Page 30 of Emma on Fire

A thought stops her in her tracks—I’ll miss this smell—but she quickly hurries on. The magnolia might be dead in a few years due to climate change. If she stops to smell the metaphorical roses now, they won’t be here in the future.

Emma opens the door to her dorm and goes down the hall to her room. The walls are painted an ugly yellow and hung with Olivia’s dumb Broadway musical posters, but the sunlight streams through the big window and warms her bed and makes the white duvet glow.

She falls face down on her pillow, with its pale rose velvet case. She doesn’t want to get up. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know where her graphing calculator is. She’s failing math. So what. What does math matter when she posted about three billion birds dying—an actual scientific fact—but all Jade cares about is some influencer’sjillionsof followers?

She hears voices in the hallway. There’s a trill of laughter. Someone with a southern accent is talking about a spring dance. Someone else is regretting a sext that she sent to her ex-girlfriend.

None of it matters.

They don’t understand this, but Emma does.

“She showed it to everyone on the field hockey team!” the voice cries.

Who cares, who cares, who cares,Emma whispers into her pillow, and she keeps on saying it until the cops come crashing through her door.

CHAPTER 19

EMMA BOLTS UP, gives a shriek of fear, and clutches her pillow to her chest like it’s a bulletproof shield.

“Are you all right?” says the first one urgently, a woman with a long blond braid pulled over one shoulder. Her name tag identifies her as D. Wozniak.

The other one, a man, says, “Emma Blake?” Emma doesn’t bother getting his name. A quick glance tells her this is campus police, not the real cops. Law enforcement JV team has been sent in.

“We’re here for a safety check,” Wozniak says. “Don’t be alarmed.”

“Oh, I’m not alarmed.” Emma throws the pillow aside. “I just might have pissed myself. What are you doing here?”

“We received a call that you were in danger,” Wozniak says.

“I was lying down! The only danger was you peoplescaringme to death! You could’ve knocked!”

Wozniak nods, but the man says, “We had reports of a threat—a threat of self-harm. Given the situation, we felt it would be prudent to enter.”

Never admit anything,her father likes to say,even when the other side has proof.

“Kicking someone’s door down is hardly prudent,” Emma says. “Like I said, I was just resting. I have a headache. And thanks to you, I nearly had a heart attack.”

Her heart’s still pounding, her thoughts racing. Outwardly, she’ll be casual with the rental police, but inside, she’s freaking out. Who made the call? Who narced?

Jade, it better not’ve been you.

“We’d like to take a look around your room if that’s all right,” Wozniak says, but the male officer is already pulling out drawers, not waiting for an answer.

“Why? What are you looking for?” Emma asks.

They glance at each other. Emma glares at each one of them in turn.

“Do you think I have aweaponor something? I don’t have any weapons! Why don’t you look for my graphing calculator? I haven’t been able to find it for days.”

“We don’t actually need your permission,” Wozniak says.

“Oh, so you’re just being polite?” Emma doesn’t even try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Gee, thanks.”

“Emma, Emma, what on earth is going on in here?” Mrs. Vickers pushes her way past the campus police and stops in front of Emma’s bed. She’s still wearing her fuzzy slippers, and her hair is in old-fashioned rollers.

“Askthem,” Emma says. “All I know is that I came back to the dorm because I forgot something, and the next thing I know there’s a SWAT team in my room. A severely underfunded SWAT team,” she amends, hoping to get a crack in.

Mrs. Vickers turns to the officers, and her tone sharpens. “Emma is a lovely, mature, and trustworthy girl. You can’t just barge in on her like this! If you knew what she’s been through…”

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