Fire With Fire by Jenny Han, Siobhan Vivian Read Free Book Online Page B

off Jar Island forever. Ohio might
not seem like the coolest place, but it’s definitely where I want
to be for more than a few reasons.
    The library is dead, so dead I wonder if maybe this thing is
happening in the guidance office instead. I walk over to the reference desk. The librarian there is on the computer. I hold my
yellow pass up and say, “Do you know where the—” but she
cuts me off with a big fat “Shhhh” even though there’s no one
in here but her. Then she points to the conference room next to
the computers.
    There aren’t a lot of kids in the conference room. Maybe five
other seniors, some I recognize and some I don’t. I take a seat in
the back, unzip my bag, and pull out the application to Oberlin.
You fill it out online, but I printed a copy out so I could plan all
my answers beforehand.
    Ms. Chirazo, the head of guidance, comes in as the bell rings,
in the flowy black pants and yarn neck scarf that seems to be her
unofficial uniform. I swear, the woman has nothing but that shit
hanging in her closet.
    She frowns, I guess because she’s disappointed with the
lack of turnout. But then she sees me and her face brightens.
“Katherine DeBrassio! How are you, dear?”
    I mumble, “Fine,” and stare down at my papers.
“We should arrange a time to sit down in private and properly catch up!” She says it way too cheerily, and it basically confirms my worst suspicions.
I had to talk with Ms. Chirazo when my mom died. Not
because I needed to. I wasn’t acting out in class or crying in
public or anything like that. But Ms. Chirazo saw the obituary
in the newspaper. She actually showed up to one of my classes
with it clipped out and asked me in this weirdly calm voice,
“Would you like to talk?” She wasn’t even a guidance counselor
at the middle school. She worked in the high school. But I guess
grief is her specialty.
I told her, “Nope. I would not.”
And then bitch made it a mandatory five sessions!
I know she loved it, getting to counsel a kid over the death
of a parent. I’d come in and she’d be smiling like a kid on
Christmas morning. Parental death is like gold to a school
counselor. That, abusive relationships, teen pregnancies, and
eating disorders. I barely said more than two words to her
each of the sessions. At our last one she gave me all these grief
workbooks and crap that I chucked in the Dumpster as soon
as I was dismissed.
“Well, this might be it for today,” she says, turning her attention back to the room. “Hopefully, you’ll spread the word to
your friends and classmates how valuable this resource is.” She’s
about to close the door, but someone stops her.
Alex Lind.
He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans, and a black-and-whitechecked shirt underneath a hunter-green sweater. “Sorry I’m
late.” Even though there are plenty of empty chairs, he slides
into the one next to me. “Looks like we’re officially losers,” he
whispers and laughs.
“Speak for yourself,” I say back. It comes out kind of bitchy,
so I tack on a little smirk.
Not that I even care if he thinks I’m a bitch. I’m over him.
Summer was a long time ago already. And, actually, I’ve been
thinking a lot about Ricky lately. He’s the kind of guy who isn’t
afraid to go after what he wants. And I’m pretty sure what he
wants is me.
Ms. Chirazo starts going off on her spiel, breaking down the
college application process into three parts. The questionnaire,
the recommendations, and the personal essay.
“Personal essay is the most important part. It’s the only time
you’ll have a chance to show the admissions board who you are,
explain what you’re all about. It’s your chance to stand out, to
let them get to know you, and proactively address any aspects
of your academic record that might not be up to snuff. This will
be the primary focus of our time together. Since we’re such a
small group, why don’t we partner up.”
I feel Alex’s eyes on