Phoenix Fire

by S. D. Grimm

  “The thing is—”

  “You might be smart, but that’s only going to get you so far before the lack of hard work catches up with you.”

  “I underst—”

  “You are a grasshopper. I am an ant. We just don’t work well together.” She closed her book, picked up her backpack, and stood before I even had a chance to form an excuse.

  “Yuki.” I got up to follow her.

  She paused, huge sigh totally audible, and looked over her shoulder.

  And that did it.

  That…look. Oh no. She started to flicker. One moment she stood under the tree, late-summer wind tugging leaves free. The next moment, she—or someone like her, rather, someone with a painted face—stood beneath a cherry tree. Petals whirled in the wind.

  I tried to lean back and catch myself on the table, but I missed and my hand slammed into the bench seat. I tumbled to the ground. The vision winked out and all I saw was a blur.

  “Cade?” My name seemed to echo from two places at once: reality and memory.

  “Cade?” This time it was just Yuki. She shook my shoulders.

  Her beautiful, worried face filled my line of vision, but I didn’t want to lose my lunch on her, so I pushed her to the side as gently as I could and heaved. At least nothing came out. But seriously, did this have to happen now of all times? It was impossible to impress a girl while emptying your stomach on the ground next to her shoes.

  A soft touch rubbed my back.

  My stomach stopped roiling.

  My heart jumped in surprise, and I looked at her over my shoulder. There had to be something about her. Her coppery-brown eyes. The beauty mark just above the right corner of her lip. Why was she triggering that memory? I tried to blink away her glasses. She did look sort of like that other woman. A crease formed between her eyebrows, and I realized I was staring.

  “Sorry.” I stood and offered her my hand to help her up.

  She stared at it as though that was some strange gesture. Then she took it and I pulled her to standing. She pushed her hair behind her ear again and turned her attention to the ground, dragging the toe of her shoe through the grass. “Is that why you miss class all the time?” Those coppery eyes latched on to me.

  I breathed deep. There went my “in” with Yuki. All that showing off in lit class so Simmons would make us partners was flushing down the drain. She’d never cooperate on the project with me if she knew how often I nearly passed out. I clenched my hands and then gave her my most winning smile. “You caught me.”

  “I’ll give you a chance.”

  What? I tried not to let the surprise show on my face, but I was certain I’d failed when a grin overtook her features.

  She pointed a finger at me. “Don’t blow it.”

  I motioned to myself with both hands. “How would I blow it?”

  Her finger made circles as if to emphasize her point, and she started walking backward toward the school, smiling at me with that satisfied smirk. “One idiotic comment about anything other than the project, and you’re on your own.”

  I followed, grinning like an idiot. I sort of didn’t care. The playful gleam in her eye had sent and arrow straight into my chest—one of Cupid’s, I’d wager. I was in trouble. “What idiotic comment?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” The sarcasm leaked into her body language. “That one about how perhaps Hermia shouldn’t have defied her father’s wishes in the first place.”

  Okay, that Midsummer Night’s Dream reference might have been stupid. “I wasn’t being serious. I was…”

  “Trying to ruffle my feathers?” Her smug smile said she didn’t need an answer.

  I caught up to her and extended my arm behind her to prevent her from running into someone. “Careful there. Might want to watch where you’re going.”

  “Oh, I’m watching you, Puck.” She turned to face the direction she was walking, but now she walked close to me, her shoulder bumping mine as more students returning to class walked around us.

  “Puck?” I chuckled. “You think I’m clever and mischievous. I’ll take it. But with Lysander’s amazing looks, right?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly the kind of idiotic comment—”

  “That’s hardly fair. You can’t tell a guy he’s like Puck and then expect him to act as serious as Macduff.”

  “Different play.”

  “I’m aware.”

  We entered the school, other students mingling causing my proximity to Yuki to close even further. She stopped at her locker and faced me. “So, meet me Saturday. Bring good ideas.”

  “Is this like a job interview?”

  She wore the same knowing smirk as that woman in the vision, and my heart skipped a beat. “Don’t blow it.”

  I walked away from her, backward, so I could keep eye contact as long as possible. “I don’t plan to.” And as soon as I turned around, I remembered that I was supposed to be getting close to Yuki because of Ava. This was going to be harder than I’d thought.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ava

  The rest of the week passed without another strange memory. I was starting to think maybe this whole thing was going to blow over.

  My shoes pounded against the dirt trail, closer to the edge of the woods, as thunder rumbled above. The air grew colder, heavier. Wind tugged the leaves, ripping through branches. I wasn’t going to make it home before the downpour—the reason I’d moved my run to earlier in the day. So much for staying dry.

  Not like it mattered. It wasn’t my home anyway. This morning Jean had tried so hard to get me to open up to her.

  “Ava,” she’d said with her sweet and genuine grin. “Happy birthday, sweetie!” She’d stepped aside, letting me into the kitchen where Dave sat smiling and Danny sat texting.

  Dave nudged Danny’s shoulder and Danny looked up. Smiled all “what are you going to do, parents are parents.” Then he said, “Happy birthday, Ava.” And actually got up to hug me.

  “Are those crepes?”

  Jean shrugged, her smile so happy and yet unsure. “You like crepes, right?”

  “I love them.”

  She pressed her hands together and beamed. “Have some. I made them for you.”

  For me.

  Dave stacked some on my plate and pushed the strawberries and cherries closer to me. “We weren’t sure which one you liked best. Would you like to go to dinner tonight? We’d like to celebrate after work.”

  “Is there somewhere you’d like to go?” Jean asked.

  “Fricano’s,” Danny said without looking up. “That’s all she talks about when she’s starving.” He glanced up at me. “Mario’s pizza is better.”

  “No way.” I shoved a bite of a crepe into my mouth.

  “Let her decide.” Jean lightly tapped Danny’s hand. Then she gave me her full attention. Her eyes practically sparkling. “What do you want, Ava?”

  What did I want?

  My shoes hit the ground as I paused the memory there. Where it was still perfect and unspoiled. Before I changed the subject and backed away from them and their niceness. I wanted a life free of disappointment. I wanted people to stop leaving me. I was sick of always trying to be on my best behavior just so people would like me. I was sick of trying to put myself out there—being vulnerable—just so someone else could show their approval.

  I wanted a family. I wanted to be loved for who I was despite my flaws.

  Could they give me that?

  Could anyone?

  No. And that was why I wanted to be left alone. Because I was fine alone. And I wanted people to understand that. I ran faster, ignoring the shrinking feeling in my chest. If I didn’t start pushing them away soon, they’d push me away. I couldn’t take that again. Not from another family. My eyes started to water, and I squeezed tears away.

  Rain broke, smacking against the leaves and dotting the ground and my clothes. Hiding my sadness.

  I cleared my eyes, exited the woods, and raced across the street.
It started raining harder. Rain blew nearly vertical, soaking one side of me in moments. Huge drops splashed against the street. The wind slammed into me, chilling me to the core.

  An ancient red Toyota with those retractable headlights eased to a stop close to the curb in front of me. I looked inside as I ran closer.

  “Ava?”

  “Wyatt?”

  The door unlocked. “Get in. I’ll take you home.”

  Home. Wherever that was. “I can—”

  He reached over and pushed the door open. “Come on. It’s storming.”

  I climbed inside. Something about new rain heightened the scent of everything. And this car had the scent of vanilla ice cream, wet leather jacket, and something shower fresh. “I’m sorry, I’m soaked.” I watched the little white balls bounce off the hood of his car. Hail. “Good thing you showed up when you did.”

  “Not a problem.” He smiled and pulled the car away from the curb. “Do you mind if I stop at my house first? I have ice cream in the back seat and it’s melting.”

  I glanced behind me at the sweating container. It wasn’t even that warm out. “Did you forget it was back there or something?”

  “No. I had to drop something off for Kelsey and then—”

  “Kelsey?” Who was she? And why was my pulse racing?

  “My sister.”

  “Oh.” My voice was totally light. Completely casual. And slightly squeaky. Stupid squeak.

  A few minutes later, the rain had reduced to a steady stream instead of a deluge. He pulled into the driveway and parked. “Do you want to wait here while I take this stuff in? I won’t be long.”

  “If you’re going to be so chivalrous as to give me a ride home, I can at least help you put away some groceries.” I offered a smile.

  “Deal.” He got out of the car, and I helped him take the bags inside. This house was so much smaller than where I was staying. Dark wood accented everything instead of the taupe in the Fields’ house.

  “Let me get you a towel.” Wyatt disappeared into the hallway, but I looked at the framed photo of him and perhaps his family that sat on the table beside the couch. Was that dark-haired, dark-eyed girl Kelsey? Were these their parents? They looked so young. I followed him into the kitchen where he’d dropped the bags of groceries. He handed me a towel. A shiver raced through me.

  “You cold?”

  “N-no.” Stupid shiver. “A little.”

  He laughed and pulled a sweatshirt off the chair at the kitchen table. “Here.”

  His sweatshirt? Really? Wasn’t that some weird relationship thing? I narrowed my eyes.

  Wyatt smiled. “I mean, if you’re really not a Chargers fan, I guess I’ll have to let you freeze.”

  I looked at the football logo. Put it on anyway. “I’m not.”

  He made a mock wounded face. “And I was so sure I liked you.”

  “I’m glad I dodged that fickle friendship.” I picked a bunch of bananas out of the grocery bag while trying to keep the long sleeves above my hands.

  “You don’t have to do that.” He opened a cupboard door and put away a box of cereal.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I should have known.”

  I paused, reaching inside the next grocery bag. “What does that mean?” My words came out tentative and soft but inside my heart hammered. Why should he have known? Because of strange memories?

  His eyes widened momentarily. “Just…that…I’ve noticed how you have a kind side.” He smiled at me, something in the curve of his lips mischievous. “Not that you show it to very many people.”

  I managed a laugh as my jaw dropped open. He was teasing me now, huh? “Are you saying I’m not kind?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve seen standoffish Ava, but I think you use her to mask kind Ava.”

  “Well, consider yourself lucky that I show you kind Ava.”

  “I do.” The smirk faded, but not the gleam in his eyes. He stared at me for a moment.

  The thumping in my chest intensified under that gaze. I was supposed to be getting close to him for one reason only. Why did my heart keep trying to reach out in a different way?

  “Are you doing anything special for your birthday?”

  A shiver shot through me that had nothing to do with the cold. How did he know? “Umm…yes. My foster family is taking me for pizza.”

  “A favorite place?” The cupboard door blocked my view of his face for a moment.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  He closed the door and reached for a bag of sugar. “Well, have fun. And happy birthday.”

  All the air left my lungs leaving a strange aching burn. “H-how did you know?”

  He hefted the bag of sugar up toward the shelf but completely lost his hold. The bag bobbled and fell, hitting the floor with a smash. White crystals splattered everywhere.

  He stood there, staring. “Great.” He looked up at me and scrunched up half of his face. “The one thing I went to the store to get.”

  “Let me help you. Do you have a broom?”

  He smiled as he pulled it out of the closet.

  I took the dustpan. “We’re always cleaning up messes together, huh.”

  He laughed outright. “It seems that way.”

  I held the dustpan as he swept the sugar onto it. “How did you know it’s my birthday?” I looked up to face him. Those eyes were locked on me already. A tractor beam to something inside of me. My cheeks started heating so I was glad of the opportunity to dump the white mess into the trash.

  He leaned the broom against the counter. “I might have overheard you and Yuki talking.”

  “Really?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I might seem invisible. Doesn’t mean I am.”

  “Invisible is not an accurate word to describe you.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to figure me out. Then I realized what I’d said and a thousand flames of heat skittered over my skin starting from my chest. What was it about him? Something about Wyatt made me want to get closer to him, strange memory and healing aside. That scared me, but he didn’t have to know. My cheeks started to heat so I handed him the dustpan. “If you give me some wet paper towels, I’ll collect all the stragglers.”

  He stared at me with an eyebrow cocked. “Stragglers?”

  “You know the…the sugar…pieces.”

  “Granules?”

  “Sure. If you’re going to get technical.”

  He turned on the faucet and grabbed the sprayer. Water shot out everywhere. All over the front of him. I jumped out of the way in time, unsure whether to be shocked or start laughing. He got it turned off, but as soon as he looked at me, dripping wet, I couldn’t contain my laughter.

  He joined me. “Stupid sink. I’ve been meaning to fix that.” He leaned on the edge of the sink and water dripped off his nose. His hair. His shirt was soaked. I grabbed the hand towel off the oven and pressed it against his face. The touch seemed more intimate than I meant for it to.

  He wrapped his fingers around it, grazing mine, and faced me. “Thanks.”

  I stole my hand back, still feeling the tingle on my skin where our hands had touched. “You’re dripping all over the floor.”

  He pulled off his shirt and tossed that aside with the towel. “I guess I’ll get the rest of these stragglers cleaned up first.” His gaze met mine, so unsure for a moment.

  I couldn’t help but notice a strange scar on his chest. Close to his shoulder. A scar so familiar to something I’d seen in those memories that weren’t mine. My legs felt weak. I gasped for air and leaned back on the sink. Was it real?

  All I could think about was that strange memory of me pulling a bullet out of him.

  “What happened?” I found my hand drawn to the scar like a moth dancing around fire.

  “Ava?” He backed up a step. Stared at me. He was the flame. Drawing me in. Trying to get me to tell him what I knew first. That had to be it. Otherwise, why would he need to wait for me to speak? H
e’d seen what I’d seen.

  “What happened?” I asked again.

  He swallowed, his eyes wide, unsure. “Long story.”

  “Involving a bullet?” I inched closer.

  He backed into the counter and laughed nervously. “You think I was shot?”

  “Were you?” My eyes left the scar and trailed up to his face. I’d pulled the bullet out. He’d screamed. It still haunted me. I shivered.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re hiding something, Wyatt.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  I nodded and stepped back. Pushing him into a corner wasn’t really a nice way to get answers from him. I guess if he was going to tell me he would have.

  “I’m going to go change before I take you home. Okay?”

  He’d gotten the whole front of himself wet. I nodded, letting him brush by me. Maybe neither of us wanted to pay the high price of letting the other person in.

  He headed upstairs, and I turned back to the few groceries left in the kitchen. Goose bumps dotted my arms that had nothing to do with me being cold. I touched the knob to the cupboard I’d seen him put a box of cereal in.

  The room started to spin, and I fell to my knees against the door. Pinning it closed. Pinning myself in someone else’s memory.

  The memory person—me—opened a door to the stable. The scent of hay and horse was strong—much better than the dank, dirty urine smell in the city. Something about living closer to the border, out in the country air, made everything freer.

  I wiped my hands over my dress and its huge, floor-touching skirt. I wore an apron of sorts over it. And the dress was ugly. And itchy. It almost looked like it belonged on a wax figure in a museum of history. I realized this memory was from a long time ago. Like chamber-pot-and-no-electricity long time ago.

  I stepped inside and caught sight of a tall young man I didn’t expect to see. He stood, back to me, brushing the marchioness’s bay mare. He gave her a handful of what I presumed to be oats. Then she pressed her head into his hand and pushed. He chuckled. “That’s enough for you.”

  I cleared my throat and he turned to face me. “Hello.”