The Inevitable Collision of Birdie & Bash by Candace Ganger

Author:Candace Ganger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

BASH

My guilty reflection in her glasses.

That’s the only image in my mind; the way my eyes stare back at me, the way hers plead to know me. I couldn’t sleep thinking about her. This isn’t just dangerous, it’s lethal. A chemical combination that shouldn’t mix, ever. A parallel to Kyle’s and my relationship.

Explosive, possibly deadly.

She left my jacket, scented with something floral and girly, at the rink. It was carefully nesting a chemistry printout with practice equations and answers, along with a note saying Vinny gave her a few days to be with her family. The scent overcomes me like a freakin’ schoolgirl with a crush, and I know I’ve got to quit her in a bad, bad way. This can’t be happening, I won’t let it.

I heard what they’re asking for, what they need to happen for the kid to live another day. So last night, when I’m closing the rink by myself, and the lights are off and everyone’s gone, I sneak another twenty from the drawer and put it in an envelope. Vinny will survive, minus twenty, and if he doesn’t, well, tough shit. I sniffed the damn jacket all night, until my nose nearly bled, and now know exactly what I have to do.

This morning my thoughts are tornados spinning up in the air, spitting debris all over everyone, and pretty soon, they’re going to crash down so hard, the impact alone will kill us both. So why do I have to feel these … things for her? She’s not like Layla. She’s different, good. When Ma goes, I’ll have nothing, but Birdie still has her family. It should be whole, not broken. So if I can salvage one of our lives, it might as well be hers.

“Mr. Alvarez,” Mrs. Pearlman says, snapping me from my daze, “care to join us here on earth?”

The class laughs. Sebastian A., class fuckup, never fails to impress. I’ve been doodling lovestruck bears, some ending in death with wooden stakes through the heart. So, as the beast of chemistry approaches, her tight curls frolicking across her cheeks, her squinty eyes narrowing down at me, I quickly hide my etchings with a cupped hand. “Sorry.”

She reaches beneath my hand, pulls the sketch into view with a smirk, and leans down into my personal space so close I can see the coffee stains on her teeth. “If you could learn as well as you draw, you’d have graduated by now.”

I back into my seat as far as I can, but her breath is a long string of air that bites into me. “Thanks?”

One hand on each side of the paper, she rips right down the center, breaking the two biggest bears apart, and the whole class erupts with a collective “ooohhh.” She struts back to the front of the class like she really got me. I’ll just draw another, no biggie. Everyone’s eyes are on me like they can’t look away—the freak who draws, flunks chem—what will he do next? Entertain us.

“Back to what I was saying,” she continues.

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