Flame Guardian

by Kristin D. Van Risseghem

  “Har. Har. You think you’re so funny.”

  “Come on, Fireball.”

  He’s the only one who can call me names, besides Tage. Where is she anyway? Normally, she meets me outside first period.

  The next three hours are boring. We sit in a room, a teacher lectures on about the subject, the students listen and take notes, and eventually the kids shuffle to the next room.

  By lunch time, Tage finally meets up with me. “Where have you been?” I ask.

  “Didn’t you check your phone? I texted you. I had a dentist appointment this morning, so I just got here.” She flashes me a smile. “What have I missed?”

  “Nothing.”

  Smoke drapes a muscular arm around my best friend’s shoulder. The three of us have been a tight-knit group since Smoke and I came to Von Steuben, north side of Chicago. Tage and I hit it off immediately.

  “Then what’s this I hear about you smoking Chad’s ass?” Tage asks.

  My brother glances over Tage’s head toward me.

  I hadn’t planned on telling him. Tage already knows why I called it quits with Loser. What she may not know is what he said about me, that caused me to “fly off the handle” at him earlier.

  “Well?” Smoke prompts.

  I huff. “Fine. I broke up with Chad a few days ago since he couldn’t keep his body parts to himself and I’m not one to share. Not boyfriends, anyway. He got drunk at Lisa’s party Saturday night and said some nasty things about me.” Smoke shakes his head. He knows where this is going. “Tried to blame me for breaking up with him, when in fact he was to blame. Called me a slut and a whore.” I fist my hands. “You know I don’t like being called names, especially when they’re lies.”

  “So what did you do to him?” Smoke asks and Tage’s head tilts asking the same question.

  “Why do you immediately jump to the conclusion that I’ve done something to him?” Both pairs of eyes widen at my question. “Okay, fine. That’s totally called for, but I didn’t lay a finger on one blond hair on his head. He still has his head, too. Both of them are intact.”

  “I’m surprised,” Tage giggles. “Have you finally grown up and shown some restraint?”

  “Hey.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “We are,” Smoke says. “But normally you punch first and ask questions later. Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”

  I look away a moment before answering. “The bell saved him before I could do any damage to his face. Or balls.”

  “Poor Chad,” Tage says.

  “Yes, poor Chad,” Smoke adds. “No one wants to be the receiving end of your business.”

  Yeah, got that right. Don’t mess with me.

  “How come you bailed so early Saturday night?” I ask Tage. “What time did you sneak out?”

  “You know my folks, they have me on a tight leash. I live vicariously through you. Must have been around ten when I went home. Did I miss anything?”

  “I bet it was the same old, same old,” Smoke says. “It’s why I hardly ever go to parties. People get drunk, and then do a bunch of stupid stuff.”

  Hum. When he puts it like that, I guess that is what happens almost every weekend. But we’re having fun. That’s what teenagers do.

  “You don’t go, big brother, because you like keeping your nose in a book. How are you going to get the courage to ask a girl out?”

  “That’s what I have you for. I help you with schoolwork and you help me get the girl.” He smiles, showing me his dimples. Why couldn’t I have dimples?

  Smoke doesn’t need help getting a girl. What he needs help with is fending them off. He’s clueless about the female species. He doesn’t even know when a girl is flirting with him. Like when Tage flips her hair over her shoulder.

  Many people tell him that he’s distinguished looking. That’s probably not the right word to describe him. The only reason I know the correct word is because so many girls point it out to me. They all call him hot. Smokin’ Hot, actually.

  Whatever.

  “So, nothing exciting happened after I left?” Tage asks.

  “I guess not.” I shrug.

  Maybe I should quit having so much fun on the weekends? At least lessen it. But what fun would that be?

  The fire alarm blares, stopping everyone in their tracks, before chaos breaks free. Since alarms are common in my life, I don’t even flinch. But Tage slaps her hand to her chest.

  Everyone else turns their heads, checking to see if this is a scheduled drill or real. From another hall, someone yells “fire” while others are screaming in general letting the population know this is not a drill. This is real.

  Teachers are herding students toward the exits and reassuring them to walk in an orderly fashion, but quickly.

  As we all shuffle out like so many lemmings, Smoke looks at me as if it was my fault.

  Chapter Three

  “Did you do this?” My brother leans in so the crowd can’t hear, then grabs my wrist to drag me further away from them. Thankfully Tage left us to hang out with some other friends and catch up on the morning’s gossip that hopefully isn’t about me.

  Everyone is standing about in the grass area past the parking lot, milling in the brisk winter air, buzzing with energy at this unexpected break. The sun is out giving warmth, but no one has their coats on. Students huddle together as teachers gather to take headcount.

  “No.” My voice is sharp, on edge. “I didn’t light anything.” I frantically shake my head, as if that will reaffirm my actions.

  “Tell me exactly what happened, everything.”

  I describe the library scene to Smoke. He looks down, in thought. “I was just angry, the usual. He deserved to get punched, the a-hole.”

  Smoke doesn’t comment and I don’t elaborate any further.

  Though I didn’t get to exact my revenge, the Loser somehow got the message. Between first hour and now, he has stayed clear of me, even turning and disappearing the other way whenever he sees me. Jeesh, am I that scary? I mean, if I am, that’s fine by me.

  My anger is getting out of control. Growing up in the foster system, I wasn’t allowed to be angry. Showing any kind of resistance got me slapped or sent to my room with no supper—even locked in a closet at one place. I learned to keep a tight lid on my feelings. When I couldn’t hold it any longer, I’d explode in a raging tantrum. It was my outbursts that got us kicked out of the homes on a somewhat regular basis. Especially after the school had burned down. A couple of the foster homes caught on fire, too, though Smoke helped me put them out right away. Still, we got sent back into the system after those instances.

  No one wants us. At least, not me.

  Why does fire always happen around me?

  I’m a simmering pot of rage, constantly threatening to boil over with any provocation. Going to parties and drinking seem to help.

  While we are waiting outside, I keep thinking that this has to be my fault. There’s too much of a coincidence about what happened in the library and the circumstances around my previous school’s fire. But how could I be doing this?

  Did the fire actually spread after I left Chad?

  Oh god. Maybe I did this?

  The books …

  It was me.

  Shit.

  “All clear,” a fireman shouts into the crowd, motioning for us to go back inside.

  Throughout the day, more detailed news comes out that it’s a false alarm or someone just found the remnants of the fire and pulled the alarm on instinct. The official word from the fire department that the principal tells us is “an accident,” but the evidence of the fire is still there for everyone to see in the library and we’re told to leave it until the area can get addressed properly.

  Since Chad, a few other students, and the librarian were there, someone is spreading the rumors. No one but Chad saw anything, and I don’t even know what happened. It was all so fast. But I’m placing bets it is Chad who is pouring the tea.


  My brother and I slowly walk outside to go home. We share a look of relief.

  It wasn’t me.

  ***

  A few days later comes a prettier distraction. I’m sitting in History and in walks a new guy who must have transferred. He’s tall and lean, with bright blue eyes and electric blue dyed hair. His long legs are muscular as they stretch the dark jeans. He reminds me of a swimmer’s body. Strong.

  Hum. There’s something about him that calls to me. I tilt my head to think if I’ve seen him before. I think I would remember that cute face. It could be the chest muscles filling out the aqua T-shirt he wears. It could also be the way his ass is round and …

  I fan myself and stop my inner dialogue.

  He’s the new shiny and all of the girls are talking about him and not about the fire.

  Torrent. That’s his name.

  He’s handsome in a strange way. I ignore him, not wanting to join the boy-hungry pack.

  By the next class I see him in, he’s gotten the lay of the land. I’ve heard that the popular girls are hanging on him and every word he’s spoken.

  He sits next to me in Social Media and tries talking to me every time the teacher pauses his lesson. “Hey, there,” he says as he leans forward to get a better look at my face.

  “Leave me alone, Blue Boy,” I growl. The ruder I am, the more he takes up the challenge.

  “I heard you threatened your last boyfriend for disrespectin’ ya.” The Chirpers must already be warning him of me. “He’s scared shitless, did ya know that?” Blue Boy chuckles. “I’m Torrent, but you can call me Tor.” His hand is extended. I make no attempt to shake it. “Not one for words much are you? That’s definitely not what people say about you.”

  So, he has heard of me.

  I stare straight ahead. I’m done with boys. Besides, Smoke finally convinced me to lay low and play it cool in case any faculty comes sniffing around to ask me questions about the fire. Earlier we managed to sneak back into the rows that had been destroyed and the scene took even my breath away. I didn’t think it was that bad. I only remember the small pile of books that I stomped on to extinguish the flames. But when we arrived, six rows of shelves had been burned to a crisp. Nothing was salvageable.

  Okay, it didn’t take much convincing. I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t me who started the fire. Besides, I don’t even know for sure about anything anymore. I could be in denial.

  Torrent again attempts yet another conversation with me in the last class we share: gym.

  All students wear the school colors. Shorts are a shiny royal blue shade and we can either wear yellow T-shirts or tanks. Today, I’m opting for a plain Jane shirt. But Torrent has all the females staring at his arm muscles on full display in his tank top.

  I’m not blind to his good looks. He is rather nice to look at. I can’t force my eyes to stay away from him. He catches me staring a few times before Coach calls us to order.

  He takes that as his queue to walk toward me. “Ashley, right?”

  I stare into his deep blue eyes. I think I could gaze into them for hours. Stop it, Ash. “Ah, it’s actually Ash.”

  “You’re Smoke’s sister?”

  “Yes.” I nod and take a step back, hoping he’ll get the message to stop talking to me.

  “Yeah. I can see the resemblance. He talks about you all the time.” He does? “Him and I have a lot of classes together.” He’s smart then. Of course, he befriends my dorky brother. “Smoke and I have a lot in common, actually. He’s been very welcoming. I think he and I will get along great. So, thought I should try to make friends with his sister since you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.” He winks.

  “Whatever.” I shrug and turn away.

  By the end of the day, I’m done trying to stay quiet. That’s not who I am. Try as I might, my mouth just needs to talk.

  “You couldn’t even last one day to curb that trap of yours?” Smoke leans next to my locker. “I heard you managed all of sixth hour but broke during gym.”

  “I tried, okay?” I grab my black backpack and stuff random textbooks. I honestly don’t know which ones I grabbed. My fingers just need to do something. I know my brother is just jabbing me, but all of the gossip circling around Torrent is getting to me. There’s just something about him.

  “Hey, I told Tor that he could walk with us today. He lives near us, a couple of blocks away.” I nod. “I hope you were nice to him.”

  “I’m always nice,” I fire back as I slam the locker door.

  “You nice?” Tage giggles as she saunters to my side. “You’re not nice unless you want something.”

  “I am too nice.” I poke her shoulder.

  She shakes her head but has a huge grin on her face. “So, what’s up? Are we going to Coffee & More?”

  “We’re waiting for Tor,” Smoke says.

  Tage’s eyes and mine lock. She tries to cover her smile as I smack her body with my backpack as I turn to leave not waiting for Blue Boy. “Oops, sorry, Tage.” I’m not sorry.

  “Thanks for letting me walk with ya.” Torrent’s deep voice floats toward my ears, but I keep going. Tage bumps my hip. I ignore her, too.

  After a few moments of me giving Tage the silent treatment, I bump her hip back. I know she’s just messing with me. “I’m warding off guys at the moment.”

  “Because of Chad? That’s stupid.” She pulls me to a stop. “I mean come on, I know you’ve noticed Torrent’s body.”

  “Yeah, I have looked.” My head turns of its own accord to look back at the boys.

  “Bet you’ve done more than look.”

  “Hey, I am not a whor—”

  “Didn’t mean to go there. All I meant was that I’m sure you’ve fantasized about him like the rest of us girls.”

  “You, included?”

  “Well, maybe not me.” I smile. She and I both know she’s got the hots for my brother. When is he going to get the clue? I’d love to see them together.

  “Hey, Ash, wait up.” Tage and I wait for Smoke and Torrent to catch up to us. “You remember Steve, from our Orph Gang days?”

  Smoke refers to when we lived in the orphanage. We’d sneak out and run the streets, a gang of young kids, shoplifting and being free. We were lucky we weren’t picked off and killed by the actual gangs running on the Chicago streets with us.

  I look at the blue-haired boy, really look at him for the first time.

  “I go by Torrent now. I kinda reinvented myself. I recognized ya right away, Ash.”

  I see it now. Steve was my height back then and had wavy, sandy-blond hair. “Torrent, huh? Where’d you come up with that?” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” The tall boy winks at me. His smile is disarming. “I’ll have to tell you sometime. It’s a rather long story, so you’ll have to spend more time with me than the two seconds during class.”

  We catch up with our lives since the orphanage as we walk, stopping at the corner store for candy bars and chips. Like us, Torrent had a hard time of it in the foster system. He, too, is finishing high school and trying to get out on his own. He’s living with a large foster family, eight kids all squeezed into two bedrooms, one for the boys and one for the girls.

  “Man, you guys are all a bunch of sad orphans,” Tage teases.

  I punch her arm. Her easy manner and happy spirit help balance the black hate inside me, building like lava in a volcano.

  Chapter Four

  Chad is a shit-head. All over school, he spreads the lie that I started that fire. And yet, he’s dodging me so I can’t confront him. Do I blame him? Hell no. I’d dodge myself too if I knew a storm was beating on the door.

  So, when the police show up a few days later to take me to the station, I’m surprised, but at the same time I am not.

  Why does this shit always happen to me? I hate my life.

  Of course, the whole school witnesses my embarrassment. Two uniformed cops arrive around noon,
just as I’m about to bite into my cheese pizza. Mid bite, I hear my name called.

  “Ashley Warfield?”

  I duck down, but all of the students’ head swivel in my direction. They are leading the officers right to me. These are the days I wish I didn’t sit at the same table every day.

  “Are you Ashley Warfield? I’m Officer Smith and this is Officer Good.” He points to his right with his thumb. I nod. “Please stand. We’re taking you to the station for questioning. Your parents are meeting you there.”

  “They aren’t my parents,” I growl.

  “May I come with, Officer Smith?” Smoke stands.

  “And you are?”

  “Her brother.”

  The silent and taller of the two officers nods.

  I keep my head low, not making eye contact with anyone as the officers lead me out of the cafeteria. My brother follows at my side, my only comfort. I don’t look at Tage or Torrent on my way out.

  My heart races in my chest. I wonder what Chad told them, or if he didn’t, then who did, and what will happen to me. More questions swirl in my mind.

  Smoke reaches over in the squad car and squeezes my hand. He always knows how to ease my mind, but this is going to take a lot more than him holding my hand.

  The car ride isn’t long, or maybe that’s me dreading the end. The officers have not spoken since leaving the school even though Smoke has attempted to get some information out of them.

  I guess they are keeping this case close to the chest and running all proper procedures.

  Opening the drivers’ side passenger door, Officer Good guides me out.

  “Am I under arrest?” I finally break my silence.

  “It’s best if we leave all questions and answers for when your legal guardians are with you, since you are a minor.” Officer Smith walks beside me with Officer Good behind.

  They lead me into the station, past cluttered desks and into a bare room. It’s a small room exactly like the ones from TV. An old metal desk sits in the center, bolted to the black and white tiled floor. What I can only guess is a one-way mirror is the only item on any of the four white walls.