She sighed heavily through her nose. “I’m clear. I’m on my meds. I’m fine. I’m just finally telling you what I’ve thought for a long time. Which is... Caroline is using you for something. I don’t know what.”
Paranoid delusions. Zilla’s specialty.
I stood up. “I’m exhausted, and I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to stay. But put the fire out before you come to bed.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Iwas dreamingof my 8thgrade graduation trip. We went skiing. I hated skiing, but I loved sitting by fireplaces reading books, so while my classmates were all mastering the bunny hill and making out on the ski lift, I was curled up in the corner of the lodge reading a stolen and very forbidden copy ofFlowers in the Attic. It was just getting good, and by good, I meanawful, when someone sat down in the comfy chair next to mine. Black shoes were kicked up on the ottoman next to my Otto the Snowman Socks.
“Hello, Poppy.”
“Ronan!” I smiled at him. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re here.” He shrugged beneath the fine white fabric of his shirt. He had that ‘I’ve been working hard’ look about him that was one of my favorite looks. His hair fell down over his eyes, and he swept it up off his face.
“You’re handsome,” I told him.
“I know. I fuck so many women.”
“You don’t fuck me.”
“Because you’re a little girl.”
“I liked it when you kissed me.”
“That won’t happen again,” he said with a laugh. “I don’t make a habit of kissing girls like you.”
Girls like me.
“The fire is big,” he said.
“I know. I like it.” I turned to look at the fireplace, but it was cold. Empty. But the smell of smoke was still sharp in the air. “What’s happening?” I asked Ronan.
“Wake up, little girl!” He leaned forward, his nose almost brushing mine. “Wake up!”
The smoke was real. And I went from waking and baffled to up and out of my bed in a heart beat. The air was hazy with smoke coming in my cracked open French doors.
I hung my head, limp with relief. Zilla must still be out there with the fire. I crossed the room and snapped back the curtain. I pushed open the French door the rest of the way and realized it wasn’t just a fire in the fire pit. My whole back yard was on fire. Literally on fire. Yellow flames engulfed the fence around my shower, the bushes at the deep end of the pool were incinerated.
I raced down the hallway and pounded on the door of my sister’s room. There was no answer, so I ran in and found her, sleeping like she always did, kitty corner across the bed, the sheets in a knot around her legs.
“Zilla!”
She woke up with a start. “What? What’s...”
“You didn’t put the fire out. We have to go.”
“Fire?” Her hair was sticking up in a wild rooster tail over the back of her head, and I wanted to kill her and hug her all at the same time.
How, I wondered, could she do this to me?
I grabbed her by the wrist like she was a little girl and yanked her out of the bed. Furious and scared.
“Oh my god,” she said. “That’s smoke.”
“Yeah, Zilla. You didn’t put out the fire.”
“I did. I swear... Poppy, listen. I did. I put it out.”