Playing with Fire by Phoebe Rivers Page B

Her expression had hardened. “You can’t make me!”
    Her father rose to his full height, towering over his teenage daughter. “Yes, I can.” He gripped her arm and dragged her out of the room and upstairs. “You go first thing in the morning.”
    The lock on her bedroom door clicked loudly from the outside. Belinda tried twisting the knob desperately, but the door wouldn’t budge.
    There was no way out until morning. Until she was sent away.
    Suitcases, already packed by one of the Hellimanservants, lay waiting by the door of her bedroom with the pink-flowered wallpaper. Belinda crawled to the wall and knocked four times. Her secret signal to her sister.
    Margaret returned the knocks from her bedroom on the other side. Belinda pleaded through the thin wall for Margaret to unlock her door. They’d run away together.
    Margaret kept repeating, “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t or wouldn’t open the door. She told Belinda to sleep.
    â€œNo!” Belinda howled. As she moaned, her hair took on a darker hue. Redder. Angrier.
    No longer in control.
    They couldn’t send her away. By herself.
    Red everywhere.
    No Margaret. No friends.
    All she saw was a curtain of red.
    Until the suitcases burst into flames.
    Belinda watched in awe as the yellow fingers of heat grew higher and higher. It was as if she were in the audience, viewing a play on a far-off stage. Then the flames leaped to the windowsill, igniting the wood with a ferocity that shocked her into action.
    â€œWake up! Everyone get out!” She grabbed a cotton blanket folded at the foot of her bed and flung it in hopes of putting out the fire. The blanket disappeared into the flames.
    Into the flames that engulfed the bedroom.
    Into the flames that traveled down the hall to the bedrooms where her family slept.
    â€œIt’s all her fault,” I said. I’d seen Belinda start the fire that killed her family.
    â€œNo, it’s not.”
    I blinked. I was back in the hotel room. Smoke everywhere. Laura still struggling with the window.
    Lily pressed a cool washcloth to my face as I sat on the carpet. The TV static, the shower, and the blinking clock had stopped. How long had I been like this?
    â€œIt’s not her fault,” Lily repeated. “I don’t know where you went in your mind, Sara, but you were talking the whole time. Narrating what you saw.”
    I pulled the washcloth away and eyed Belinda, still hovering beside Lily. “It was bad. She did it.”
    â€œNo. It was a mistake,” Lily said simply. “Belinda didn’t mean to start that fire or any of the fires. Shehad no control. She needed help that no one could give her.”
    â€œThat’s what’s so dangerous.” I couldn’t shake the image of those flames.
    â€œShe’s lonely, Sara. She lost her family and her sister. She needs a friend—that doesn’t make her bad. Everyone judged her unfairly.”
    The smoke drifted away. Belinda’s clenched jaw softened. Laura stepped from the window and moved toward the door.
    I thought about all the times I’d been quick to judge. I’d thought Delilah was destructive when she’d really been baking muffins. I’d thought George Marasco wanted to destroy Midnight Manor on the boardwalk when he’d really wanted to save it. I thought the soldier spirit was trying to spook me when he’d really wanted to find Lady Azura, his true love. Had I been wrong about Belinda?
    â€œShe may be lonely, but she starts fires,” I said. “She scares me.”
    â€œEven though you can see her and I can’t,” Lily said, “I know what I feel when she’s near, and I don’t feel scared. I want to help her.”
    â€œTake me home,” Belinda said in a low voice. Her glow had dimmed. She searched Lily’s face with her now-dark eyes. “Take me home with you.”
    â€œShe wants to go home with you