Let Me Burn

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Let Me Burn Page 3

by Elks, Carrie


  Well, almost always. There’d been a few weeks when she’d thought she’d never smile again.

  “Plus you have Brooke and Ally – they’d be lost without you,” Chelsea continued.

  Ember’s heart grew a little bigger at the mention of her two best friends. They’d been at the party earlier – Brooke Newton had brought her son, Nicholas, and Ally Sutton had brought a keg of beer. They’d all grown up together, her ‘sisters from another mister’. Made it through grade school and high school, and then into adulthood without ever losing their closeness. If she went away she’d miss them as much as she missed Chelsea.

  The sky was getting darker, turning the buildings that lined the boardwalk into a series of silhouettes. A movement to her left caught her eye. Somebody running on the beach – taking advantage of its emptiness the same way she and Chelsea were. The man’s rhythm was fast and steady, enough for him to put a distance between himself and the sisters before Ember had a chance to really look at him. All she could see was the strength of his body as he moved across the sand. Any sound he made was obliterated by the gentle rhythm of the surf.

  “Jogging. Now that’s something you’ll never find me doing,” Chelsea said, her eyes following the runner the same way Ember’s were. “Cycling, yes. Swimming, why not? Running, ugh, no way.”

  Ember smiled. “You never did like breaking a sweat.” She could remember a three-year-old Chelsea, her plump little legs working over time in an attempt to keep up with Ember. She’d shout and grumble until Ember would finally slow down and let her catch up.

  “Why run when you can drive or cycle? It doesn’t make sense.” Chelsea’s tone was teasing, a welcome respite from their serious discussion. “Although from the looks of that guy, it’s working for him.”

  Her words took Ember back to Megassey’s parking lot. To the man who was all muscles and no charm. She sighed at herself, at her reaction to him. She was better than that.

  She didn’t want to think about that guy. The same way she didn’t want to think about Will, or her dad, or anything at all. She wanted to empty those thoughts out of her brain, and replace them with a calming nothingness.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Ember said, kicking water at her sister’s bare knees. “Let’s show him how it’s really done. I’ll race you to the pier. Last one there has to buy the ice creams.” She’d barely finished her sentence before she was running, her bare feet slapping against the damp sand, her arms flinging out as her fingers clung to the straps of her sandals. The air pushed back against her, lifting her hair and rushing past her face.

  “That’s not fair. You’re cheating again,” Chelsea called out. “And you know I hate running.”

  But Ember was panting too loudly to hear.

  4

  When Monday morning came there really was a smile on Ember’s face. There was something special about walking down the school hallway before anybody else had made it in. Even after so many years of teaching, she still felt a little shiver go down her spine whenever her shoes clicked against the tiled floors as she headed toward her classroom.

  She’d attended Angel Sands Elementary as a pupil, back when her mom used to tie her hair in pigtails so tight it would make her wince. Every room held a memory – the classroom where she first learned how to tie her shoelaces, the gym where every Christmas they’d sing their hearts out for their parents, and the playground when one recess she’d had her first kiss, with Adam Reyes, who’d thankfully long since left town.

  She’d been more than lucky to land the job of First Grade teacher. Staff didn’t tend to leave Angel Sands very often – half the faculty had been here for more than twenty years. Only Rachel Foss, one of the Kindergarten teachers, had joined more recently than her. Even after all this time, Ember was still a relative newcomer.

  As happy as she was to be there, Monday mornings at school were always a tough gig. Trying to reacclimatize the children to the classroom after the weekend took patience and grit. Sometimes, much more tolerance than Ember felt she had. She always tried to make the first lesson of the day as fun as she could – today they were learning about dinosaurs. In the corner of the classroom, she’d made a model featuring all the dinosaurs the children had learned about – the diplodocus and the brontosaurus, the triceratops, and of course the frightening T Rex. Turning to the white board hanging behind her desk, she started to point out the differences between them.

  A giggle alerted her to the mischief that was happening behind her. The back of her neck tingled – Teacher Sense, as Principal Sawyer called it. The head of the school maintained that every natural teacher could feel trouble coming before it arrived, and if the itching on Ember’s spine was anything to go by, there was definitely something going on.

  She turned to see Carter Davies out of his chair, holding the model T Rex, running over to Sally Johnson. Just as he arrived at her desk, he let out a roar – a fair imitation of what a dinosaur might sound like, Ember thought – and then shoved the T Rex toward her.

  “He wants to eat you,” he said, giggling as Sally leaned away. “He forgot to have his breakfast this morning.”

  “Carter, put the T Rex back,” Ember called out, but Sally was already taking matters into her own hands. She grabbed the toy dinosaur from Carter, and stomped away, leaving the boy staring at her open-mouthed. He clearly hadn’t expected that.

  “Carter, please sit down.” Ember put on her stern face. She’d learned in her first few weeks on the job that showing any weakness at times like these could lead to mayhem. She tried not to remember her first week of teaching, when Principal Sawyer had ended up in her classroom almost every day trying to calm things down. “And Sally, put the dinosaur back on the table, please.”

  “But he’s hungry,” Carter said. “I heard his tummy rumble.”

  “Toys don’t get hungry,” Sally pointed out. “They don’t have insides, do they, so how can they eat food?”

  Ember bit down a smile. Sally always had an answer, no matter how much Carter tried to rile her up.

  She wasn’t sure who was happier when recess arrived – herself or her students. As soon as the bell rang, chairs scraped across the tiled floor as the level of chatter increased, and the children lined up at the door, waiting for her to open it and let them out.

  It was her turn to supervise the playground, along with Rachel Foss, the kindergarten teacher. Ember grabbed them both a coffee from the staff room, then hurried out of the back door to join her friend. Rachel was leaning on the fencepost, watching the play area, when Ember joined her and passed her the cup. She immediately lifted it to her lips, closing her eyes as she swallowed a mouthful of coffee. With a deep sigh, she reopened them.

  “You’ve no idea how much I needed that.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can guess.” Ember flashed her a smile. “Tough morning?”

  “I’ve had two bathroom accidents, a bucketful of tears, and somebody’s taken my favorite pen. Remind me why I wanted to be a teacher again?”

  “Um,” Ember pretended to think for a moment. “Because you love kids and you thought it would be easy?”

  Rachel groaned. “Who do I have to kill to teach second grade? Should I target Nancy or Diana?”

  “They’re indestructible,” Ember said, trying not to smile. Rachel loved her kindergarten students, the same way Ember loved her first graders. It was just sometimes hard to remember that. “Anyway, it’s Monday. Accidents always happen on Mondays. Better days are ahead.”

  “Like Saturday and Sunday.” Rachel finished the last of her coffee, twisting the lid so it was closed up. “Anyway, let’s not talk about school. Tell me, how was your mom’s party?”

  Ember was about to answer her when Carter came up to them, turned around, and bent over so he could grab his ankles. The two teachers watched wordlessly as he started to gyrate his hips, moving his behind around in a circular motion. “Hey, Miss Kennedy, I’m twerking. Can you see me? I’m really good at it, too.”

  “I se
e, Carter. Now you can stop, twerking isn’t allowed in this playground.”

  He was still holding his ankles when he looked at them through his legs. He was frowning. “It isn’t?” he asked. “Why not?”

  Ember caught Rachel’s gaze. The other teacher was trying not to laugh. She wasn’t trying hard enough though.

  “Because it’s suggestive,” Ember said, wishing she hadn’t even started down this line. “And the playground is for playing in, not dancing.”

  “Those girls are dancing.” Carter finally stood up. His face was bright red from where he’d been upside down. “Look – they’re holding hands and swinging.”

  “But they’re not twerking,” Ember said. “It’s the twerking that’s not allowed.”

  “Well that’s no fun.” He stomped off, looking for something else to do, and Rachel finally let her laughter out.

  “Oh my god, can you imagine what he’s going to be like when he’s older?” Rachel asked, her eyes following Carter as he made his way over to the swings. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a funny kid. But I was so pleased when he graduated from kindergarten last year and wasn’t my problem anymore.”

  “Yeah, well thanks for that. Your loss was my gain.” Ember did a mock grimace. “But you’re right, He’s a good kid.”

  “And he can twerk like a pro,” Rachel said, still smiling. “I should know. I was doing some twerking of my own over the weekend.”

  Ember was only half-paying attention. She was watching Sally as she stood in front of the playhouse, her arms folded across her chest and a stubborn look on her face. The playhouse was a new addition to the playground that year, bought thanks to parent-teacher fundraising efforts. Another girl – from the other first grade class – tried to get past Sally and into the house, but Sally was refusing to move.

  “Hold that thought,” Ember said, passing Rachel her empty coffee mug and walking over to interfere in the potential fight. She hunkered down and looked at them with concern. “What’s going on here?” she asked the two girls.

  “Sally won’t let anybody in. She says it’s her house.”

  “Come on, Sally, you know that’s not true,” Ember pointed out. “The playhouse belongs to everybody.”

  “But they keep ruining my game.” Sally frowned. “They just want to run around in there, and it’s not fair. I’m supposed to be the mom and they’re supposed to listen to me.”

  “Well, I’m the teacher and you need to listen to me,” Ember pointed out, keeping her voice light. “And I’d like you to let everybody in.”

  “No.” Sally folded her arms across her chest. “It’s not fair,” she said again.

  Taking a deep breath, Ember rose up from her crouched position. “There’s only a minute of recess to go. I’d like you to go and wait by the gate.” She pointed to the fence. “And when you’re out here this afternoon, you need to remember to share.”

  Sally did as she was told and stomped over to the other side of the playground, Ember following behind. Recess only lasted fifteen minutes and she was already feeling exhausted. That was Mondays for you, full of unexpected turns. When the bell for the end of recess rang and the children came running over to form a line, she could feel her body start to relax.

  That feeling only lasted a minute, though. Right until Rachel came up behind her and cleared her throat, causing Ember to turn around and look at her. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Um. We have a situation.”

  Ember frowned. “What kind of situation?”

  Rachel swallowed, her neck bobbing with the action. “It’s Carter again,” she said, and Ember’s stomach immediately sank.

  “What about Carter?” she asked. “Is he twerking again?”

  “No, this is ten times worse. He’s stuck in the playhouse chimney.”

  5

  Lucas slid his key into the lock of the small beachside cottage he’d inherited from his grandparents four years earlier. The lock was rusty and stiff, and it took some force to make the key twist inside it. With a click, the door unlatched and slowly swung open, revealing a dusty, run-down interior that was in desperate need of renovation.

  The wooden floorboards were covered in a thick layer of sand that must have found its way through the gaps under the door. His feet left imprints as he walked inside. The disturbed dust and sand danced around him, scratching his throat as he breathed it in.

  He couldn’t help but feel guilty as he took everything in. The small galley kitchen that had once been his grandmother’s pride and joy was a mess – cupboard doors hanging off their hinges, broken crockery littering the floor, and then there was the living space – once filled with cozy overstuffed armchairs and all the decorations his grandparents had collected over a lifetime – now bare and dark, with no life in it at all.

  Lucas and his sister, Caitie, had practically grown up in this beach side cottage. His father had been working hard at his job at the local pharmaceutical company, while his mother ran the Heavenly Page Bookshop on Main Street – the same way she still did. Lucas and Caitie had spent a lot of time with their grandparents, especially when they were younger. It was why the cottage held sentimental value, and why every time he thought about how much he’d neglected it he felt bad at letting his grandparents down.

  He should have done something about this before. Or taken up the offers so many people had made to buy the cottage from him and Caitie. Instead he’d let it fall to ruin, too busy caring about his career to worry about the legacy two people he’d loved had left him.

  “Hey, man, I thought that was you,” a voice called through the door, pulling Lucas’ attention away from the detritus in front of him. “I saw the front door open and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  Lucas turned to see Griffin Porter standing at the front door, one hand curled around the lintel; the other holding onto a surfboard whose tip was resting on the stoop. He was wearing board shorts, no top, and the ocean was still clinging to him. His hair was wet, his beard wetter, and his body glowing in the Californian sun.

  “Hey.” Lucas smiled and walked over to him and the two of them shook hands. The pair of them couldn’t be any more different to look at. Lucas’ cropped black hair and freshly shaven face was a stark contrast to Griff’s more rugged look, and yet they had so much in common. Lucas had known Griff for years. They’d been as close as they could be at school, hanging around in a group together with their friends, Jackson Lewis and Brecken Miller. Jackson was a businessman now – running his own high-tech start up right outside of town, and Brecken had left California when he was seventeen. Out of the four of them, Griff was the only one who remained in the heart of the town, running a Whale Cruise Business on the weekends and all week during the summer. The rest of his time he spent surfing in the cool Pacific Ocean.

  “Wow,” Griff said, looking over Lucas’ shoulder to the inside of the cottage. “You were right, this place needs a lot of work.” He shook his hair and droplets of saltwater flew in all directions. He reminded Lucas of a dog drying itself after a swim.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty neglected.” Lucas’ voice held a hint of regret. “But hopefully I can change that now.” Chief Simons had been right about one thing – renovating this cottage was definitely taking his mind off his job. He would be spending the next few days drawing up plans and working with Frank Megassey on all the tools and fittings he’d need.

  “You want to come take a look?” Lucas asked Griff.

  “Why not?” Griff propped his board up on the side of the cottage and stepped through the doorway. Lucas took him on a quick tour – the space so small there really wasn’t that much to see. The two of them discussed his plans for updating the tiny bathroom and kitchen, and what type of paint would be best for the interior of the house. Then Lucas grabbed them both a soda from the ice cooler he’d brought with him, and they sat on the front stoop, overlooking the golden sand.

  “Remember when we used to come here after school?” Griff asked him. �
�Me, you, Jack and Breck? We’d surf for hours until your grandma yelled at us to come and get a drink.” His lips curled up. “They were good times, weren’t they?”

  “Yeah, they were.” Lucas nodded. He lifted the can of soda to his lips, taking a big mouthful. It tasted good, but nothing like the homemade lemonade his grandma used to make.

  In the distance he could see a surfer paddling to hit an oncoming wave. When was the last time he’d been out on the surf? He could barely remember. Too busy saving lives to think about living his. Maybe that was the problem.

  “How often do you go out there?” he asked Griff, inclining his head toward the water.

  “Most days if I can. It’s gonna get harder once I’m running the daily boats, but I’ll still try and hit the waves in the early morning.” Griff gave him a lopsided smile. “I guess I’m the one out of all of us who never grew up.”

  “Does Jackson not join you?” Lucas asked. “I thought he still liked to surf.”

  “He comes when he can, but he’s busy, ya know?” Griff shrugged, running a fingertip along his overgrown beard. “Mostly it’s just me.”

  He didn’t look too sad about it. Why should he? He was living the life they all thought they would. There was a time when all four of them lived for the waves. Now, they had to work for a living instead.

  “Maybe I’ll come out with you some time. I’m a bit rusty though.”

  “It’s like riding a bike, or so they tell me. You never forget once you’ve done it.” Griff grinned at him. “You should come out this week. The swell is great right now. I’ll message you when I’m next going out.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great.” He rubbed his finger along his chin. It had been a while, but right not the thought of riding the waves sounded like bliss. No need to think, no need to worry. Just him and the ocean.

  “It’ll be like old times.” Griff rubbed his hands together. “We can surf, grab something from the beach café, and then if you’d like I’ll come and give you a hand with your renovations. I’m pretty handy with a saw.”

 

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