Wildefire Series: Wildefire Part 4

In one vengeance-powered leap Ash sprung from the gravel road up over the loading door and landed in a squat in the middle of the truck bed. With their momentum and the slope of the hill leading down to the main entrance, the truck rattled past the faculty lodge and barreled on toward the main gate.

Darren leaned out the truck window and pumped a victory fist in the air. "Jesus, Ash, have you been mix-ing steroids in your oatmeal? That was some Wonder Woman s.h.i.+t."

Ash bit her lip sheepishly. "I don't know what got into me."

Jackie winked at her. "I know who didn't get into you."

Ash extended her foot and playfully kicked Jackie in the knee.

Back in the direction of the faculty lodge, Ash saw the front light come on, illuminating the previously uninterrupted darkness of the quad. "We've got company," she shouted to Darren.

He flashed a thumbs-up out the window and shouted, "Not for long!"

53.

The truck's engine sputtered to life, and Darren screamed "Yeehaw!" before slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. They rocketed through the two stone pillars that marked the entrance to Blackwood Academy.

The silver pickup streaked off into the night, a fierce phantom of steel vanis.h.i.+ng off into a dream of redwood trees and silent roads.

The gravel crackled beneath the truck's tires as they rolled to a halt in front of the Bent Horseshoe Saloon. True to the grimy bar's name, a gnarled wooden horseshoe had been nailed over the entrance. Ash would never know whether they'd hung it askew on purpose, but it always looked one strong breeze away from dropping onto someone's head.

The saloon was just one of a few storefronts that made up the old mining town of Orick, a town that existed in the twenty-first century for its motels and bed-and-breakfasts, a waypoint for the summer's stream of visitors to the national park. Thus, the clientele of the town's only bar consisted of a curious mix of weary travelers and wiz-ened locals.

Ash tried her best to act casual as she pushed through the flapping double doors to the saloon with practiced grace, Jackie and Darren in tow. The occupants of the saloon looked up from their beer and fis.h.i.+ng conversa-tions to gawk at the newcomers. Ash ignored the twenty pairs of hungry male eyes and carelessly flipped her fake 54 ID onto the bar in front of the bartender. "Amaretto sour," she said.

The bartender pressed his hands down on the countertop. Raggedy Ray's sea-worn face was spiderwebbed with age, like mud left to crack under the hot sun, but his golden hair was seeing only the first invasion of gray. He didn't even bother to look down at the driver's license on the countertop. "Sure thing, princess," he croaked. "You want one of those frilly umbrellas in it too?"

"Depends"-she slid a ten-dollar bill across the bar top-"on whether you want to keep the change and lose the sense of humor."

A spry grin stretched across the barkeep's face. "Your quick wit always brightens my day, lovely," he said.

"What'll your friends be having?"

"We're standing right here," Darren said from the back.

The bartender raised an eyebrow and leaned around Ash. "Oh, it speaks."

Darren rolled his eyes and flashed his platinum money clip, the crisp stack of twenty-dollar bills looking fresh from the mint. "Yeah, well, 'it' would like a Diet c.o.ke. . . . That is, if you're out of moons.h.i.+ne."

"And a gin and tonic for the thirsty girl in the back,"

Jackie added with a wave.

"Three recipes for trouble, coming up." By the time Ash slipped onto a vinyl bar stool, the bartender had already expertly poured Ashline's drink and was 55 measuring an indulgent amount of gin into Jackie's.

"And how is that geological research going?" he asked.

"Stimulating." The corners of Ashline's mouth twitched upward in a quick smile. Two months ago, when Ray, the bar owner, had attempted to make small talk during their initial visit, Ash had identified the trio as a team of geology majors from UCLA on a semester abroad mission to study the local strata. She hoped she'd chosen a boring enough backstory that it would prevent any further inquiry from the bartender during future visits.

Ash's best guess was that Raggedy Ray had caught on to their shenanigans the moment they'd first entered the Bent Horseshoe but welcomed the fresh younger blood in his bar, since the regulars seemed to recycle the same discussions on retirement, salt.w.a.ter fis.h.i.+ng, and weather patterns.

"And what's your topic of study this week?" Ray humored her.

Ash stirred her straw in the amaretto. "The effects of erosion in the Great Fern Valley, and the continued hunt for fossils."

Darren and Jackie both snickered and carried their drinks over to a nearby high-top, where a group of other Blackwood students were playing a drinking game that involved dice, a stack of poker chips, and an empty pint gla.s.s.

"You know . . ." Ray lowered his voice and leaned over the counter. "I don't know why you bother going all the way into the park to do your studies."

56.

"Why's that?" She took a long pull from her drink.

"Because," he said, glancing to the right and to the left before he winked at her, "I've got more old fossils in here than I know what to do with."

Ash couldn't help it-she laughed so hard that amaretto spurted out her nose before she had time to cover up.

Ray nodded to the back corner of the bar, where they kept the pool tables. "Some of your fellow 'researchers'

arrived earlier."

"That so?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "Marine biologists, I believe."

Ash slipped out of her seat and scooped up her drink.

"Better go have a bit of shoptalk with them."

"Aye, they probably have a bone or two to pick with erosion, I'd imagine," Ray said with another cough-like laugh. Then he scurried away to tend to a few mugs that needed refilling at the end of the bar.

With Jackie and Darren both distracted-Jackie was madly bouncing poker chips into the empty gla.s.s while Darren and the other kids cheered her on-Ash took the opportunity to glide around the bar to the billiard room.

She ignored the catcall from a bearded ogre, whose friend slugged him and whispered "Jailbait" loud enough for Ashline to hear as she slipped through the beaded curtain in the doorway.

The billiard room's walls were decorated with a strange a.s.sortment of tiki masks, yellowing maps of the state park, and beer memorabilia. As she entered, the two 57 boys were too deeply ensconced in their game of pool to acknowledge her.

Ash watched as the eight-ball rolled across the table, on a perfect course for the corner pocket. Both boys inhaled sharply. Ade, who had taken the shot, stepped away from the table holding the cue, and Rolfe was gripping his long hair with antic.i.p.ation. The ball lingered dangerously on the precipice of the corner pocket. . . .

And then dropped off the edge and into the net below.

"Bulls.h.i.+t!" Rolfe cried out. "You hit the table!" He looked about ready to snap his pool cue over his knee.

Ash guessed it wasn't the first time he'd lost that night.

Ade pumped his own cue over his head in victory as he danced in circles. He chanted something celebratory in his native tongue of Creole.

"If you're going to taunt me, at least do it in my own language, bro," said Rolfe.

Ade shoved the nearly empty pitcher into Rolfe's chest, roughly enough for some of the remaining beer to splash over the brim and spatter his s.h.i.+rt. "Tell me. What is surfer-speak for 'The next pitcher is on you'?"

"What's Creole for 'Bite me'?"

Ash cleared her throat. "Do you two need to be alone?

I'm suffocating on testosterone."

"Ah, if it isn't my favorite Wilde child," Ade announced as if she'd just entered his royal court. He swept forward and wrapped his arms around her like a bear. "It feels as though I haven't seen you in years."

58.

Ash patted him on the back, and he stepped away.

"Pretty sure it was fourth-period chemistry, but I appreciate the theatrics. So Ray tells me that you guys are marine biologists now?"

"We're studying the mating rituals of the local salmon." Rolfe emptied the last of the pitcher into his pint gla.s.s. "Care to partic.i.p.ate in a case study?"

Ash snapped her hand out and cuffed him hard on the back of the head. This time the beer sloshed out of his pint and onto his sneakers.

Ade wandered over to the pool table, where he gathered the b.a.l.l.s from the pockets and rolled them back onto the green. "And what is Blackwood's star soccer player up to this evening?"

"Bobby? Off icing his bruised ego somewhere," Ash said. "Or maybe trawling the freshman wing for a new girlfriend."

Ade grinned smugly while he racked the b.a.l.l.s. "Sorry to hear that."

"Oh, stuff it." Ash rolled her eyes. "Now I'm curious-what is Creole for 'Bite me'? In case Bobby comes crawling back."

The bead curtain parted, and in stepped Lily Mayatoaka, another Blackwood cla.s.smate that Ashline had met a few times when she'd hung out with Ade and Rolfe. Tonight Lily was wearing tight jeans and an even tighter frown.

"You're looking chipper," Ade said.

59.

"If a guy compares you to a baked good as you're walking out of the bathroom," Lily said, "should you be flattered or insulted?"

"Depends on the baked good," Ash replied. "Cupcakes, yes. Pie . . ."

Rolfe chalked up his pool cue. "Depends on whether or not you want to climb into his oven."

Lily scoffed, but she couldn't conceal the faint smile that glowed through her disgust. "Only you could find a way to say something that manages to make no sense and sound completely repulsive at the same time."

Rolfe pulled a rumpled ten-dollar bill from his pocket and dangled it in front of her. "Since you were kind enough to play designated driver tonight, why don't you treat yourself to a 7-Up."

Lily reached for the bill.

Rolfe yanked it out of her grasp and held up the empty beer pitcher in its place. "And be a dear and refill this for your thirsty friends while you're at it?"

Ash made a sound of disgust. So wrong on so many levels. "Lily's not your beer wench, Hanssen."

"They prefer beer maiden," Rolfe corrected her, and continued to hold out the pitcher.

Lily sighed. "Fine." As she accepted the pitcher from him, Ash couldn't help but notice the way her hand lingered on his. Then she grumbled something in j.a.panese, s.n.a.t.c.hed the ten-dollar bill from his other hand, and disappeared back into the bar.

"Love you, cupcake!" Rolfe called after her.

60.

Ade pointed his pool cue at Rolfe. "Not cool, dude."

"What?" Rolfe barked. "It's just a pitcher."

"You know that's not what I meant," Ade said. "Don't play with her like that."

Ash shook her head. Anyone who had spent more than two minutes with Lily and Rolfe in the same room knew that she was completely infatuated with him. Rolfe's way of dealing with her crush seemed to be a mixture of pretending it didn't exist and, at times, exploiting it. "When are you going to put that girl out of her misery and take her on a date?" Ash asked.

Rolfe avoided eye contact with her, and instead set the cue ball down on the table and lined up his first shot.

"Soon as Ade stops cheating at pool."