Page 112 of Summer People
She’s not wrong. The island is full of children all summer. Really, even if it was just Sutton here, I’d veto that without a second thought.
“This is censorship. You’re taking away my freedom of expression. It’s communist,” Blue rants.
“These are the days your father should be here,” Mrs. K huffs, eyeing Wilder.
“Art shouldn’t be censored,” Ivy says. “But maybe we can use mermaids and mermen instead?”
“We don’t need more fish. We got enough fish forever.” Blue pushes to his feet. “I’m telling ya’ll, them young people are on the phones. We need something that the Instagram will go nuts over. And that’s naked pointers.”
“There are kids here,” Todd says. He himself has a fifteen-year-old son and a ten-year-old daughter. “We can’t have porn statues pointing to the farm and brewery.”
Wilder chuckles, his shoulder shaking.
“It is not funny,” his mother hisses.
They continue their back-and-forth, but I lose the conversation when a light dances outside the window, catching my eye. A bright orange glow coming from up the hill.
I lean forward, squinting. For a heartbeat, I watch it flicker before I understand, and my gut plummets.
“Oh shit.” I jump out of my chair. “Fire.”
The whole room is up and rushing to the door or window to get a look. With as dry as this summer has been, any fire is a potential for disaster. But this fire is coming from up the hill by the school. The school where Libby is painting.
I push through the crowd, heading for the door in a rush.
My heart stops as I step onto the church’s wooden porch. The fire isn’t near the school. No, the school is fucking ablaze. A loud pop makes me flinch, and then a window bursts, sending flames licking up the front of the building. The entire entrance is engulfed in large flames and thick smoke. All the bushes around the red schoolhouse are burning red and orange and even blue.
Fuck. Libby has to be out of the building. Shehasto be.
Heart hammering and gut churning, I jump off the steps and sprint down the path. I hurdle the gate rather than stopping to open it and pick up my pace.
“Fisher!” Eddy screams from behind me.
“Keep Sutton back,” I call without turning. I can’t look back. I can’t slow down. Not while the flames continue to overtake the once perfect schoolhouse.
“Sutton’s with Libby.” Her voice bleeds desperation.
I stumble, and my knees almost buckle.
No.
Not both of them.
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to retch, forcing my legs faster. The gravel flies behind me as I run up the hill. I can’t lose both of them. I can’t loseeitherof them.
“I’ll get them,” I promise, but my heart pounds wildly and my mind reels at the possibility that I might be too late.
“Fisher, wait,” Wilder calls from behind me.
I don’t even slow. Up ahead, through the smoke, a figure appears. A person stepping out from behind the building. Only one person. Too tall to be Sutton. My breath comes faster, but I’ll get Sutton out too. I’ll get them both out.
As I come up even with the front of the school, the woman’s red hair is visible. Fuck. Not Libby.
“Fisher.” The voice that normally sends a shudder down my spine has my heart lurching right out of my chest. “Stay back. The fire is out of control. It got too big too fast.”
I don’t have time to even consider why Flora is here or worry that she’s too close to the schoolhouse for her own safety. But as I dart past her, she clutches my arm.
With a rough shake, I break free and push past her. “Sutton and Libby are inside.”
