Spark

I don’t want you to hate me.

She thought about the recent arson attacks in the area. Was he telling her he was responsible?

Had he started the fire in the barn?

They’d lain together in the grass for at least fifteen minutes, maybe more. If he’d put this lighter to a bale of hay or something, how long would it have taken the place to go up like that?

Surely faster than fifteen minutes, right?

And when would he have done it? Though she hadn’t had her eyes on him every second they’d been together that morning, she couldn’t see how he would have been able to climb into the hayloft and start a fire without her even noticing.

Beyond that, why would he have done it?

She kept running his words through her brain, as if they were a math problem, and all she had to do was find the right equation to solve for X.

The night I drove you home was the first night The first night that what?

Her mother yanked back the curtain, making the hangers rattle in the steel track. Though she was wearing a white tennis skirt and a pink trimmed sweater, her eyes were perfectly lined, her mascara unsmudged. Even her lipstick looked freshly applied.

Layne wondered how much time she’d spent getting ready to come see her daughter in the hospital.

She wondered if she’d actually been playing tennis.

“Baby? You okay?”

“I’m great,” said Layne flatly. Baby. As if her mother gave a damn. She’d spent more time on the other side of the curtain than she had in here.

“I’m going to flag down the doctor,” her mother said, her lips pursed. “Don’t they know what I do for this hospital? I’m going to give these people a piece of my ”

“No,” said Layne evenly. “There are sick people here. I can wait.”

Her mom opened her mouth to protest, but then her cell phone started ringing, and she stuck a manicured hand into a designer bag to fetch it.

Layne sighed. She was ready to go home and get a shower.

Her clothes smelled like horses and fire, the sweetness of alfalfa hay mixed with soot and ashes. She hadn’t even unzipped her jacket, knowing the turtleneck underneath was soaked with sweat.

And she needed time alone.

She needed time to think.

A nurse came around the corner wearing pink scrubs with lollipops all over them. Some papers and a clipboard were in one hand, and she glanced between Layne’s father tapping away at his iPhone and her mother, who was gushing about something to do with a celebrity polo match.

So concerned.

The nurse faltered.

Layne held out her hand. “Here. Can I just take it?”

“Your parents need to sign, sweetie.”

Layne looked at her father. “Dad. Hey. Signature.”

He put a hand out without looking up, hitting a few more keys on the phone.

Unbelievable. It reminded Layne of the day in Gabriel’s driveway, when he’d been so dismissive of Michael.

Layne looked at the nurse. “I’m sorry. They usually act like they give a crap.”

That got her dad’s attention. “Watch it. I was supposed to be in court this morning.”

Layne looked back at him in mock surprise. “I can’t believe I forgot to add this to your schedule.”

Her mom laughed into the phone and held up her hand. “Oh my goodness, that is too much. Let me step into the hallway.

There’s a lot of commotion here . . .”

Layne scooted off the stretcher. She wished Simon were here, but her father had sent him to school. “Let’s just go,” she said.

“You can get back to court, Mom can get back to ‘tennis,’ and I can get back to school.”

Her father had his head bent over the form probably reading what he was signing. “You’re not going to school. The doctor said for you to stay home and rest, make sure there aren’t any delayed effects.” His hand scribbled across the bottom of the form.

“He also said I was fine.”

“End of discussion.”

Of course it was. Layne sighed.

Her father handed the forms back to the nurse and looked at Layne. “I rearranged my schedule. I’ll stay with you until Simon gets home.”

It should have made her feel better. It didn’t.

It made her feel like an obligation.

She didn’t even say good-bye to her mother not out of any sense of spite or anger, but the woman had disappeared down some corridor to take her call, and there was no sign of her.

Maybe she’d forgotten the whole reason they were at the hospital to begin with.

Layne just folded her legs into her father’s BMW and stared out the window.

She wondered if Gabriel was all right. He’d been in that fire, too. And he hadn’t had the luxury of medical attention.

He’d run when he’d seen fire trucks. That had to imply some sort of guilt.

But the look in his eyes after the fire there’d been no guilt there. Only horror. Sadness. Regret, as he told her that some horses had been trapped.

The barn had been her sanctuary. She’d mourn its loss as much as she would the other horses. Gabriel had understood that. Respected it.

She knew he had.

My secret has to do with fire.

Layne wished she could call him. To demand answers.

But she was afraid to call him. She was afraid the truth would be more devastating than all these hypotheticals.

Her father disappeared into his study when they got home, making Layne wonder why he’d even bothered to stay with her.

He’d tried to be supportive in the car, talking about how they’d find another place for her to ride, to move her horse to another facility, all concrete, easy things that should have been reassuring but weren’t at all, really.

She stripped out of her clothes in the bathroom, clenching her eyes shut as usual, hating the sight of her na**d body. She couldn’t see, anyway; her eyes kept blurring with tears that she chased off. She kept her mind occupied by flinging her clothes into two piles by feel: keep or trash. The jacket was disgusting.

Trash. The boots were expensive and could use a good cleaning.

Keep. Turtleneck, keep. Socks, keep. Riding breeches, trash.

Then the memory of that moment in the grass hit her, full force.

Your scars aren’t all you are, Layne.

She gasped and pressed her hands to her eyes, letting her shoulders shake with emotion but refusing to let the tears fall.

Gabriel saw her. Really saw her, despite the scars, despite her imperfections. He’d kissed his way across her abdomen, saying all the right things and touching her in ways that had made her want to cash in her V card right there. She’d never felt like she could have a relationship with a boy, had never thought anyone would look past the destroyed flesh marking half her body.

That moment, that had been perfection.

And then it had all gone up in smoke. Literally.

She shivered and rubbed at her eyes. She was still standing in the middle of the bathroom, sniveling in her bra and underwear.

All she could smell now was smoke and sweat.

But first, she wanted to see what he’d seen. She wanted to see just how bad the scars were, as if they’d changed since the last time she’d dared take a look in the mirror.

Quickly, before she could change her mind, she swiped the tears away, opened her eyes, and stared at her reflection.

And despite the chill in the air, she kept right on staring, not believing what she was seeing, despite the evidence right in front of her.

Her scars, every last one of them, were gone.

CHAPTER 33

Gabriel sat in math class, hating the empty chair beside him.

He couldn’t focus. Five hours ago, he’d been dragging Layne out of a burning barn.

Now he was listening to Anderson prattle on about negative numbers.

He’d been able to pull enough energy from the sun to ensure his hand wasn’t broken, but when he went for his lighter to draw more power from a true fire, he didn’t have it.

Whatever. The pain felt good.

He hadn’t wanted to come to school. But Nick had a good point: If he was already a suspect even an unofficial one not showing up for school on the same day as a fire might raise a huge red flag. He’d spent most of first period fidgeting, watching the door, absolutely certain that cops were going to come storming into the classroom any minute to arrest him.

Absolutely certain that Layne would have turned him in.

But as time went on, as students went about their business, he realized that nothing had changed.

He hadn’t seen Hunter yet, and the morning was too complicated to sum up in a text message. But when he hit the cafeteria, Calla was already sitting with Hunter.

Gabriel sighed and slung his backpack over his shoulder, heading for the gym.

The halogen lights were off, but sunlight streamed through the grated windows near the ceiling. The long stretch of beige floor was usually empty at this hour, but at the opposite end of the room, a kid was shooting free throws from the line. And from the looks of it, he was hitting every one.

Simon.

Gabriel stopped short. Would Layne have told her brother?

Was Simon waiting here to confront him, to ask what exactly had happened this morning?

But that was crazy. He’d only just made the decision to come to the gym himself. And why would Simon be shooting free throws before a confrontation? Gabriel couldn’t make it work out in his head.

Everything was making him paranoid today.

At the very least, if Simon was here, it meant Layne was okay.

He walked into Simon’s line of sight, and the boy’s expression brightened.

“Hey,” said Gabriel. He held out a fist. Simon hit it.

But then the boy quickly gestured for Gabriel’s phone.

There was a fire at the farm this morning. Layne was

there. They took her to the hospital.

It answered a lot of questions and created just as many.

Gabriel stared at the words and wondered how to play this. He looked up and didn’t have to fake concern. “Is she okay?”

Fine. Doctor says take it easy today. Precaution.

“Makes sense.”

I emailed her from computer lab. She wanted to come to

school. Dad said no.

Gabriel nodded. “Figures.”

Can you stay for the game this afternoon?

This afternoon. He’d planned on it earlier this week, because he and Layne had fallen into the routine of watching Simon’s practice. He’d just assumed they’d watch together.

“As long as I’ve got a ride, I’ll stay,” he said.

Simon’s face broke into a grin.

Gabriel gestured for the ball. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve got time. Let’s play.”

It felt good to lose himself in the sport, to have some distraction. His hand ached, but he played through it. Simon was getting good practice was clearly paying off. Gabriel used the signs Layne had taught him, but he didn’t need them much.

When Simon ducked under Gabriel’s guard to steal the ball and make a basket, Gabriel started to wonder if the kid shouldn’t just be playing he should be starting.

One of the gym doors slammed somewhere across the court, but Gabriel ignored it.

Until Ryan Stacey stepped onto the court and intercepted a pass.

His face was still bruised from Friday night, and the split lip hadn’t healed, making his smirk look a little crazy. “Looks like the retard has a girlfriend.”

“Looks like you didn’t get the message last Friday.” Gabriel could feel the anger coiling in his chest, ready to be let loose on this jerk.

But hands caught his arms, holding him back.

Ryan had brought friends.

At least four guys, but Gabriel couldn’t see who else was behind him. Probably the same losers who’d been beating on Simon last week. Gabriel tried to fight them, but there were too many and with the lights off, he couldn’t pull any power from the electricity in the room.

Gabriel felt sure Ryan was going to take the chance to hit him but the guy was going after Simon, who was backing away.