Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
FLETCHER
I set Lucy down. Just for a second. Just to help with the lock.
But it’s long enough.
She turns and darts back up the stairs.
“Lucy!” I scream, and the effort tears at my throat.
Once the door is open, I shove Henry and Jacks onto the porch. “Go! Get away from the house. Wait across the street.”
“What about you?” Jacks cries.
“I’ll be right there,” I promise. And I hope I’m not lying.
I grab two shoes waiting by the door and throw one at each of our foster parents. “Wake up!” I yell, but I don’t stick around to see if it worked. I’m not going to feel bad about it, and I’m sure as hell not going to help them over Lucy. I race up the stairs, my limbs starting to feel sluggish and heavy, and cover my mouth with my shirt.
My chest seizes with each cough, and my eyes are burning so much I can barely see in front of me.
As soon as I hit the upstairs hallway, the house makes a terrible groan, and part of the ceiling collapses, blocking off the stairs. I flinch and throw an arm over my head instinctively. Sparks fly through the black smoke billowing up in the air.
“Lu-cy,” I try to yell, but I can’t get the word past the tightening in my throat. I crawl to her room on my hands and knees.
She’s passed out in the middle of the floor, one hand reaching for Mr. Teddy under her bed.
This fucking bear.
It’s the ugliest, rattiest bear I’ve ever seen with a missing eye and stuffing spilling out of its arms. I grab its paw and yank it toward me.
More smoke is pouring into the room by the second. I cross to the window, shove it open, and knock out the screen with my elbow. I stick my head through the window and look down. There’s nothing below to catch our fall other than the dead bushes along the side of the house.
“Help!” I try to yell into the night, but nothing comes out.
I pull Lucy and Mr. Teddy closer to the window, then pause and double back for Henry’s blanket on the opposite bed. Lucy won’t wake no matter how much I shake her, so I do the only thing I can think of.
I doubt they’ll help, but I toss out all of the pillows in the room. Then I strip the sheets off both beds and tie them together, my hands shaking. Black spots crowd in on my vision, and I feel myself on the last edge of consciousness.
The fire roars in the distance, and I hear something crash, like more of the ceiling collapsed downstairs.
I squeeze my eyes closed and can picture the photograph sitting on my nightstand. The only picture I have of my birth parents. I can’t go back for it. I can’t.
I don’t have time I don’t have time I don’t have time.
I use the sheets to secure Lucy to my chest instead, and with Mr. Teddy and the blanket in hand, I jump.