On Fire Read Online Free

imagine the book she chose.
    Marsh and Mrs. Stoa and I went outside after that. “He’s going to need care,” she told Marsh, like she’d been a nurse for the last century instead of an English teacher. “I don’t think she should be alone with him in a closed room.”
    â€œShe hasn’t been,” Marsh said.
    â€œHello,” I said. I waved my hand in front of his face. “No need to talk about me like I’m not here.”
    â€œAnd she shouldn’t try to take him anywhere.”
    â€œMatti?” They both turned and looked at me.
    I said, “Okay,” like they were expecting me to, but it was a dumb thing to ask me to agree to in the first place. Where would I take him?
    All the decent boats in the village marina had been moved farther down toward Kingman. The helicopters up the road at X-Treme Ski would have been fun. But it was a hike up there and anyway, they were all out working in the fire effort.
    I suppose we could have looked through all the pamphlets on AIDS and teen-aged pregnancy in the rack at the back of our store. Maybe tried out a few elk calls. Or I could have hooked the on-fire guy up to the blood pressure machine. I did that to myself now and then when I was really bored, but I didn’t imagine he’d find it entertaining.
    After we took Mrs. Stoa home, Marsh said, “The kid might be up to sitting outside for a bit tomorrow since the air is better. Do you think you could find him some clothes?”
    â€œFrank’s would be too big,” I said, “but I could go to the Thrift Shop. Do you want them A.S.A.P.?”
    â€œTomorrow will be fine,” Marsh said. “He needs everything. But not too early.”
    I went home right after we talked and got my roller suitcase. I had it packed in case we needed to take off in a hurry, so I emptied it and went to the Thrift Shop in the basement of the Glory Assembly Church.
    I didn’t have to pick the lock. I knew the key was under the door mat so I used it to let myself in. I wouldn’t have broken in anyway. It was a church.
    I filled up the suitcase with shirts and shorts and a backpack. I even put in long pants and sweaters for later in the year. I didn’t get underwear. I didn’t feel right about that. I left an I.O.U. for $20.00 and went home.
    My bedroom is on the third floor of the house. I carried the suitcase up the stairs as quietly as I could so Mrs. Stoa wouldn’t hear me and want to see everything. After that I sat down on the bed, ticced-off and tried to think of something else to do. I couldn’t.
    I took the clothes out of the suitcase, refolded them and put them in again.
    Then I sat some more.

8

A S ECOND W ORLD
    I WAITED AS LONG AS I could the next morning, but I still got to the jail with my suitcase before eight o’clock. Marsh was gone somewhere and the on-fire guy was sitting on the bench outside the jail in an old bathrobe, eating peanut butter and toast and drinking a glass of milk.
    â€œHello,” I said. Then my brain conked out. It’s harder to talk to someone who’s actually awake and listening. “Where’s Marsh?”
    â€œHe went out to check on something.”
    â€œOh,” I said. “I hope you’re not going to ask me if I’m an angel again.”
    The on-fire guy had been looking down at his feet the whole time, like he couldn’t believe he actually had two of them. “No.” He shook his head. “Why would I do that?”
    â€œI . . . ” My face was always turning red around him.. “I’m Matti Iverly. This is Blackstone Village. I live here.”
    He turned his head to look at me then. “Okay,” he said. He moved over on the bench. “You can sit down if you’re not afraid of me.”
    â€œI’m not afraid,” I said. I sat down harder than I meant to. Then I stared off to one side.
    â€œAre you running away from home?” he asked