Fire with Fire

IT’S WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, LAST PERIOD, AND I’m standing in the parking lot in front of Reeve’s truck, concentrating with all my might.

But it’s hard, because I’m so happy. Seeing Reeve these past few days walking around school, pretending like he doesn’t care when I know the truth because I can see right through him. He’s miserable, and I’m loving every second of it.

The door doesn’t move. I concentrate harder. If only I knew what the inside of a car lock looked like, then maybe I could picture it clicking open.

Openopenopen.

I need to get inside Reeve’s car before school lets out, so I can leave him a gift. It’s my daisy necklace, the one he gave me on my thirteenth birthday. Once upon a time it was my most prized possession; I never took it off, not even to take a bath. I found it the other night when I was packing. I hadn’t seen it since homecoming night. The perfect parting gift.

I want him to see it hanging from his rearview mirror and think of me. I know he won’t make the connection, that I am the reason he is hurting right now, that I am the one who is behind it all. But I hope there will be a flicker, a shadowy hint of an idea, an idea that will grow and fester long after I’m gone: You are suffering right now for all of your past sins. This is what you deserve.

Either way, I’m done with it. I don’t want it anymore.

I slide my hand into my coat pocket, take the daisy charm into my hand, and squeeze it as hard as I can. As hard as it takes to turn coal into a diamond.

Click.

Both truck doors, the passenger side and the driver’s side, spring open hard and fast, like they are spring-loaded. It makes the entire chassis rock. Reeve’s car alarm wails. I don’t have much time.

I climb into the front seat and loop the chain around Reeve’s rearview mirror. I give it a flick, so the daisy charm swings back and forth like a pendulum, dead center in the middle of his windshield.

Then I slide out and walk away, without bothering to close the doors, as the high school begins to empty out.