Page 40 of Emma on Fire

On the other side of the door is Thomas Takeda: senior, soccer star, student body VP, lead singer of Ridgemont’s only rock band, and Emma’s boyfriend from ninth grade until three months ago.

She saw him her very first night at Ridgemont, strumming his guitar in the dorm common room with half a dozen freshman girls sitting cross-legged at his feet, gazing up at him like they were daisies and he was the bright sun itself.

He had glossy black hair, thick black eyelashes, and long pianist’s fingers. As he played and sang, he looked so relaxed and happy—like there was no better place on earth to be. Had Emma ever felt that way? If she had, she’d absolutely forgotten it.

Emma wanted to stay and listen to him sing, but she had no interest in joining his gaggle of admirers. Just before she turned to leave, Thomas looked up, caught her eye, and gave her the tiniest smile and a half shrug. As if he knew her already. Like they were in on some private joke:Look at me,he was saying,taking song requests from fourteen-year-olds!

Later, when she passed by his room, Thomas called out to her. “How come you didn’t sing along to ‘Watermelon Sugar’?”

Emma stopped, surprised by his teasing, challenging tone. “You already had plenty of backup singers, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Maybe,” he’d acknowledged, looking up at her with an amused expression. “But your voice was the one I wanted to hear.”

“Maybe play something better than Harry Styles next time.”

Thomas Takeda, her first and last love. She’d miss him when she was gone.

“Em?” he’s calling now. “Are you in there?”

Emma gets up slowly, like if she moves too quicklyshe’ll break. When she opens the door, Thomas immediately pulls her tight to his chest. His lips press against the top of her head, and she wants to melt into him. Wants to surrender. Wants him to take her away.

Doesn’t want to die.

But that’s impossible. She pulls back. His arms fall to his sides, and he stands awkwardly near the door, hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Babe,” he says gently, “what’s going on?”

Emma forces a grin. “Oh, nothing, I’m just having a sleepover in the admin building.”

“Em, come on, it’s me.”

She sighs and sinks down onto the bed. “Fine. They’re making me stay here because they don’t trust me not to hurt myself. That’s why Lori’s out there standing guard.”

Thomas lowers himself beside her. Close, but not close enough that their arms touch. He seems nervous, and she wonders if he’s afraid for her—or afraidofher.

“It’s been a while since we talked,” he says. “It seems like things are…” He messes with his shirt some more. “It seems like things aren’t going so great.”

“No, they aren’t,” Emma says. “The whole world’s falling apart, in case you hadn’t noticed. They just declared this cute little bat extinct, did you see that? Meanwhile, flooding in Myanmar has killed hundreds if not thousands of people and animals. And teen girls are ‘engulfed’ in violenceand trauma, the CDC says. Literally, that was the word they used.Engulfed.”

Thomas shifts his weight beside her. “Yeah, I try to avoid the news, I guess.”

“But that’s exactly the problem!” Emma cries. “How are we supposed to make things better when no one is willing to understand how bad they are to begin with?”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Thomas says, clearly unsettled. “I mean, yeah, we should try to improve things. But we’re just kids. We don’t run companies, and we don’t make laws. Honestly, though, I’m more worried about you than I am about the state of the world.”

“That’s exactly the wrong take,” Emma says. “My whole point is that wehaveto be worried about the state of the world. That’s why I made the videos. They’re a wake-up call.”

“A wake-up call is one thing, but talking about setting yourself on fire is another!” he practically yells.

Wow, it’s our first fight,Emma thinks.

“What’s one less kid on the planet?” she says. “It’s not liketeenagersare going to go extinct.”

“One less kid?” Thomas practically howls. “That’s not how it works, Emma! You’re not a number. You’re a person!” He takes her hand and squeezes it. His voice goes very soft. “I mean, come on. When Claire died, is that what you told yourself? ‘Well, there’s one less person driving an SUV andeating meat and degrading the environment? One point for Planet Earth’?”

Emma sucks in her breath. His words feel like blows. What hurts more now—her arm or her heart? “That isn’t fair,” she says. “You can’t turn it around like that.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to talk sense into you,” Thomas says. His head drops. His shoulders hunch up, and for a second Emma thinks he might be crying. When he looks up at her, his cheeks are dry, but his expression is anguished.

“You’ve got to get real help,” he goes on. “You’ve got to talk to someone. A shrink or whatever. And your friends. Me. I’m here for you, Em. You can tell me anything.” His eyes search her face. His voice cracks as he says, “I still love you. You know that, right?”

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