“Why can’t we just keep doing the breathing stuff?” she asked.
“This is an extra level of security,” Carl said, and I so badly wanted Carl, that square, to shut up. He wasn’t helping. “It’s kind of a plan B, okay?”
“I don’t want to put that on,” she said.
“What about the fireman stuff?” I asked Carl.
“The Nomex?” he replied. “I’m still waiting for it.”
“Why is it taking so long?” I asked.
“First of all, it’s only been a few days, okay, Lillian? And how easy do you think it is to obtain it? Like, do you think I can just find child sizes of Nomex clothing at Walmart? Like, for tiny firefighters? I’m having to get it altered. It’s complicated. I’m being pushed to my limits in terms of thinking creatively about our situation.”
He looked a little frazzled, actually, his hair not perfectly combed, and so I put up my hands. “Fine,” I said. “I’m sorry. Thank you for all that you’re doing.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
“Okay, kiddos,” I said. “Let’s just try it, okay? It’s like a science experiment. This will be our science lesson for today.”
“You first,” Bessie said.
“Of—of course,” I said, angry at the reversal but acting like I’d already thought of it, “of course I’ll go first.” I looked at Carl, and he blushed a little. Then he dipped his hand into the bucket and took a sharp breath. “Cold,” he grunted. The gel was weird and viscous, and he started to apply it to my bare arm. It was so cold, just so weirdly cold that it kind of felt good. He rubbed up and down my arm, coating it. Then he did the other.
“Do you want to do your legs?” he asked, and I shook my head. “That’s good for me,” I told him. He held up the lighter and flicked the flame back into existence. “Don’t flinch or anything,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt.” He held the flame directly under my arm, and there was this weird moment where I was certain that my skin was burning, that I was on fire, but I just gritted my teeth and realized that, no, I was fine. I wasn’t burning. And even for a few seconds, it felt amazing, like nothing could ever hurt me. Was this what the children felt when they were burning? I had no idea, but I wished it would last forever.
Once Carl turned off the lighter, I looked at the kids, showing them that I was fine. “See, it’s awesome. God, it’s really neat. And it’s cooling. It feels good in this hot weather.”
Roland put out his arms. “It’s like slime,” he said, excited. “It’s so gross.”
Carl kind of grinned, just a little, and then dipped his hands into the bucket. He did Roland, and I did Bessie, their arms and legs. “It’s so cold!” Roland shouted. When we were finished, we stared at them, appraising how strange they looked, like a ghost had run right through them and left them traumatized.
“It’s not . . . it’s not great,” Carl admitted.
“Maybe it’ll dry a little?” I said. “It’ll get a little less . . . shimmery?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “But let’s go. Let’s just get it over with.”
I sat in the back of the van with the kids, towels on the upholstery to protect it from the gel, while Carl drove us to the public library. Even though they’d been chattering about getting off the estate, the kids were eerily silent on the drive, like they’d been drugged, their faces pressed against the windows.
When we pulled into the parking lot, Bessie said, “What if they don’t have the book that we want?”
“They’ll have it,” I said.
“Maybe you should go in and check them out for us,” she said, leaning back in her seat.
“That’s fine with me,” Carl said. “Tell me the books that you want, and I’ll get them.”
“No,” I said. “That defeats the whole purpose of coming.”
“I don’t want to go in there,” Bessie said. “Everyone is going to stare at us.”
“No one is going to stare at you, Bessie,” I told her.
“They will. They’ll think we’re weirdos.”
“Honestly, Bessie? People don’t care about anyone but themselves. They don’t notice anything. They are never looking at what’s interesting. They’re always looking at themselves.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.