Burning Read online

  And that’s if I manage to keep my record clean. I close my eyes, and Cara’s knife flashes through my head. How can I stay out of trouble for another six months? It’s been hard enough doing it for just two weeks.

  “Angela?” Dr. Gruen places her hand on mine, jolting me back to the present. “Did you hear me?”

  I open my eyes. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said,” Dr. Gruen continues, “that I spoke with Director Wu and we both agree that would be a terrible shame. I think I have an alternative option. One that could keep you on schedule to release in March, if you’re interested.”

  I sit up straighter in my chair. “Seriously?”

  Another smile crosses Dr. Gruen’s lips. It’s amazing how her entire face changes when she smiles. She seems fuller, somehow. Softer.

  “One of the primary tenets of SciGirls is a mentorship program. The idea is very simple. Basically, we’d assign you to a younger girl, and you would mentor her. Show her around.”

  “It can be really nice,” Mary Anne adds. “Almost like having a little sister.”

  “You’ve done it?” I ask.

  Mary Anne nods.

  “Oh yeah. Everyone in SciGirls is either a mentor or a mentee.”

  “Director Wu was quite taken with the idea, and we both thought you’d be the perfect test case.” Dr. Gruen pauses for a moment, like she’s expecting me to say something. “Is that something you’d be interested in?” she prods.

  I gnaw at my lower lip. “So, you just want me to be friends with one of the younger girls?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Who?”

  Dr. Gruen steeples her fingers. “Actually, you’ve met already. It would be Jessica Ward, our newest inmate.”

  I think of Jessica’s black eyes, and my throat goes dry. “Her?”

  Dr. Gruen blinks. “You seem less than thrilled. I’m sorry, I thought you’d be excited about this opportunity.”

  “Why?” The word leaps out of my mouth, and I cringe. I really need to learn how to filter my thoughts.

  Dr. Gruen considers me for a moment, then she glances behind me. “Mary Anne, would you excuse us for a moment?”

  Mary Anne nods and slips out of the office without a word, closing the door behind her. Dr. Gruen opens her desk drawer and removes a tiny remote, which she aims at a sleek black surface on her bookshelf. I don’t realize it’s a television until the screen flashes on.

  “You like?” Dr. Gruen asks when she sees me gaping. “I’ll admit I’m something of a technology snob. My organization has offered to donate some newer devices to Brunesfield, but Director Wu’s been a little resistant.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “We’ll work on her together, shall we?”

  “Um, sure,” I say.

  An image flickers across the television screen. It’s Jessica’s dorm in the Segregation Block. The little girl huddles in the corner on her mattress, her fuzzy hair sticking out from her head. For a long moment she just stares at the wall, but then a shadow falls across her floor. She jerks her head up, then stands and crosses to the door, lifting a skinny hand to the glass.

  That small gesture knocks something loose in my head. I recognize this moment. It happened right after I fell in the Seg Block. You can’t see me because of the angle of the camera, but the Jessica on the screen stares right at me. She moves her lips, but there’s no sound.

  Dr. Gruen pushes Pause and the image freezes. “Can you tell me what happened here?” she asks.

  “I . . . I fell.”

  “Right. And did she speak to you?”

  “What?”

  “Jessica,” Dr. Gruen says, nodding at the screen. Jessica’s face is frozen there, her lips slightly parted. “It looks like she’s talking. Did she say something to you?”

  “She said, ‘Are you okay?’ ”

  Dr. Gruen stares at me for a long moment, then she releases a breath and leans back in her chair. “I see,” she says.

  “I don’t understand,” I say. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, not at all.” Dr. Gruen leans forward again, sliding her elbows onto her desk. “It’s just that you’re the first person she’s spoken to since she’s been admitted. Don’t you find that strange?”

  I’m not quite sure how to answer, so I shrug.

  As though that settles things, Dr. Gruen flips open the folder on her desk, her pale blue eyes narrowing as she examines its contents. “I’ve recommended that Director Wu take Jessica out of the Segregation Block. I’ve seen isolation do more harm than good in cases like hers. I was hoping I might recommend she be placed in your dorm room. You have an extra bed, correct?”

  “What?” I picture that little girl in my room, watching me sleep with those black eyes. I stand so quickly that my chair wobbles back, nearly falling. She’s unnatural. I don’t want her near me—near my friends.

  “No,” I say, my voice cracking. “You can’t do that.”

  “No?” Dr. Gruen lifts an eyebrow. “I’m sorry to hear that. Does this mean you don’t want the assignment after all?”

  “Don’t want . . . ?” My throat feels dry. I sink back into my seat. “I don’t—”

  Dr. Gruen reaches across her desk to take my hand. Her skin feels smooth and soft. I can’t help wondering what kind of moisturizer she uses. Probably something expensive that she has to special order from Paris.

  “I’m so sorry to thrust this on you all at once,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “But just think, three more months, and you’ll be out. All we ask is that you take Jessica under your wing. Show her the ropes. Be her friend.”

  Three months. Three months. I let those two words run through my head on repeat, like a song I can’t stop singing. I picture the trees just turning green in Prospect Park, and Charlie sitting across from me at the Neptune, shoveling waffles into his mouth. Is there anything I wouldn’t give to get out of here in three months?

  “What, exactly, would I have to do?” I ask, holding Dr. Gruen’s gaze. Her eyes are so pale blue, they’re almost translucent. Alien eyes, Cara would say. But on Dr. Gruen they look beautiful. Serene.

  Her lips part in another dazzling smile. I blink and look away. It’s like staring into an eclipse.

  “That’s what I was hoping to hear,” she says. “Come now. Jessica’s already waiting for you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Dr. Gruen’s heels clack against the concrete as we make our way to my dorm. Mary Anne follows at her shoulder, easily keeping up with her long strides, but I trail behind them both, feeling like I’ve shrunk in size. Or maybe the hall itself has grown again. The floor stretches endlessly before us, and the ceiling soars over our heads. I wrap my arms around myself and shiver. It’s the new lightbulbs. They make everything seem bigger. Colder.

  I picture Jessica in my room, looking up at the frogs Issie hung from the ceiling, and the pictures of UFOs that Cara ripped from her books and taped above her bed. The burned skin on my fingertips itches. I flatten my hands against my legs to keep from scratching.

  Dr. Gruen stops beside my dorm. The girl who lived here before me drew a picture of a cute little house and taped it to the door. She wrote “The house that Jesus and Karlie built” in girlie cursive. Someone else scrawled “die bitch” across the house in thick black Sharpie. We leave it up as a kind of tribute to the girls who came before us.

  Dr. Gruen barely glances at the picture. “Mary Anne, will you wait out here, please?” she asks.

  Mary Anne gives a curt nod and stops beside the door, staring at the wall in front of her. I frown. She has about as much personality as a mannequin. She’s lucky she’s pretty.

  Dr. Gruen taps her knuckles against the door frame. “Jessica,” she says in a voice made of honey. “You have a visitor.”

  I step into the doorway and peek into the room. Jessica perches at the edge of my bed, her skinny legs an inch too short to reach the floor. She twists her hands in her lap. The entire room bends toward her, like she’s cre
ating her own gravity. I lean against the door frame, feeling dizzy.

  “This is Angela,” Dr. Gruen continues. “You met her a couple of days ago, remember?”

  Jessica doesn’t look up. She swings her legs, casting shadows across the concrete.

  “Angela is here to talk to you.” Dr. Gruen gives me an encouraging nod and follows me into the dorm, closing the door behind us. My shoulders tense, but Jessica doesn’t look creepy right now. She looks scared, just a little girl in a strange new place. I shrug to get my muscles to relax, sinking onto the bed across from her.

  Jessica stares at her lap, like I’m not even there. I chew on my lower lip. Be her friend, Dr. Gruen said. Easy, right?

  “Hi. Um, my name’s Angela.” My voice sounds the way it does when I talk to Charlie, and I hesitate, feeling like I’m betraying him somehow. But Jessica’s legs stop swinging, and she tilts her chin up, just a little. So I continue.

  “I remember when they first brought me here. It seems really scary, right? But most of the people are pretty nice when you get to know them.”

  Jessica moves her hands from her lap to her sides. She wraps her fingers around the edge of the mattress and squeezes until her knuckles turn white. I glance at Dr. Gruen. This is crazy—this can’t be what she wants.

  But she nods. “Go on,” she says. I glance back at Jessica, trying to think of something else to say.

  “Okay. Well, things are pretty normal once you learn the schedule. Breakfast is at eight, and then everyone goes to morning chores. Let’s see . . . we have classes every day. Math and science in the morning, then a break for lunch and rec, and then afternoon chores and English and history.” Calling them classes is pretty generous. Brunesfield is required to educate all inmates under the age of eighteen. But we’re all in different grades, so this is mostly impossible. Usually one of the guards just throws on some outdated video and falls asleep.

  “After that we have free time until dinner, and then evening chores,” I continue. “Oh, and Tuesday night’s movie night.” Brunesfield doesn’t have a lot going for it, but I always thought the movie nights were pretty cool. We vote each week on what we want to watch next so we usually end up with something good. “And sometimes they serve pizza in the caf and that’s . . .”

  Jessica starts rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth. She hums under her breath. It’s a low, tuneless sound. Just one note.

  “Jessica?” I ask. Dr. Gruen’s eyes narrow in concern.

  “Jessica,” she says. “Look at me.”

  Jessica looks up, but her eyes find me, not Dr. Gruen. Her pupils start to dilate. It’s subtle at first, like watching someone’s eyes adjust to the light. Then I look closer.

  Tiny black tentacles stretch across Jessica’s irises, seeping into her eyes like oil in water. I think of lightbulbs shattering, of the radiator sputtering and humming behind me. Jessica grips the mattress so hard its springs creak beneath her fingers. The air vibrates, like it’s buzzing with electricity. It reminds me of how the sky gets just before lightning strikes.

  Black fills Jessica’s eyes, blocking every bit of white. Her breathing grows ragged, her chest expanding and collapsing like a paper bag.

  I swallow a scream and leap up, stumbling back against the wall. Jessica keeps those black eyes pinned on me. My skin starts to grow warm. Then hot.

  Suddenly Jessica shifts her eyes from me to the metal sink in the corner. Something gurgles deep within the pipes and the sink’s faucet shoots off, skittering across the room. Water gushes from the hole in the wall, spraying my arms before bubbling over the concrete, still boiling when it hits the floor. Angry marks appear on my skin where the scorching water touched it. The few remaining bubbles dissolve as the water cools.

  Dr. Gruen taps a long manicured nail against the wall behind me.

  “Interesting,” she says.

  Chapter Eight

  I want to run. My skin feels hot and dry, and the sound of the water bubbling up in the pipes plays on a loop in my mind. “You know what she can . . . that she . . .”

  Dr. Gruen gives my shoulder a comforting pat. “Walk with me,” she says, steering me out of the dorm. She nods at Mary Anne, who’s still waiting out in the hall.

  “Yes ma’am?” Mary Anne asks.

  “Keep an eye on her,” Dr. Gruen says. Mary Anne nods and positions herself in front of my dorm. I catch one last glimpse of Jessica before Gruen leads me down the empty hall. The little girl stares at her lap, trembling.

  “What is she?” I ask once we’re alone. Dr. Gruen stares straight ahead, lips pursed. Her eyes crinkle with concern, but there’s a spark to them. She looks almost excited.

  “She’s a ten-year-old girl,” Dr. Gruen says, after a beat.

  “I know that. But what is she?”

  Dr. Gruen doesn’t say another word until we’ve reached her office. She holds the door open for me, and reluctantly, I step inside. Dr. Gruen pulls the door shut behind her.

  “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Miss Davis,” she says, taking a seat behind her desk. “You’re curious about Jessica’s ability and, I admit, I’ve been aware of it for some time. To give you a bit of history, I did my doctoral thesis on genetics before getting involved in social work,” she explains. “It’s one of the many reasons I was so drawn to SciGirls. The program combines two of my passions—science and helping underprivileged young women.”

  I slide back into the uncomfortable leather chair. “It’s real, then? Jessica is making things hotter with her mind?” I feel like an idiot saying this, but I make myself do it anyway. I’m not good at reading between the lines. I need things spelled out for me. “Like magic?”

  “You and I both know there’s no such thing as magic,” Dr. Gruen says. She taps her fingers on the desk: index, middle, ring; then again, slower. “Jessica seems to be altering the air around her somehow, but we don’t know why or more importantly, how.”

  I stare at Gruen’s tapping fingers. At first I think it’s random, but the third time she does it, the pattern is different—faster. Like she’s playing an invisible piano. “And you want to, what?” I ask. “Study her?”

  “Goodness no! I left my scientific aspirations behind when I went into social work. I want to help Jessica. I’ve been following her story for some time. SciGirls doesn’t usually recruit from inside juvenile detention centers, but when I heard that Jessica was being moved here to await trial, I convinced my supervisors to send Mary Anne and myself as well. I believe we can all help each other, Miss Davis. SciGirls is a prestigious program. It’s a fantastic opportunity that many of the girls in this facility would never have access to otherwise.

  I clear my throat. “And how are we helping you?”

  “Well, I want to learn a little more about Jessica. SciGirls has relationships with some of the best research hospitals in the country. I think that would be a more appropriate place for someone with such a unique ability.”

  Dr. Gruen stops tapping and places her palm flat against her desk. Her fingertips are black with ink. “The problem is that Director Wu doesn’t quite understand Jessica’s talents,” she continues. “She thinks she’s just another dangerous delinquent.”

  “But she is dangerous.” Tiny pink dots decorate my arms—burns from where the boiling water hit my skin. They aren’t as bad as the burns I got from that metal tray. In fact, they’ll probably disappear in an hour or two. But they still hurt.

  Dr. Gruen frowns. “I think Jessica’s even more terrified of what’s happening to her than we are. At times she appears able to control her ability, and at other times it seems to flare up without warning. She shouldn’t be here. She should be getting help. Don’t you agree?”

  “I don’t know—”

  Dr. Gruen leans forward, and her chair creaks beneath her weight. “Angela, did you notice how Jessica looked away from you when things started to get bad?”

  “She looked at the sink,” I say. “She made it explode.”

  “
Exactly. Now, I believe that she was attempting to exert some sort of control over herself. Trying to cool herself down, as it were. Because she didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “But—”

  “Miss Davis,” Dr. Gruen says, cutting me off. “I understand that I’m asking quite a lot of you. But a little girl’s future is on the line.” Dr. Gruen pauses, letting the words sink in. “I need your help. We both do.”

  I stare at the hole forming in the knee of my scrubs. “How can I help?”

  “You can be her friend,” Dr. Gruen says. “That’s all I’m asking. Get to know her a little. Find out what kinds of things she likes. I can’t monitor her twenty-four hours a day, and I’ll need to make a compelling case if I’m to get her transferred to a proper hospital. Help me figure out what kind of girl she is. Who knows? Maybe she’ll even tell you how this happened to her.”

  I roll my lower lip between my teeth, considering this. A little girl needs my help. What kind of person would refuse?

  “And I’m offering something as well,” Dr. Gruen says. “Something you find valuable, no doubt.”

  Three more months. After a moment, I nod. “I understand.”

  “Very well.” Dr. Gruen flashes me a wide smile. “I believe we have a deal.”

  She nods for me to go. I stand, starting for the door.

  “Oh, and Miss Davis,” she adds as I twist the knob. I pause and glance back over my shoulder. She pulls her desk drawer open and removes a rubber bracelet. It’s green with the word “SciGirls” written across it in white lettering.

  “Here,” she says, holding the bracelet out to me. “In case you change your mind about the program.”

  I cross the room and reach for the bracelet. She grabs my wrist before I pull away.

  “I trust that I don’t have to tell you this is confidential,” she says.

  “Confidential?” I repeat.

  “Exactly. For now I’d prefer if no one else knew about our little . . . project.”

  The hall outside Dr. Gruen’s office is empty. I pull the door closed behind me with a click. Brunesfield no longer feels big. Now it’s small—tiny even—like the walls are creeping closer when I’m not looking. Warm air presses against my skin, and a line of sweat rolls down my back. I close my eyes and breathe in and then out, trying to steady my racing heart.