Mara gives me a moment. She’s smart. “You’ll be together again.” Her hand comes up like she’s going to pat my hand, but at the last moment withdraws it. Instead, she walks around her mahogany desk and sits in a leather chair.
I don’t know if that’s true. I almost killed him. Will he want me back?
“He’s … my … only … family,” I sniffle the words out: I can’t help it. She slides me a tissue box. “I thought I’d … that he was dead.”
What did I do? What if I’d killed him?
“Can you tell me about the fire, Ashley? Do you remember what happened?”
I stare at her. She’s styled her long, brown hair into a tight bun. The tears stop and my face hardens. “I didn’t start it.” My voice is steel. I look into her dark, brown eyes, daring her to contradict me. After seeing Smoke’s body being pulled out of the house, I can’t deny it anymore that it wasn’t me who started the blaze.
“What happened exactly? Each moment leading up to the fire?”
“Carl punched me in the gut.” To hell with Carl, with that foster home. Everything’s gone now.
“He hit you?”
“Yeah, he does that sometimes.” I shrug. “I went to my room. My brother came in to calm me. Then the fire started. It wasn’t me. I don’t know what caused it. Maybe a faulty wire?”
Mara writes in her notebook before continuing. “A fire started when you were in the library at school the other day, too.”
“I didn’t start that one, either. Someone left a cig butt on the books.”
Mara nods, looking at me. “Do you remember the fire at your grade school? You were found right where it started, do you remember what happened?” I slump in my chair and cross my arms. So, I guess she’s spewing the blame game about me now, too. Too damn bad. I stop talking.
Mara looks through her file. “Two of your previous foster homes also had fires, but no one was hurt, thank goodness. But your parents died in the house fire when you twins were four.”
Red flashes and taints my vision. Anger surges through my body. Why does everyone blame me for things I can’t even remember? I did not kill my own parents.
My blood boils in my veins. I can feel it searing my insides as my vision flashes red and colors my world in shades of blood.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m out of my seat, throwing my chair across the room. It crashes into a gray filing cabinet and I freeze. The rage I cannot control makes me do things I normally wouldn’t.
My nostrils flare as I breathe deeply. “I. Didn't. Do. It.” The words rip from my throat like shards of glass and angry hot tears slide down my cheeks.
The file folder ignites in Mara’s hands ...
She drops it and stomps it out, then stares at me, her eyes wide in shock. Or is it something else?
The security apes grab me and escort me back to my cell.
They now lock my door during all hours of the day when others are kept open.
Chapter Seven
“Can I call my brother?” Smoke and I have never been apart this long. He’s my rock, my stability. I’m lost without him, a walking dead-head, with uncontrollable, hungry rage.
“He’s in pretty bad shape,” Mara answers. She no longer holds anything made of paper when we talk. “Why don’t you write a letter? I’ll make sure it gets to him.”
“I’m not writing no stupid, fucking letter! I want to see him, to talk to him,” I shout. I can’t stand this, not knowing how he is, not seeing him, not hearing from him. I want to know exactly what his treatment plan is so I can figure out just how bad I hurt him.
“It’s okay, Ashley, calm down. You’ll see him again.”
They won’t let me call him. After hours of sulking, reading outdated magazines, and four really non-appealing breakfasts, I finally write a letter.
Smoke, are you okay? I got six months in juvie for arson. They won’t let me call you. They think I started the fire. I didn’t start it, you were there, you saw.
I hate this. Please write back.
Juvie is shit. But I’m still taking classes. I should graduate on time.
I’m assuming someone is reading my letters and yours. -Ash
A week passes. Then I get a letter—word from Smoke at last. Mara hands it to me and I read it like a dying man grasping for air.
Ash, hi! They say I’m going to be in the hospital for a while. Maybe a month or two. No classes for me.
I’m sorry I got caught in the fire. It wasn’t your fault.
I can’t write just yet so one of the nurses is doing it for me. I’m covered in bandages, like a mummy.
-Smoke
Writing to my brother is a lifeline. The only bit of sanity to hold on to in this dead zone, full of fucked-up girls breaking into fights all the time.
I miss my friend, Tage. I wonder what she’s doing. Is she thinking of me? I hope to see her again, but I doubt I will. No one can take Tage’s place in my life.
In here, though, I do need someone. I tried keeping a tight lock on my lips, staying out of trouble. The last time I tried, I lasted not even a day. Trouble seems to follow me.
And that’s when I meet Brie.
It’s finally a nice warm, winter day out in the yard and I go outside for a breath of air. Since I refuse to speak to anyone, yeah, many people think I can be picked on and made to be someone’s bitch. Not this bitch. The camp’s gang of jitterbugs round the corner and spot me. Of course, they think I’m an easy target since I’m alone. They’re so strung out on whatever they use no one talks coherently. But something has them riled.
I duck my head low and brush past them. I’m almost free until a shaky hand lands on my shoulder. “Hey,” she slurs out. “You’re new? Do you have any?”
“Sorry, no.” I shake my head, not having any idea what she’s referring to. I’ve been here for almost a month now.
“You have to.” Her voice is rising and the others in the group become really fidgety.
“Like I said, I don’t have anything you need.”
A second bug grabs my arm and pulls me toward her. I stumble into her chest. The milk chocolate eyes I’m trying not to stare into are glossy. I tug my arm, but she’s not having it. For someone kinda strung out, she’s strong.
“Jennie, leave her alone.” I dare to bring my eyes up. I know that voice. It belongs to someone who sits with us at the lunch table. Emerald green eyes sparkle like how the sun’s ray bounce off fresh snow. “She’s with me.”
As much as I might have a girl crush on Brie, that’s whose voice it is, I still prefer guys. “Yeah, um, I’m not—”
“She’s mine,” Brie says again. This time a flicker in her eyes must do something to the gang because I’m released and they are walking away, or should I say swaying. “You okay?” She turns toward me.
“Yeah. I had that though.”
“Sure, you did.” Her white-blond hair blows into her porcelain face. I gaze up at her. Yeah, she’s that tall.
“Are you really into girls? Not that it’s my business and I’m not against it or anything … that’s cool, you know … it’s just that I kinda have a boyfriend—” I don’t, really. I think Tor could have been if I hadn’t been hauled off to juvie.
Brie holds up her hand. “I’m not asking you to be my bitch, lover, or anything else. I just thought you could use a break.”
Oh. I sigh. Yeah, I could use one of those now.
From then on, Larissa, Brie, myself and a couple others all sit together at lunch. And yes, I do talk a bit more after she didn’t really rescue me. Could I have friends in this crazy place?
Smoke, I got your letter. Our social worker, Mara, is here. Remember her? She’s making me realize that fires always happen around me. Why?
She said our parents died in our own house fire, when we were four.
I got mad and threw a chair, and the papers she was holding caught fire. Crazy, right? Like with a capital C!
I hate it here. I hate my life.
I
miss you.
~Ash
Mara suggests I do some activities, work out in the gym, go outside more, try a craft. Anything to get me focusing on something else other than what she calls my “fire abilities.”
One of the inmates, Alicia, thought it’d be funny to cut my hair while we were making vision boards. She clipped a whole chunk out of the back before I realized it. I jumped up, cussing, and her art project lit in bright flames, setting off the smoke alarms. The apes grabbed my arms, water spraying all over us, and locked me in solitary for a few hours while they tossed my cell looking for a lighter or matches.
They didn’t find any.
I don’t do crafts anymore.
Chapter Eight
Smoke, the classes here are a joke. Just as well, since I don’t like to study. I’ll be getting my diploma by the time they let me out.
How are you doing? Are you still covered in bandages? Are you in pain?
I hate it here, and I wish you were here with me. I’m sorry you’re in the hospital. I’m sorry you got hurt. I miss you. Please try to write me more. I cherish your words of wisdom, big brother.
-Ash
The staff seems a little scared of me or something. Mara suggests I go outside, but other than that, they let me go to my cell and sleep as much as I want during my free time.
I do venture out today, though. There’s only so many naps you can take. It’s brisk and windy. Kids are hanging out, some are smoking, others shooting hoops.
Alicia is there with her girlfriends. She has bone-straight, jet-black hair and pale skin, like a vampire. “Hey, freak, what you doing out here? Someone let you out of your cage?” The girls titter.
For some reason, I ignore them. I sit by myself, letting the cool breeze wash over me. I still haven’t found the courage to actually hang with Larissa or Brie except at lunch.
The chow here is crap, but about the same shit as the school’s sustenance, and the food I got in the foster homes. I’m used to crap.
When I get back to my cell in the evening, a letter is waiting for me. I snatch it up.
Ash, I’m doing better. The nurses are slowly removing my bandages as I continue to heal. I can write without help now so I couldn’t answer all of your questions before. We need to be careful. There are always eyes watching us.
There’s not much to do here, so I’m on my phone a lot. Going to try and find out what happened to our parents. All I remember is a big fire. Do you remember that night?
Ash, I’m wondering if maybe there’s a reason fires start around you. It’s all really weird. Do you notice any kind of pattern before a fire starts nearby? Have you noticed they happen when you lose your temper?
Are you losing your cool in there? I can’t calm you down anymore. How are you doing? Is everyone treating you decently?
I’m getting way behind in school. I don’t know if I’ll graduate on time. I don’t know when I’ll get out of here. I don’t know where they’ll put me when I do get out. How long are you there for, exactly?
-Smoke
I stare at the letter. So, my own brother also thinks I started all these fires?
“The whole fucking world blames me for everything,” I shout as I crumple the letter and throw it against the concrete wall. The wadded paper bounces to the floor, then bursts into flames. I watch it slowly burn on the cold floor, until it goes out, leaving a small pile of black ash.
What the f…
I stare at my hands. Are they shimmering? Heat prickles through my fingers. I pour all my focus onto my hands. What if …
I concentrate a long minute. Nothing happens.
“This is fuckin’ stupid!” Red creeps into the edges of my vision and a bright, orange flame hovers, flickering, right over my right palm. “Oh, shit.”
Chapter Nine
Smoke, I have to tell you something. But they read my letters, too, so it will have to wait. You won’t believe it. I wish I could see you. Maybe I’m going insane.
You were right.
-Ash
I can’t put my next thought in writing. Did I kill our own parents? Is it my fault Smoke and I have lived through this hell our whole lives?
What’s wrong with me? Why am I like this? Is it real?
I don’t believe my eyes when that steady flame appears in my palm, again. I stare at it a long time. It floats just above my skin. I can feel the heat shimmering through my hands and arms, but the fire doesn’t actually burn me.
As I watch, the flame gradually dies. I try to bring it back, but I can’t do it a second time. Maybe Smoke is right. It could be tied to my emotions.
I can’t focus on school, eating, or napping the rest of the week. My grades start to slip, even though these are the most dumbed-down high school classes I’ve ever taken.
The flame.
It’s all I think about.
***
“Is it possible to go insane in here?” I ask Mara.
“Why do you ask that, Ashley? Do you feel like you’re going insane?” Her brown eyes soften. I don’t think she’s scared of me. At least as much. She knows I’m trying.
“Are you guys feeding me drugs in my drink or food? Something that causes hallucinations?”
“We don’t slip drugs into kids like that, it’s against the law. If we give you pills, you will see them in a little cup, and you will take them yourself. Do you need something?” She lays her pen down.
“No.” I lean back and cross my arms.
Mara lifts her fountain pen to her lips, absently chewing on the end before she asks her next question. “Why are you asking about hallucinating? Have you been seeing things, Ashley?” She scribbles something in her notebook.
“No.” The last thing I need is for this damn place to think I’m insane, or if it’s real, to dissect me like a lab rat. “No, I’m fine.”
“Okay, well I’m here for you. You can tell me anything, you know. Our talks are confidential.” Sure, except when you find out I can conjure flames with my freaking mind. Then nothing will be confidential. “Ash, I noticed you’re falling behind in school. Can you tell me why? You’re really smart, and you were acing your classes before.”
“I’m just … missing my brother.”
“Are you feeling down? Any thoughts of harming yourself? You may be experiencing depression. We can do a mental health evaluation, and look into anti-depressant drug therapy, in addition to counseling.”
I sit up. I do not want any drugs. While they help some, they won’t help me. “No, I’m fine. I’ll do better.”
“Good. I know if you apply yourself, you can get your diploma in May.” Mara shifts in her seat. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
I look at her.
“Have you given any thought to your next steps, after you get out of here in June?”
I shake my head.
“Your foster home burned down. And you’re nearly of age, so you can emancipate out of the system.”
“Where will I live? What will I do?”
“That’s what we need to plan for. Your brother will be out before then, I expect. And I’m sure you’ll want to be together.”
“Where will they put Smoke after he gets out of the hospital?”
“I imagine they’ll keep him in the youth transition center, New Steps, until he emancipates. With your diploma, you could look for a job. But you’ll need a place to live, and making it on minimum wage is very difficult.”
Great, she’s just making me more depressed. So, we’ll be homeless.
“There’s another alternative you may consider, Ashely. If you join the military, they will pay for college. You two could join together.”
What? Join the army? No fucking way. Boot Camp, for one thing. Plus, you have to sign your life away.
“It’s a four-year commitment when you sign. But after Boot Camp, you can specialize in any area you like. You can even join the Army Band, if you play an instrument.”
I roll my eyes.
“Here’s the thing, Ash.” Mara comes to stand in front of me. “You would be taken care of, both of you, for those four years. You’ll come out with experience and training under your belt, ready to go to college, which will be completely paid for.”
I stare at the floor, studying the large, dull white square tiles.
“Think about it, Ashley. Talk to your brother. It’s the smartest option for you both. But to join, you have to have your diploma.”
Back in my room, I try to yank the desk stool off the floor to throw it. “I’m not joining no fuckin’ army,” I shout in frustration. The stool won’t move. I grab my thin mattress, sheet and blanket and throw them. Red creeps into my view. This time I see it – a spark of fire flares in my hand, then flies at the blanket.
Chapter Ten
I stomp it out quickly. The corner of the blanket is singed black.
With adrenaline racing through me, I call up another flame by focusing all my will and energy onto my hand. The small, flickering red fire appears. I hold the flame in my palm. This time I experiment, turning my hand slowly over and back again. The fire hovers just above my skin, playing over my hand like a floating ball. Like a juggler who rolls a ball between his fingers and turning hands, I play with the flame. I can even shift it from one hand to the other.
This can’t be real.
But there it is, my own flame, which I called up.
I do a pop and lock and roll the flame from my right hand, up my arm, over my shoulders, down the other arm to my left hand. It doesn’t burn me or my clothes. I feel the heat of it, though, matching the red warmth pulsing through me.
I laugh out loud. I can’t believe this.
I control fire!
Did Smoke suspect all this time? No, he would’ve said something. Wait till he sees this.
But then he’ll know, for sure. He’ll know it’s my fault, our shitty life, our parents dying, all of it.
Flame Guardian Page 4
