Read Online Firecracker by David Iserson - Free Book Online Page B

made her sound less like a person and more like an owl.
    Noah stood up and sorted through Lucy’s iPhone. “It’s not a party without music, right?” he said, trying to change the subject. “We should dance or something . . . Is this whole playlist just French horn? Well, that’s fine.” And then Lucy and I were sitting on the couch while Noah tried his best to dance with no one to “Fanfare for the Common Man” while he insisted, “Come on, it’s a party!” He was trying. And I could tell from his face that it wasn’t easy. It was a depressing party. I’m sure there have been memorial services for school buses crashing into puppy stores with more celebration. There have been solitaire games with more people.
    I stood up because by being there, I’d already completed the task I was supposed to. I didn’t want to go to Lucy’s birthday party (and here I hadn’t thought I had anything in common with the rest of the school!), and my showing up was pretty much all Dean Rein had asked of me. He didn’t expect me to change the world. I wasn’t a magician. Also, where was the magician? I was pretty sure there was supposed to be one.
    As I inched my way closer to the door, Noah changed his dance moves in a spastic maneuver that brought him very close to my face. “Where are you going?” he hissed at me through clenched teeth.
    â€œThere’s no party,” I said. “This isn’t a party. I’m doing everyone a favor and putting this event out of its misery. Time of death: now.”
    Noah raised his eyebrow as if to say, So that’s who you are, huh? And while it wasn’t part of some elaborate plan to change my mind, it made me feel a pang in my gut. Meanwhile, Lucy and her mom both looked very helpless, and Lucy was tearing up. They didn’t say anything, but it was as though they were asking me for something. They wanted me to do something. And I am the kind of person who does things. They’re not always the right things or the good things, but I do things. My motto: Astrid Krieger: I Do Things.
    I looked around the room for something I could use. Some good gear for epic revenge. There were chips. Balloons. Cake. A family portrait. A collection of porcelain elephants. An aquarium. A television. A bin full of umbrellas.
    â€œWho was supposed to be here? Do you have a list?”
    Lucy’s mom nodded.
    â€œThe aquarium. Do you love each and every living thing inside?”
    â€œThey’re my fish,” Lucy said. “Of course I love them.”
    â€œYes, but can we make a small sacrifice? In war, we sometimes must sacrifice those we love.”
    â€œWe’re not fighting a war,” Noah said.
    â€œMy grandfather taught me that every day you’re still alive, you’d better be fighting a war.”
    â€œDelightful,” Noah said.
    â€œHe wouldn’t like you either.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do with my fish?” Lucy asked.
    â€œI don’t need to use all of them. That’s an anemone, right? The one that looks like . . . genitals?”
    â€œIt’s not a fish,” Lucy said.
    â€œMy grandfather used to do this thing in the navy. You put one of them in someone’s footlocker—or in this case, their house or car or sweatshirt . . . or school locker. The anemone is, like, ninety-nine something percent water and the rest is just shit. You anemone your enemy. The water evaporates and you’re left with a smell that never goes away.”
    â€œExcuse me?” Lucy’s mother said. I had turned her off completely.
    â€œYou want to do that to everyone who didn’t show? There’s only one anemone.” Noah had a point.
    â€œWe can cover however many we can cover. Did Summer Wonder RSVP?”
    â€œYes,” Lucy’s mother said, a little unsure.
    â€œA lot of people did,” Lucy said. RSVPing to her