The Fireproof Girl

by Loretta Lost

  I think she would make sacrifices for necessities, or for her future, but not for pleasure. Not for escape. Right? I’m not thinking straight. Her absence is making me go out of my mind with worry.

  She wouldn’t do this. I barely know her, but I need to believe she wouldn’t do this.

  She is too smart to get involved with drugs. She is too strong.

  I can’t lose her.

  If she goes down this path, she will be lost. Like so many kids who grow up without parents, she will end up getting into trouble with the law, or worse…

  Scarlett has such a fascinating mind, and vast potential. Every time I’m near her, I can sense that she will accomplish great things. All of that could be destroyed by a few bad decisions in a few weak moments. She is so fragile right now. She is so delicate, like brittle glass in cold weather.

  My chest begins to hurt as all these thoughts ricochet within my mind. It feels like the anxiety is firing bullets throughout my nervous system, making my limbs move as frantically as my thoughts. I find myself putting on my shoes and moving out in the street, and scanning the neighborhood with panic.

  Would she really run away? No. I tried to make things better for her. Things were getting better. Does she not want to be here with me? Is she running from me?

  Come on, Cole. You need to think like Scar. What does she want? What does she need? What drives her?

  My laptop. I am useless without my laptop.

  Yes. She’s been pining for the internet for weeks. What if she decided to get involved with drugs to get the money for a laptop? My heart skips a beat. This makes the most sense, so far. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I have been making a little money from landscaping, but I should have worked harder to save her from having to put herself at risk. If I can find her, I vow that I will get her that computer quickly, no matter what it takes.

  My feet begin moving before my brain, and I find myself headed in the direction of the school. It’s a safe bet to check there first, since it was the last place she said she would be. Terrible images spin through my mind like a film reel. I picture her doing cocaine. I picture her being fondled by some boy. I picture her depressed and hurting herself. God, anything but that. I need to find her, and know that she’s safe. Please let her be safe.

  I find myself walking faster and faster until I am running down the sidewalk in the direction of our high school. It takes only a few minutes before I arrive at the building. The doors are all locked for the night, but I know a side entrance that I can break into. I quickly jog around the building, until I come a door with a basic lock near the cafeteria. I reach into my pocket for my switchblade, and slide it into the space between the door and the doorframe to jimmy the lock open.

  It’s fairly easy. I am able to get it open within a few seconds, and I carefully move through the darkened halls to the computer lab. If she is still in the school, then that’s probably where she would be. Either there or the library.

  When I reach the lab, the door is locked. I glance inside through the windows, and there is no sign of Scarlett. The chairs are neatly placed and all the computers are off—there is no evidence that she was ever here. I continue moving toward the library. There are a few computers there, as well, and Scarlett has a voracious appetite for books. In the week or so that I’ve been sleeping in her room, I feel like she has read at least one novel of considerable size every single day. That’s in addition to studying and doing her homework.

  She never has fun. She is a serious girl, and she always does the right thing.

  I shouldn’t be so worried about her getting into trouble.

  It was an impossible task to even get her to watch television. I made it my mission to make her relax for even half an hour a day, so I introduced her to my favorite Japanese anime, Dragonball Z. At first, she seemed a little confused by it, and raised her eyebrows at all the explosions. She was determined to keep her face buried in a book while we watched, but I coaxed her to give it a chance. After a while, she started to warm up to all the danger and the romance. The real charm of the show is the way that the characters will do anything to protect their family and friends.

  For years, many of the boys my age—and a few tough girls—have adored these epic adventures and grand battles where the fate of the universe is often at stake. How could anyone with a heart resist this show? Scarlett eventually put her book away and really got into the story, and it has become our daily ritual to watch an episode together. She said she would be home in time to watch an episode with me today, but when she never showed up... I started to imagine the worst.

  When I walk into the library, I immediately see a chair that is slightly ajar. I rush over and find three books lying beside the computer. Great Expectations, Jane Eyre, and Anne of Green Gables. I am a little puzzled by this strange combination, but then it dawns on me. They are all books about orphans. Leaning over the keyboard, I enter my school ID to log in. I know that Scarlett is careful, so when I go to check the browsing history, I am expecting to see that it has been cleared.

  But it hasn’t.

  My heart aches at what I find. News articles on abandoned infants from the late 1980s and early 1990s. Scarlett was definitely here. But where is she now? Moving away from the computer and scanning the darkened library, I don’t see any shadows. I briskly walk through the room and scan between the aisles, but it feels empty. On a hunch, I move to exit the building and walk out into the football field.

  It’s a clear night, so the field is eerily lit by the crescent moon. I move forward, listening carefully to the silence that is punctuated by the chirping of the crickets. This field is normally so noisy and bright in the day, and I did not expect it to feel this peaceful when it isn’t swarming with obnoxious teenagers.

  I find myself moving over to the bleachers to sit, and when I grow closer, I see a dark shape huddled beneath them. For a moment, I am nervous, and I place my hand in my pocket to grasp my switchblade. But then the figure moves, and I hear my name being called softly.

  “Cole?”

  I exhale in relief, and my shoulders sag as I walk around the bleachers and collapse in the grass beside her. I note the sad way she is sitting, curled up in a ball in a dark corner and hugging her knees.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, Scar. I was worried sick.”

  “Worried?” she asks in surprise. “About me?”

  “Yes. Do you know what time it is? You were supposed to be home hours ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Of course I noticed! I was freaking out.” Reaching up, I run my hands through my hair. The freshly cut grass around us smells good, and it is starting to calm me down. “Do you know how many crazy things I was imagining? I thought something happened to you. I nearly called the cops. I thought you ran away…”

  “I was thinking about it,” Scarlett admits.

  “What? Why!”

  “Because things are all screwed up, Cole. The Browns hate me. I’m a burden on you. You have been sleeping on the floor because of me, and…”

  “Stop!” I nearly shout, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “You are not a burden. Actually, I think you’re the one doing me a favor. I don’t get any nightmares when I’m close to you. I may be on the floor, but at least I’m actually resting and not just thinking about people burning to death. You take my mind off the things that drag me down.”

  “You really mean that? You aren’t sick of me?”

  “No,” I tell her. “I could never be sick of you. Don’t you dare think of running away unless we do it together.”

  “Well,” she says softly. “I was thinking of a slightly different kind of running away.”

  I pause, and stare at her hard in the dark. “What are you talking about?” I demand.

  She shrugs a little in dismissal. “I don’t know. I’m just so tired. I promised myself that if life didn’t get better this year, I wouldn
’t waste more time trying. I don’t think I can survive much more of this.”

  “Did something happen?” I ask her. “Did Mr. Brown do something?”

  “No.” She sighs and carefully lowers herself backwards to the grass. “It’s just taking forever to grow up. I don’t know how I can get through it, to the other side, and remain in one piece. I can’t be patient anymore. I feel so powerless, and I feel so small. Why should others have dominion over my life because of a number? I can do more than they can. I can make better decisions. But being young, and homeless—it makes me so dependent, like I’m not even a person. I have to take so much crap. I don’t want to be anyone’s possession anymore. I want to belong to myself and be… free.”

  “You are free,” I tell her, lying back on the grass beside her. I look up at the slivers of sky that are visible through the bleachers. I breathe deeply, and everything feels fresh and clear. It’s a beautiful night, and I feel like I haven’t looked at the sky like this in a long time. It’s so healing that I wonder why I don’t do it more often.

  “It’s my birthday,” she says in a whisper. “I am fourteen now. Today is the day that the old lady found me on the side of the road.”

  My forehead wrinkles. “I thought your birthday was in August? I thought you were already fourteen.”

  She shakes her head. “That’s Scarlett’s birthday. She was fourteen when she died.”

  A chill prickles the hairs at the back of my neck. “Aren’t you Scarlett?”

  “No. She overdosed on heroin a few months ago. I buried her body and stole her identification. She was around my age, and looked fairly similar to me. She had no family. It’s the only way I could make sure that Benjamin wouldn’t find me.”

  “Wow. That’s hardcore.” I reach out and touch the tender inside of her elbow questioningly. “So you did drugs, too? With her?”

  “Yes. Kind of. I pretended to shoot up, just to get close to her. I knew that she was going to die, from the moment I first met her. It was just a matter of time. She was too delicate for this world.” Scarlett pauses, staring down at the scars on her arm. “She was a sweet girl. Sometimes, I wonder if she made the smart decision, to permanently escape all of this.”

  “No. Don’t say that,” I tell her, sitting up a little and placing my hands on both of her knees. “Don’t even think that. Promise me you’re never going to consider that shit again.”

  Scarlett shrugs. “I’ve run away so many times, Cole. It never works. Every time I thought I could find somewhere better, I didn’t. What if I messed up? What if I should have stayed with Benjamin? What if there is nowhere better? What if it only gets worse from now on? Why should I bother living a life like that?”

  “Do you trust me?” I ask her, gently squeezing her knees. “Life is going to get better. I’m going to make it better. Just give me a chance to try.”

  “Please don’t say things like that,” she says with a sigh as she pulls away and falls back onto the grass. Her dark hair spills out all around her. “I’ve never trusted anyone, Cole. It’s terrifying.”

  “I’m going to make things better,” I tell her softly. “I won’t let you down.”

  “Damn you,” she says slowly, through gritted teeth. “You make me feel… good.” She speaks bitterly, like it’s an insult. “You make me feel like there’s a chance that things might be okay. You’re so strong. And positive.” She clenches her fists, and I see tears brimming in her eyes. “Dammit, Cole! You give me hope. I can’t bear it. It hurts like hell. Don’t you understand? It’s killing me. I can’t let myself feel hope if it’s going to end up being false.”

  I move to lie on my side near her in the grass, supporting myself on my elbow so I can look down at her carefully. I study her clear blue eyes in the dark. “I’m not going to give up on you Scar. I know you have one foot out the door—but if it hurts, it means that you don’t really want to go. Something in you is still willing to fight, and I’m right here, ready to fight beside you. I can’t do this on my own. You need to give yourself over to hope, and abandon all your fears. Because I’ll never lie to you, and from now on, we’re in this together.”

  “Oh, I hate you,” she says miserably. “It would have been so easy to die, thinking there was no one like you in this world. I hate that you ask about my day and seem to actually care. I hate that you came all the way out here to find me in the middle of the night. I hate that you protect me from an abusive alcoholic, and most of all, I hate that you show me stupid, beautiful TV shows. Just go! I’m used to it, Cole—I’m used to getting hurt. So why don’t you just walk away, and leave me alone, like everyone else? Why don’t you just hit me, or rape me, or murder me, so I can maintain a realistic view of this world? A realistic view of people.”

  Tears begin sliding out of her eyes relentlessly.

  “Go away,” she whispers, “because I don’t want to die so much when I’m around you. You can’t protect me, Cole. The only way to be safe in this world is to be dead.”

  My heart breaks for her as I watch her lips tremble with emotion. I lean forward to press my forehead against hers, and I shut my eyes tightly to fight back my own tears. “Scar,” I say gruffly, “or whatever your name is. Shut up. Okay? Shut the hell up, now.”

  When she grows very still, I open my eyes and look down into her blue ones. We are only inches apart. I feel like there is fire burning in my irises, and I hope she can see how serious I am. I grasp her elbow firmly to punctuate my words. “You are never to speak about killing yourself again. Do you hear me? You will never think about suicide again. I won’t allow it. Those days are over.”

  “Why?” she demands to know, jutting her chin out defiantly. “Why on earth shouldn’t I die? Give me a reason. Give me one good fucking reason.”

  Those eyes of hers. Heaven help me. My hand lifts from her elbow to rest on her cheek, and I hold my palm there for a second before letting my fingers drift down to get tangled up in her hair. I brush my thumb over her ear as I stare down into her angry, but innocent eyes. They pierce directly into me, seeking. They pull me closer. Her lips part slightly and soften, and my pulse quickens. My heart begins to pound so loudly that I can feel it in my ears. Every part of my body feels awake and alive, and tingling with sensation.

  She wants me to kiss her.

  She is so close that our breath mingles. I can already taste her. She is challenging me, daring me, and asking me all at the same time. It’s impossible to refuse.

  Our lips barely brush, so barely that it might not even have happened. But I summon a bit of inhuman strength so that I can pull away.

  “Because,” I tell her through my heavy breathing. “Because things are going to get better now.”

  “Cole,” she whispers brokenly, gripping a handful of my shirt to pull me closer.

  She arches her body a little to press against mine, and I groan at the sensation of her softness and warmth against me. My head falls a little, until our noses are touching.

  I need to kiss her. I nearly do.

  Her eyelids flutter closed halfway in anticipation, and I grow dizzy with how much I want this. I want to kiss her until she knows how I feel—how much I care. I want to wrap my arms around her body and hold her close, and promise her everything. I want to promise her the world. I want to promise her forever.

  But then I see it all going up in flames. I see the whirlwind romance. I see us making love, and I see how passionately and desperately we would cling to each other. I see me getting lost inside her. I see me growing addicted to her. I see her begging me for more, until I become her escape, and I become her death.

  She did not seem to care much for heroin, but no one is immune to the simultaneous opiate, narcotic, and stimulant that is love.

  I see us bleeding each other dry. I see us both sacrificing our goals for one more moment together. One more mind-numbing and soul-crushing moment of bliss. We will erase each other. We will blend into each other until we forget who we used to be. Who we could have be
en.

  I see how broken she is, how afraid and insecure, and I see me wanting to do anything to make her whole. I see my own brokenness, and the way I would use her body to try and forget my own pain and loss. I see me expecting her to nurture me enough to replace my mother and father; I see me endlessly asking her for more, and more, and more. I see me leaning on her a little too much every time it becomes difficult to stand on my own two feet and become a man out there in the real world.

  I see us drowning in a love of overwhelming power, and both of us unable to breathe or come up for air. I see us being consumed, and eventually incinerated.

  This love is a dangerous one. I can feel it now, as I teeter on the edge of falling in. It is a flame that burns so white-hot it could only destroy everything it touches. It would destroy us.

  We’re not strong enough yet.

  We are just two frightened kids who have nothing, and no one. If we had each other, we would tear each other to shreds. We would devour each other, looking for all the things that we’re missing, and all the things that we were supposed to find in ourselves first.

  I see it all so clearly, and it gives me the courage to pull away from her—even though it feels like I am ripping off my own flesh. It gives me the courage to stop before I can kiss her—because once I do, there’s no going back.

  “Scarlett,” I say as tenderly as I can. “No.”

  “No?” she repeats in disbelief. Her eyebrows are lifted in surprise, but I can see the hurt building.

  “We were in the middle of a serious discussion,” I tell her, trying my best to appear resolute. “And you wanted a good reason.”

  “Cole…” Her voice is both asking and warning. Even at her tender age, she knows the power that she holds over men, and over me. This is something I wish she had yet to learn. I can tell she is used to getting what she wants, whenever she wants it. But I need to be stronger than this. I need to show her that I am not governed by my urges, and I am capable of thinking.