Free Fire With Fire by Jenny Han, Siobhan Vivian

minute. And
then he does that five more times.
It’s crazy, how similar we are. Here’s both of us, working
through our stuff, trying to make something positive out of
something really bad.
CHAP
TER NINE
    Trick-or-treating on the island isn’t really
a thing; there are too many dead spots—vacation houses that
are empty all fall and winter. So the elementary school has an
“alternative Halloween” that they call Fall Fest. After school,
the kids go home, change into their costumes, and come back
to find the entire school decked out all spookily. There are a
bunch of fun Halloweeny activities, like apple bobbing and face
painting and a candy scavenger hunt. Officially, the elementary
school PTA runs it, but there’s always a senior liaison who is
basically in charge of finding high schoolers to man booths and
drum up support. This year it’s me. Rennie was supposed to
cochair with me, but once actual planning meetings started, she
bailed.
    It’s Friday, and we’re at the lunch table, and Ashlin’s begging
Rennie to tell her what her costume is. “Come on, Ren! Ash
wheedles. I told you mine.”
    Rennie shakes her head smugly. “You have to wait and see.”
I stir my frozen yogurt around with a spoon. I’m too stressed
out about organizing Fall Fest to be hungry. I’ve got my to-do
list out, and there are still a bunch of to-dos not ticked off. I
have today, the weekend, and then two days next week to get
everything set. I’m still waiting to hear back on how many cupcakes Milky Morning is going to donate. And Sutton’s might
not donate as much candy this year, so I need a backup plan if
they don’t come through.
    But my biggest problem right now is that I don’t have enough
booth coverage. I got Nadia and her friends to do the scavenger
hunt, and I got the drama kids to do a campfire story hour, but
I still need judges for the costume contest.
    And then there’s the face-painting booth.
Ever since freshman year, Rennie and I have manned the facepainting booth. We’d paint butterflies and stars and tiger stripes
on the little kids’ faces. It was our thing. I think it will be a perfect opportunity for us to talk, away from Ashlin and Reeve and
everybody else. Just me and Rennie, like it used to be.
I take a deep breath and say to her, “We’re still doing the
face-painting booth, right?”
Rennie scrunches her face up. “I don’t think I can. Sorry.”
Except she doesn’t look sorry.
“That’s okay,” I say. But it’s not. It’s far from okay.
“I need time to get into my costume. Fall Fest is at what, five?
And over at eight? There won’t be enough time, even if I rush
home after school.” Rennie shrugs. “Plus, some of us are going
to pregame at Ash’s before we head over to the haunted maze.”
What? Everybody’s pregaming at Ashlin’s and nobody told
me about it? I whip my head around to look at Ash, who’s suddenly preoccupied with her salad. “Does this mean you can’t do
the dunk booth with Derek?” I demand.
Her hair hanging in her face, she says softly, “No . . . sorry,
Lil. Ren scored some spicy rum from her job, and she found this
yum cocktail we can make with it and apple cider. You should
come too!”
“How am I going to do that?” I cry out. “I’m supposed to
run this thing, and you guys said you’d help me!”
“I’m so, so sorry,” Ashlin says, her eyes fluttery and regretful.
From the end of the table Alex says, “Lil, I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, Alex,” I say. In a louder voice I say, “It’s nice to
know that I can count on somebody.”
Ashlin pouts at me. “Forgive me, Lil.”
I ignore her and cast a spiteful look in Reeve’s direction. For
the past three years he’s come to Fall Fest dressed up like Jason
in Friday the 13th . Back when we were freshmen the senior girls
asked him to do it, and it became kind of a Jar Island tradition.
Reeve wears a white hockey mask and chases the kids around
with a chain