Page 27 of Emma on Fire

Celia comes over to sit on the bed too, and the mattress sags with the weight of all three girls. “We miss you on the paper,” she says.

Celia, Emma, and Jade were part of theRidgemont Trumpetsince the beginning. Jade was the gossip columnist and copyeditor; Celia was managing editor.

“Mr. Jordan promoted Soren to editor in chief, even though everyone knows he’s a perfectknob,”Jade adds. “And I think Prue Bailey must be high, because her edits really suck lately.”

Emma can’t help smiling a little. “Her edits always sucked,” she says.

“So youdon’tthink she’s taking hits off Caleb’s bong before class. Interesting,” Jade says. “Maybe we should investigate, Cel. Or we could run a blind item.”

“Come back to theTrumpet,”Celia blurts. “It can be like it was.”

“No,” Emma says, serious again. “It can’t ever be like it was.”

Jade lays her head down on Emma’s long legs. “Babe,” she says, “we love you. We miss you. We just want you to feel better.”

“Look, I appreciate what you’re doing,” Emma says. “I know you’re trying to help.” Jade’s silky hair spills over her shins. “But I’m fine. You guys need to worry about yourselves—there’s the SATs coming up, plus the AP exams—”

“That reminds me, I’msogoing to fail my French tomorrow,” Jade mutters. “Merde.”

“Can you promise,” Celia says, “that you’ll talk to us if you need anything? And I meananything.”

Emma realizes she does need something. “Can I borrow your car?”

Celia looks surprised for a second. Then she says, “Um, yeah, sure! Of course.”

“Thanks a lot.”

And Emma smiles genuinely, because now she’s solved the problem of how to get a canister of gasoline.

CHAPTER 17

EMMA TOSSES AND turns in her dorm bed. Her burned arm throbs. Olivia’s slow, steady breathing taunts her, reminding her of her own sleeplessness and the storm inside her that won’t ever go quiet.

She rolls over, and her cozy blankets tangle in her legs. Her pillow wants to suffocate her. At night, all she can think about is everyone she’s missing. All that she’s lost.

It gets easier,everyone always says.Sadness fades.

These are the same damn people who say,It must be so hard. You must miss Claire so much.

They don’t understand thattime equals loss.It’s a freaking law of nature. If Emma lets the years keep on passing, she’s just going to keep on losing. So is everyone else, even if they can’t bear to admit it. They just walk ignorantlythrough the world, turning away from anything they don’t want to see.

But Emma sees all of it. And she needs them to know how bad things really are.

She decides that it’s time to film another video. If anyone saw the first one, she hasn’t heard about it. And what’s the point of making a statement if no one knows you’re making it? If she doesn’t tell people about her plans, then she’s just a tree falling in the forest, crashing down where no one can hear it land.

She isn’t going to be the girl who burned but no one knew why.

She’s going to make them understand.

Emma gets out of bed. Olivia gives a snort and rolls over, still sleeping peacefully. Emma grabs her phone and the ring light Olivia uses when she FaceTimes with her boyfriend at Choate. She slides open the closet door. Pushing aside the dresses that she stopped wearing after Claire died, she sits on the floor among the shoes. She turns on the light and flips her phone to selfie mode. She looks pale and ghostly, her black hair dissolving into the background dark. She looks like someone reporting from inside a grave. Or else somebody already dead.

Not that she cares. Vanity, like grades, doesn’t matter when the world is on fire. When she’ll be dead in a matter of days.

The closet is stuffy and smells like gym clothes.

She hesitates. It’s a big deal to bare your soul. To make a promise like the one she’s going to make.

But she has to be brave.

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