Page 14 of Fighting For You

A horn honked outside at seven ten. Ian grabbed the lunch from the fridge, shoved it in his backpack, and was halfway to the door.

"Hey. Let me at least see who's out there."

"Nora, come on."

"I just want to say hi."

He held the door open for me.

A black Civic sat in the driveway. Clean, well-kept. Jesse was in the passenger seat. He waved when he saw me. "Morning, Miss Avery!"

"Morning, Jesse."

A kid I didn't recognize was in the back, leaning forward between the front seats laughing about something on his phone. Backpacks and school clothes and whatever song was playing too quietly to hear from the porch. They looked like kids.

The driver had his window down and his arm resting on the door, a cigarette between two fingers. He was older than the rest of them by enough that it registered. He was wearing a plain black T-shirt and a thin gold chain, and when he looked at me, he nodded once.

"Morning. You must be Ian's sister. I'm Wayne. Jesse's brother."

"Nice to meet you, Wayne."

He smiled. "We'll have him back after school."

"Thank you."

Ian was already in the back seat with his backpack between his knees. "Bye, Nora."

"Be safe."

"It's school."

"Be safe anyway."

The Civic pulled out and turned the corner. I stood on the porch and watched it go.

Jesse was a good kid. I'd met him a handful of times, and he was always polite, always easy. The kid in the back looked the same. But Wayne. I couldn't put my finger on it. He'd said all the right things and smiled at the right moments, and something about it still sat wrong. Maybe it was his eyes. Or maybe it was just that he looked to be about twenty years old, driving a car that clean, with a cigarette at seven in the morning and nowhere to be on a Monday.

I went back inside, washed the dishes, wiped down the counter, and put the hot sauce back.

I threw a load of laundry in the washing machine and left the bathroom light on. I always did that when I ran a load before bed. It was the first thing I'd see when I woke up, and it reminded me to go downstairs and move everything to the dryer.

I went to my room and closed the curtains. Before I climbed into bed, I sat on the edge of the mattress and looked at my crystal collection on the shelf. Six pieces, all raw. Amethyst, rose quartz, black tourmaline, carnelian, a couple of others. I hadn't added a new one in a while. I reached over and straightened the rose quartz and the carnelian, then pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes.

I woke up on the beach.

Ian was on our father's back, laughing, his arms wrapped around Dad's neck. Mom was a few steps behind with the picnic basket, her sundress catching the wind. I was running to catch up, my feet sinking into the sand, and no matter how fast I ran, they kept getting a little further ahead.

"Wait for me!"

Ian looked over Dad's shoulder and waved. Mom turned and smiled. The sun was bright and warm on my face, and the water was so blue it didn't look real.

Then the sun got brighter. And brighter. The warmth on my skin turned to heat. The light was so white I couldn't see their faces anymore.

The heat woke me before the alarm did.

I opened my eyes and the room was wrong. Gray where there should have been dark, a haze hanging below the ceiling. My throat was burning.

The house was on fire.