Banished

~1~

Fire.

I see it everywhere.

When did it start? I don't remember. A year ago? Maybe more. I see it more now than before.

Flames dance just out of sight. They flicker on school lockers, in windows, anywhere.

Now they hover over the road as I run.

I glare at my watch as I round the block. School sucked today. I've run farther and faster than I usually do, trying to push all my stupid problems away. I wonder if Mom waited for me.

Probably not.

The last year I've been unsettled. Sometimes I get these hot flashes. I don't understand why. Mom gets them sometimes, too. She says not to worry about it.

I can't tell her about seeing the fire, or about the dreams.

We do Yoga and that helps. So does running. I've done a lot of both over the last year.

It hasn't been the best year. Mom lost one of her jobs. She found another, but it doesn't pay as much. Lack of money really stresses her out.

I hope she'll let me get a decent job soon. Something other than yard work and babysitting. I want to help. Mom looks so tired lately. She is really starting to worry me.

In a few months I'll be sixteen. I haven't asked about getting my driver's license. I'm sure Mom won't bring it up either. We don't have money for a car, anyways. We don't even have money for lessons or the stupid license test.

What will I do if something happens to Mom?

I have no idea. We don't have any really close friends. A few people we sort of talk to, like our old neighbor Mrs. Green. No family either, at least not that Mom ever talks about.

I don't have any friends at school. Even though I go to a public school, most of the kids there have money. We don't, and it shows. People can be so fickle. Of course, I don't really try to make friends. I fall into the quiet and shy group. Years ago I gave up trying. Too many times I thought I'd found a friend and then got stabbed in the back.

Seeing fire sets me apart too. I know other people don't see it, not like I do. Some are obsessed with it. I watch them play with matches and lighters outside at school.

I'm not obsessed. What I see scares me.

I slow when I reach our falling down house. Flames dance on the metal mailbox. I look away and dash into the broken porch.

"I'm back!"

Mom doesn't answer, but I didn't expect her to.

She had started without me. Sitting on a mat, her body is twisted into a Yoga position.

I started Yoga when I was little because it was fun. Later, I did it to spend time with Mom. That was after Dad disappeared and Mom took a second job. The only thing Mom ever makes time for is her Yoga.

Tucking away how much that hurt, I join in quietly.

My thoughts don't want to calm. All I can think about is how unfair everything is. If Dad hadn't disappeared, we wouldn't be living like this.

I glance over at Mom, wondering if anyone knew the truth. The police listed him as a missing person.

Dad left work to come home one night and never arrived. They found his car in the next county. Someone had set it on fire too. At least Dad hadn't been in it. We still don't know what happened to him. Would Mom move on if she knew?

I feel another hot flash coming on and grimace. Breaking my stance, I pull at my T-shirt.

"Misha," Mom says quietly. "Find your center."

Mom never speaks during Yoga. Weird. "I'm fine."

Starting another position, I pull something in my side. Today so isn't a good day.

Last night the dreams had been bad. Fire roared through them, burning everything. Everyone.

Turning and flopping onto my butt, I fan my face. I don't want to remember. Heat spreads through me. Maybe water would help. Water puts out fire.

Mom stands and walks over before I can get up. "This is important," she says firmly.

"I said I'm fine."

Mom tosses her red hair over her shoulder and reaches out to me.

I don't want to be touched and push her hand away.

Mom shrieks in pain.

I stare in shock as the welts form on her hand. They look like fingerprints. They quickly blister into burns.

I jump to my feet. Reaching out again, I quickly stop myself. I panic. The heat within me grows worse. "What did I do? I'm sorry!"

Mom sucks in a deep breath. "It's alright, honey. Let me deal with this." She pauses at the door. "We'll talk in a minute."

I nod dumbly, having no idea what's going on. Had I done that? How?

Flames flicker out of the corner of my eye. Fire.

I run to the kitchen and get a glass of water. I drink two cups before Mom comes back. Her hand is bandaged. "What's going on?"

She sits at the table and puts her face in her hands. Her hair falls around her.

My hair is the same shade of red as my moms. It looks like pale fire. Ours is like wild fire, curls and waves going off in every direction. Mom keeps hers really long. I cut mine shoulder length a few months ago. Dad's hair was red too, but darker and straight.

Mom has flecks of gold in her green eyes like me. I don't remember Dads eyes.

She looks up at me. The gold flecks remind me of tiny flames. "I was hoping you'd be free of this."

"Free of what?"

She lowers one hand and holds it out, palm up.

I stare at her hand, confused. "What?"

Mom doesn't say anything.

A moment later a flame is dancing over her palm. She curls her fingers in and out, playing with it.

I do nothing but stare at the fire she created. It's impossible to look away from the flame.

Fear runs through me. Mom made this fire. I see fire, dream of fire. I just burned Mom.

"The current term for it is pyrokinesis," she says after a while. "The ability to start fire from nothing, to control it, has been around forever."

"So what, you're like a firestarter?" I've seen the Stephen King movie. I've even read the book. Perhaps that's what freaked me out. It wasn't a very happy story.

Mom nods. She isn't happy either.

"How..." I don't even know where to begin.

Mom sighs as she curls her fingers over the flames. They disappear. She leans back in her chair. "In science class, you've learned how everything is made up of atoms?"

I nod.

"We can manipulate atoms to an excited state until they burst into flame. We can create fire from nothing by doing the same with atoms in the air."

I don't know what to say. Is she serious?

"Like a microwave," she adds.

"And you're saying I can do this too?"

She grimaces. "Yes. The first signs are heat changes in your body." She shakes her head. "It's a very dangerous gift, Misha. More like a curse. It's not easy to control."

I think of Dad. Of his burned out car. "Dad?"

She nods. "He was like me. Like us."

"But did it kill him?" I can't stop thinking of that movie. Of the girl who could kill with her fire. I remember my dreams of fire out of control. At least I know his death hadn't been my fault. I just got this darn power. Hadn't I?

Mom looks away. "I don't know."

I sit down at the table. My feet just don't want to hold me anymore. "Okay. So what now? How the heck do I control this?"

She smiles a little. "You're growing up so fast."

I stick my tongue out at her.

"You've got to learn to control it. Keep practicing. Stay calm and steady."

It's fun when you suddenly understand something. "The Yoga!"

She nods. "It helps. I'll help you, now that I know..." her voice trails off and she looks away. She looks tired again.

I wonder if she's worried I'll burn the house down. If I'll hurt her.

Looking at her hand, I wince. I already had.

Mom smiles a little. "You won't need to worry about doing that again, honey. I just wasn't prepared. Our gift can't fully be explained by science. We can control fire as well, move it, strengthen it, put it out. We can protect ourselves from it."

"Maybe I should learn that first?"

She chuckles. "A good plan."

So began my lessons as a firestarter.