Fire was one of those things I never let myself think about in the after-Grace. I avoided campfires like the plague. The giant fireplace in our house had sat unused after I passed out watching my dad light one of those long matches and lift it toward the hiss of gas leaking from underneath the logs he’d so carefully positioned.
I couldn’t smell smoke without thinking about Grace’s hair igniting like a firecracker. I couldn’t see a spark without picturing the flames engulfing her school uniform. I couldn’t feel the burn of a lighter on my fingertips without imagining the skin of her face blistering and peeling in the heat.
Every time I closed my eyes at night, I saw the orange flames licking at my best friend’s body. Every time I drifted off into a fitful sleep, I smelled smoke and wondered when fire would finally claim my own life.
Tonight was the night.
The wooden floors ignited as Cameron and Porter shot through the door to freedom. What began as an isolated circle of orange exploded into a room of flames in record time as fire reached toward the ceiling, along the floor, greedily covering every inch of my childhood haven. For a second, I thought about crawling toward the door. I imagined wrapping my sweatshirt around my head and making my way out of this inferno. I thought about saving myself.
But I couldn’t see the door anymore and I was tired, so tired of running from Grace’s death. The smoke had already filled my lungs. Maybe if I could just rest here for a minute, maybe then I’d be able to determine a way out. But when I rested my head on my arms, I knew I would never get back up. It was time to follow Grace.
“Kate! Kate!” Grace’s voice was urgent in my ear. I imagined that she was calling for me. Waiting for me with open arms. But something was wrong. Her voice was shrill and angry. She sounded more like me. “What the hell are you doing, Kate?”
I lifted my head up from my arms.
“Grace?”
Crawl toward the window.
“I can’t.” My voice was barely a whisper.
You can. Reach your left hand out.
I did what she said and felt the worn molding that lined the walls of her room.
There you go. Now follow that to the door.
“But what about…” The smoke choked my voice.
Go.
Tears stung my eyes and immediately evaporated in the heat. I clung to the baseboard like a rope, clawing my way toward the door. By the time I felt the thin groove of the doorway, I was finally ready to live, to honor the friend that I’d lost.
I reached up blindly for the door handle and hissed in pain when I felt the hot metal scorch the palm of my hand. The fire had spread fast in the abandoned house. Or maybe Cameron and Porter had helped it along. Either way, I knew I’d failed. I was trapped.
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t even sure who I was apologizing to anymore. Grace’s ghost? My parents? Liam? Honestly, the person I really should have been apologizing to was myself.
And that’s when I heard the sirens drifting through the window next to the door. I pulled myself up and pounded as hard as I could on the glass.
“Here! Here! I’m up here!” The glass shattered beneath my fists, but I didn’t even feel it slice into the tender skin of my fingers. I only screamed louder in between greedy gulps of fresh air. “Up here! Help! Up here!”
Within seconds, they saw me. Five firemen stood around a huge circle mat begging for me to leap to safety. It should have been terrifying standing on that ledge, the cold night air on my face, the wind lifting strands of hair in a dance. But I wasn’t scared. Not for a second. I just closed my eyes and jumped.