“Mom!” I exclaim in horror. “I am pretending I never heard that!” I’m smiling, but I fight the urge to barf at the same time.
“Don’t be such a prude,” she continues, just to further my humiliation. “But seriously, Hay, don’t settle. You got your whole life ahead of you.”
I nod. I agree, though I do wish for a boyfriend. My best friend Lori has been with her boyfriend, Kit, for two years now, and I’d love to have someone like that. Whatever. Mom is right, I know she is. And I’ve seen her go through failed relationships, vowing to never settle.
“Do you have homework?” she asks, switching back to normal-mom mode.
“Yeah, but I’ll do it tomorrow. It’s just a few essay questions that I have to submit online. It won’t take long.”
“Okay,” she says with a nod. “Do that first, then help me in the barn. You should study for your finals too. You only have a couple of weeks left.” I start to protest, but she holds up a hand. “The horses won’t go anywhere.”
“I can bring my laptop into the barn,” I remind her. “One of the new guys we bring home might need some company.”
“We’ll see,” Mom says. I’m tempted to look at the pictures again, to get myself fired up to sneak onto the property and save the horses. Since we still have a while to go, I rest my head back against the seat and close my eyes, not meaning to doze off.
I wake up to Mom cursing. I blink open my eyes. Night has fallen, and darkness surrounds the truck as we hurdle down the gravel road. Then I see it, moments before the smoke comes through the vents and fills the truck with a distant smell that makes nerves tingle down my spine.
“Mom,” I start, sitting up in the seat. The seatbelt pushes back against me as I lean forward. “Mom,” I say again, frantic. Orange and yellow glow ahead of us, lighting up the night. “Is that it?”
Mom doesn’t answer. She steps on the gas, and the truck lurches forward. We’re still too far to be sure. My heart hammers in my chest, each beat painful, pulsing fear throughout my body.
“Oh my God,” I say when the barn comes into clear sight. It’s on fire. And I know right away that the fire was set on purpose to destroy the evidence of animal cruelty and avoid a fine.
“Call 911,” Mom says, throwing the truck into park. My hands shake, and I can’t seem to remember the passcode to unlock my cell. I yank against the seatbelt as I punch in the numbers. I only have one bar.
I dial the three numbers I never thought I’d ever call and put the phone to my ear. I get out of the truck and stand next to Mom. We’re only yards away and can feel the heat on our skin.
“Please state your emergency,” the 911 operator says.
I suck in a breath, words failing me. “There’s a fire,” I blurt. “A barn, it’s on fire.”
“What is the location of the fire?”
I don’t know where we are. Something pops and explodes inside the barn. I scream and drop the phone, ducking down. I hear the operator’s voice. How the hell can she be so calm? I reach for the phone after making sure Mom is okay.
And then I hear it.
A terrified whinny comes from deep inside the barn. I stand, pins and needles all over my skin. I don’t think. I just run.
“Haley!” Mom yells and chases after me. I duck under a string of rusty barbed wire and race around the barn. Mom grabs the hood of my jacket and stops me. “Haley, no!”
“They’re still in there!” I yell, beckoning wildly at the burning barn. “They’re still alive!”
Mom squints her eyes and looks at the barn. “Oh my God,” she says, hand flying to her chest. “I hear them!” She takes my hand and pulls me forward. We go to the other side of the barn where the fire hasn’t spread. She puts the back of her hand on the metal latch of an exterior door before pulling it open.
A cloud of dark smoke comes out, instantly burning my eyes. They water and I cough. Mom ducks inside.
“We have to be fast,” she says. “We might not get them all.”
I nod and follow her, feeling tiny hands of hesitation pull me back, trying to keep me outside. I take Mom’s hand instead and race inside. It’s so dark, the smoldering smoke blinding me despite the blazing flames. Horses, frantic, terrified, and suffocating from smoke, bang on their stalls, desperate to get out. I cover my nose with my arm and let go of Mom’s hand to open a stall.
A skeletally thin horse lies on the ground, chest shallowly rising and falling. I go in, dropping to my knees. “Get up!” I say, urging him to his feet. The horse raises his head, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second. That one look says it alclass="underline" it’s too late. He’s given up and done trying. Done struggling, done fighting to barely make it from one day to the next, done with the pain. “No!” I shout and get hit with a cloud of dark smoke. I double over coughing. “Get up!”
The horse lets his head drop. I’m wasting time. I don’t want to leave him, but I have to get up.
“Mom!” Tears fill my eyes, trying to wash out the soot. I can hardly breathe. “Mom!”
I look through the smoke but don’t see her. I don’t see anything. “Mom!” I take a blind step down the aisle. Embers rain down on me. I raise my face and see glowing red. “Mom, the roof is on fire!” My heart races. Sweat rolls down my face. I spin around. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know which way is out. “Mom!”
“Haley!” she shouts back, and her voice is the best thing I’ve ever heard. Something moves toward me, something on fire. “Get her out of here!”
“Not without you!”
The fire gets closer and closer, and I realize it’s Mom leading a horse—a horse that’s on fire. Time stops that very moment. A tall black horse trots forward, her mane ablaze. Her nostrils flare and her eyes are wide, yellow flames reflecting back at me. I take off my jacket to throw on the fire. Fire burns my shoulder and I scream in pain. I push down on the jacket to smother the flames. My shirt catches on fire, the flames biting into the soft flesh on my side. I madly slap the fire out, then pat on the horse’s mane to put out the flames, sidestepping to keep up with her. I don’t even realize we are outside until my feet catch on uneven ground.
“Phoenix,” I say as the name comes to me. “Go!” Her head lowers and she coughs. I distantly hear sirens and shouting, but none of that matters. All that matters is Mom.
Why hasn’t she come out yet? I clutch my chest, my body acting of its own accord, and gasp in air. Smoke billows out the barn door—the door that’s now engulfed in flames. My heart stops. No! Mom—she’s still in there!
“Mom!” I shout, but my voice dies in my throat. Everything inside me is dry. I stumbled forward, falling on my hands and knees. The worst pain I’ve ever felt takes over, and I realize my shirt is still on fire, still burning me. “Mom!” Boards fall from the rafters, sending a whoosh of hot embers at me. I turn my head just in time to block my face. I feel heat on the back of my neck and I know it hurts. It hurts so fucking badly, yet I keep going, keep crawling forward toward Mom.
“Mom!” I collapse, coughing so hard I think I’m going to puke. Suddenly, hands grab me, sliding under my waist. I’m hoisted up and thrown over a shoulder. “No!” I try to yell. “My mom’s in there!” But my voice is lost over the roar of the fire.
Flames shoot out of the door, rising up high into the dark night.
“No!” Mom’s still in there. She hasn’t come out. “Please!” I shout, my vision blurring. Each breath is painful. We move away from the fire, but I still feel like I’m inhaling the flames. “Mom!”
The firefighter holds me tight, despite my thrashing. I reach toward the barn, toward Mom. The horse I named Phoenix stands next to the fence, trembling in fear. Half her neck is charred and raw, still smoldering. Her legs are cut up and burned too, and her tail has been singed off. She’s a fucking mess. But she’s alive. Alive because Mom saved her.
Mom.
I go numb as it hits me. Mom. She’s still in the barn. Still trapped behind burning rafters and the caved-in roof.
And she’s never coming out.