I grin and open the freezer door. “Mom said you want pizza for dinner.” I pull out pepperoni, his favorite. This kid eats nothing that doesn't come from a box.
Robbie grabs a bag of chips off the counter and pulls out a handful as his brother appears. “Hey, Budge.” He shoves the whole mess in his mouth. “Want thom pitha?”
“Nah.” He runs his hand over Robbie's head. “I gotta go sell some hot dogs. I'm up for a raise this week.”
“That's great.” I've decided to try with this guy. Maybe I'll win him over with kindness. “You must be the best thing that's ever happened to the Wiener Palace. The, um . . . Chief Wiener must be so proud of you.”
Budge takes a potato chip from Robbie's greasy hands. He chews it as he stares at me. “I heard you went to see Kelsey Anderson.”
“Yeah. Nice girl.” I cut into the plastic wrap on the pizza.
“She said you asked a lot of questions about the accident. What do you hope to gain by digging into that? You can't bring him back.” The edge in his voice makes me put down my scissors.
“No, I can't bring him back, Budge.” That would take a miracle, and that's God's department. “But I can expose the truth. If he was pressured into racing his car that night, people need to know. And if there are specific people responsible, then they need to be stopped.”
His expression is blank, neutral. But for once he's not looking at me with uncontainable venom. Budge nods his red, frizzy head. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I have my stepbrother's approval? “Zach never said anything to you about any of the coaches? The football players? Nothing that would help us out?” I slide the pizza in the oven.
“He just talked about being under a lot of stress. People telling him what to do. But then Zach pretty much stopped talking to me last year. He wouldn't admit it, but I think the players made him cut me out. He only hung out with the team—and Kelsey, of course.”
“But even she said he had grown really distant.”
“You think you can really get to the bottom of this?”
“I'm going to try.” I take a step closer to him. “I could use a prayer or two if you want to help.”
The anger slips back over his face. “I'm done with that. Take care of my brother.” And he walks out, his sultan pants swishing as he goes.
“Bella, there's someone at the door.” Robbie chews on a fingernail. “He looks mad.”
That doesn't narrow it down. Who
haven't
I made mad lately?
“Okay, I'm putting you in charge of watching the pizza. Not much longer, maybe ten minutes, and we'll eat.”
Robbie throws himself over a chair, his arms drooping to the floor. “I feel my superpowers draining. I need food.”
Walking into the entry, I see Luke's brooding face staring back at me through the screen. With a final glantr at Rubbie. I step onto the porch. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
I see his frigid editor ego has returned. Oh, how I missed him. Like a too-tight bra.
“I got your text. You said you visited with Jared tonight and we needed to talk.”
“Yeah, I tried to check his computer to see if I could log on to his MySpace.” Without taking a pause to breathe, I fill him in on every thing that happened. “And that's when his brother stormed out.” I finish, expecting to see Luke beaming with pride over my efforts.
He pushes off from the porch railing and plants himself directly in front of me. “You were told not to do anything alone. I meant that, Bella Kirkwood.”
He really needs to work on his “atta girls.”
“I'm not in any danger. I went over to get notes from Jared. I was in his room for a little while, no harm done. I was there less than thirty minutes.”
“And just enough time for Coach Dallas to
catch
you pulling up MySpace.”
“He didn't see that. Just saw me
on
the computer. No harm done.”
“You don't know that.”
“And you don't know that harm was done. Get over yourself, will you? You're just mad because I took the initiative. If you had a better idea for getting into Jared's computer, I didn't hear it.”
“Here's a scenario I don't want to hear: you snooping in his bedroom, and Jared in a towel.”
His blue eyes are liquid intensity. I have to turn away from them. “Okay, so it doesn't sound like the most wholesome situation. But it's Jared, come on.”
“He's a guy with a girl in his bedroom. He's not to be trusted.”
I lean in until my nose is inches from his. “What are you, my dad?”
“No, I'm . . . I'm ...” He crushes his hair with a hand. “I'm your editor. And I'm still in charge of this project.”
“It's
my
story.”
“Not at this rate. I warned you once, Bella.”
“I'm not some underling you can boss around. We don't have time to waste. If I have the means, what's wrong with me taking some initiative and getting some information? The sooner we expose Coach Dallas, the sooner names can be cleared, people can heal, and football players are saved from any more catastrophes.”
“You
are
a catastrophe—waiting to happen.”
“You're an egotistical ogre!”
“You are not to do anything on this story that isn't cleared through me first. You'll hurt yourself. You'll hurt this story. One mistake, and it's all over. Right now the Brotherhood is too cocky to take it underground completely.”
“Well, if anyone knows cocky, it's you.”
He closes the small space that separates us. “You're off the story.”
“No, I'm not.”
“There's no party this week, so we have some time. Stay away from the football players this week. I'm working on a few things, and I don't want your interference. It's important.”
“So
you
can operate solo, but
I
can't?” I stomp away from him, pace the length of the porch, then return to face him. “You're just jealous because I have an in with Jared Campbell. You want to be the big dog here because that's how Luke Sullivan operates.”
“This is about playing it smart.”
“This is about playing by your rules. Well, I'm not in this to stroke your pride, so Thursday, there is a party. And I'll be there. And I
will
come away with information that ends it once and for all.”
“Who told you there's a party?”
“Jared invited me.”
“Then how come nobody's talking about it? There aren't any more initiations left.” His forehead furrows deeper. “You're off the story, Bella. Stay away until told otherwise.”
I toss his words back to him. “Stay away from
me
until told otherwise.”
“Bella!” Robbie's shrill voice calls from inside. “The pizza's burning!”
Luke steps off the porch. “Glad you've got everything under control, then.”
My face is a picture of serenity and composure as he leaves. Then I run like mad to the kitchen. The fumes are worse than a New York sewer grate.
“What happened?” Grabbing oven mitts, I place the charred remains on top of the stove. “Five hundred degrees? Did you change the temperature?”
Robbie studies his Spiderman belt. “Maybe. I was hungry though. Starving! I just wanted it to hurry up.”
Ugh! I turn on the oven fan, but it does nothing to diminish the black smell. “Find some candles, Robbie.” I open windows in the kitchen, then the living room, pressing my nose to the screen to suck in some good air.
Fifteen minutes later, with the sun barely visible, I pray over our peanut butter, jelly, and potato chip sandwiches. Candles glow all around like we're holding a memorial for the dead pizza.
After helping Robbie with some reading homewor(I read, he made sound effects), we settle onto the orange couch for
The
Incredibles,
a movie he's seen exactly one hundred and four times.
By the time the credits roll, Robbie's drooling on my shoulder. I scoop him up and carry him upstairs. He snuggles into me, bringing a smile to my face. Odd as he is, I do like this kid. When he's twenty-five, he'll probably be the inventor of something to rival Google, he'll be a Jeopardy grand champion, and he'll still wear his Superman underwear. He doesn't even stir when I lay him down on his comforter.
I return downstairs to extinguish all the candles and sandblast the pizza pan. The phone in my pocket beeps. A text. From Hunter.
I'm so sorry. Pls call me. Need 2 talk. We can work thru this.
Temporary insanity.
Insane is what I'd have to be if I took him back.
Delete.
Only an hour into my own homework, my eyes grow heavy. I didn't sleep a lot at my dad's. I give in to fatigue, peel back the blankets, and collapse into my bed. I dream of standing on the football field. The Brotherhood is there. They build a giant fire on the fifty-yard line. I want to watch them, but the smoke is too strong. It burns my eyes.
Coach Dallas yells at each player. He blows his whistle. “Run through the bonfire! Show your allegiance to the Brotherhood.”
I can feel Matt Sparks's fear from where I am. His pulse accelerates. His skin sweats from the heat.
One by one, the football players run through the flames. They come out unharmed, unscathed.
Then it's Matt's turn. He walks away, only to turn around, get the fire in his sights, and sprint toward his target.
I have to stop him. Some way. Somehow.
“Nooooo!” I burst through the dream, my voice dragging me back to consciousness.
Sitting up, I wipe my hands over my face, my heart pounding in fear.
What is that noise?
Our fire alarm!
That smell.
I shoot out of bed. I have to get to Robbie. Throwing my door open, I'm nearly knocked over by the smoke. The alarm screams. Or maybe it's me. Everything's a blur as I run to his room.
“Robbie!” I yell his name over and over.
“What's going on?” His eyes are wide as tractor wheels. He clutches his sheet to his chin.
“I don't know. We need to get downstairs and go outside though, okay?” I force myself to slow down and talk calmly. We can't both be flipping out. I'm in charge here. There's no one else.
“It's going to be okay.” I throw out other useless words of comfort as we hurry down the hall to the stairs.
Robbie points ahead. “The stairs are on fire!”
How in the world could the stairs be on fire? I stand motionless and just watch the flames. Thinking. Praying.
“There's no other way out, Bella!” Tears streak Robbie's face, and he clings to my leg. I pick him up.
“I need you to be very brave, okay?” He nods against my shoulder. “You're my superhero, right? It's time to put those powers to use and save us.”
Holding my stepbrother, I run back into my bedroom and grab my phone. “I need you to hold this for me, Robbie. It's a very important job. Can you do that?”
His red head bobs.
I set him down long enough to fling open the window and pop out the screen. “We're going to my secret hiding place, okay? You and I are going to crawl out on a big limb and climb down.”
“It's too high.” He backs away, but I grab his wrist.
“Robbie”—I bend down to his level—“we have to do this.” I hear a loud pop from downstairs. “And we need to hurry.”
I don't even wait for his response. “God, help us. God, help us.” I recite it like a mantra as I hoist Robbie onto my back and find my balance on the window ledge. “Hang on. Whatever you do, don't let go of me.”
I climb out onto the roof, my hands flattened to the shingles so I won't topple over. I scoot closer to the edge where the tree meets the roof, then stand to my feet, grabbing the thickest branch I can find.
“Here we go.” I step onto a limb bigger than Jake's arm and test it with my foot. Finding it secure, I put both feet onto it and reach above us for another limb to hold on to.
Stopping every little bit to hoist a slippery Robbie tighter to my back, I walk us around the oak, moving as far away from the roof as possible.
Now.
Time to descend.
Please, God. Please, God. Please, God
.
Don't let me drop him. Keep my feet steady.
The moon shines on the ground below—the cold, hard, faraway ground.
Look at the branches, not any lower.
My hair clings to my face in wet strands, and I swish it away. But there's no time. I get us farther down the tree. One limb at a time.
Low enough to brave a look down, I estimate how many more feet until we're safely on land. At least six, maybe seven more branches—
My foot slips.
My world tilts.
And Robbie and I go sailing through the tree. Down, down. I twist and somehow pull him to me, desperate to shield his body from the blows of the limbs.
Falling. Hurting. Crashing.
Land.
My back absorbs most of the hit as I connect full-body with the ground. My head bounces once then is thrown back as the force of Robbie's frame hits me. His elbow, knees, head—every bit of him falls into me.
I struggle to catch my breath as everything in my vision spins. Robbie rolls off of me, shaking out the kinks. Not quite ready to move, I suck in the night air, grateful my stepbrother is safe. Stars swim before my eyes.
“Robbie, my phone. Still got it?” I manage to keep one eye open. Pain shoots through my head.
“Yup.”
“Call 9-1-1.”
'Last time I called them I got in trouble. They said I couldn't call anymore unless I had a real problem.” He mumbles something about giving his goldfish mouth-to-mouth.
“Call them now.”
He punches in the number with one stubby finger. “Yeah, I have an emergency. My house is on fire.” I close my eyes and try to hear the dispatcher on the other end. “My stepsister, Bella, just saved me. But you need to hurry up because I don't want to lose any of my action figures.”
I rub my brow bone, the recipient of a mean elbow jab from Robbie. “This night could not get any worse.”
“Oh yeah?” He points upward into the tree and giggles.
There, five branches above us, hang my pajama bottoms, swaying in the breeze like a sign of surrender.
And that's how I met the Truman Fire Department.
I
s she gonna die?”
“No, Robbie. She'll just have the black eye for a while.” My mother sits on the bed beside me. Mom and Jake came home not too long after the fire trucks showed up last night. After a quick trip to the emergency room, the entire family camped out at Dolly's house.