Never judge a book by its cover and all that.
As I stared at the house, a wave of bitterness washed over me. Somewhere nearby, a lawnmower was humming along, and the scent of freshly mowed grass lent a sweetness to the air that might've lightened my mood if only all of my plans hadn't just gone up in smoke – and I meant that literally.
As my thoughts swirled, and my anger burned, I looked once again to Brody's pickup. If I were a different kind of person, I'd light my report card on fire and toss it into his truck, maybe leave a nice burn mark where his ass met the upholstery.
To my surprise, I was actually considering it.
My hands were loose at my sides, and I was still holding the lighter and the printout. The lighter was off, and the printout was fluttering in the breeze.
Was it fate that had carried me here?
I stared long and hard at the truck before finally shaking my head.No. It wasn't fate. It was stupidity.And whatever else I might be, I wasn't stupid, even if Iwasstupidly angry at everything Brody had cost me.
I sighed.Talk about pathetic.
Even when it came to revenge, here I was, still playing by the rules, for all the good it did me.
I was such a sap.
But then, with sudden inspiration, I raised the lighter and the paper. With one hand, I wadded up the paper into a nice, tight ball and then flicked on the lighter.
I held the wadded paper to the flame and watched as the flame caught. With a bitter laugh, I tossed the flaming wad not into the cab of his truck, but into the bed of it, where it would do no damage whatsoever.
It was a pointless gesture, and yet, itdidmake me feel just a little less pathetic. Maybe the paper would burn to ashes. Or more likely, the flame would sputter out, leaving a semi-burnt blob for Brody to find the next time he ventured into his truck bed.
Either way, I was done with the whole sordid thing.
I turned and began walking once again down the peaceful street. I'd gotten maybe two full blocks before an odd burning smell made me stop and turn back to look.
My eyes widened.Oh, my God.
Brody's truck.The whole truck bed was in flames.What the hell?
At the sight, my stomach lurched, and my heart skipped a beat.
HadIdone that?
I hadn't meant to.
Without pausing to think, I plunged toward the truck, intending to put out the fire somehow, maybe grab a garden hoseor –
Or nothing.
I was still a full block away when his truck literally exploded, sending flames shooting not only from the truck bed, but from the passenger area, too.
A split second later, Brody emerged from somewhere behind the house. He rushed toward his truck, and then stopped short in the middle of the front yard, as if realizing that his truck was already beyond saving.
He looked around and spotted me almost immediately. As our gazes locked, something slipped from my hands.
The lighter.
With a muttered curse, I leaned down and scooped it up. By the time I stood with the lighter in-hand, Brody's expression had gone from shock to raw hatred. He was still glaring when I shoved the lighter back into my pocket.
Why I bothered, I had no idea.
I was so busted.
Already, neighbors were rushing out of their houses to gawk at the flaming pickup. Within just a few moments, a small crowd had gathered on either side of the formerly quiet street.
