“Tally!”

Wow. I’ve never actually seen Ryan white horse wave mad before. To be honest, I never want to see it again. His reaction to our fire-starting experiment was mild in comparison. Minor scald. He’s standing here trying not to convulse, every muscle stretched taught in his body. The irony of the scent his ire exudes isn’t lost on me. Bonfire.

Tally did as she promised, preparing the most inappropriate of distractions. A Bonfire Friday. It’s only been a few weeks since the temporary hiatus, but the crowds are restless. Conveniently restless.

“It has to be done.” Tally plants her hands on her hips, firming her stance. “This is the grand bon voyage. The last time they’ll see me. Unless you want a lynch mob at our front door, this is the only option.”

She’s probably right. She’s been dodging phone calls by the dozens. Declan deactivated his phone because the people trying to reach her were using him as a conduit when they received no response. Popular people don’t just disappear in a puff of smoke. Her social responsibilities are seriously countermanding our societal withdrawal.

I find it comical. Of course, my amusement is tied directly to my phone being fried in Buenos Aires, and with us all in the same location, Tally hasn’t gotten around to replacing it. I don’t miss the technological tether. There are plenty of leashes to disengage.

“We aren’t in a position to receive guests,” Ryan seethes.

Point to Ryan. We’re maxed with the ten and a half we have. Brody doesn’t sleep here, so I’m reducing his carbon footprint.

“Food and beverage is sorted,” she notes. “I’ve booked the caterer. It’ll be quiet. Twenty or thirty people tops.”

“They can be uninvited just as easily as you’ve invited them. You want to do this outside of all places?”

“The force field covers the fire pit area,” she counters. “Getting the guests inside before re-engaging the shield is simple.”

“Who’s ensuring those guests don’t wander into the force field after that?”

She beams. “Caution tape.”

“What about the beach?” he volleys. “The coverage stops where the sand meets the water. People are always going to the water.”

“We’re putting a new lawn in. We’re gardening. The water’s contaminated. It doesn’t matter what we tell them,” she dodges.

“It matters,” he argues.

“Fine. Roses and lattice,” she concedes.

“What?”

“We’ll create a rose and lattice barrier to cover the full area, excluding the entryway.”

“How would we install that in such a short time?”

“Who says we have to install anything? We’ve got a dreamscape maker right here.” She points to Kiley.

Kiley balks. “Don’t drag me into this.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“Why not?” Tally shoots back. “You and Declan have been practicing nonstop for days. Wouldn’t it be nice to show someone other than us? What good is music without someone to listen to it? A musician needs an audience.”

Declan whistles sharply at Tally before dragging Kiley off.

“She’ll do it,” Tally informs us. “Illusions are the only thing she has to hold on to.”

He taps his foot impatiently. “What about Amber and Jeremiah?”

He’s making this too easy for her. Mom and Dad are friends of the family. We’re all joined. I’m part of them now, and everyone at school already knows that. Obviously, my father’s here. My mother, on the other hand, what harm can she do? She isn’t exactly an expert conversationalist, making Dad look like a gold medal winner in the Oration Olympics. The biggest concern would be her drooling on someone. Also, they’ll be strictly inside. Something fun for the guests to gawk at. A sideshow, if you will.

“Stick her in the shelter and make him take a nap.” She juts out her hip and slaps a hand on it. “Peepy D has the whole place wired. He can see everything.”

I spin to face Derry, and he covers his side as a preventative measure to the greatest elbow jab of all time. “There are no cameras in your shelter. I promise,” he assures me.

I breathe a sigh of relief. That would’ve taken creepy peeping to a totally new level.

“Inside is moot,” she insists. “Everyone will be outside.”

Well, when opportunity knocks…the bomb shelter is the only place in this fortress without prying eyes. If we go ahead with our admittedly risky plan, we’ll need somewhere quiet to work. Moving Mom is a nonissue. Just take the blood bag, and she’ll follow. Dad might be more challenging. He’ll jump on board the buzz bus or…or what? He has no recourse but to comply. She needs blood. They can’t ride off into the sunset just yet.

“This is beyond irresponsible. These are human lives, Tally. You’re putting them at risk.”

Seems he’s not quite given up on the hill. Strong current, this one.

“The Tribunal wouldn’t make an appearance with so many witnesses,” she rebuts. “If anything, I’m guaranteeing another night of safety.”

She’s accounted for everything except one thing. The most important puzzle piece. I’ll have to convince Brody that invoking his electrical energy is something he can do at will. It’s taken me months to get a grip on my fire, and even with all my tenacity, I’m still not firefighter-certified. He’s barely been handling his ability for twenty-four hours. Expecting him to manipulate it so soon isn’t ideal, but Tally’s a bulldozer. It’s for the best. If she let me noodle the idea, I’d be joining Ryan on that hill. Point to Tally.

“This is neither the time nor the place for your nonsensical fancies!” Ryan bellows.

“Did he just say nonsensical fancies?” Brody clips from beside me.

“Not helping,” I mutter, leaning into him when he slides his arm around my shoulder, the low hum of electricity raising the hairs on my arm.

Who isn’t impressed by his sudden appearance? Derry, that’s who. Dumpster fire must equal jealousy. So gross.

“It’s precisely the time and place for the last dance party of the season.”

“The Electric Slide? Could you be more insensitive?” Ryan stomps to the window and yanks off the paper banner Tally strategically placed as the opening prop for this staged performance.

“Hey!” she barks. “I haven’t been to a dance where it isn’t played. You should be more appreciative I want to include him. I’ve embraced him jumping overboard into your waters. You like it, right, Fuse Box?”

Brody stares blanks at her.

Ryan closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. “I rarely refuse you, Tally, but this request crosses a line I didn’t believe even you could cross. No. Absolutely not. This cannot happen.”

I pinch my nose to block the conflicting fire smells inflaming my nostrils.

“You might play the king in our television program, Ryan Keane, but in reality, you’re just like me. The only throne here is the one you made me sit on when you decided my efforts would be best suited to the head cheerleader position at CCHS. I shook those pom-poms for you, and don’t you forget it. If anyone’s sitting on a throne tonight, it’ll be me. I’m saying goodbye to the people you made me befriend, and I’m giving Sheyla a piece of the humanity you’re all sitting around hoping she maintains. News flash: she’s failing at that, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re all so busy making sure the big bad bullies don’t fuel her fire you’re overlooking the impending explosion right under your noses. She can smell it. Why can’t you?”

And that’s how Tally stole back the show. She didn’t just side-track our audience. She went full-on theatrical production, exceeding expectations per normal. I resist the urge to clap. Barely. Bright side: no one requests an encore. Guess we’re having a bonfire tonight. How about that?