The Fire Read Online Free

felt like a little animal, a kitten dragged to the vet — to be held down for shots — to be put to sleep forever.
    Michael will be their instrument, she thought. That’s how they’ll do it to me. Mrs. Shevvington isn’t going to let these eighteen days go unused.
    Benjamin had his brother in a wrestling lock. “Let go,” Benj said, for whom two words would always be enough. Michael’s fingers went limp. Christina was free.
    “My goodness but you’re prickly, Benjamin,” said Mrs. Shevvington. “Can’t you take a joke?”
    Benjamin glared at Mrs. Shevvington. If her eyes were pebbles, his were boulders. Suddenly Christina felt herself sister to Benj. They were carved of the same granite, from the same quarry, from the same island in the sea. “Come on, Benj,” she said, grabbing his hand, “let’s get there first.”
    In the morning, Benjamin did not stride off to school by himself but waited for Christina. She was astounded. Last summer the brothers had informed her in no uncertain terms that friendship must be left back on Burning Fog Isle; she must not expect them to associate with a lowly seventh-grader. She of course had tagged after them anyway, until they growled, “Christina, buzz off.”
    Today, the sun came up like a trumpet announcing summer! Summer! Summer!
    And Benjamin Jaye held the heavy green door open for Christina, and shortened his big strides to match hers. The wind tugged her tri-colored hair, separating it. This was a good sign. (Christina never read horoscopes. She listened to her hair.) “You really want me to help with the fund-raising, don’t you, Benj? I promise I will. You don’t have to walk with me. Anyway, I’m meeting Jonah at the gate.”
    Benj said nothing, but she had not expected him to. They walked on. Such a glorious day! She was wearing a pretty cotton dress, with a tulip-flared skirt in watered pastels. She even had a new purse, nubby cotton, all fat and sagging and full of her own things. She loved purses. They were sacred. People might say how pretty your purse was, but they never went into your purse. You could have secrets in it if you wanted. “You know what I was thinking last night?” said Christina. She hoped for a syllable, but Benj raised both eyebrows instead. “At least it’s a two-eyebrow morning,” she teased him.
    He laughed.
    “I was thinking that for Disney World, we’ll need grown-up money, not kid money,” explained Christina. “We need to do things that attract tourists. They’re the ones with the money. Now listen up. Clam chowder is the town specialty.”
    “Lobster is,” Benj corrected her.
    “Lobster, too, but listen. I need clams.”
    They were at the gate, and there was Jonah. Jonah was sort of Christina’s boyfriend. Nobody in seventh grade actually had a boyfriend, but Jonah was a boy, and he liked her a lot, and sometimes they said they were “going together.”
    “Clams?” said Jonah. He poked Benj in the chest. “Well, you got one, Chrissie.” He laughed hysterically.
    Benjamin took Jonah’s extended finger and began to snap it off. “Benj!” said Christina, getting between them. What could have made Jonah — a scrawny thirteen-year-old — start something with Benj, who could have modeled for a gym-equipment ad?
    “I don’t like clam or lobster jokes,” said Benj. “Just because I keep silent when there’s nothing to say, Jonah, doesn’t mean I’m a crustacean.”
    Christina looked at the pair of them. How obvious the age difference was! Jonah was actually slightly taller than Benj, having grown like a stilt all winter. But he was skinny, with a lopsided, loping bounce. Benj’s arms were twice as thick. His tan had never faded because he worked year round at the sea and at the gas station. He already had a lobsterman’s squint, from the sun glaring off the water. It did not seem that two and a half years separated the boys; it seemed like ten.
    “Anyway,” Benj prompted her. He ignored Jonah, as