Thane, a young boy from a rough part of nowhere, catches himself in a wildfire bred for bleeding, until something in the inferno finds him, something that never intends to let him go.
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The fires started in August, when the heat of summer finally let up and the leaves fell like stones. It spread faster than anybody could have expected, burned hotter than a furnace, and glowed brighter than a flare in the sky. It was like the sun had finally crashed into the earth.
Trees as old as time itself fell like blocks of blackened coal across the valley below, their leaves drifting like cinders, red and black and orange flames dancing through the wind like licking tongues of fire curling through the mid-day air. The heat traveled far and wide, and my collar was already drenched with sweat, but I didn't dare look away. To look away was to let it creep up on you, and I'd never seen hell in person before.
"Everybody, just stay calm!" Came a loud, hysterical voice. "Keep your hands away from the glass!
The lady looked like she could drop at any moment, pale as the moon and her cheeks a ruddy red. When we'd first arrived at the museum, she'd been almost annoyingly cheery, her smile too wide and her voice too perky, that lanyard on her neck had lain neatly over her blue blazer. Now it was thrown over her shoulder, her blazer on the floor, and her mouth downturned in a desperate cry. Long gone were the cheerful explanation on the history of Ancient Egypt and the statues of their God's; it looked like our field trip would be cut short, and I didn't mind that one bit.
I stared at the flames, my mind wandering back home on Fifth street by the fire department. It was the smartest choice my dad could have made, moving us in there two years before. Maybe they'd let him hide out in the station until I made my way back there. The fire fighters were his card buddies, after all. Besides, Malcolm owed me fifty bucks.
"Thane," came a voice, startlingly mocking. "What the hell are you doing?"
It was only then that I realised how close I was to the glass, and when I turned, I found my entire English class looking at me like I was insane. The guy who had called me was a boy named Swayde Gendry, a Swedish exchange student who'd come in at the beginning of the year. He was popular because he had white hair and an accent, along with really high cheekbones, but I didn't like him. He made jokes that weren't funny and pushed me in the hall sometimes, which was a serious no-go in the 'be my friend' department. And he smelled like asparagus, which was never a good sign.
But the rest of the class liked him, mostly because he was a pretty boy and spoke a different language over the phone with his mom. So, seeing him look at me like I was scum on a shoe made everyone else look at me like I was scum on a shoe, and there was no escaping the embarrassment. My only savior was that lanyard lady, who spoke again before I had to make a fool of myself.
"Okay, everyone, let's get to the main hall!" She called, trying and failing to keep the hysterics from her voice. "Everybody stay calm, and we'll all get through this!"
Thankfully, everyone turned to her before I was forced to explain, but Swayde still looked at me, a condescending smile at the corner of his mouth, and I wanted to throw a sandwich in his clothes drier. I never understood why he hated me so much; I'd never even talked to the guy beyond telling him to back off, but he seemed to have made it his mission to make my life even worse than it already was, and there was nothing I could do about it.
