TORCH by Yvonne Collins, Sandy Rideout Read Free Book Online Page A

their family is gossiping about my dad having a drinking problem, he may have trouble getting hired on a fire department. I’m sure he’ll want to one day.
    A flush surges up my chest, neck and then my face. It feels hot enough to blow back my hair.
    Regan can see I’m too upset to retaliate and jumps in herself. “My dad offered Phoenix’s dad a job and he turned it down.”
    Bianca opens her designer bag and pulls out a package of cigarettes. She makes a show of opening it slowly, selecting one, and holding it to her lips before taking her next shot. “Thank god, for that,” she says. “I’d hate to think my life depended on a drunk firefighter.” She turns to her posse. “How about you guys?” There’s a murmur of agreement. Satisfied, Bianca drops her cigarettes back into her purse and holds her lighter to the one in her mouth. Keeping her eyes on me, she flicks the lighter.
    What she doesn’t see—what no one, I hope, sees—is that the cigarette is already lit, and flame is indigo.
    Taking a long pull on the cigarette, Bianca coughs. In fact, she coughs so hard she drops her purse. When the spell passes, her eyes are streaming.
    “Wow,” I say. “Do you want those lung chunks back?”
    One of her pals hands Bianca a tissue and she wipes the mascara from under her eyes. Then she rakes her free hand through her long hair. “Look,” she wheezes. “You need to understand how it works around here, Phoenix.” She jabs her cigarette in my direction. “Do you mind if I call you ‘Nix’?”
    “Whatever.” I keep my tone light, but I’m watching the indigo flame consume Bianca’s cigarette at record speed. If she isn’t careful, she’ll—”
    “Ow! What the—?” Bianca drops the cigarette.
    One of her friends steps forward and grinds it out for her.
    “Better try a new brand,” I say, smiling as Bianca inspects her fingers for burns. “So, you were about to explain how it works around here.”
    She leans toward her purse, possibly to get another cigarette, reconsiders, and crosses her arms instead. “Right. Here’s how it works:  you’re new, you’re a loser, and your dad’s a drunk. That means you’re nothing at Eastfield. Worse than nothing, because your only friend is Chunky, here, and she’s so far off the radar, even Military Intelligence couldn't find her.”
    Bianca stares at Regan and I stare at the smoldering purse at her feet. There’s a hole in the leather over the pocket where she stashed her smokes. I have the feeling I’m responsible, because the heat is receding from my face and my temper is cooling. The best thing I can do is get out of here before anyone notices.
    “Fine," I say. "So can we call a truce?”
    “You stepped on my head, Nix. You can’t undo that.”
    Regan is backing away but before we can make our escape, someone comes up behind Bianca, stoops, and places one hand on her purse. Then he straightens up and meets my eye.
    I realize it’s Kai Seaver even before I see his face, because I have the same sinking sensation I felt in the pool. He’s tall, broad-shouldered and stunning in his brown leather jacket, faded jeans and biker boots. But his expression is dark. He’s like a black hole that sucks the energy out of me.
    “Hey,” Bianca says, trying to shove him. “Did you just touch my purse?”
    Kai steps out of reach. Bianca gets her answer in the form of a large wet handprint on the bag over a burn hole. A chill runs up my spine.
    “What did you do?” Bianca roars. “That’s a three hundred dollar bag!”
    Ignoring her, Kai turns to me, as if expecting me to say something. I lock eyes with him, feeling the strength drain out of my legs. If I had to rely on my own will, I’d be stuck here, but luckily Regan gives my arm a yank and starts towing me away.
    “Were you trying to steal my purse?” Bianca shouts up at Kai.
    “Sure,” he says. I look over my shoulder and see him still watching me. “It goes with everything.”
    We can still