Firelight

24

Moments pass. Maybe minutes. I don’t know how long we wait for someone to speak or move. Watching Brooklyn, I’m not even sure she knows her next move, what she’s going to say or do.

I finally speak, hoping to take advantage of her indecision. “That was the bell. We don’t want to get marked absent.” I glance at Catherine, signaling her to follow me through the wall of girls.

“Yeah.” Brooklyn cocks her head, her tone caustic. “That’s just not such a big deal to me right now.”

I stop inches from her. She and her followers haven’t broken rank. Nothing short of bulldozing them is going to have an effect.

She continues, “But you know what is a big deal for me?”

I wait, hold her stare.

“Redheaded skags like you who come into my school and act like you own the place.”

Catherine breaks in, her voice the height of tired impatience. “Give it a rest, Brooklyn.”

One of Brooklyn’s girls gets in Catherine’s face. “No one’s talking to you, loser.”

Brooklyn moves in. We’re nose to nose.

I shrug, certain I’ve stepped into some bad flick about angry cheerleaders vying for a championship. “What do you want me to do about it?”

My calmness seems to fuel her anger. “Go back to whatever rat hole you came from.”

“I didn’t exactly choose to come here. Maybe you can talk to my mom about it…. I’m not having much luck.”

The angle of her head deepens as if she’s seriously contemplating it. “How about this? You disappear or your sister will pay.”

I inhale sharply and scan all five girls. Are they serious?

“Yeah. You want it to suck for both of you here?” a blonde with braided pigtails pipes up — I think I remember her on top of the pyramid at the pep rally.

“I thought you liked Tamra,” I say.

Brooklyn shrugs. Crosses her arms. “She’s okay. Respects the order of things. We could have tolerated her.” Her gaze flicks over me. “But not you.”

“Leave Tamra out of this.” My hands curl at my sides, nails sinking into my palms. I welcome the pain. My anger likes it. My lungs squeeze, burn. Smolder deep within. “This is between us.”

“Oh,” Brooklyn mocks in a pouty voice. “Isn’t that sweet? Aren’t you the good sister? Maybe if you stop throwing yourself at Will, I can see my way to letting Tamra on the squad.”

The girls nod, smile smugly.

I can taste the tension, as acrid as smoke, burning cordite on the air.

“This is such crap. C’mon, Jacinda.” Catherine tries to shove past them, working her body and arms to nudge an opening. Wrong move. The action ignites Brooklyn and her crew. The mounting tension splinters free. Springs like a popping coil.

The girls converge on her in a blur. Catherine cries out, the sound sudden and sharp in the charged air. I catch a glimpse of her seawater eyes, wide and panicked before she’s gone, pulled beneath the blanket of bodies.

“Catherine!” I dive into the pile. Suddenly, I’m caught in a confusing tangle of writhing bodies.

An elbow in my ribs knocks the air from me. I can’t find Catherine. Can’t tell who anyone is…Pain drums me in the face. I think it’s someone’s fist.

A buzzing fills my head, swells inside my ears. Deep vibrations break up from my chest. Then it’s too late. Somehow, I end up on the floor. A delicious scald purrs at my core, simmers, bursts, flares over me like a rash of wildfire. I’m consumed.

The cold tile hisses against my hot, crawling skin.

A pointy shoe kicks me in the ribs. I grunt, jerk from the force. The pain.

I try to rise, but get shoved back down. My chin cracks against the floor. Blood runs over my teeth, the coppery odor filling my nose. I swallow back the bitter flood, hope it might cool the searing tide inside me. No such luck. I continue to burn, smoke. My lungs froth heat. Steam rises to fill my mouth, chars the inside of my nostrils.

Profanities burn on the air. Along with advice. Encouragement on how to pummel me. Whatever their intention when they first walked into the bathroom, they’re lost to a mob mentality now.

“Get her!”

“Hold her!”

“Grab her hair!”

A hand tangles in my hair, grips a fistful. Long strands rip. Tears prick my eyes. I blink, fight to clear them.

Without thinking, I turn my face into the suffocating press of bodies. Find the arm holding me, hurting me…

Parting my lips, I inhale, drawing deep from my contracting lungs.

And blow.

The scream ends it all. It’s not the type of scream you hear in a movie. It lingers, echoing off the walls, residing in my ears for moments more. It brings everything to a jarring halt. Including my heart, which seizes in the dark burn of my chest.

Everyone looks around wildly, searching for the source.

Except me.

I look at Brooklyn. Her face is pale. Her mouth trembling. Raw pain glazes her eyes. She rocks on the bathroom floor, fingers clasped over her arm, the tips white where they dig into her flesh. I sniff the air. Smell scorched flesh.

Top-of-the-pyramid blonde crouches beside her. “What happened?”

Brooklyn’s gaze fastens on me. “She burned me!”

Brooklyn lifts her hand to reveal the burn. Second degree easy. The damaged skin is baby pink, greasy looking, the edges white and peeled back. All eyes swing to me.

I resist correcting her. It’s more of a singe than a burn. I’d swallowed back the river of flame as quickly as it left my lips. It barely made contact. Could have been much worse, really.

Catherine looks me over, demands in a hush, “Do you have a lighter?”

I don’t have a chance to answer.

“Get her!”

They pounce on me. Again. I struggle, try to break free from the pileup. My skin shivers, eager to fade out.

Catherine shouts my name as Brooklyn howls directions.

My lungs open wide, fill with smoke. Pulsing steam eats up my throat, widening my windpipe. I seal my lips tight, determined to keep the fire in this time, but I taste the fear in my mouth. Fear of them. For them. Fear for what my draki will do if I don’t escape this bathroom. Fear for what that will mean to so many…

All that fear does the trick. I don’t stand a chance against instinct a millennia in the making. My wings push, the membranes straining to break free from my back. I whimper, fighting, resisting for as long as I can. Bones pull. My human flesh fades and my true face sharpens, nose giving way, bridge broadening, the ridges pushing forward.

It’s no good.

I give in. At least partly. I manage to stave off manifesting completely on the dirty bathroom floor, but not for long.

I exhale through my nose — it’s my only choice. Carefully, I turn my neck, roll my head, and fan them all with steaming breath.

They release me, shrieking as they stumble away. Fall back on the floor.

Pushing to my feet, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The red-gold luster of my skin. The sharpened features and ridged nose. The face that blurs in and out like shimmering firelight.

With a gasp, I dive into a stall, slam the door shut. Gulp air and fight to cool my lungs.

And hope, desperately hope, that none of them saw what I just did in the mirror.