M.I.A.

Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-Five:

Mia

I splash the last of it on the stairs, wanting to make sure to create a path all the way to the top. To The Room. Taking a deep breath that stings my lungs and my nose, I let it out and glance around the room one last time, wanting to make sure I got everything.

Satisfied, I go back through the hall and meet Sydney, who is standing with her arms wrapped around her own canister.

"All done?" I ask.

She nods.

I follow her out, stepping over the fluid that trails over the back porch and halfway across the driveway. We get to the end of the trail and turn around. I put my canister down, she puts hers beside it.

I take a few more calming breaths, letting months of tension ease out of me. I feel like I could fly. I look down at Sydney. She's been quiet and sullen for the past twenty minutes. Maybe she's afraid of the legal ramifications, which seems weird to me, considering her normal personality. But, then again, my little sister hasn't been much like herself since I've been home.

I give her the once over, taking in her almost normal clothes and the new pixie cut she's been sporting. Gone are the dreads and the hobo clothes. Gone is the rebel and the unease. Instead, there is a girl who is focused and serious, a girl who takes her meds and goes to her therapy appointments and refuses to talk to me or John about Corey Rossi.

"Got a light?" I ask.

A secret little smile eases into her face. She reaches into her pocket and when she opens her fist, there's a matchbox and a blunt sitting on her palm.

She sticks the blunt in her mouth and begins to light a match.

I scowl at her. "Ugh, really, Syd? You know I hate the smell of—"

She holds up a finger, silencing me as she lights the blunt. She pulls it away from her mouth and blinks up at me. "Have a little faith, would you?" She shoves the box of matches at me. "Here light one."

Frowning, I struggle with the matches. "I hate these things. Don't you have a lighter?"

"I thought matches would be more poetic."

I finally get one lit and hold it out. "Okay!"

She holds her blunt out, matching my pose. "On three."

We count together. "One. Two. Three."

I drop my match. Sydney drops her blunt. They fall in unison, landing on the gasoline so that it blossoms out in a purple whump and then races toward the house.

The porch explodes to life and a moment later, the inside of the house follows.

I step close to my little sister and put my arm around her as she does the same. For a moment, we watch, our faces and hearts warmed by the spectacle before us. I tug her closer, bend down and kiss her temple. "I'm proud of you, sis."

Her arm tightens around me and she lays her head on my shoulder. Together, my sister and I watch Cutter's world burn.