The Fire Read Free

edge one day, and the next day its painted ocean flat and wall-poster blue. Eventually they found out that Mrs. Shevvington just switched two posters back and forth.
    Christina went into the kitchen with the others. They never ate in the dining room, always in the kitchen, on a hideously ugly table, its top chipped, its legs as fat as thighs. Benj was setting the table.
    He’s sixteen and they already call him Old Benj, thought Christina. He’ll quit high school and be a lobsterman like his father and grandfather before him, and he won’t say another syllable unless he’s forced to. I wonder how he’ll ask a girl to marry him? Perhaps she’ll ask him. Then all he’ll have to do is nod.
    Christina plopped down in her chair.
    “Christina,” said Mr. Shevvington, “sit gracefully. Do not just let go and fall into the chair.”
    Christina tried to decide whether this was worth a fight or not. There were any number of arguments about sitting techniques.
    But Benj said, “I think she is graceful.” Benjamin passed the creamed potatoes Christina’s way.
    Christina hated sauces. There was something sinister about them, whether they were milk-white, hollandaise-yellow, spinach-green, or tomato-red. They hid the true food. You could not be sure what those little chopped things were, down at the bottom of the sauce. It hadn’t been so bad when Dolly and Anya still lived there. Anya could always be counted on to surface from her foggy world to identify lumps for Christina. “That’s an onion. That’s a mushroom.” (Dolly never ate anyway, her skinny little arms and legs barely stapled to her body. So it hadn’t mattered to Dolly.)
    How Christina missed Anya! Anya was as beautiful as sea foam, her thick dark hair a cloud around her translucent skin. But Anya had had no strength. Not like me, thought Christina with satisfaction. I’m like the Isle: I’m granite. Behind the safe cover of her tilted milk glass, Christina sneered at the Shevvingtons. It felt pretty good.
    “Guess what,” said Benjamin Jaye.
    Christina choked on her milk. “Since when have you ever told us anything at all,” she asked him, “let alone said to guess at it?”
    Benjamin grinned at her.
    Even the Shevvingtons blinked at the sight of Benj grinning.
    “Is that a grin?” Christina teased.
    Benjamin grinned even wider.
    “You know how!” she cried. “Benj! You’re so cute when you grin.”
    Now he blushed.
    His younger brother said, “This is disgusting. Stop it, Benj. Just tell them.”
    Benj said, “The marching band is going to Disney World next fall. All we have to do is raise the money for forty-four of us to make the trip, and we get to be the Disney World band for the day! Me. ”
    “Oh, Benjamin!” Christina screamed. “Florida? You’ll fly down? In those wonderful band uniforms! All scarlet and gold braid, and white shoes. All those years of playing the trumpet are finally paying off. That’s so great!”
    Benjamin, who had possibly the world’s largest appetite, was too excited to eat. Christina had never come across a boy who could not eat. Benj kept filling his fork and then setting it back down on the plate, untouched. “We’ll take a bus down to Orlando,” he said. “Flying’s too expensive. But a really nice bus, with a bathroom and a snack bar. We’ll stay five days.”
    “Five days at Disney World,” breathed Christina. “That is so wonderful, Benj. You’ll have the best time. How much money do we have to raise? I’ll help. You’ll need tons. Millions. We’ll have car washes and bake sales and hike-a-thons.”
    Mr. Shevvington said, “At this point, the school has not yet given permission.”
    Benj dropped his fork, his face speaking instead of his tongue. You might refuse to let us go to Disney World?
    Christina glared at Mr. Shevvington. “You won’t even be here next year,” she said hotly, forgetting she had learned this by eavesdropping. “You’re getting a job in another state. So