Firegirl by Tony Abbott Read Free Book Online

of sweat into my shirt. I felt my arms and sides and waist dripping wet. But with that curled thing held out in the air toward me, I couldn’t not take it. I had to hold it. My hand reached out to hers and took it. I held it lightly, and I think she helped by not squeezing. My hand must have been sweaty. Her palm felt pretty normal. The skin felt cool.
    It’s not the burned side, I told myself.
    Of course. She must have kept her hands all fisted up when she was in the fire, banging whatever it was to get out of wherever she was when the fire was all around her.
    When she turned to Jeff, he kept his eyes down and his arms down. She extended her hand, crooked and red and bent open, but he made no move. Everyone stood there, completely silent and waiting.
    “Jeff,” said Mrs. Tracy, glancing over at him with a frown and eyes that were stern and dark. Her head was half-bowed to begin the prayer.
    Jeff did not meet her look. He set his feet firmly on the floor, legs apart as if he expected a huge wave or something to wash over him. He pushed his balled-up fists into his pockets and didn’t hold anyone’s hand. He looked ready to leave the classroom any second.
    “It’s okay,” said Jessica, letting her hand drop.
    Mrs. Tracy closed her eyes and said the prayer.

Chapter 10
    “I can’t believe you did that,” Rich said to Jeff at lunch.
    “You’re in trouble,” said Joey. “You can’t just
not
do what Mrs. Tracy says you have to. Especially not a prayer thing. The nuns will get on your case. It’s at least detention for sure.”
    Jeff shrugged, dropping his brown bag on the table. “I’m not touching that girl,” he said coolly. “My mom’s a nurse. You think she doesn’t know how you can pick up diseases and stuff from touching sick people? She tells me all kinds of stories.”
    “You mean like AIDS?” asked Rich. “Whoa.”
    I stared at my sandwich. My heart was beating hard. “Like AIDS? It’s not like she’s contagious or anything —”
    “Oh, what, like you know?” said Joey, looking at Jeff.
    “She’s not still burning —” I said.
    “You’re lucky,” said Jeff, pulling a piece of his sandwich off and pushing it into his mouth. “You don’t have to stare at the back of her head all day.”
    “She looks like everybody else from behind,” I said.
    Rich shook his head, looking at Jeff now, too. “Not really, right?”
    “It’s like I can see her skull through her burned hair,” said Jeff, more angry now. “And her smell is making me sick. I should ask to move my seat. I’ve already pushed it back a lot. But not enough. I’ve got to move my seat.”
    I glanced around the cafeteria but didn’t see Jessica. It struck me that I had never seen her there. Where did she eat?
    “In fact, I’m going to talk to Mrs. Tracy now,” he said. He got up from the table with his bag in his hand. “Where is she? I’ll get her to move my seat. My mom will call her if I tell her to.”
    I watched Jeff storm away from the table and out into the hall.
    After lunch, Mrs. Tracy started teaching English without saying a word about the handholding thing. I kept expecting her to say something or give Jeff harsh looks, but she never did.
    And Jeff, who stayed where he was in row two but moved his seat only another few inches back, didn’t seem worried about getting punished, either, as Joey had warned he might.
    Had he already talked with Mrs. Tracy? Did he actually convince her that there was some danger in being near Jessica or touching her? Did he tell her his mother would call the school? That was just crazy.
    But Mrs. Tracy said nothing at all about it. She began by reading a poem about Chicago, one about trains, and then another about Abraham Lincoln.
    The whole afternoon, Jessica’s head was almost always bent down over her books. In fact, she hardly looked up for the rest of the day. I knew because I found myself watching her a lot.
    Jessica was absent the next day, Friday. For treatment,