Smoke is allowed to sit with me until our “parents” arrive. Neither of us speak because we know that this room is bugged.
Sweat starts dripping down my face. Is it hot in here? Smoke shifts in his plastic chair. He too could be feeling the effects. Are they purposely doing this to us? Making us uncomfortable in hopes that I talk?
After what feels like an hour, the door gently creaks open and in walks Carl, my foster dad, and then Officers Smith and Good.
Officer Good leans against the wall and lets Carl and Smith take the open chairs. Smith flips open a manila folder, clicks a pen, and looks at me. “So, Ashley. Why don’t you tell me what happened two days ago in the library?”
“Tell him all you know, Ashley,” Carl says.
I glare at “dad”, hating the way he says my name. I swallow. Smoke and I spoke about this already, just in case. Not that we need to have our stories straight, but he convinced me to tell the truth. The truth will set you free and all that bull shit. Inhaling, I spill the story.
“Look. I went to go look for Chad at school because he was calling me some nasty names, and I hate it when people spread bad things about me when they aren’t true. It’s one thing if I was an actual whore.” I glance at Officer Good by the wall. His posture is as still as a statue, but his green eyes are locked on me. “I’m not. That’s only one of the names Chad was calling me. It’s his fault that he has a wandering penis. I broke up with him about it. I should be treated better than that. No girl should have to deal with that shit. I mean, come on, it’s hard enough these days dealing with female bullies and bring cheating exes into the mix?”
Officer Smith clears his throat.
“Sorry.” I shrug. “Anyway. I found Chad in the library. He didn’t deny having sex with Emma while dating me. In fact, she’s the one who was bragging about it and how they were laughing behind my back and how I had no clue about it. There was no way I was going to be Chad’s girl after the slut, Emma. She can have him, and I hope that he cheats on her. You know, once a cheater is always a cheater.”
Smoke nudges my arm.
“Sorry. When I found him sitting on the floor in the back of the library, I was fuming mad so to speak. Something just snapped in me. I saw in my mind him and Emma being all snuggly and shit and I blew. He tried to calm me down but the more I heard his voice, the madder I got. Smoke started coming out of my fists. Okay, I should also tell you that I was thinking of hitting him. But I didn’t. If he told you I did; that’s a lie.”
I look back to Officer Good. I don’t know why I keep doing that when Smith is sitting in front of me, just nodding, encouraging me to continue the story. Something about Officer Good unnerves me though. Could it be the way he’s looking at me? It’s not sexual at all; just getting this off vibe from him. I shiver.
I don’t really want to say the rest, but I promised my brother that I would tell the officers. Even if they don’t believe me. I barely believe myself. In fact, there is still doubt in my mind that I actually caused the fire. I didn’t actually see the book on fire. Did I?
“Ashley,” Officer Smith says. “You said that smoke was coming from your hands? Do you mean that you had a lighter with you?”
“No. I literally had smoke coming out of my closed fits.”
Officer Good shifts against the wall, making me take a quick glance at him. He’s texting or taking notes and then puts his cell phone in his pocket.
“There might have been a spark or something that flew to a nearby book,” I continue. “But I didn’t actually see the shelves burst into flames or anything. Everything happened so fast … the book … and then Chad leaping from the floor and pushing past me. I ran after him.”
The officers share a look. That’s not good. Either they believe me, or they don’t. I guess anything else I say won’t sway them.
“Is that all, Ashley?” Carl asks. “If that’s all, officers, then we’ll be leaving.” He stands.
Okay, this was relatively easy. A weight lifts from my shoulders when the full story is out there. Maybe this’ll all work out.
I thought that too soon.
“Actually.” Officer Good kicks off the wall. “We are going to arrest you, Ashley.”
“Wait, what?” Smoke stands. “On what basis? My sister didn’t do anything. She just told you she didn’t have a lighter with her or in her hands. So how did she actually start the fire?”
“What are you charging Ashley with?” Carl asks.
“Arson,” Officer Good says. “Since Ashley is a minor, you can post bail, but she’ll have to sit here in lock up for a while until the judge can determine the amount.”
The officers lead me into a holding cell where I wait. Smoke isn’t allowed to stay with me, but he does say that he’ll be in the outer waiting room.
After a few hours of me counting the titles on the ceiling, figuring out how long the cracks on the floor are, and yes, I guess I’m thinking about myself and the situation I’m in. Arson. Could I be charged as an adult? Would that double or triple my sentence?
Smoke is going to live his life without me. He’ll go to college, get married, have a few kids. While I rot in jail until I’m fifty, or dead. That’s the long future.
Tomorrow, though …
I may not be sitting in prison yet, but I know Carl won’t keep me at his house any longer. We’re just a paycheck to him. Smoke will go back into the system. Will he be okay? He’ll be better than me.
Before the judge, I plead not guilty per the guidance of my public defender. Bail is set at fifty-thousand dollars, since I am a minor. Carl pays it, but where did he come up with the money? I don’t know and don’t care.
I’m free.
Forget home. I run out of the precinct, turning down street after street, with no destination in mind. I hear Smoke’s quick footsteps pursuing after me, so I push forward.
After a few hours, I walk into Carl’s house, exhausted. I’ve missed supper. My stomach growls in protest.
“Arson?” Carl asks as soon as I step into the backdoor.
“I didn’t do nothin’,” I say, trying to brush past him.
“Like hell, you didn’t.” Carl makes a swift punch to my gut. I double over in exploding pain, trying to catch my breath. I should’ve seen it coming, but I’m tired. I scamper to my bedroom.
“You’re not worth this,” Carl shouts behind me.
By law, he’s not allowed to hit me. But this is the only foster home that would take both me and my brother. We won’t be separated, no matter what.
I’m seeing red as I stumble into my bedroom. It’s a tiny room with a single bed against the right wall. Smoke’s room is next door. He comes in and tries to soothe me.
“It’s okay, Ash, take a deep breath.”
“This is fucked up. I hate my life. This is not happening.” My vision blurs until I see nothing but deep, flaming red. “He can’t hit me like that! Bastard!”
Fire erupts in the corner of the room, alighting a pile of magazines on the floor and quickly spreads.
“Ash—come on!” Smoke grabs me and pushes us out of the room. The flames grow higher and lick the walls, spreading to the curtains and duvet. “I’ll go get the other kids.”
What have I done? “Go!” Anger still simmers low in my belly. As much as I hate Smoke leaving me, he has to get the fosters who live here. I can’t have their deaths hanging around me.
“What the fuck?” Carl asks as I bolt through the living room, flames roaring behind me.
I stumble out of the house in a rage. “Smoke, hurry!” I shout.
He’s nowhere in my line of sight. The whole house is crackling in giant flames as glass shatters. I stare as if I’m a zombie. What’s happening?
The blaring of sirens shakes me out of my stupor.
“Smoke, where are you?”
Carl and his wife, Shareen, herd the other fosters out of the house, the three little ones all in their jammies.
“Smoke!” I shout. Where is he? Black plu
mes and flames pour out of the house in a roar. The windows blow out.
Fire trucks pull up on the lawn. The firemen get to work with their hoses.
“Smoke, Smoke!” I scream, my voice rising in hysterics. I grab the sleeve of the nearest fireman. “My twin brother, he’s in there!” I point to the house.
He nods and runs into the house.
I wait, pacing, angry wet tears streaking my cheeks.
A loud crash sounds as the roof caves in, throwing orange sparks into the air.
Horns blast in the distance, getting louder. Nosy neighbors open front doors and look about. Charred air with heavy black smoke casts billowy clouds blanketing the unburned houses. More firemen run into our engulfed house. Water jets from their hoses everywhere.
They bring them out, the first fireman and my brother, charred red and black. I see a flash of a burned arm, the real looking ash-gray hair, and the tall body of my brother. They gently lay Smoke on a stretcher.
“Smoke,” I say so he knows I’m there. Safe.
They don’t let me near him, pushing me away as they rush him into the ambulance.
The voices of the flames, water, and screaming directions are muted to me.
Smoke.
He just has to be okay.
How will I go on without my twin?
The doors to the ambulance slams shut, closing my thoughts deeper into me. I just stand there, stupid. I barely notice when the cops pull my arms behind me and cuff my wrists. They guide my head into the back of the squad car. They are talking to me about something, but I don’t hear them.
“Ashley, we’re taking you to the police station.”
I sit there forever staring at the house blazing, not acknowledging whomever is speaking to me. Thoughts of my brother flash before me and how this could’ve been the last time I see him. He’ll wake up alone in the hospital, scared.
They’ll keep him in the burn unit for a long time. The stink of burning flesh still ever present in my nose. I doubt I’ll ever forget that smell as long as I live.
They drive me to the station. They book me, take my fingerprints and photos. I’m locked into a cell. Alone.
I’m so tired, I can’t think. I lie on the hard bench, but sleep eludes me. Curling into myself, I shiver for a long time.
Part II
Chapter Five
The following days are a blur. I’m brought to court, accused of arson on two counts. Sentenced to juvie for six months until I turn eighteen.
They drive me, handcuffed, to Warrenville Juvenile Detention Center in Naperville. I’m escorted in, my cuffs removed. They want all my personal effects, but I have nothing on me. Smoke and I share a cell phone, and he had it last. My brother works part-time at Tastee Freez, so he paid for the cheapest smart phone he could get.
They give me bath items. I shower. They provide me with gray sweatpants, an orange T-shirt, a gray sweatshirt, and sock-style slippers. No underwear, no bra.
I’m escorted down the slate-blue hallway, through one security door, then another. The dull color painted on the walls and doors reminds me of cold concrete, or the river in winter.
My cell is about the size of my old bedroom. A narrow room with a gunmetal bed sticking out from the left wall. A small, shiny stainless steel desk juts out in the back corner, with a metal stool attached to the floor in front of it. A little way along the wall, also next to the bed, is a cold, metal toilet and sink unit. The walls are depressing.
The air smells of stale despair and antiseptic. I fall into a dead sleep.
***
After a few days, I learn the routine pretty quickly. I still feel like a zombie, just going through the motions.
Where is Smoke? Is he okay?
Did I kill him?
No one tells me anything, even though I pester the guards. My schedule is the same every day.
That first morning was hell. Some female guard stood at the door and yelled at us to wake up. That was followed by an earsplitting ringing that happened to be right outside of my cell.
“Geez, what time is it,” I say to myself. I’m not sharing a cell with anyone. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Again, information is not flowing to me.
“It’s seven.” A female voice tells me. “I’m Larissa. I saw you brought in yesterday, but you’ve been sleeping ever since. You need to hurry and get dressed though. We have thirty minutes before chow time, and we must be in the cafeteria. If you’re ass isn’t in there on time, you’ll get demerits. Too many demerits and they start taking things away.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. I have nothing for them to take. They’ve already taken Smoke, and I have no worldly possessions. There is only myself and I’m lost.
I stretch like a cat and then look around my room – I mean cell. On the end of my bed is another set of clothes. Folded under that is a bra and panties.
Checking out the sizes, I sigh and start undressing out of my intake clothes. I’m about finished slipping on the shoes when the gate to my room, I mean cell, opens.
The first face I see belongs to a girl about my age. She has jet black hair, dark brown eyes, and is rockin’ the prison issued T-shirt. It’s tied to the side, showing off her flat stomach.
“I’m your neighbor, Larissa.”
I nod. There’s no making friends here. I won’t be here for long anyway. They’ll ship me off to someplace else with the rest of the killers as soon as I turn eighteen in a few months.
“What are you in for?” Larissa asks.
Looking around my room—cell—I try to brush past her.
“Not so fast.” Her arm shoots out and stops me. “You’re gonna need friends in here. So, let’s try this again. What’s your name?”
She could be right. I don’t want to end up being someone’s bitch. I swallow. “Ash.”
“Was that so hard?” Larissa drops her arm. “Come on, I’ll show you around. It isn’t too bad once you get the hang of it.” She leads us down the stairs and into a large open area where more metal tables and stools are bolted to the gray floor. On one end of the room is a line of teens, waiting for food. “Breakfast is the same every day. You wait in line there, take what they give you, and go sit. We have one hour before classes start.” She points to the opposite of the room. “Your ass has to be at a desk by eight-thirty or else … demerit.”
As we stand in line, the partisan rises, and an extremely tall and heavy-set woman starts scooping a yellowish substance onto tan trays. I about throw up in my mouth and I’m not even to the front of the line yet. The burned eggs, it’s what I assuming it is, has me swallowing incessantly until my stomach settles. When it’s finally my turn to take my tray of cartooned yellow mush, sausage, plain white toast and milk, I stare at it.
“Get going, noobs,” someone further down the line says.
It’s like high school all over again. Me, the new person and, all eyes are locked on me. Waiting to face plant. Checking me out. Seeing if I’ll be an easy target.
I stiffen my back and slap on my best glare, then find an open seat.
“Hey gang, this is Ash.” Larissa waves her hand toward me. “She’s my neighbor, so be nice and welcoming toward her.”
All I do is nod.
Normal chatter begins as people start waking up and actually eating the shit someone proclaims is food.
I glance around the table and realize that we’re all females. Duh. Of course, we are. Prisons don’t mix the sexes. So, I’ll be stuck with fifty other bitches. I could care less what I look like here. It’s not a fashion contest. But maybe it is. There are some girls, like Larissa, who does try to make the orange T-shirt a bit more flattering. I spot some pants rolled to the knees while there are flashes of color on the floor. Where do they get the colored socks?
By eight-thirty my ass is in a metal folding chair, next to Larissa. At least I can try to finish high school. I’m used to changing schools often, anyway. We do our morning classes: English, Math, US History. Then I’m told we have lunch break.<
br />
Most of the other girls are nice, but a few I’m staying away from. I really just want to stay in my room—cell—until they let me out for real, if that ever happens. My thoughts are always on my brother.
I need to find out some information. Is he alive?
School ends at three. We don’t have Chemistry since we can’t have chemicals in the building. Juvies and that shit don’t mix. So, we’re left with a combo class of Chem and Biology, but it’s academic and not practical. Boring.
We have a little free time during the afternoon, where we can go outside into the courtyard, fenced with a super-high chain link, topped with barb wire. We can work out in the gym or do arts and crafts in the studio. Or read in the library.
Me, I sleep in my room—cell.
After supper I sit in the common area, staring at whatever PG movie is playing. Tonight, it’s Goonies. We’re all escorted back to our cells at eight-thirty. A few girls attempt to chat me up during the day, but I tune them out. Giving a nod here and there or a slight smile, just so they know I’m listening and not ignoring them. If it’s one thing that bitches hate is when other bitches ignore them when they’re speaking. I don’t need to make enemies. I only want to be left alone. With my thoughts.
Of Smoke.
Lights go out at nine pm. I lie there, gazing into the darkness. It goes on forever and I’m sucked into it.
Chapter Six
“Your brother is recovering at Shriner’s Hospital,” Ms. Mara says. She’s my social worker, who has advocated for Smoke and me to be kept together. She’s been assigned to us since I can remember. I like her. She’s a breath of fresh air in this stale place. Someone familiar.
“He’s alive?” A giant weight falls off me, like heavy chains breaking free. I sink into the brown chair.
“Yes, but he was badly burned. He’ll be there a while.”
My greatest fear of losing my twin, dissolves through me and my tears flow out, against my control.
Flame Guardian Page 3