Ignite

by Lewis, R. J.

  She sat me down the night before my first day and did my nails for me. I’d never had my nails done by her before – and not from her lack of trying!

  “You need to stop biting these off, Sara,” she whined.

  “You’re going to cut them off anyway,” I replied stubbornly.

  “That’s not the point. You’re in the habit of biting them off, and I don’t want to dare see your new nails bitten off tomorrow. I’m doing these free of charge, young lady. Be grateful.”

  I attempted to feel grateful, but her talking about nails was already making me want to chew them off again. She’d been extra attentive to me lately. She insisted I remove the hairs from my face, whining that my moustache was a sin to female humanity -- and don’t even get me started on what she said about my eyebrows…

  She gave me my first make up kit and taught me how to apply it. It was a long process that I wasn’t entirely sure I would be able to commit to, but she pushed and pushed until I relented and made her a promise that I would. She took me to the hair dressers and had my hair cut in layers. After my father had left, I had the freedom to let it grow. I never knew how thick hair could be, or how time consuming it was to wash it every night with Lucinda’s “rinse and repeat” method and shampoos she’d given me.

  “We can put colour in it,” she’d said, combing her fingers into my dark brown wavy mess.

  “Please don’t,” I begged. Her paying for the cut was already too generous.

  She spoiled me rotten, and took me to some second hand shops for clothes. With the price on some of the items I wondered why on earth I’d grown up with barely anything in my closet. There was no excuse for my parents not to spend so little on me. How fucking petty of them.

  “You see, Sara,” she started, going through the racks of the clothing store, “you find a second hand shop near the wealthy area. Rich people love to throw their clothes away, and you don’t want to miss out on that. Are you listening to everything I’m saying?”

  She’d noticed I’d wandered off in thought. “Hmm?” I said, looking at her.

  “Sara,” she sighed, “be appreciative of me. I have a lot of wisdom to share, but only if you’re listening. You’re like the daughter I never had.” A daughter you’re trying to vicariously live through, I thought with amusement.

  “You need to impress the boys. After I’m done with you, I’m sure you’ll have your first date the same week you start.”

  That didn’t give me pleasant feelings. I liked boys, don’t get me wrong, but I was just too timid around them. It was hard enough talking to girls my age; imagine my stumbling ass in front of a cute boy!

  When I envisioned myself talking to a boy, I had all the wittiest lines picked out in my head. I imagined myself twirling my long hair with my impeccable make up on, wearing the best outfit I had, and flirting graciously without flaw to a smiling and enamoured muscular boy… And then I brought myself back to reality and remembered just how impossible that reality was. Imagination and reality were two entirely different dimensions. While I was a flawless rock-star babe in one, I was a complete shy scatterbrained mess in the other.

  It also didn’t help I was in a phase that included men in leather jackets, buzzed haircuts and light beards! Or the fact that this phase had me intentionally walking past bikie owned shops in the hopes of finding that mystery swing man I’d met. Oh, how pathetic I was!

  “You’re turning into such a pretty girl,” Lucinda said as she set my nails under the nail dryer. The heat soaked in pleasantly around the tips of my fingers.

  I wasn’t the most confident or most beautiful girl around, but I looked at myself in the mirror enough to know I wasn’t ugly either. I liked what I saw. Ugly Sara was a shadow of what I’d become. I was no longer bones. I was healthy and athletic, of average height, with chestnut coloured eyes and very long eyelashes. My skin was a light tan, and my body was developing speedily at fourteen. My breasts had come in, and I immediately wished they’d stop growing, but Lucinda advised me that they would be my most useful body part.

  “You’ll have boys eating from your hand if you strut that stuff.” She emphasized her own by jutting her chest out.

  Ugh. I didn’t want to jut mine out at all. I promised her I would, but knew I most definitely would not. Lucinda’s advice was always a hit or miss.

  “Make sure you stay away from them bikie kids, by the way,” she’d advised with the kind of seriousness that meant no funny business. “You don’t want to be involved with that kind of trash.”

  That was a hit. Unless it was mystery man, the last thing I wanted was to be anywhere near anyone that associated with the Black-Backed Jackals. That MC was untouchable.

  I’d been wracked with nerves on my first day, and although I had a few friends with me, they weren’t in any of my classes for the first semester. The first day was lonely and hard up until lunch time when Jaxon spotted me eating alone. If there was one thing about Jaxon I can say I loved the most, it was that he was caring and protective of me. He invited me to his table, introduced me to his friends, and was attentive to me. He wasn’t at all afraid of letting the world know that I was his best friend, and it made the experience a lot easier on me.

  I knew many people, but only had a couple friends. Every year those friends would be replaced by others for many reasons: sometimes they weren’t in my class, other times they moved away, and sometimes we just meshed into different crowds. I maintained my personal distance to them, never letting them in, but allowing them to trust in me. I liked when they told me their problems or their stories, it kept the attention off of me.

  And yes, there were boys. I had an awkward and shy boy ask me out on a date the first week I was there, like Lucinda had surmised. I agreed only because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Unfortunately, the date was even more awkward and unmemorable, and Garrett Abbott was crossed off my Potential Boyfriend list. I didn’t think that guy could grow a beard or had it in him to shave that lanky hair of his, which were deal breakers at the time.

  My second boyfriend was Jordan. He was in Jaxon’s grade and good friends with him. Jaxon was very unimpressed by this and scowled at me for potentially making it awkward between him and his friend. “You know, he asked me if it was okay to ask you out! Why the hell would I have anything to do with it? Now if you guys go down the shitter, he’ll probably stop hanging out with me, Tiny.” Tiny. He’d been calling me that since I was twelve, when he’d doubled in size and I was physically tiny next to him.

  Although I thought he was overreacting, I didn’t mean to intrude on his friendship, but I certainly didn’t think it was that big of a deal. In fact, Jordan and I were a solid couple for a year and a half. He was my first kiss, my first dance with a boy, and, well, my first ever boyfriend. He was cute, tall, and sometimes funny. Also sported short dark hair, check! He was good at sports and talking to him was easy. I was sad to see him go, but my interest in him died very shortly after he vacationed with his parents the entire summer. Being apart made me realize just how much I didn’t really miss him, and not missing him made me realize that the feelings I’d harboured for him were not very deep. It wasn’t love, and it wasn’t real either. It was just… two teenagers who liked each other.

  Jaxon was very amused by my break up, and wasn’t afraid to show it. Actually, to put it more accurately, his reaction was overly joyous than what I would have expected from my supposed best friend. But even at the time, I suppressed the tiny suspicion of why that was.

  I stepped back from boys after Jordan and focused on my school work. I also got a part time job as a convenience store cashier. I never let Lucinda know the store was owned by a Jackal, but it was the only place that took my resume and gave me the job. I never had any problems working there, and the Jackal owner was hardly ever around, so it worked out well. I was technically not associating with that gang. Just an employee.

  Working and studying kept me occupied and distracted me from futile pastimes like partying and go
ssiping. I was only making minimum wage, and my hours were quite short, so I wasn’t pocketing a whole lot. Yet I felt good at every cent I earned knowing it was done the right way, unlike some people…

  Jaxon, by some grand miracle, graduated from high school along with the others I’d been friends with. It was hard to adjust to not seeing him there – whenever he had been there, anyway. In my eleventh grade year of high school, I’d been bombarded day dot by girls. I didn’t try to fall under some pretence they wanted to actually get to know me; I was sure they could care less. No, now that Jaxon was not sticking out gloriously among the crowd of students in school, they wanted to know all about his whereabouts, and our friendship – very evident by our inseparability throughout the two years I’d been there – was the gateway for them.

  I didn’t understand the attraction like them, but that was because I really knew Jaxon. I’d grown up thinking of him as my friend and even so far as to say he was like my family. I knew he was drop dead gorgeous, but our friendship was the forefront of my mind. I needed that kind of stability; he was my rock I could always count on.

  But what the girls saw was superficial. On the outside, he had that bad boy image; you know, the mysterious, dangerous boy who doesn’t care about authority, doesn’t care about school and rules, and people… I wished I could understand that naivety, wished I could find my own bad boy to drool over, but having a father who bashed my mom and me around, didn’t have a job, and didn’t care about a damn thing either except for himself, had turned that notion of bad boy into a harsh reality.

  There was nothing sexy about a real life bad boy, and that was the awful truth chicks didn’t want to accept. Girls enjoyed the two dimensional man, and Jaxon was not one of those. But would he ever pretend to be for their amusement? He was capable of that. If he sat there in brooding silence for a long enough time, then sure, you could take him as someone who lacked depth or care. He was too much like me in a lot of ways, one way standing out more than others: he never let people in.

  So I dodged every girl I came across, further befriended boys who were easy to get along with and kept to myself.

  Three

  I came home one day from school to find a familiar looking blue beat up car in the parking lot. My feet stalled as I recognized who it belonged to. My heart was all a-flutter, and my anxiety skyrocketed at the realization. I turned myself around and ran to Jaxon’s house.

  “My father’s back,” I said to him the second he opened the door.

  He was still wearing his pyjamas, his hair in a million different directions, and eyes puffy from a long night of doing whatever illegal bullshit it was that Jaxon did on Sunday nights.

  “What?” he said, rubbing his eyes as I pushed passed him and into the house.

  I paced the corridor, trying to relieve myself of the sudden busy legs I was experiencing.

  “Did you see him?” Jaxon asked.

  “I saw his car in the driveway.”

  “How do you know it was his for sure–”

  “Because he’s been calling my mother for the last few weeks,” I interrupted in irritation. “I told you this.”

  Jaxon didn’t respond immediately. He watched me pace the house leaning back against the wall with his arms folded, studying me.

  “I thought he was gone for good…”I mumbled to myself. “He’s been gone five years…Who does he think he is? And she’ll take him back because that’s all she’s good for… I’ve had it with this crap…”

  Finally, after many restless minutes, I sat down on the red recliner in the living room and stared idly at a spot on the beige carpet. I could feel the well of tears forming in the back of my eyes, but I suppressed their company. Things had been going so well since he left. Even though I had a non-existent mother in my life, the house was an easy roof to live under as long as the bills were paid and there was food.

  Jaxon moved to the three seater couch and sat at the end closest to me.

  “You don’t have to go back,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “Pack your shit and leave. He’s no good. You and I know that. I’m sure Mom will let you stay here.”

  “And then what? Stay here and do what, Jaxon? Leech off your mother? I can’t do that. There’s no room for me here, anyway. I’d rather move out on my own and make it by without freeloading.”

  “You’re not freeloading,” he argued, giving me a look of annoyance. “I’ve been making good cash on the side, Sara. I contribute here and can float all of us.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, we’d have to discuss it with your mother first.”

  “As if Mom won’t say yes,” he scoffed.

  I couldn’t explain to him exactly why I didn’t want to move in. The real reason was that I was frightened for my mother. Yes, the woman who never showed her maternal love for me in any shape or form still had my unconditional love. My father, on the other hand, did not. He was nasty and cruel, and I fully blamed him for being the reason why my mother was an alcoholic in the first place. At least with him gone she had never been verbally abusive to me. We didn’t fight. Every now and then there were disagreements when it came to money and how it should be spent: main one being forced to take portions of my paycheck to fund her alcohol habit. Still. These were struggles I was able to live with.

  My father returning would tip her over the edge again. She would never be conscious or mentally there. He would be his horrible self, manipulating her, arguing with her, beating her…

  “I just can’t,” I told Jaxon, looking away from him.

  Jaxon was disappointed, which was ironic since I was always the disappointed one when it came to us. It was funny seeing him take my role. He furrowed his brows, pursed his lips, and stared daggers into me. “What if he does something to you?”

  “Like what?” I feigned ignorance knowing full well what he was going to say. He knew all about my father.

  “Like turn his attention to you and hit you?”

  “But my mom, Jaxon… I can’t just leave her with him.”

  He pondered my words for a few moments, and that was another sight to behold: Jaxon Barlow actually pondering something! He was always the impulsive one with no regard to consequences. There was no indication he even had a moral compass in that brain of his by the amount of crime he was committing. He was beyond skilled at what he did, and only lately was the town really knuckling down on security.

  “Wait right here.” I watched him stand up and leave the room. Shortly after, he reappeared and sat down with his hand out. Looking down, I saw a cell phone. “Take it. It’s got a month’s credit in there already.”

  “What?” I frowned. “Why are you giving me a cell phone?”

  “So that you can call me in case something happens.”

  “Who’d you steal it off of?” I demanded, disapprovingly.

  He rolled his sharp blue eyes. “I didn’t. Just take it.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I promise I didn’t. I fully bought it. I still have the receipt if you don’t believe me.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly, motioning with his head for me to take it.

  I eyed the phone, quickly realizing it was the latest one of its kind out. I took it from him and turned it on, and took my time scrolling through it. There were no numbers stored, no pictures or videos, or wallpapers for that matter; nothing that indicated it was previously owned. Plus it was in immaculate condition.

  “I’ll give you the charger on the way out,” he said.

  “And the receipt,” I added, eyeing him suspiciously.

  He didn’t respond to that. “You’re almost eighteen and have your first ever cell phone, Sara. You’re behind on the years.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not fussed about the latest greatest gadgets.”

  “Except a cell phone’s been around for years and years and years…”

  “Shut up, Jaxon.”
/>   He laughed lightly and leaned back in his couch, grabbing the remote on his way. He turned on the television and flipped through the channels.

  I turned on the phone camera, enamoured for a moment at its high quality. I aimed it around the room and settled on him, zooming the image to his head. I chuckled, taking pictures of his wild, blonde hair. He was one of the few guys I knew that actually pulled off the long haired look. It was usually combed nicely, and sometimes he’d slick it back so that it rested neatly behind his ears. This morning, however, it was in all kinds of directions as if every strand was trying to escape his scalp, and it was downright hilarious.

  He looked over at me as I clicked away with a frown on his face, and that frown captured on my phone had me laughing loudly and breathlessly. “What are you laughing at, Sara?” He was a self-conscious guy, so he smoothed out his hair with his hands and tidied up his crinkly white shirt.

  “Nothing.” I set the phone down and feigned ignorance.

  He scowled and looked back at the television, scratching a spot on his chest. “So has anyone asked you out to prom yet?” he asked casually with a hint of a smile on his lips.

  It was my turn to scowl. “Not yet, but I still have a few weeks to go before I need to worry about that.”

  “What are you going to do if no one asks you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m sure someone will ask me. Doug’s been giving me some interesting looks as of lately. I think he’s trying to find the right moment to ask me out.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Doug? Who the hell is Doug?”

  “Some guy in my math class.”

  “What’s his last name?”

  Oh, God. Here comes the interrogation… He was always bugging me about guys. “Mackenzie.”

  He sniggered. “Are you serious? Doesn’t he look like a weed? Fucking seven feet tall, weighing a hundred pounds or some shit?”

  “He is very tall, but he’s gotten really buff lately.”

  He made a distasteful face. “Yeah, okay. Have fun with that one, Tiny.”