Free After the Fire by Becky Citra

like, the whole kitchen on fire?”
    Try the whole trailer . “Yeah,” said Melissa.
    â€œWow.”
    Alice was gaping at her. Melissa waited for the look of embarrassment or, even worse, pity. But Alice’s gaze was open and curious. “You’d be able to write an amazing story about a fire, having actually experienced one.”
    â€œWhy would I want to write a story about a fire?” said Melissa tightly. She wished Alice would stop staring at her. “I hate writing.”
    â€œGod, that must have hurt,” persisted Alice. “What exactly happened?”
    â€œI don’t really want to talk about it.” Melissa could hear the coldness in her voice and changed the subject. “Do you feel like going for a swim?”
    â€œRight now?” said Alice. “Sure.” She stood up and brushed bits of bark off her legs. “It’s not like we have to make all the arrows today.”
    She picked up a towel that was crumpled in a heap on the floor. She seemed to have forgotten all about Melissa’s hand. “And then afterward, there’s something I want to show you.”

Ten
    â€œW e’ll take my canoe,” said Alice.
    â€œWhere are we going?” said Melissa. She was lying on her stomach on the flat rock, drying off in the hot sun. The swim had been amazing, the water like cool silk. Now she felt like a lizard, unable to move.
    â€œGet your paddle,” said Alice.
    Melissa reluctantly sat up. “Where are we going?” she repeated.
    â€œYou’ll see,” said Alice mysteriously.
    Melissa retrieved her paddle and climbed into the bow of Alice’s canoe. Alice scrambled into the back and untied the rope. It was much easier to paddle a canoe with two people, Melissa quickly discovered. She was amazed at how fast they skimmed across the still water.
    They paddled straight across the lake to the opposite shore. It was very rocky on this side of the lake, and the forest went straight uphill from the edge of the water. There were no lily pads or reeds, just deep green water. Melissa rested her paddle for a moment and stuck her hand in the lake. The water ran in silver lines between her fingers.
    â€œIt’s along here a little ways,” said Alice. “Just around that point.”
    They glided in and out of shade, rapidly approaching the point, which was covered with dead trees. They paddled past it, into the mouth of a narrow bay shaded by the steep forested hillside that circled it. At the end of the bay was a high cliff with an exposed sunny outcropping of rock at the top.
    Three ducks, their peace disturbed, splashed across the smooth water and flew into the sky. A dragonfly hovered near the canoe, its wings glistening. Alice let her paddle drag. “This is it. D’you think anyone has ever jumped off that cliff?”
    Melissa stared up at the cliff. “No,” she said, though she had a feeling that Alice was going to tell her that she was wrong.
    â€œMy brother Austin did. Last summer. He’s not afraid to do anything.” Alice dug her paddle into the water. “If we get right up close, there’s a place where we can land. There’s a trail to the top.”
    The girls paddled into the end of the bay until the cliff loomed over their heads. They tied the canoe to a dead tree and scrambled onto the shore. A steep trail zigzagged up between the trees. The ground, carpeted in pine needles, was hot on their bare feet as they climbed. In a few minutes they emerged onto the open rocky outcropping, breathing hard.
    The dark narrow bay lay below them, as still as a piece of glass. Alice walked right to the edge of the cliff, but Melissa hung back. Heights had always given her a sick feeling. She remembered once climbing all the way to the top of the ladder on the high diving board at the pool in Huntley and then being embarrassed when everyone had to get off the ladder so she could go back down. The