Fire with Fire

MRS. LIND HAS GONE ALL-OUT THIS YEAR. THERE are red-bow-tied waiters walking around passing out fancy little bites like mini lump crab cakes and pear latke cakes with truffled crème fraiche on top—plus, there’s a carving station and a raw bar and all kinds of chocolate goodies.

It’s a packed house, people everywhere. My parents are by the Christmas tree talking to some friends from the yacht club. My mom looks so beautiful tonight. She’s wearing a white dress that drapes on the side, and she got her hair done in an updo. She tried to get Nadia and me to go with her and get our hair done too, but Nadia hates the way anyone else does her hair, and while I would normally jump at the chance to get a blowout, I wasn’t in the mood.

I’m in that blue silk dress again, the one I wore to Reeve’s open house. I put my hair in a ponytail and I’ve got on my platform booties because they’re my most comfortable dressy shoe. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone tonight.

I’m sitting with Alex on the comfy couch in the living room, sharing a chocolate tart with whipped cream on top. He snuck us some mulled cider, too, although I doubt our parents would care. I don’t know where Nadia is—probably playing Guitar Hero in the pool house with Alex’s cousins. We’re the only kids still hanging around, only I guess we’re not kids anymore. That’s what Alex’s mom said, that we should stay and socialize with the adults because we’re practically adults ourselves. I’m hoping my parents won’t want to stay too late, because we only took one car.

“Why so glum, Lil?” Alex asks me. “Christmas is in three days.”

I’ve got a forkful of chocolate tart halfway to my mouth. “Glum? I’m not glum. Sorry if I seem that way . . . I guess I’m just tired. I went to the barn really early this morning.”

“How is Phantom?”

“Oh, he’s good.” I take another forkful of tart. “I can’t believe you remember his name.”

Alex gives me a wounded look. “Of course I remember. I’ve seen you compete. Remember, back in freshman year? You used to ride, like, every day. Phantom was all you talked about.”

I laugh. “I guess I was kind of a horsey girl for a while there.” I reach over and grab my clutch off the coffee table. “I got you something for Christmas.”

Alex chews fast and swallows. “No way.”

Shyly, I nod. “I wanted to say thank you. You’ve been so great to me this year.” I pull out the present from my clutch. I could barely fit my lipstick and compact inside with it because it takes up so much room.

Alex looks touched. He turns the whole thing over in his hands, and I’m glad I took special care in wrapping it up. I used a special shiny gold foil paper and tied it with a cream silk ribbon. He opens it slowly, careful not to rip the paper. He pulls out the long, whiskey-colored piece of leather and stares at it without saying anything.

“It’s a guitar strap,” I say, because maybe he thinks it’s a belt? I take it from him and turn it over. “I had them emboss your initials in the leather. I picked the font out myself. Anyway, the lady said it’s adjustable, so you can wear it high and tight like Johnny Cash, or low like the punk-rock kids do.” I hand it back to him. “I wasn’t sure what style you’re into.”

“Lil,” he says quietly, and then looks up at me. “This is so cool.”

I beam a smile. “Really? You like it?”

Alex nods, but then suddenly stands up from the couch and stares across the room.

I look up, and there’s Reeve, wearing his puffy vest and standing in front of the buffet table with a beer in his hand. He’s cutting himself a piece of the pork tenderloin and eating it with his fingers.

I stand up too, my heart pounding. “Did you invite him?”

“No,” Alex says.

Now Reeve’s taking a swig of the beer, finishing it in one long gulp. He’s looking around the room; he hasn’t seen us yet. But he spots Alex’s uncle Tim, and he goes up to him and claps him on the back so hard that some champagne tips out of Uncle Tim’s flute.

“Shit. He’s drunk,” Alex says, and strides across the room. I follow him. He goes up to Reeve and puts his hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing here, man?”

Reeve turns around unsteadily. “Your mom let me in.” Then he sees me standing behind Alex. “Whaddup, Cho.”

“Hey.”

Alex starts hustling Reeve out of the room and out the back door, toward the pool house, with Reeve protesting and stumbling all the way.

Reeve pushes Alex away from him when we’re outside. “What the hell? I’m not welcome at your house all of a sudden?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Alex says. “Just chill.”

I wrap my arms around myself, shivering. I left my coat inside.

Reeve juts his chin at me. “What is it you have against winter coats?” He starts to shrug out of his vest.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“‘I’m fine,’” he mimics back. Then Reeve’s lip curls. “Whatever. Freeze to death, then. See if I care.”

My eyes well up. He’s being so mean. Is this how it’s going to be with us now?

“You should go,” Alex says, stepping in front of me.

Reeve throws up his hands. “So much for bros before hoes. I’m out.” He yells out toward the pool house, “Merry Christmas, kids! Santa’s getting his ass kicked out.” And then he stumbles off toward the gate.

Nadia and a couple of Alex’s older cousins have come outside; they’re watching us from the front of the pool house with wide eyes.

I take Alex’s arm. “He shouldn’t drive,” I say. “He’s drunk.”

Alex doesn’t make a move; he just watches as Reeve stalks off. I push Alex in Reeve’s direction as hard as I can. “Hurry, Alex!”

Reluctantly, Alex follows him. “Give me your keys. I’ll drive you home.”

Reeve tosses his keys out onto the lawn. “Nah, I’ll walk.”

“Reeve!” I call out. “Let him take you.”

But he’s already halfway down the street, his black puffy vest blending into the night sky. I go looking for his keys, but it’s too dark. Alex comes back to my side and shrugs. “Give me your phone,” I say to him, and he hands it to me. I use it like a flashlight and I comb through the grass.

Behind me, Alex says, “We should go back inside. It’s freezing out here. I’ll find them in the morning.”

I ignore him and keep searching. My fingers finally close on the hard, cold metal, and I clutch them in my hand. Then I hold them up in front of Alex. “You should go after him. He’s drunk; it’s going to take him hours to get home with his bad leg. He could get hit by a car.”

Alex’s face is impassive. “He’s not going to listen. He’s too stubborn. He’ll be fine.”

“Please try.”

Alex stares at me for a second, and then he says, “What’s going on with you guys?” He runs his hands through his hair and squinches up his face, like he’s afraid to hear the answer. “Please don’t lie to me.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t want to lie to him. I feel like I’ve been lying to everybody lately, and I’m sick of it. Alex deserves better than that.

“We’ve . . . hung out a few times.”

Alex watches me intently. “Did you guys hook up?”

I take a deep breath. “We kissed. But that’s all over with. It was a stupid mistake.” Alex stares at the ground. He won’t look at me.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Alex says, finally looking up. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound angry. Just bummed.

He takes the keys from me. “Thanks again for my present.” “You’re welcome.” I watch as he jogs over to Reeve’s truck, parked in front of Alex’s neighbor’s driveway. He gets in and drives off.

Nadia comes running up to me and asks, “What’s going on?” “Nothing,” I say, putting my arm around her. “Let’s go back inside.”

The next day, I’m lying on the couch, watching TV and texting with Ash, when my dad comes into the living room and sits down next to me. “What are you watching?” he asks me.

I don’t look up so I can keep texting. “I don’t know, some Christmas special.”

What the h happened at Alex’s?? I heard Reeve showed up wasted and Lindy kicked him out!

Not really. Is that what people are saying??

Ren said she had to pick up Reeve off the side of the road!

Of course he called Rennie for a ride. Of course he did.

“Have you finished your Wellesley supplement yet?” my dad asks me.

“Yup, pretty much,” I say. It’s almost true because it’s almost done.

Casually he says, “Do you want me to take a look at it before you send it off?”

“That’s okay,” I say. “I already showed it to my guidance counselor.”

What was he even upset about?

No clue. What did Ren say?

She made excuses for him as always. He’s got her on the hook.

So true.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another pair of eyes.”

I finally look up from my phone. “Daddy . . . I don’t even know if I want to go to Wellesley.”

Frowning, he says, “I thought we all agreed you’d at least apply.”

“I’m applying, but even if I get in, I don’t know if I want to go there.” I scroll Ash’s and my text conversation and reread what she wrote. “Just because Mommy loved it at an all-girls school, that doesn’t mean I will.”

“I want you to apply so you have the option,” my dad says. “Understood?”

I nod. Fine. I don’t even know if I’ll get in, so whatever.

He clears his throat the way he does when he’s uncomfortable. “The other night at the Linds . . . was that friend of yours drunk?”

I keep my eyes down, but my heart jumps. “What friend?”

“Reeve. That’s his name, right?”

I’m surprised my dad knows his name. My mom probably told him. “No, he wasn’t drunk.” My dad looks skeptical, so I say it again with more emphasis. “He wasn’t drunk, Daddy! He’s not like that. He’s an athlete.”

“All right, all right. I trust you. I just want you to be careful of who you hang out with. Right now you should be focused on your college applications and finishing out senior year well. Don’t get complacent.”

I want to snap back at him, but I don’t, because that’s not done in our family. You don’t talk back. It makes me mad when my dad comes home and tries to play the part of the involved parent when he’s hardly ever even here. He doesn’t have the right to tell me what to do. Calmly I say, “I am very focused on my applications, Daddy. In fact, I’m going upstairs to finish my common app right now.” I stand up.

“That’s my girl,” my dad says, giving me an approving nod.

When I get up to my room, I flop down on my bed and call Ash.

I can hear her munching on something. “I think Ren deserves better. He’s been stringing her along since we were kids. She gives him whatever he wants and he takes, takes, takes. It’s like the freaking Giving Tree.”

I would hardly call Rennie a Giving Tree, but I don’t say so.

Ash continues, “He’s all about himself. He couldn’t care less about anyone else.”

I don’t know if that’s true. In fact, I’m sure it’s not.

I remember the first time I ever met Reeve. It was back when our house was being built. Nadia was little then. I was seven.

I never saw the house that used to be there. Just pictures of it. It was a two-story house with a wraparound front porch, decorative shutters, and a big iron weather vane. It wasn’t at all my parents’ style. But my mom was set on the spot. It was a large plot, two acres, with a perfect view of the sea. The man who lived there wasn’t even planning to sell, but Dad had a lawyer send him a letter and he offered a ton of money.

The day after Dad and Mom signed the papers, they had the house bulldozed.

This was back when White Haven wasn’t all megamansions. I mean, the houses were definitely big, but I don’t remember many of them having in-ground pools or elevators or five-car garages. It was more about the land. There was a lot of space between the houses, privacy, and they really did have the best views on the whole island. I guess in that way it was destined to end up the way it did. Owned by rich people.

Anyway, since my mom was the one who worked on the plans, she liked to visit the site and see how things were progressing.

One time she took Nadia and me with her.

When we got to the site, they’d poured the concrete foundation and had started framing out the rooms with two-by-fours. There were at least ten pickup trucks parked on the lawn and one big yellow dump truck.

“Oh good Lord,” Mom muttered. “We’ll have to resod the whole front lawn.”

I remember being totally amazed by how big our house was going to be. We’d only ever lived in apartments. Granted, they were luxury apartments, but you still had people living right on the other side of your walls. This house was humongous.

There were a bunch of workmen milling around. They all seemed to have big round stomachs. I held Nadia’s hand and stood close to my mom, while she talked to one of the contractors. Even though it was hot out, Mom wore a black suit and heels, and she kept her sunglasses on even when we were inside the house.

She was arguing about the staircase. She kept pointing to her plans, telling him he needed to follow her directions or else she’d hire another crew. The man scoffed. “We’re the only crew on the island.” My mom said, “I’ll send them in on the ferry and rent them a house.” And that basically shut him up.

While my mom was getting stern with him, he kept looking down at me and Nadia. I think he didn’t like being yelled at by a lady, and especially not in front of children.

And then, suddenly, I felt a big slap on my back.

“Tag!”

I spun around. There was a boy a little taller than me, with a big smile that showed nearly all his teeth, rocking his weight from one foot to the other.

“Reeve!” the man yelled. “I told you to stay put in my truck.”

“You have children running around this work zone?” my mom said, exasperated.

“He was supposed to be at football camp, but my wife apparently wrote the wrong date on the calendar. And she’s away visiting her sister, so . . . I did what I had to do.”

Reeve blinked at me a few times. Then he slapped my arm and said, “Tag,” again. And then he added, “You’re it,” and said the words slowly, as if I didn’t understand English.

“I know how to play tag,” I said, as mean as I could. I hated when people did that, assumed that because I was Asian, I didn’t know English. It drove me crazy.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” He hustled backward away from me.

I dropped Nadia’s hand and sprinted after him.

Mom and the man shouted after us, but I didn’t stop. I wanted to catch him so badly.

Though the man had said Reeve wasn’t usually on site, he sure whipped around through my house like he’d been there before. He knew all these places to twist and turn. He jumped over a pile of wood, ducked under two sawhorses. He was quick, but I was too. I would have been faster if I hadn’t had on dress shoes.

He was almost in my reach when he twisted into a door frame. At the very last second it was like he changed his mind, he didn’t want to go through. But I was already on top of him. I crashed into him and tagged him as hard as I could, and he went flying into the room, skidding across the floor.

It was freshly poured wet concrete. He left the craziest skid mark.

I gasped.

“Damn it, Reeve!”

I turned around, and there was Reeve’s dad, red in the face. He stepped into the room, big boot prints on the concrete. I guess he didn’t care about ruining it, since Reeve had already taken care of that. He picked Reeve up by the back of his shirt, like cats do to their babies. Only he wasn’t gentle. He looked like he was going to kill Reeve. And Reeve looked scared. His whole face changed.

My voice came out in a squeak. “I—It’s my—”

It was my fault, I’d pushed him, but Reeve didn’t let me say it.

“Sorry, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

Mom and Nadia came up then, and they gasped too.

Reeve’s dad, seeing them, set Reeve down. “We’ll fix this right up—no charge, of course.” He glared down at Reeve. “Get in the truck. Now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” Reeve said.

I felt so bad. Mom put me and Nadia in the car. As we drove away, I saw Reeve sitting in the bed of his dad’s truck, like he’d been told. He didn’t look scared anymore.

He grinned at me.