Burned Away Read Free

him.
    She rarely looked up to anyone.
    â€œYes,” she said. And then she blew out another breath and shook all over again. “I can’t believe they just left like that. The Brotherhood . Can you believe it?”
    â€œYeah,” he said slowly. “I can believe it, all right.”
    She squinted at him, suddenly realizing that if they were scared of him, she should be really scared of him. This was a person she’d seen smiling in the middle of a fistfight. But he didn’t seem scary. Apart from the eyebrow that actually was half-missing, he had a nice face. Smooth skin and dark eyes. Narrow shoulders and long legs. Her story pulled him in: He looks like he’s been stretched, like his hair would probably stand straight up if he took off the hat he’s pulled down over his ears.
    â€œWell,” she said slowly. “Thank you. I’ll just be heading home now.”
    â€œTo Bakerstown?” he asked.
    She wasn’t sure how much she should tell him, or if where she lived might get her in trouble, as it could have with the Brotherhood.
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and slouching a little. “I got a friend from Bakerstown. Came over when he needed to work. I can hear it a little in your voice.”
    She’d never noticed her voice sounded a certain way and had the sudden urge to say something, just to see if it sounded different.
    â€œCome on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to the bridge. Better to stay off the streets tonight.”
    He turned, without waiting for an answer, and climbed the first few rungs of the fire escape. When she didn’t follow, he paused.
    â€œYou comin’ or not?”
    She thought of all the times her mom had taught her to be wary of strangers, and how she’d only just escaped two Brotherhood goons. She didn’t know this boy, but he had stood up for her. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was dragging her somewhere. He’d offered to take her back to the bridge between his home and hers.
    Quickly, she retrieved her notebook and pencil off the ground and, shoving them into her bag, raced after him.
    They climbed up four stories before they reached the roof. It was colder there, the sky black and starless, the low-hanging smog hiding the buildings beyond. Only a little light led their way, emanating from the street below. The quiet stretches on endlessly, not eerie, as it is on the ground, but peaceful and calm. It made her feel like they were the only two people in Metaltown.
    â€œWe can get most of the way there on the rooftops,” he said. “Not too many people know about it. I found it a while ago.” He looked down, cheek pulling inward, like he was biting it. It struck her that he’d grinned his way through the press but wasn’t smiling now.
    â€œOkay,” she said. “I like it up here.”
    â€œYou do?”
    Her face heated. He seemed so surprised she’d said it, she wondered if it had been stupid to admit. She could almost feel Aunt Charlotte’s judging stare.
    She nodded, and when his lips tilted up, hers did too.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” she asked.
    â€œMatchstick.”
    She looked sideways at him. “That’s your name ?”
    One shoulder jerked up, dropped. “That’s what people call me. What do they call you?”
    â€œCaris.”
    They’d walked to the edge of the building, where the next ledge was just a couple feet away. Between the buildings was an abyss, four stories deep. Her eyes widened.
    He stepped onto the ledge, then straddled the divide, reaching for her hand to help her up. After a moment, she took it. His hand is warm, even through our gloves, as if he’s made of fire. It was no wonder they called him Matchstick.
    â€œWas that really a detonator?” she asked, remembering the way he’d lit the match with one hand and just the snap of his