A Strange Fire (Florence Vaine) (5 page)

 “We’ve got English first class, you want to walk together?” he asks.

 “S-sure,” I reply, and hitch my bag up onto my shoulder.

 When we get to English Christian sits beside me and tells me all about
the comic book he and Marley and Steven are creating together. He and Marley
write the story lines, while Steven does the art work. I listen and nod, glad
that he’s a talker. I like talkers, it means I don’t have to. Frank’s friends,
the other boys who live in the foster home as Caroline had informed me, come to
class just before the bell rings and sit behind me again. I wonder at this
because I’m sitting in a different seat to the one I was in yesterday. Are they
trying to intimidate me?

 Today the teacher calls the attendance sheet and I learn that the blond
boy’s name is Ross Jones and the dark haired boy’s name is Alex Falco. The rest
of the class is carried out in relative silence as the teacher lectures us on
Shakespeare’s
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
, apparently the play is going to
be one of the drama components of our exams at the end of the year. I’ve never
read it before so I’m kind of looking forward to sinking my teeth into it. I
like stories. They always end so much better than real life. Well, maybe except
for Greek tragedies, we had to study
Oedipus
in my old school. That play
didn’t end nicely at all. I was never one for gore.

 At first I think I’m imagining it, but then I realise that I really am
feeling heat coming from behind me, from Alex Falco. A girl at the front of the
class is currently reading out lines from Act Two Scene One. I can’t
concentrate on what she’s saying though, because the heat is overwhelming. It’s
almost as if it’s radiating directly from Alex on purpose.

 Frank has the same fiery aura as Alex, yet I didn’t feel this kind of
heat from him. Even with how close I was to him in Business Studies where we
shared a table. I put my pen down and turn to look at Alex; he’s lounging back
in his seat, looking smug for some reason. I shoot him a questioning glance.
Somehow his aura is expanding out from his body, blazing just inches from me.
For a minute I can’t take my eyes off of it, I’ve never seen anything like this
before.

 I look at him again, confused. But he just stares back at me, and smiles
in a way that seems satisfied, or challenging, or both. “What?” he mouths.

 I crinkle my forehead and then turn back around in my seat. After a
minute the heat subsides. How did he do that? My heart rate is speeding up, if
it’s real that Alex had somehow forced his fire on me, well, that just scares
the hell out of me. I’m anxious now. I really need my pills.

 When the bell rings at the end of class I look at Alex again. Does he
know what I can see? But that’s just impossible. I’ve never told anybody about
my ability, have always kept it to myself. He smirks as he passes me by, and in
between classes I pay a quick visit to the nearest girl’s toilets. I dig my
pills out of my bag along with the bottle of water I’d taken from Gran’s fridge
this morning. I swallow the tablet and hurry to my next class. Thankfully,
Caroline is there. I sit with her and Lia and as the minutes pass I feel the
effect of the medication.

 None of the foster home boys are in this class. I relax in their
absence. But I really am going to have to figure out what it is about them
that’s different. Either my ability to sense things is getting stronger or I’m
losing more and more of myself, my sanity slipping away.

 I sit at the same table for lunch with Caroline, Lia and Christian.
After a few minutes we’re joined by Marley and Steven. The three boys sit
huddled together over several sheets of paper on which are drawn lots of pencil
sketches and dialogue bubbles. It must be that comic book Christian was talking
about. I could get used to hanging around with this group, they’re an easy
going bunch.

 The girlfriend of Ross Jones passes by our table. Today she’s wearing a
really short black skirt and pink fish net tights. Her hair is tied up in a
messy pony tail.

 She walks with confidence through the crowded lunch room, there’s
something fiercely beautiful about her. I wish I could be like that. She looks
at me as she walks by, catching me watching her, then she winks and continues
on to the table where the boys are sitting.

 “Who’s that girl?” I ask Caroline.

 Caroline glances up to see who I’m talking about. “Oh that’s Layla
Bera,” she answers, “Why?”

 “I think she winked at me.”

 “Really?” she says, an amused look on her face. “Actually I’m not
surprised, she goes out with Ross Jones, you see that blond guy she’s sitting
next to, but there’s a rumour that she’s bisexual.”

 “Oh,” I say, not having expected that.

 “Maybe she likes you,” Lia grins, wiggling her neat black eyebrows that
peek out from under her straight fringe.

 “I don’t think t-that’s it, girls like her normally see me as an easy
target to bully.”

 “Why would she want to do that?” asks Caroline.

 “I seem to attract that kind of thing,” I answer in resignation.

 “Nah,” Caroline rejects the idea. “You’re a stunner, so it’s more
probable that she’s attracted to you,” she laughs. I look away and ignore her
teasing.

 “Who’s attracted to who?” asks Christian, he must have that male radar
for lesbian talk.

 “Layla Bera winked at Flo,” Lia chimes in.

 “Is it wrong to be happy about that?” he asks jokingly.

 “Not at all,” says Steven. “Layla Bera is the object of many a boy’s
fantasies in this school.”

 When I finish lunch I go to my locker to get my Maths workbook. Evil
Josh from my CSPE class leans against the wall across the way. There aren’t so
many students about since most people are still in the canteen eating lunch. He
sees me pass him by and we make eye contact for a moment as I continue on to my
locker. His face is friendlier now. What an arsehole. I’m sure if his friends
were here he’d be throwing abuse at me and making fun of my stammer.

 My jaw literally drops to the floor when he says, “Hi Florence.”

 “Flo,” I correct him, my expression hostile, ready for an attack.

 “Flo, right. I just wanted to say sorry for being a prick yesterday. You
know how these things can be.”

 I just raise an eyebrow and say nothing. I turn back around and open my
locker.

 “Aw come on,” he says, “don’t be cold, I just offered you an apology.”

 “Doesn’t m-mean I have to accept it,” I say in a quiet voice, my back
still turned on him.

 “It’s actually endearing you know.”

 I put my workbook in my bag and shut my locker. “What?” I ask.

 “Your stutter,” he answers simply. There’s no gel in his fake blond hair
today, but you can still tell he spent a good deal of his morning making it
look tousled.

 “Well that’s g-good to know.” I try to leave but he grabs my arm.

 “I’d like it if we could be friends.”

 I have no clue what brought about this change in attitude, but there’s a
good chance it’s some kind of prank. Well I’m not going to let him get the
better of me.

 “Fuck you, I d-don’t make friends with dickheads.” I tell him and then,
quite proud of myself, I walk away from him. I don’t want to be friends with
the boy who made me feel like crap on my first day at a new school.

 My afternoon classes pass with little in the way of weirdness, in other
words, nobody tries to force the power of their aura on me. I don’t go back to
the lockers after school to chat with Caroline and company because I want to
avoid the foster home boys. Alex Falco’s locker is only one down from mine and
I don’t want to risk bumping into him again. It’s going to be difficult enough
having English with him every day.

 I only saw Frank at lunch time when he was sitting with his, what would
you call them? His brothers? His friends? They live together like a family, so
maybe they do treat each other as brothers. As I’m leaving the school I see
them all driving out through the gates in a big old navy minivan, one of those
family wagons that can fit lots of people. They’re all laughing and joking with
each other as usual, while Ross Jones drives.

 I’d completely forgotten about the fifty Gran gave me this morning, it’s
a pleasant surprise when I remember it. I take a right turn after I leave the
school in the direction of the town centre. I decide I might as well treat
myself since it’s not often I have even a small amount of money like this to
spend. The town centre of Chesterport has an array of shops, cafés and
restaurants along with a small shopping mall. I go inside a boutique to have a
look around.

 The place is really hip and stylish, there are lots of tight jeans and
spangly belts and little halter tops hanging on racks. None of it is really my
style, not to say that I have a style or anything. It was a rare occasion that
my dad would ever give me money for clothes, a very rare occasion. He was only
nice to me when he’d either taken a lot of drugs or sold a lot of drugs.

 I don’t see anything I particularly like until I come across a white
cotton dress. It’s pretty with little flowers embroidered into the material. I
check the label and grin when I see that it’s well within my budget. My size
and everything, it must be my lucky day.

 After I pay for the dress I walk further into the town centre. Cars zoom
past on the road with people going home from school and from work. I duck
inside the nearest shop when I see Ingrid and her friends driving towards me in
a red Mini Cooper. Why is it always bitchy girls who drive those cars?

 A bell rings above my head as I enter and I find that my refuge is
actually a small book shop. Nice. I’m a big fan of books, as I’ve already
mentioned. A pretty woman with blond hair is sitting by the counter reading a
newspaper. She smiles at me when I come in. I look through the fiction titles
but there’s nothing much that interests me. When I come to the Spiritual/New
Age section I stop a moment and wonder.

 I’ve never tried to research things about myself before, it sounds like
I’m just plain lazy I know, but that’s not it. I was just always so consumed by
fear living with Dad that it was difficult even to concentrate on breathing to
stay alive. A lot of the time I could barely leave the house without him
putting me through an interrogation. Paranoia seemed to be a major aspect of
his drug use. He’d have himself convinced I was off to tell the police all
about his illegal activities.

 I was born with this ability to see things others can’t, but my life
with Dad didn’t allow for me to further my understanding of what I can do.
Maybe it’s time I started to try.

 I look through the titles in this section, there are lots of books on
Yoga and Pilates and Meditation. After a minute I find one called
Reading
Your Aura and Your Chakras
, it seems fairly basic but I decide it might be
a good place to start. I take it over to the woman at the counter, she’s still
reading her paper but she looks up just as I approach.

 “Hello there, what can I do for you?” she asks, in a voice like honey.
She’s so homely, if I had a mother I’d want her to be just like this woman.

 “I’ll j-j-just take this,” I tell her, handing over the book.

 After I speak her eyes widen in some sort of realisation, as if she just
remembered she left the iron on at home. Funny. Well, not so funny if it’s true
and her whole house has burned to the ground. She takes the book and scans the
bar code, while also perusing the title. I take this opportunity to admire the
silver moon shaped pendant hanging around her neck. She also has on a really
nice purple silk shirt. I can tell that she’s probably in her late thirties or
early forties, but looks and acts younger than her age. I mean, not in an
immature way, in a refreshing way.

 “Hmm, looks interesting,” she smiles and puts the book in a brown paper
bag with the name “Book Worms” printed on it. That must be the name of the
shop. I hadn’t noticed when I was outside because I’d been in too much of a
hurry to avoid Ingrid.

 “Yeah I h-hope so,” I say, returning her smile.

 “Are you new around here?” she asks, with equal parts goodwill and
curiosity.

 “Yeah, I just m-moved in with my Gran recently.”

 “Well that must be nice for her to have you around,” she replies

 “I suppose, I just try to stay out of her way and not be a nuisance to
her.”

 “That’s good to hear,” she laughs. “I wish my boys would take a leaf out
of your book. I’m Hayley by the way, if you ever need a book here in
Chesterport I’m your woman to come to.”

 “Thank you, it’s nice to meet y-you Hayley, I’m Flo.”

 “Have a nice day, Flo,” she says and hands me my bag as I leave.

 When I get home I find Gran in the kitchen arranging a vase of yellow
tulips.

 “Those are nice,” I tell her as I dish myself up a bowl of the chicken
stew she made for dinner.

 “Are they?” she asks, but there’s something not quite right about her
tone of voice.

 “Of course they are Gran, they’re beautiful.”

 “You don’t know what I’d give to be able to see what you see Florence,”
she sighs.

 I jump a second, not realising she’s referring to my good eyesight in
general, and not my secret ability to see auras.

 “It must be hard,” I say, in a voice of condolence, “working with
flowers all your life and then not being able to enjoy them in the way you used
to.”

 “You don’t know how difficult, honey, how much of a loss it truly is.”

 “Oh Gran, you should concentrate on the positives,” I tell her, trying
to cheer her up, “just focus on the things you can sense, like how they feel,
and how good they smell. After all, a flower’s scent is half its beauty.”

 “Yes,” she agrees, slowly coming around. “Still
only
half, but I
suppose you are right.”

 After finishing my stew I go up to my bedroom because I want to try on
my new dress. It’s pretty but I can’t think of a time I’ll ever get to wear it.
I’ve never been one for dressing up, even though I’d like to be. In a moment of
courage I determine to wear it to school tomorrow, and at this my thoughts
wander to Franklin Marsters. I can see his piercing blue eyes in my mind, his
handsome smile.