“Someone told me Nemo was cool.”

“She was lying.”

“What are we still doing out here? My dad’s probably gone by now.”

Blaze turned. “Why? Do you want to go back to the carnival? Maybe go to the haunted house?”

“No. But there’s got to be something else going on.”

“Not yet. Later there will be. But for now, let’s just wait.”

“For what?”

Blaze didn’t answer. Instead, she stood and turned around, facing the blackened water. Her hair moved in the breeze, and she seemed to stare at the moon. “I saw you earlier, you know.”

“When?”

“When you were at the volleyball game.” She motioned down the pier. “I was standing over there.”

“And?”

“You seemed out of place.”

“So do you.”

“Which is why I was standing on the pier.” She hopped up onto the railing and took a seat, facing Ronnie. “I know you don’t want to be here, but what did your dad do to make you so mad?”

Ronnie wiped her palms on her pants. “It’s a long story.”

“Does he live with his girlfriend?”

“I don’t think he has a girlfriend. Why?”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My dad lives with his girlfriend. This is his third one since the divorce, by the way, and she’s the worst by far. She’s only a few years older than I am and she dresses like a stripper. For all I know, she was a stripper. It makes me sick every time I have to go there. It’s like she doesn’t know how to act around me. One minute she tries to give me advice like she’s my mom, and the next minute she’s trying to be my best friend. I hate her.”

“And you live with your mom?”

“Yeah. But now she has a boyfriend, and he’s at the house all the time. And he’s a loser, too. He wears this ridiculous toupee because he went bald when he was like twenty or something, and he’s always telling me that I want to think about giving college a try. Like I care what he thinks. It’s just all screwed up, you know?”

Before Ronnie could answer, Blaze jumped back down. “C’mon. I think they’re getting ready to start. You’ve got to see this.”

Ronnie followed Blaze back up the pier, toward a crowd surrounding what seemed to be a street show. Startled, she realized that the performers were the three thuggish guys she’d spotted earlier. Two of them were break-dancing to music blaring from the boom box, while the one with long black hair stood in the center juggling what seemed to be flaming golf balls. Every now and then he would stop juggling and simply hold the ball, rotating it between his fingers or rolling it across the back of his hand or up one arm and down the other. Twice, he closed his fist over the fireball, nearly extinguishing it, only to move his hand, allowing the flames to escape out the tiny opening near his thumb.

“Do you know him?” Ronnie said.

Blaze nodded. “That’s Marcus.”

“Is he wearing some sort of protective coating on his hands?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not if you hold the fireball right. It’s awesome, though, isn’t it?”

Ronnie had to agree. Marcus extinguished two of the balls and then relit them again by touching them to the third. On the ground lay an upturned magician’s hat, and Ronnie watched as people began tossing money into it.

“Where does he get the fireballs?”

“He makes them. I can show you how. It’s not hard. All you need is a cotton T-shirt, needle and thread, and some lighter fluid.”

As the music continued to blare, Marcus tossed the three fireballs to the guy with the Mohawk and lit two more. They juggled them back and forth between each other like circus clowns using bowling pins, faster and faster, until one throw went awry.

Except that it didn’t. The guy with the pierced eyebrow caught it soccer-ball style and began bouncing it from foot to foot as though it were nothing more than a Hacky Sack. After extinguishing three of the fireballs, the other two followed suit, the entire troupe kicking the two fireballs back and forth between them. The crowd started to clap, and money rained into the hat as the music built to a crescendo. Then all at once, the remaining fireballs were caught and extinguished simultaneously as the song thundered to a close.

Ronnie had to admit she’d never seen anything like it. Marcus walked over to Blaze and folded her into a long, lingering kiss that seemed wildly inappropriate in public. He opened his eyes slowly, staring right at Ronnie before he pushed Blaze away.

“Who’s that?” he asked, motioning in Ronnie’s direction.

“That’s Ronnie,” Blaze said. “She’s from New York. I just met her.”

Mohawk and Pierced Eyebrow joined Marcus and Blaze in their scrutiny, making Ronnie feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“ New York, huh?” Marcus asked, pulling a lighter from his pocket and igniting one of the fireballs. He held the flaming orb motionless between his thumb and forefinger, making Ronnie wonder again how he could do that without getting burned.

“Do you like fire?” he called out.

Without waiting for an answer, he threw the fireball in her direction. Ronnie jumped out of the way, too startled to respond. The ball landed behind her just as a police officer rushed forward, stamping out the flame.

“You three,” he called out, pointing. “Out. Now. I’ve told you before that you can’t do your little show on the pier, and next time, I swear I’m gonna bring you in.”

Marcus held up his hands and took a step backward. “We were just leaving.”

The boys grabbed their coats and began moving up the pier, toward the carnival rides. Blaze followed, leaving Ronnie alone. Ronnie felt the officer’s gaze on her, but she ignored him. Instead, she hesitated only briefly before going after them.

He’d known she would follow them. They always did. Especially the new girls in town. That was the thing with girls: The worse he treated them, the more they wanted him. They were stupid like that. Predictable, but stupid.

He leaned against the planter that fronted the hotel, Blaze wrapping her arms around him. Ronnie was sitting across from them on one of the benches; off to the side, Teddy and Lance were slurring their words as they tried to get the attention of the girls who walked past them. They were already tanked-hell, they were a little tanked even before the show-and as usual, all but the ugliest of girls ignored them. Half the time, even he ignored them.

Blaze, meanwhile, was nibbling on his neck, but he ignored that, too. He was sick of the way she always hung on him whenever they were out in public. Sick of her in general. If she weren’t so good in bed, if she didn’t know the things that really turned him on, he would have dumped her a month ago for one of the three or four or five other girls he regularly slept with. But right now he wasn’t interested in them, either. Instead, he stared at Ronnie, liking the purple streak in her hair and her tight little body, the glittery effect of her eye shadow. It was sort of an upscale, trampy style, despite the stupid shirt she was wearing. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

He pushed against Blaze’s hips, wishing she weren’t here. “Go get me some fries,” he said. “I’m kind of hungry.”

Blaze pulled back. “I only have a couple of dollars left.”

He could hear the whine in her voice. “So? That should cover it. And make sure you don’t eat any of them, either.”

He meant it. Blaze was getting a little soft in the belly, a little puffy in the face. No surprise considering that lately she’d been drinking almost as much as Teddy and Lance.

Blaze made a show of pouting, but Marcus gave her a little shove and she headed to one of the food booths. The line was at least six or seven deep, and as she reached the end of it, Marcus sauntered toward Ronnie and took a seat beside her. Close, but not too close. Blaze was the jealous type, and he didn’t want her running Ronnie off before he had a chance to get to know her.