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Chapter One
Brandon
Age 12
For a few seconds, I stare at the match between my thumb and index finger as the flame torches the wood to a crisp. Right before it reaches my skin, I chuck it into the grass, lighting it aflame.
I’ve always loved the crackling fire. The scent of coal and soot. The way the flames destroy everything around it.
Like me.
I go to my knees and chew the inside of my cheeks as the fire burns away a patch of grass, leaving nothing in its wake. The blank slate that appears is soothing to the soul, as my folks would say.
If they were here, they’d probably scold me. I know I’m not supposed to ignite things, but I can’t help it. Whenever I see the glowing sparks, I light up with a smoldering passion. It feels powerful. Like I’m a giant crushing a fly.
“Whaddya doin’?” an obnoxious voice behind me says, but I ignore it like I always do.
Better not engage, my papa always says. As if he’s afraid I’m going to start a fight. He’s probably right.
“Hello?” the voice says again, this time fluctuating in tone.
I turn my head and stare at the kid … or should I say girl, judging from the long hair and short skirt. And a pretty one too. Not that I’d ever admit that, especially not to her.
None of the white girls like boys like me.
Awkward outcasts.
A skin color unlike theirs.
Neither of which I can do anything about.
“Are you gonna burn down the playground?” she jokes, cocking her head.
Is she really curious, or is she just trying to mess with me like the other kids do?
“Can you talk?” she asks, raising her brows.
I frown. Of course, I can. “Yes.”
I don’t even know why I say something back, but I don’t want her to think I’m mute either. Maybe now she’ll go away. I just wanna be left alone with my obsession.
Instead of leaving me in peace, she drops to her knees beside me and watches the smoldering grass incessantly. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone else interested in fire.
