[Imdalind 01.0] Kiss of Fire

by Rebecca Ethington

  “Yeah…” Her voice was so airy I couldn’t help but smile.

  The song on the oldies station we were listening to changed. Wyn jumped up, squealing in delight. She leaped onto a pile of boxes that sat at the foot of her bed, pulling me up with her. She continued to jump and squeal as she danced around, the corners of the boxes heaving as she danced and moved.

  Her hair swished around her face, heavy plastic bangles jangling and clanking. Her joy at the Styx song was infectious and I found myself singing and dancing along, even though I didn’t know the words.

  We sang the chorus together, our loud monotone voices clashing against each other.

  Wyn jumped off the boxes, hair and arms flying, to land on the plush carpet in an air guitar solo. Her arms swung and wiggled in an attempt to play the nonexistent instrument she held in her hands. Her short, auburn hair flipped around her face as she swung her head in an attempt to “rock out”.

  The guitar solo ended. Wyn jumped up again and grabbed my hands to push me into her crazy dancing. We jumped around the floor like clowns, pulling out dance moves that our parents must have done, in our rambunctious attempt at dancing.

  “Please tell me you’ve been to a Styx concert,” Wyn yelled between verses.

  “Do they still have concerts?” I asked, jumping around alongside her.

  “Yes!” Wyn grabbed my hands and began to spin me around as she continued to yell verses and choruses full blast. And, quick as it had come, the song ended and we both collapsed on the floor, laughing at ourselves.

  “So,” Wyn sighed after a moment. “You gonna show me your scar?”

  Her question was so innocent, but my reaction was anything but. Time seemed to stop. My heart stopped. My breathing stopped. The only thing that didn’t stop was my stomach, which flipped as my head screamed at me to run.

  “What scar?” Maybe if I played dumb, I could deter her. I had already checked that my hair covered the right side of my head, and the dreaded mark. It didn’t. I was always so careful; I don’t know how I didn’t notice.

  “Oh, come on,” Wyn sighed as she sat up beside me, draping her arm over me and hindering my escape. “That one, right there below your ear. It almost looks like a dragon. That is very cool.” She leaned forward and looked at it. “I’m kind of jealous.”

  “A dragon?”

  “Yeah, here’s his tail and his head.” She traced a shape through the darker portions of the brand, her fingertip tickling the skin that never got touched.

  I jumped up from under her arm and ran to the mirror that hung above her dresser. My hair naturally fell over the mark, so I pulled it back to get a better look. I had never really looked at it, but Wyn was right—the dark lines that moved through the raised skin did look like a dragon.

  “How’d you get it?” Wyn asked, coming up behind me and leaning on the dresser. “Accidental maiming, fell off a stage, helicopter rescue gone wrong?”

  I hesitated. I didn’t know how much I trusted her. I just continued to stare at it in the mirror, part of me wanting to touch it; the other part continuing to scream at me to run.

  “Nothing as cool as that,” I managed, making it clear I wasn’t going to elaborate.

  “Have you shown it to Ryland? Boys love scars; I bet he would love this one.” Her voice had taken on a strange quality that made me a bit uncomfortable.

  I spun away from the mirror to face her. Her eyes were wide and eager.

  “No! I would never show Ryland! You’re the first person to see it, besides my mom.” And my dad, but I wasn’t going to get into that.

  “Really? Wow, now I feel special.” She slugged me playfully in the shoulder. “But you should totally not hide that away, that thing is awesome!” She bounced back over to the bed, landing in the center, springs creaking.

  “Not to me,” I mumbled.

  Wyn continued to look at me, as if she expected something. I wasn’t going to give her the benefit of an answer, not today anyway. Besides, what could I say that was believable? My life could be considered normal until it came to that mark and then it was full of mysterious illnesses and disappearing fathers.

  The way this evening had turned out had become very confusing and complicated. Why did the past few days have to be so… weird? I just wanted to hide and forget that Wyn had ever caught a glimpse of the ugly thing, forget that odd men were watching me, forget that I could throw girls into ceilings, forget that Ry kept trying to kiss me.

  “I gotta go.” I was sure the disappointment in my voice was not missed. I grabbed my bag and started heading toward the door.

  “Hey, Jos.” Wyn caught up with me, catching me before I disappeared through the door. Her inadvertent use of Ryland’s nickname for me sent a shiver up my spine. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I didn’t know it was a taboo thing. I’ll pretend I never saw it.” She smiled at me, her voice sincere.

  “Thanks, Wyn, It’s just—” I hesitated; I had to tell her something. “It’s just that, that… thing… has kind of ruined my life.”

  “Don’t let it anymore, ’kay?”

  I nodded and her face brightened.

  “So, don’t go. I won’t mention it again, and we still have a stupid movie to watch.”

  “Thanks, Wyn, but I do have to go. I actually do have homework to do.” I tried to sound indifferent, but I wasn’t sure it worked.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  I just nodded in agreement, shutting the door to her apartment behind me.

  I stood outside Wyn’s apartment complex for about ten minutes, trying to decide where to go. I needed to talk to my mom. I didn’t know what I would say to her that wouldn’t end in a fight, but I felt so naked and exposed after Wyn’s innocent discovery of my mark.

  I made sure my hair covered the right side of my face before I turned my long board in the direction of the bus that would take me into the wealthy district of town. There were still about forty-five minutes until dinner would be served in the LaRue’s dining hall, meaning my mom still had about two hours or more of work. Rather than wait at home, alone, for her to get there, I opted to face the hustle of the big kitchen at dinner time. Spending forty minutes alone on the bus was still better than waiting alone for two or more hours before she would get off.

  The bus stopped and I quickly boarded. The neon lights were already on, illuminating the plastic seats and metal floor with a strange, blue glow. I made my way to the middle and sat with my hood up, backpack sitting on my lap and my head leaning against the glass. As the blue sky deepened around me, it felt like everything inside loosened up, calming down and becoming brighter.

  Wyn had said I had let the mark ruin my life. At first I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. To me, my life seemed to be pretty okay. I had a great best friend, a mother who really cared, and I did well in school. On the other hand, I also hated school because it meant that I had to be around other kids—that I had to hide.

  I didn’t “have to” do anything, though. I didn’t “have to” cover myself up. I didn’t “have to” pretend to be invisible. Maybe Cynthia only saw something off in me because I made her see me that way.

  I had been hiding myself because of the mark, not letting anyone get too close. I wouldn’t let myself make any friends. The only reason I let Ryland in is because he had been persistent. He had held my hand as I got over my insecurities and had promised, from a young age, to always be there. So, without Ry, I was friendless and alone.

  My mother worked upwards of sixty hours a week, my best friend wasn’t really allowed to be my friend, and I was picked on at school.

  My life did suck, and all because I allowed a stupid mark to destroy me.

  I laid my head against the back of the seat and watched as the city lights of old-fashioned neon and new-aged fluorescent blended together in a rainbow blur of colors until the city laid far behind and ever-expanding houses laid before me.

  There had been a reason I let the mark control my life, and as muc
h as I rationalized my behavior and my loneliness, the fact still remained that I was broken, that my dad didn’t want me. Mark or no mark, the outcome would be the same.

  Their last fight still haunted me. I would still revisit it in monthly nightmares; the screaming more intense, more audible, more of the blame placed on me. I would wake up covered in sweat, only to turn over and cry into my pillow in the desperate hope that my mom wouldn’t hear. She never did.

  I exited the bus, grateful for the evening air that swirled around me. My long board clicked loudly as I traveled the last five minutes of alleys and side streets until I arrived at the door to the kitchen.

  The click-click of the long board ricocheted around my head as the fight replayed again. It still rattled me, it still hurt, but it wasn’t as bad. And through it all, I realized something. My dad left me; he ran away from me. He ran away because of the mark, and I didn’t want anyone else to run, too. So I hid. I just didn’t want to get hurt anymore. All this time, and I hadn’t realized how broken I was inside.

  I arrived in the kitchen of the LaRue’s just as dinner was being served to the family. As I had expected, the kitchen was in a frenzy of activity as the maids and wait-staff rushed around with trays of food and decanters of who knows what. My mom was busy rushing around and yelling different instructions to different staff members.

  I dodged and weaved my way through the activity to find my usual barstool. It always surprised me that so many people were needed to serve only Ryland and his father. After a few minutes, the staff disappeared, leaving my mother and Mette to clean and prepare for the dessert course.

  “How was your friend’s house?” Mom asked, setting a large bowl of leftover soup in front of me. She looked at me eagerly, excited I had taken her advice so seriously.

  “Wyn,” I provided. “It was fun. She likes Styx,” I added, causing Mom’s smile to widen.

  “A girl after my own heart,” she said.

  “Yeah, I really like her.”

  Mom smiled and moved away from me, back to her cleaning. “And the movie?” she asked, spooning a strawberry puree into a crystal dish.

  “We didn’t get around to the movie; we mostly just talked.”

  “Girl talk? You?” she asked in disbelief.

  “I know.”

  Mom wiped her soapy hands on her apron and came over, stealing a spoonful of chicken dumpling soup. “Mmmm, I do make a good soup.” She licked her lips in enjoyment.

  “The best,” I agreed.

  The platters began returning, most picked clean either by the family or by the staff on the way back to the kitchen. The trays and dishes clanged as they threw them, one after another, into the sink. My mom rushed back into action, as she directed the huge number of tasks with ease.

  I remembered when she had first started. She had come home in tears after she had forgotten to serve an appetizer course, and the roast beef had been served lukewarm. The next morning, we had arrived in the kitchen to a very uncomfortable Edmund who explained what had gone wrong, while also offering his compliments on her pear gelato. He had left after that, leaving behind a small, freckled boy with blazing, blue eyes and an absolute mop of dark, curly hair.

  I had been hiding behind my mother’s legs, and when I saw him staring at me, I buried my face into the back of my mom’s thighs. He had come up to me, tugging on my arm in an attempt to get me to play with him.

  “What’s her name?” he asked my mom in his innocent voice.

  “Joclyn.”

  “Hey, Joclyn.” He tugged again. “Do you want to come play with me? I made a castle in my room; do you want to come see?”

  I had turned my head to look at him. He smiled at me, and I felt more comfortable. I took his hand, my mom still prodding me along to go with him.

  “You have very pretty eyes. They look like diamonds.”

  He was always charming, right from the start.

  I smiled at the memory, the way I had when he had first said the words to me. Somehow, even all these years later, it still made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I had been so uncomfortable about my newly-changed eye color, and he had taken all that fear away.

  “You ready?”

  I looked up. My mom was standing by the door of the now empty kitchen, hand perched on the light switch.

  “Come on, honey; it’s time to go home.”

  I stood slowly, my body stiff from sitting in my daydream for so long.

  “Glad you’re still with me,” Mom said. “I thought I lost you for a little bit.”

  “Sorry. I was just thinking, I guess.”

  “Something good and not involving rippling muscles, I hope.”

  I ignored her obvious jab at Ryland before stepping into her old station wagon. “No, Mom,” I grumbled as I closed the door behind me and shut us into the small space. “Wyn saw my scar.” Better get it over with right away; it was what I traveled out of my way to talk to her about after all.

  The mood in the car changed immediately; stressful energy dripping into the air. I wasn’t sure who was more stressed about my statement, me or my mom.

  “Mmmmhmmmm.” My mom’s non-committal grunt prompted me to continue.

  “And I think I know why I’m so scared to let people see it.”

  She didn’t respond; she just drove, waiting for me to continue. She was always so good at that, just sitting and listening without interjecting.

  “I’m afraid that people will think I am broken and leave me, just like Dad did.” It felt good to say it aloud, to let my deep-rooted fear free for the first time. Somewhere between leaving Wyn’s and entering the bright lights of the city, I had started to let that shy little monster of fear out from where he had been dwelling, hidden inside me for the past eleven years.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I never knew… I didn’t realize that everything had affected you so much.”

  “Neither did I. I figured it out on the way over,” I sighed. “The way Wyn talked about it, how she asked me not to let it ruin my life anymore… I don’t think I realized that I was doing that until that moment.”

  We sat silently, lights flashing in the dark, the sound of the over-worked engine buzzing in my ears.

  “Not everyone left you because of the mark, you know,” my mom said, her hand patting my knee in a comforting way.

  “Just Dad.”

  “Yes, just Dad. He left because he couldn’t handle it.”

  “And because he was paranoid.” I knew I was being a little too honest; I just hoped Mom didn’t read too much into it.

  “Maybe a little of that, too.” She smiled, but it was a sad smile, as if she knew the truth, but didn’t want to admit it.

  “But not everyone left, Joclyn. I didn’t leave; Grandma and Grandpa Despain didn’t leave and Grandma Hillary didn’t leave. Ryland didn’t leave.”

  “That’s not fair, Mom. Ryland doesn’t even know about the mark.”

  “True, but if you were broken, he wouldn’t have stuck around so long.”

  “I guess that’s right.” I knew it was; from the beginning it was. Even when he had found me crying in the bushes behind the kitchen when I was eight, he just smiled, handed me a rose and dragged me back to his room to play video games.

  “So tell me…” Mom’s voice cut through my memory. “Did Wyn run away?”

  “No.”

  “Did she scream in fright?”

  “No.”

  “What did she do then?” I had seen the trap from the beginning and had to smile at my mom’s obvious attempt to make a point.

  “She thought it was cool, and told me I shouldn’t let it ruin my life anymore.”

  “I like this Wyn more and more. Maybe she will help me to get you out of those hoodies.”

  “Don’t start, Mom,” I pleaded.

  “Well, I’ve got to try. We do have that shopping date on Saturday. You would look so nice in that brand new, red shirt.”

  “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.” An idea had come to me out of nowh
ere, although I knew it might not work, it was worth a try.

  “Now, I am worried.”

  “I won’t wear a hoodie, no hoodie all day on Saturday, if you let me hang out with Ry that night and watch a movie.”

  “Joclyn, we talked about this.” She was stern.

  Stupid Ryland, having to take off his shirt! I don’t think my mom would have ever started to take this stance if he had kept his shirt on. Oh, and if he hadn’t tried to kiss me in the kitchen… I stifled a sigh at the memory before rebutting.

  “I know we did, but I can’t just walk away from him, Mom. He’s my best friend, and he’s leaving for Oxford in a few months and then he won’t be my friend anymore, anyway. He will have other friends, and girlfriends, and a fiancée, and run a huge company. He won’t just be Ry anymore. He will be Ryland LaRue, heir to a fortune.” I spoke very fast. Even though it hurt to say it, I knew it was true. No matter how many fantasies had entered my mind, it could never happen.

  “He already is that.”

  “I know,” I whispered. It took me a moment to find my voice again. My heart thudded around my chest in a desperate plea not to make this compromise with my mom. “Mom, can I just have him as a friend for a little while longer? Then I will leave him alone forever. I’ll have no other choice.”

  “It’s not just that, Joclyn.” She sighed again, frustrated.

  “Then, what is it?” I held my own though, my eyes digging into hers.

  “Okay,” she conceded, “you know how Timothy is always warning me to keep you two apart?”

  “Yeah.” I was hesitant; I didn’t like where this was going.

  “Well, it used to be a half-hearted warning. Now, it feels almost… dangerous.” She looked away from me, the subject making her uncomfortable.

  “Dangerous? Like ‘Keep her away from him or else’?”

  “It’s more than that. Timothy made mention of your safety and how dangerous ovens are. I don’t know. It just made me uncomfortable.”

  Edmund had said something similar in the hall a few days ago. It was such an odd thing for him to say that I had just dismissed it, but hearing it again from my mom was weird. Forget corporate drama, this bordered on super-villain.