Page 8 of Fire Fight

A slender girl waves at me, her short blonde hair in a pixie cut that matches her small, slightly pointed ears. She puts her hands either side of her mouth, the makeshift blow horn no equal to the noisy waves.

“Go on,” Mum encourages me.

I clamber to my feet, wiping the coarse sand granules from my legs where they adhere despite the thick towel. “You’re going to keep watch here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am.” She immediately lies back, slipping the sunglasses from the top of her head down over her eyes. “I’ll shout if I want to head back in.”

I return the girl’s wave, and she gives me a thumbs up, then jumps off the edge, upright, holding her nose. By the time I’ve walked deep enough to swim, she’s bobbed to the surface, hair plastered flat, a laugh cutting through the ocean’s roar.

She’s sitting on the side again when I reach the platform. There’s no ladder, so I lean on the edge, a demonstration of gangliness as I lever myself from the water.

“Hey,” I say, then roll onto my back. Swimming in the ocean isn’t the same as a council pool. Far less chlorine and far too much saltwater up my nose.

The pixie makes that joyous laugh again. “Hey, yourself. I’m Gretchen.”

“Cadence.”

“Oh, yeah. We all know whoyouare.” Another girl with a wide mouth and tits so huge I’m instantly envious, laughs from behind me, and I sit upright, on alert.

“Is that bad?”

“Hell, no. We’re all jealous as fuck.”

“Speak for yourself, Rox,” a sporty-looking girl says.

“I’m speaking for all of us, Felicity,” Rox counters. “And don’t pretend any different.”

The undercurrent loses me, but with them focused on each other, the pinch in my stomach dissipates. “What are you jealous of?” I waggle my eyebrows. “My new stepdaddy?”

“Ew. Arnold must be like… sixty?” Gretchen pulls a face. “No, it’s your stepbrotherwe’re interested in.”

Felicity nods. “Blaine is the brooding king of Ashford Crest.”

My ears perk up at the news, adding a new dimension to my anticipation. If we get on, it seems like my new sibling might be another asset to my already overflowing cup.

“You’re friends with him, then?”

Gretchen’s expression shifts while the other girls glance away. “He’s got more of a mysterious loner vibe going, but acolytes swarm around him, you’ll see. They have done ever since he first transferred.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I heard he was in prison last year and that’s why his dad shifted him to a different school.”

My stomach clenches with worry.

Prison isn’t a term I expect from these elite teenagers, and I can’t imagine the trouble he got into if his dad’s riches couldn’t free him.

Or it’s just gossip with the same level of truth as any salacious tale whispered behind backs.

“Blaine ain’t king of shit.”

A towering Pasifika boy with fierce brows delivers the soft-voiced verdict, his scowl dissolving into a languid smile as Gretchen rolls her eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? He’s too chickenshit to even try out for the team.”

“Not everyone can be a sporting legend, Salesi.”

He nods in my direction. “You want a realTu’i,come to me.”

“I’m not the one making claims.” I turn back to Gretchen. “Blaine isn’t home yet, so I’ve never met him.”

“But you’ve seen pictures, right?”

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