since Wednesday. But when I huddled next to Hayley, I followed her pointing finger to ... “Alina?”

  “Everyone came!”

  I realized Alina sat next to Tiffany, with a dozen other classmates in a loose bunch around them. Alina didn’t look all that thrilled to be there, but at least she’d shown up.

  A familiar form edged down the row and sat on Alina’s other side, and my heart thumped. Ryan. He handed Alina a soda, and another to Tiffany. Was it my imagination, or did Alina’s gaze linger on Ryan a little too long? My eyes narrowed. They seemed to hang out more in the wake of my false arson charge. Was there anything else going on?

  Ryan whispered in Alina’s ear. My eyes went into laser-mode, but then Ryan stood up and made his way through the rows of seats to ... oh, there were my parents! But why would--and then some hefty woman moved out of the way, and I saw who Ryan sat down next to.

  Paxton. On his other side sat his parents, with mine at the end of the row.

  My heart thumped hard now. Paxton and I still hadn’t spoken more than a couple words since last weekend, but I felt more aware of him than ever. In school hallways, my eyes picked out his blonde hair from the crowd before I even realized I was looking for him. Once I saw him I always pretended not to notice him, because I was sure if I met his gaze his brown eyes would shout scram. But I stared at him now, wondering if his parents had dragged him here or if he’d wanted to come.

  “Oh my God,” Hayley murmured. For a second I thought she’d seen Paxton too, but she was still focused on our friends. “If we lose, everyone’s going to see.”

  “Relax. We’ll be fine.” The words were automatic. As captain, it was my job to keep everyone from freaking out. I tugged her away from the door. “Let’s finish warming up.”

  Everyone was warmed up already, but I had us do a couple quiet mini-routines that weren’t real cheers but served to break up pre-competition tension, and then it was nearly time. An announcement onstage launched the squad ahead of us out from behind the curtain; we were up second in our all-girls division, so we took our waiting positions.

  “Everyone ready?” I asked under my breath, to keep the girls’ attention from the routine onstage. Everybody pumped one pom-pom into the air and grinned. Some of the girls bounced on their toes. Natalie, though, looked green. After a minute, I edged over to her.

  “You okay, Nat?”

  “I’m fine. Just don’t screw up, Whitfield,” Natalie snapped. “Let’s do this.”

  Before I could retort, the announcer called our school, and we were on.

  We started faultlessly. Every movement was sharp, every clap in perfect unison. The aerial stunts went off without a hitch, the flyers hoisting me up and bracing me for an arabesque. My dismount was perfect.

  Then, halfway through the routine, I saw an awkward motion to my left: Natalie tripped. Over nothing, or her own feet. She caught herself and kept going, but was half a second slow for the next set of movements. I ignored it, ignored everything, and focused on letting my energy blend and pump up with my squad to the final buildup, and then everyone sank or leapt into the flourished ending.

  And we were done. The crowd applauded, and our friends started a standing ovation in their section of the auditorium. I could hear Tiffany whooping, and my smile was so wide it hurt. We held our positions for a moment, then jogged offstage to make way for the next squad.

  ~ ~ ~

  We came in second.

  I know, not so bad considering Natalie’s stumble, right? But unfortunately in our category only first place went on to the state competition. So our season was suddenly over, when we thought we’d have weeks more of intense practices and fundraisers and excitement. Sure, we’d still cheer for the basketball team over the winter, but as far as our competition season went we were done. We were all subdued as we changed in one of the classrooms set aside as a locker room. It was a history classroom, from the map charting the Roman Empire on the back wall.

  “At least we placed,” said Hayley, ever positive.

  “Second place is the first loser,” Whitney grumbled. Natalie looked about to cry.

  “Way to go,” one of the juniors muttered to her.

  “Hey,” I snapped. “Everyone, listen up!” I made sure to meet each of their gazes in turn. I felt awful about losing, but I found that not going to the California state competition wasn’t quite as devastating as being dragged from my house in the middle of the night and charged with arson. With that perspective came a moment of clarity.

  Natalie had started a cheerleading war against me, trying to oust me as captain, and it was perfectly within feud guidelines to call her out on the mat for this mistake. The squad would flambé her for me; I wouldn’t even have to do anything. But when it came down to it, someone had to be the one to break the cycle. It had never been me, before. But I knew firsthand how humiliating it was to mess up in front of everyone, and after learning how much, and why, some of my classmates loathed me, I wanted to make sure that my actions, right now, wouldn’t deepen the rift between Natalie and me.

  “We gave our all out there today, every one of us,” I said. “You should be proud of that.”

  “Some of our alls weren’t good enough,” someone murmured. I clapped, loudly, to cut off the sentiment before it could spread.

  “If anyone here failed today,” I said, “it was me. I’m your captain. And let’s face it, team unity hasn’t been at its best this season.” And as capt
ain ... I swallowed. Maybe if I hadn’t been so distracted, I could have brought the team back together. Maybe if I hadn’t shoved my squad captainship in Natalie’s face over the Homecoming routine, she wouldn’t have resorted to backstabbing. “That’s my fault.”

  “That’s everyone’s fault,” Hayley interrupted. She stood next to me, and I was grateful for the support. But placing blame wasn’t going to fix anything. I shook my head.

  “Look, guys, we flubbed this one. But it’s over, and it doesn’t make us less ... It doesn’t make us less.” Maybe that sounded trite. Maybe it didn’t make any sense. But at the start of this year, I’d thought the key to life was being perfect--perfect car, perfect boyfriend, perfect hair and clothes and grades. Then I’d lost most of that list, and you know what? I was still me. Maybe I wasn’t perfect, but perfect wasn’t everything.

  Some of the girls looked like they were two seconds away from rolling their eyes, but most had lost their sad or angry expressions. They looked like all they needed was a pep talk to regain their sense of worth. So I gave it to them, there in someone else’s history classroom before everyone left to go join their friends and families. And it worked--by the time we huddled in a circle to put our hands in the middle, even Natalie was smiling. “On three,” I said. We counted together, then shouted “Panthers” and pumped our fists in the air.

  “See you all at Hayley’s tonight,” I called as the group broke up and people filtered out. Hayley was hosting a sleepover for the whole squad, and I vowed that it was going to be fun despite our loss or I’d eat my pom-poms. Without ketchup.

  Two seats over, Natalie slipped high-heeled boots on. She stood up and fixed her hair, then glanced at me. “Thanks for making me feel like a total jackass for being on your back all season,” she said, looking annoyed. I raised a brow.