Soul Blaze
Page 2
I noticed a few boards that looked like they’d been knocked loose, and approached them curiously. Three boards had been knocked askew, one snapped completely. It looked like someone had jumped over them in a hurry.
I set the boards as straight as I could, my mouth in a tight line. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get this fence replaced with a taller, sturdier build.
Once my bout of responsibility ended – albeit with a much cleaner house – I decided to switch on my PlayStation for the first time in a year. I was still playing when Mum arrived home, and I realised too late that I should’ve been making dinner.
“Sorry,” I said as she hung up her coat in the entrance hall. “I lost track of time.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but I thought I saw a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Not sure I want you back in the kitchen anyway,” she said, marching up the stairs to change. “Thank you for staying home today.”
I decided not to mention my inability to drive anywhere and took the praise. While she was upstairs, I shot outside and gathered in the laundry which was just growing damp with the evening air. I folded it all dutifully as Mum began to cook, thinking on the subject I wanted to bring up at dinner. She wasn’t going to be happy, as I knew she’d want me to go back to my job at the hospital, but I’d made my decision.
I struck halfway through our meal of chicken and potatoes.
“Mum,” I said, idly pushing potatoes around my plate. “I want to go back and finish my schooling.”
She leant back in her chair and wiped her mouth on her serviette. I waited nervously for her response.
“I’d prefer you to finish your traineeship,” she said finally.
“I know. But I want to get a good TER score, and I can’t do that without finishing.”
“Are you planning on university?”
I shrugged.
“Not sure quite yet. But I’d rather keep my options open.”
She resumed eating, and I feared for a second that the conversation was over.
“Alright,” she said after a little bit, and my heart leapt. “I’ll enrol you for the new term.” I grinned widely, and then remembered I wasn’t supposed to like school. But I knew that the sooner I settled back into the norm, the better. A small town like Ar Cena was no good at handling big upsets like this. Going back to school would settle me in faster than anything else I could hope to achieve.
Despite what I remembered of school, when I went to bed that night, it was with a hope that I might just be able to do well enough to get myself out of this town, in a manner that my mother approved of.
The next day ran along the same lines; I cleaned and cooked dinner, whilst wasting time on video games during the day. However, when Mum came home that night, she did so carrying a heavy, bulky object.
“A new battery for your car,” she said, setting it down on the shoe shelf. “You start school on Monday.”
I picked up the battery reverently. It meant the ability to be independent again. My little car would live again.
I broke into a wide grin, which she saw. She sighed.
“I hope you’re not planning on running off again now that I’ve given you that.”
My smile faded immediately. “I was hoping you would start to believe me soon,” I said quietly.
“I will when you can tell me what you were doing.”
“And I told you-” “I know what you told me!” she stomped into the kitchen to heat up the dinner I’d cooked. “But excuse me if I find the notion that you ‘don’t remember’ anything from the past year a little unbelievable!”
“Okay, first of all, the air quotes hurt,” I set the battery back down and followed her into the kitchen. “And second, I do remember something.”
“Oh yeah?” she challenged, leaning against the counter as the microwave hummed quietly. “What might that be?” “I remember… a sunset,” it sounded pathetic even to me. “I mean… I remember a sunset over a forest, and it was the most beautiful sunset I’d ever seen.”
I decided not to mention the swooping feeling in my stomach. “Hm, okay, well, places where the sun sets…” she mused, pulling the plate from the microwave. “That narrows it down, Rose.”
I rolled my eyes and left the kitchen before I snapped at her. I was shaking, though I didn’t really blame her. I knew she’d been hurt by my absence, and of all things, I wanted to remember last year so I could stop some of that hurt.
But what if, I thought as I dragged our laptop out to my car. What if the truth is too fantastic for even me to believe?
~Chapter Two~
Monday arrived sooner than I’d anticipated. I’d dug out my backpack and had gone through my notes (though they were few and far between), hoping that they hadn’t changed the curriculum too much in the past year. I’d also taken down my old battery to get it recycled, and reregistered my car.
I pulled on my white polo shirt and tied back my long hair. It was as I was brushing my teeth that I noticed my eyes had changed colour. Whereas they used to be a pretty green that I liked, they’d for some reason morphed to a pale blue. I made a face at myself in the mirror, and then forgot all about it.
It was strange to be outside early in the morning. The air was crisp, clean almost, and magpies still warbled somewhat cheerfully despite the early hour. I climbed into my car, managed a sleepy grin as it growled to life and began the short drive to school.
I pulled into the car park, claiming my old spot again. I’d noticed the hammering of butterflies in my stomach, though as I parked I remembered that all of the kids in my year would’ve graduated by now. I essentially had turned over a new leaf, and I wasn’t going to stuff it up.
As I stepped into my English class, I couldn’t help smiling at the stunned expression on Mr Burgess’ face as he spotted me in the doorway.
“Miss Evermore,” he began. “I was starting to think you’d given up on school life.” “Very nearly, Mr B,” I said, sliding into a seat near the front. “But I changed my mind. Missed your class too much.”
He chuckled at that, like I’d meant him to. I liked Mr Burgess; though he hassled me for assignments, he also had a sense of humour and I respected him as a teacher greatly.
As the lesson progressed, I found myself looking out the window across from me, as though unconsciously searching for something. Once I realised, I shook myself from my reverie, and made myself tune back into what Mr Burgess was saying.
“The book I want you to read over the new few weeks is Lookingfor Alibrandiby Melina Marchetta. Head over to the library before your next class; they’ve got enough copies for all of you. I believe a lot of you will find it very inspiring as it deals with,” his eyes flicked suddenly to me, “a sense of identity. Finding yourself.”
I checked my dog eared copy of out the library and decided to make a start on it during lunch. By the next class, I was almost half way through, and made an impulsive decision to start my report on it that night.
Though, I thought to myself as the bell rang, it’ll probably kill Mr Burgess with shock, me handing an assignment in so early.
The next few weeks were uneventful. I handed up assignments before their due date, kept my head down, and was generally succeeding in getting by. I was averaging A’s in every subject, and every time Mum and I sat down to dinner to talk about our day, I saw a little bit of aloofness leave her eyes, love replacing it, and I knew I’d made the right decision to go back to school.
~Chapter Three~
It had almost been a year since my mysterious return to Ar Cena. In that time, my broken wrist had healed without complications and I’d kept my head down as I finished my final year at school. With exams coming up, I’d been surprised to find myself studying, something I’d previously avoided at all costs.
My missing year had all but been forgotten. “You have to wear team colours,” Mum said, digging through my dresser and purposely making herself late for work. “Why don’t you have any green?”
“Pish,” she replied disparagingly. “You’re only young once; put it on.”
I grumbled but pulled it on. The day was already warm, the heat pressing against my window. Today was our school’s annual Sport’s Day, where all students took the day off from studying to compete against one another. Whilst students like me, who preferred their exercise mental, dreaded the day, there were a select few who used the day to try to further themselves in a sport’s career.
“Are you participating in any events?”
I made a rude noise. “No. But attendance is compulsory, so I’m going to watch my classmates run around and make fools of themselves.”
“Oh, Rose,” my mother sighed, exasperated. “I know you hate sport, but please promise to do at least one event?”
Our gazes met in the mirror, and I sighed. “Fine,” I said reluctantly. “If you want.”
“Don’t think you can pike out either,” she said, starting to head out the door. “I want a ribbon or something. Actual proof that you participated.”
Bah, she’d seen right through me. “Alright,” I said. “They give out ribbons just for participating, don’t they? I mean, I could just join in with the school Chicken Dance, I don’t actually have to win anything.”
“I’d prefer it if you did,” she replied, and then headed down the stairs. “Now, school.” I groaned but followed her out of the door and got into my car. The day was definitely going to be hot. No hope of the day being cancelled due to rain then.
The school was in definite Sport’s Day upswing when I pulled into the student car park. Kids in red, green, yellow and orange flooded through the car park, heading towards the oval where all of the events were being held. I shouldered my bag – and my doubts - and then began to drag my feet in the general direction they were all heading.
As soon as I spotted my team captain, I knew the day was not going to be the piece of cake I’d hoped for. Our captain was a girl named Jessica Worlington, a year younger than me, but fiercely competitive. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her blonde hair pulled into a severe bun. She was scanning us all, from the year eight’s to twelve’s, sizing up who to put in what event. I immediately made sure that I shrank a little bit; I did not want to be volunteered for high jump or anything strenuous.
School Chicken Dance, I prayed fervently. That’s all I need to do to get Mum’s ribbon.
No such luck. “You, Evermore,” I cringed, fervently hoping there was a long lost relative standing beside me. “I know you didn’t sign up for anything but you look sporty so I’m putting you in for the relay.”
I looked sporty? That was one word which had never been used to describe me, ever. However, the rest of the team ambled away, happy with where Jess had placed them. I perched on the slight hill that overlooked the oval; according to my timetable of the day’s events, the relay was later in the afternoon, and failing all else, the Chicken Dance just after. I stuffed my school bag under my head and pulled out the book I’d borrowed from the school library. I was quite impressed with how this day was progressing when a shadow fell across the book, and I glanced up to see Jessica standing over me.
“We need one more for tug-o-war. You’re in.” She trotted off down the hill before I could respond. Glancing down at the oval, I could indeed see that my team were one person short. I heaved a sigh and shoved the book deep into my rather empty school bag. I figured she really did need my help, considering I’d been upgraded to first name status. Leaving my school bag behind, I trotted down the hill, accepting canvas gloves from Jess and then joined the rope just in time.
“Ready?” Our umpire was Mr Burgess, who looked none too thrilled to be out here in the heat. “Go!” The rope went taut as both teams leant away from each other. For a few seconds it was a stalemate, until the other team began to gain on us. I dug my heels in, but I could see the marker drawing closer. A few people on my team slipped and fell.
“Out,” Mr B told them, and then grumbled their way to the sidelines. “Carry on.” Carry on? We were being dragged closer and closer to the line. The smart – and rather funny thing – to do now would be to let go and watch the other team fall, even if it meant forfeiting the game.
A few more people on my team fell. I wrapped the rope in my hands, employing the rest of my strength. Something alongside the adrenaline in my veins was lending its strength, and there was no way I was going to question it.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said through gritted teeth to the person behind me. “But it’s going to sound crazy.”
“Who’re you talking to?” a girl on the sidelines demanded. “You’re the only one left!”
Was I? Well, looked like the vote was unanimous then. Without stopping to think how it was possible that I was fighting a whole team – and standing my ground – I let the rope go for just a second, thanking Jess inwardly for the gloves that protected me from rope burn.
The other team, taken by surprise, mostly fell on their butts. I’d grabbed the rope again almost as soon as I’d let it go, but even so, I’d lost what little ground I had. I fought against the person on the other end, and when I glanced up, I realised the only person left was Tyson Welles, the school’s sport champion. He was on every team and our saving grace at any inter-school competitions. He saw me look at him and cracked a smile.
“Come on, Evermore,” he said. “Just let it go.” “No thanks,” I said, still managing to hold my ground. “Might fight this one out actually.” He smirked, and the adrenaline soared through my body again as I realised quite a crowd had gathered. I watched a small line appear down the centre of Tyson’s eyebrows; he was losing face even as it was. One girl was holding her ground against him.
I had three choices here. I could either fight him and probably lose, which would involve being dragged across the finishing line on either my butt or my face or I could dig my feet in, haul with all of my strength, pull off an unlikely victory for my team and make an enemy of Tyson.
My third choice made me grind my teeth, but I knew it was the best option. So I let the rope go, my heart sinking a little as I saw the rope cross the line, immediately signalling my team’s defeat. Tyson fell to the ground and everyone laughed. I felt a smile stretch across my own face, and I knew I’d made the right decision.
“Congratulations,” I told him. He grinned at me from the ground and held out his hand. I approached him and grasped it, pulling him to his feet.
“Thought you had me for a bit there,” he admitted. “What was your name? Rose?” “Yeah.” Huh. Guess we’ve done away with the surnames there. He knew I didn’t have to ask what his name was. “Don’t know how I was holding on so long. I suppose Weetbix really is the cereal of champions.”
He laughed loudly, and my face grew hot as I realised he was still holding onto my hand. I let it go immediately, my hand falling to my side. Students milled around, mostly to clap Tyson on the shoulder. Over said shoulder, I spied one of the teachers watching us closely. I narrowed my eyes; I didn’t recognise the man.
“Hey,” I said to Tyson. “Who’s that? One of the new subs?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Dunno,” he said, frown lines appearing between his eyebrows. “Could be. C’mon, want a drink?” “Sure,” I said, all thoughts of the unfamiliar teacher leaving my mind. “You know I let you win, right? So you can buy me the drink.”
He chuckled at that, but didn’t dispute it. He and a few of his friends towed me to one of the food trailers, and an ice cold cola was handed to me. We sat on the hill overlooking the oval, watching the events, and I sipped the soft-drink next to Tyson, listening to them chatter.
“Relay,” Tyson said a little while later, breaking me out of a reverie. “Participating, Rose?”
“Uh, yeah, I think I was dobbed in,” I said,
standing up and stretching. “You?”
“Of course,” he said, smiling. “Let’s go.” We took our places on the track. Some people were lining up to watch, and news of the tug-of-war had spread through the crowd of onlookers. I noticed a few students watching me with anticipation, and my belly flipped over with nerves. Adrenaline began to thud through my veins as I noticed just how many people were gathering to watch the event.
A sharp crack made me jump. The event had begun. I watched Jess, a streak of blonde hair and green apparel, draw a large lead on the person in red beside her. I glanced nervously ahead; I would be the final stretch, the deciding runner - if it was close enough.
The adrenaline was twisting into something more. Fire began to burn under my skin and I bounced on the balls of my feet, watching behind me as my team drew ahead of the others.
“C’mon,” I growled under my breath. I felt like a storm ready to break. “C’mon, c’mon.” As the baton was passed to the runner before me, disaster struck. That runner fumbled, and the baton fell the ground. I heard the crowd groan as my team went from first to last in the bat of an eye.
“Good luck, Evermore,” Tyson said, just as his runner reached him and handed him their baton. I noted the renewed use of my last name.
Finally, my runner reached me. I snatched the baton from their hand, letting some of the fire take me. My feet pounded the track and I leant forwards into the wind. I was running so fast! I felt like I could grow wings and take off. The people on the side of the track were a blur, their cheers dulling into static noise. Everything in the world had slowed down but me.
I was coming up on Tyson fast, and breezed past him easily. I could see the flags marking the finish line, and pushed myself harder. The fire sang as I passed the second runner and then the first. I shot past the flags, unable to believe the victory that I pulled off for my team.