Here's Lily by Nancy Rue Page B

only Mom. She was in her Cedar Hills High volleyball team sweatshirt, and her face looked as gray as the shirt did.
    â€œDo you remember what happened?” Mom said.
    â€œDad was cooking bacon, and the grease caught on fire, and I tried to put it out. Only then there was more fire, and Dad got burned.”
    â€œAnd so did you,” Mom said. “Yours are only second degree though. I know it hurts, but you’re going to be fine.”
    Lily put her hands up to her cheeks. All she could feel were bandages that felt two inches thick.
    â€œI’m burned on my face?” she said.
    â€œOne on each side.” Mom forced a grin. “They match. Leave it to you to do it perfect—”
    â€œWhat about Daddy? His hands were all burned, Mom!”
    Her mother’s grin faded. “Your dad wasn’t as lucky as you were. He’s burned all the way up to his elbows on both arms—some second degree, some third.”
    â€œWhat does that mean, all those degrees?” Lily’s heart was pounding, and the tears were already stinging in her eyes.
    â€œIt means he’s in a lot of pain, and he’s going to need some surgery and physical therapy. It’s going to be a long haul.”
    A sob wrenched Lily’s face, and that hurt even more, and that made her want to cry even more.
    â€œOhhh, talk about salt in the wound, Lil,” Mom said. “Come on. Try not to cry. Let me get a Kleenex. There you go. Just breathe through it.”
    â€œI can’t!” Lily said. She tried to shake her head, but that hurt too.
    â€œDaddy’s going to be fine,” Mom said. “It’s going to take time, but he’ll pull through. We’ll all help him. We have to thank God it wasn’t worse.”
    â€œIt was my fault.”
    â€œDon’t even go there, Lil. It was no one’s fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was mine for not just ordering you two a pizza. Who knew you were going to pick tonight to try gourmet cooking?” Mom laughed, but she reminded Lily of Suzy: her laughter was nervous, and it never reached her eyes.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Lily said.
    â€œThere’s no need to be. It wasn’t your fault, and if you get yourself all upset, you’re only going to hurt more. Come on. Just breathe easy and I’ll pray.”
    â€œGod must hate me. I hardly ever pray anymore—”
    â€œLilianna.” Mom never used Lilianna unless she was really serious. “We’re not going to have that kind of talk. God loves you. Period. End of discussion. Now close your eyes. Let’s talk to Him.”
    Lily did close her eyes, but all she could see were flames reaching out and grabbing her, grabbing Dad.
    â€œMom?” she whispered when the prayer was done. “Dad is gonna be all right, isn’t he?”
    â€œYes. The doctors have all assured me. They wouldn’t lie. I wouldn’t lie.”
    Still, Lily cried. Even though the tears stung as they trailed down into her bandages, she cried. She cried for a long time while Mom kept her head bowed.

Eleven
    T he doctor with almost no hair let Lily go home from the hospital the next morning. While Mom was downstairs signing papers, a nurse came in carrying a helium-filled pink balloon and smiling like she didn’t have an off switch.
    â€œYou get to go home and be pampered all day, lucky lady.” She tied the balloon to the arm of Lily’s wheelchair.
    â€œI don’t think anybody’s going to wait on me,” Lily said as she slid into the chair. “We don’t pamper at my house.”
    â€œLots of ice cream and DVDs,” the nurse continued, as if Lily hadn’t even answered. “You can be queen for a day.”
    She wheeled Lily out into the hall, and Lily was about to say they didn’t do “queen” at the Robbins house when she caught sight of her reflection in the shining stainless steel elevator doors. A gasp