Burned Away Read Free Page B

family. We got to stick together when things go wrong.”
    The notebook in her bag called to her. What had gone wrong? What had brought them together to press against the biggest man in the Northern Federation?
    But instead she asked, “Why do they call you Matchstick?”
    They took a few steps in silence.
    â€œThe nuns used to say I had a temper when I was little.”
    â€œThe nuns?”
    â€œAt St. Mary’s,” he said. “The orphanage by Charity House.”
    She nodded, something in her chest twisting at the thought of him being raised without parents. She’d had her mom at least, and even after she’d gone to live with Aunt Charlotte, she’d had somebody. She couldn’t imagine having no one left.
    â€œThey’d say I’d blow up when I couldn’t figure something out. Then, when I started working at Small Parts, I figured out how to really blow things up.”
    Because the factory made parts for bombs. She’d learned that the last time she’d come to Metaltown. Division II built the intricate pieces for explosives—the “small parts” that gave the place the nickname.
    â€œAnd figured out you liked it.”
    He chuckled. She’d made him laugh.
    â€œSome things just don’t work the way you want them to. You’ve just got to blow them up and start over,” he said.
    The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, she believed it was true. Something about him and the cold air and the rooftops made her feel brave. Made her want to start over.
    She stopped and took out her notebook. “Could I ask you a few more questions?”
    He tilted his head, and then motioned over to the ledge. There, they sat, and he pulled another match from his pocket and lit it with the snap of his fingers.
    â€œShow-off,” she said.
    He held it closer so that she could see the page, and in the soft yellow glow she found herself looking up at his face, and the smudges of soot on the back of his jaw, and the pink skin where his eyebrow abruptly ended.
    And his cockeyed smile.
    Clearing her throat, she asked him about the press and the charter. They talked about the Brotherhood, and McNulty’s crew in Bakerstown, and laughed about the first times he’d experimented with explosives. They talked about Hampton and the way he was treating the workers.
    If the Tri-city City knew what he’d done to the workers in his factories, there would be an uproar. Half the stuff couldn’t even have been legal.
    It was much later when he walked her to the beltway.
    â€œSo,” he said. “You going to write the story or what?”
    She held the notebook against her chest, feeling like the secrets it held could crack a hole in the world. “I don’t know.”
    He nodded. “Well, if you do, tell me. And if you want more, you can talk to some friends of mine. We come here a lot. To the beltway. If you want to find me. Us , I mean.”
    The prospect of more interviews made her eyes widen. The idea of seeing him again made her feel light and warm.
    She wasn’t sure how to thank him for what he’d done tonight—not just for helping her with the Brotherhood, but for the interview. She watched him standing there, weight shifting from foot to foot, and realized how much she didn’t want to go.
    He stands before me, a boy who finds answers in ashes, with no idea how important he is.
    She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. His skin was cold, and smooth, and her lips were cold, too. She lingered as his cheek lifted with a smile, their warm puffs of breath making a cloud to hide within. Then she backed away and headed home.
    *   *   *
    Aunt Charlotte was still snoring when Caris snuck in. Quietly, carefully, she set down her satchel and changed into her nightclothes. She eased into her cot in the corner of the room, but couldn’t sleep. Her mind was filled with the daily grind of the machines, and