ONCE THE FIRE ALARM STARTS GOING OFF, I FLICK MY hand so that the cap of my Zippo lighter snaps closed. Just in time too, because I think I’m almost out of butane. Plus the metal case is blazing hot. I blow on it, jump off the radiator in the girls’ bathroom, and crouch down at the door. The top part of the door is wood, but the bottom is covered in thin slatted vents. I watch the hallway light get sliced by pair after pair of legs hurrying their way to the nearest exit. I hear one of the teachers say, “We didn’t have a drill planned for today, did we?” Another teacher says, “I think this might be the real deal.” They instruct their students to hurry along with urgent This is not a test voices.
Yeah. Hurry the eff up. I’ve got work to do.
I shrug off my book bag, slide my arms through the straps so that it hangs in front of my body, and open the zipper. Inside are the photocopies I made last week. I’ve also got a roll of masking tape I stole from the art room. I take that out and rip pieces off, sticking them on my arms so I can move fast.
Jar Island only has a volunteer fire department, so I figure it’ll take them at least ten minutes to get here. It takes one, maybe one and a half, for the school to empty. As soon as the coast is clear, I push open the door and start running.
The senior hallway will do the most damage, so that’s where I start, slapping up the photocopies every few feet. On classroom doors, on lockers, on the spout of the water fountain.
I know this is supposed to be Lillia’s revenge, but I have to admit, this feels pretty freaking awesome. Alex has tried calling me a few times in the last week. Not that I bothered to answer, or to call him back. He doesn’t deserve to ever speak to me again. That’s how it is with me—you do me wrong, you’re dead to me.
Except for Lillia. I’m making a temporary exception in her case.
At the end of the hall, I kick the door of the stairwell open and take the stairs two at a time, putting up copies as I go. The alarm is so loud, my ears are about to bleed. The emergency lights are giving off big bright flashes. I remember my brother’s friend Luke pulling the fire alarm my freshman year. He got suspended for a week, and he had to pay a big fine for wasting the volunteer fire department’s time. I hustle even faster.
When I reach the landing, I duck so I’m out of sight at the window, then sprint the rest of the way up to the second floor, where the freshman lockers are. Adrenaline pumps through me, and I feel like I could run forever.
I think about Nadia coming back in, seeing Alex’s face and reading his stupid poem, and being completely mortified. I doubt she’ll ever want to go for rides in his SUV again. I freaking love it. I love that Alex is going to get dumped by a freshman, that everyone in school is going to laugh at his corny ass.
I get another stretch of hallway done, though it takes me a lot longer this time because I have to stop and rip off pieces of tape.
Then I hear the sirens.
I don’t have much longer. Which sucks, because I’ve got more than half the school left to cover. So I screw the tape and just start throwing sheets everywhere like confetti. Which is way faster. I do the science wing and the English hallway. When I slide down the banister of the back staircase, I toss papers over my shoulder.
I’m just about on the first floor when a team of firemen burst through the doors. They’ve got their hard hats on, flashlights beaming, walkie-talkies crackling.
Luckily, I’m right in front of the auditorium. I duck inside and hide myself in the folds of the big American flag. A second later two firemen bound in. I hold my breath and watch their flashlights hit the walls, the ceilings, the stage.
They yell “Clear!” and duck back out into the hall, continuing their search for a fire.
They won’t find one, but Alex is gonna get burned.
