Phoenix

The daydream seemed so real. The smoke of an imagined burning battlefield lingered in my nose. I shook myself.

I looked at the card held casually between my two scarred fingers before I flipped it onto the table.

Pete rolled his eyes. He threw both hands into the air.

“Man, Nix! That sucks,” Pete said. He shook his head and started gathering his cards together. “You could let someone else win once in a while.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I asked. I checked my watch. Lunch would be over soon and then it would be back to reality: Mr. June’s trigonometry class.

“Pyromancy,” Pete said, handing me the card I had tossed across the table. I took the card, forcing myself to look at the illustration. A vortex of flames enshrouded a cloaked figure. It made my mouth go dry. I shook it off, looking at the discolored skin covering my hand, the ridged webbing that stretched from thumb to pinky across the bones. Fire had no place near flesh. Especially not mine. Not again.

“Magic that derives strength from fire and all it consumes. Do you ever wish it was real?” Pete asked. His blue eyes were earnest when they met mine.

“What?” I asked.

“Magic,” he said. “Do ever wish it was real?”

I almost said, It is real. That’s what popped into my head.

“That’s dumb, Pete,” I finally replied. The bell buzzed loud in the cafeteria and we hurriedly tucked our cards into our backpacks.

“Hey, text me after school,” I called. Pete waved in response as a flood of bodies carried him away.

I pushed my way out the double doors into the grey mid-afternoon. The sunlight already faded toward darkness. Cold shivered through me and I tucked my chin down into my Northface jacket. It belonged to my dad, before he died. It still carried his scent; Old Spice, and musk, and something indefinably comforting. I wondered how much longer I’d be able to breathe in his smell and pretend he was still alive.

Someone jostled me, threading their arm through the crook of my elbow and I turned my head in my coat, feeling the Gore-tex brush across my cheek. A beautiful girl walked with her arm in mine. For a second, I had the feeling I had never seen her before.

“Nix, can I get in there with you?” she asked, snuggling up to me. She wore a fuzzy yellow sweater with the hood pulled up. Her wavy strawberry hair floated like a halo around her pale face. She smelled sweet.

“Uh,” was all I could say. Why a pretty girl like her would even talk to a dork like me, I didn’t know.

Her name drifted up from the depths of my numb brain. Jewel. And we are friends.

“Did you get that assignment done?” I asked her. Though it was strange to me, it seemed like the right thing to say. It seemed like a well-worn conversation, picked up where it left off.

“I did,” she said, rolling her green eyes. “And it made me dizzy. Circles, circles, circles. Took me for-ev-er.”

I smiled a little bit at that.

“And forever was like, what?” I asked. “Twenty minutes?”

Jewel’s lips quirked into a half smile. “Twenty minutes of torture,” she said. “I hate math so much.”

“That’s only because you actually have to study for it,” I teased. She scowled at me.

“I have to study,” she said quietly.

“Oh really?” I asked. “Remind me of the Frankenstein midterm you took: when did you start reading the book?”

“The morning of the test,” she admitted. She swung her backpack off her shoulders and dug into it, searching for something.

“And the paper you had to write,” I asked. “When did you do that?”

“Nix,” she said, pausing in her search and looking straight at me, “That’s totally not fair.”

“Whatever,” I said. “It’s totally not fair that you can read a book, write a paper and take a midterm in a single day.”

“Well,” she deflected, “anybody can do that.”

“Yeah, but they don’t get ’A’s,” I said. She rolled her eyes.

We pushed through more doors and climbed the stairs in a thick herd of coat-wearing students to the second floor. No one thought it was strange to wear winter coats indoors all day long. Eastmont High School was heated primarily by bodies, not the boiler.

Mr. June, as always, sipped a Pepsi, his feet up on his desk. He nodded to each of us as we turned in our assignments. His eyes lingered on my scarred hands. Like almost everyone, he pretended not to notice them, but stared when he forgot to stop himself. I pulled my hands up inside my coat sleeves and picked a desk.

Mr. June popped up and began talking about something. I watched him without listening. In my head, I made up dialogue to go with his gesticulating arms.

I caught a fish, I imagined him saying. Mr. June’s eyes were wide, his arms spread. In his hand he held a red marker. It was so big it tried to eat me when I got it into the boat. Then it turned into a mermaid and—

“Are you getting this?” Jewel whispered.

“Oh yeah,” I replied, putting a finger to my lips.

Jewel turned back to her notes. I glanced over at her desk. She wasn’t taking notes at all. She was busily drawing tessellated flowers. There was something about the way the lines curved, the way the flowers joined. If I half closed my eyes, they looked like flames.

That made my scarred hands sweat and the night my sister died rolled through my head. I heard her screaming. I closed my eyes, trying to focus, trying to block out the memory of the sound. But how do you block out something that’s already inside your head?

“Mr. Carter,” Mr. June snapped. My head jerked up.

“Sorry,” I lied. I was not sorry at all. I pretended to pay attention again.

Sometimes I race rainbows on my bicycle, I imagined Mr. June saying. His hands moved rapidly across the white board, drawing large circles in red marker. He turned abruptly, going still. He looked right at me and started to speak. I put pretend words in his mouth again. He looked right at me and spoke, his eyes glinting silver.

“You are the fire-scarred prince. Spell-scarred and flame-scarred. A pyromancer.”

“What?” I yelled, jumping up from my seat. The class burst into laughter.

“Phoenix,” Mr. June pinched, nasal voice cut through, “I get the feeling you’re not hearing a word I’m saying.”

“I’m paying attention, Mr. June,” I assured him, settling back down. “I’m pretty sure you need a drink of Pepsi.” The rest of the class laughed. Mr. June smiled.

“You’re right,” he said, walking over to his desk and taking a swig.

Weirdo, I thought.

Snow began to fall outside, white flurries dancing against the old window panes. Someone shouted out, “Snow!” and everything in the class stopped as we all gathered at the windows to watch it.

“Hey!” Mr. June barked. No one paid any attention to him. The snow rolled on the wind, brushing against the windows. Without warning, thick, heavy raindrops began to fall with the snow, freezing the instant they struck the cold ground.

“Attention students and staff,” a voice crackled over the intercom. “The weather has turned very bad and school will be immediately dismissed. Please go to your buses now.”

“Freezing rain,” Jewel smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Gotta love it.”

“Oh yeah,” I replied. “It’s totally great.”

If you don’t have to walk home in it, I thought. My house was just close enough that there was no bus and I hadn’t driven today. A mile and a third in the freezing rain would be soooo nice.

“Okay people,” Mr. June said, his nasal voice especially loud. “Get your stuff and get outta here!” He grabbed his own coat from off the back of his chair.

Everyone started shuffling toward the door.

“Are you going to be okay in that?” I asked Jewel. Her fuzzy yellow sweater didn’t look weather proof. “Your car is still in the shop, isn’t it?”

“I’ll live,” she said.

“But you have a coat, right?” I pressed.

“No, but I’ll be okay,” she insisted, smiling up at me.

I shrugged out of my ancient Northface and held it out to her. Beneath it, I wore a green hoodie.

“Nix,” Jewel said, shaking her head, “You have so much farther to walk than I do. You’re going to be a Popsicle before you get there with your coat.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’m not walking.” I’ll be running for my life.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” she asked.

“Yup,” I nodded. “I’m going to Pete’s.”

That was a really good idea. I would go to Pete’s. He lived just a few blocks away by the river. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted him.

“Thanks,” Jewel said, shrugging into the coat. It was absolutely huge on her. She was tall; almost as tall as I was, but built slim and slight. Like me. Like an elf.

“You should come too,” I blurted suddenly. “We’ll play Magic.”

“Magic?” she scoffed, tilting her head to the side. “Really? Somehow I thought you were slightly cooler than that.”

“What on earth could possibly have given you that idea?” I asked her. Her pink lips quirked up into that half smile. I had to clear my throat.

“I’ve gotta get home,” she said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “My mom heard the school is letting out early and wants me to call her at work when I get there. You know, make sure I’m okay. I’ll bring your coat back tomorrow.

“Okay, see you then,” I told her. She waved as she walked out the door.

“None of this is real,” Mr. June said softly behind me. I turned to look at him. He wore his coat, his hands stuffed into the pockets. He stood watching the rain slick everything, watching it turning to ice. He half turned to me, his eyes gleaming silver, just the same color Lexia’s had been. I blinked and they changed back.

“Um,” I said. “See you tomorrow Mr. June.”

I’m seeing things, I told myself. And hearing things. Stupid meds aren’t working.

Pete didn’t answer his phone. Or his texts. So what could I do? I pulled the strings on my hoodie tight and ran for it. Rain soaked my hoodie before I made it half a block. Then it froze. Then it rained some more. And froze. My feet slipped on the slick pavement. Jewel was right. I really was going to be a Popsicle.

But I can melt the snow with fire, I thought. Hot, hot fire. My hands tingled in anticipation. I kept running. The fire-scarred prince, fire-scarred and spell-scarred: Magic a part of his soul, tied to his life force.

And now I’m hearing some random narrative in my head, I thought. Shut up! Stop talking to yourself, crazy.

The streetlights popped on, their yellow glow combating the dark grey of the storm. Breath puffed in and out of my body, freezing in my eyelashes. They felt as heavy as my hoodie.

For an instant, I thought I saw Lexia standing in the yellow light ahead of me, her platinum hair completely dry despite the freezing downpour.

I slid to a stop, nearly falling on my face. My breath’s white puff floated away on the wind. I squeezed my eyes shut, just as my psychiatrist told me to, willing her to go away.

“You’re dead,” I whispered, repeating the words Dr. Banks told me to say. “You’re dead. You’re dead. You’re dead.”

The icy driving rain soaked deeper through my clothes. I needed to run, or I would die too. I opened my eyes. Nothing was there, of course. Nothing had ever been there. It was all in my head. I forced myself to run on.

My skin froze. My muscles burned and knotted. My feet slipped. My breath made crystals on my face. But finally, I was home.

I pulled my feet out of my shoes right at the front door. I peeled off my stiff hoodie and threw it in the laundry room sink. Mom would have a fit if it melted on the floor. My fingers hardly worked as I stripped of my jeans. Into the sink they went too, wet and frozen. I walked to my room in boxers and t-shirt, digging my sweats out of the pile on the floor and shoving myself into them. My skin didn’t feel like it belonged to me. My fingers were even stiffer than usual.

A fire burned hot in the family room fireplace. Watching the flames dance made my stomach clench and my freezing hands started to sweat. But I was cold, too cold, and I needed to get warm. As always, King lay sleeping, stretched out in front of the fireplace. I grabbed the remote and made him scoot over, laying with my feet toward the fire, back to back with the huge black and tan dog.

Mom came walking out of her sewing room, brows drawn down.

“Why are you home?” she asked, picking thread on a button. Her clothes were rumpled, hanging on her small frame. She had purplish bags under her eyes.

“Freezing rain,” I chattered. I’d finally warmed up enough to start shivering. “They cancelled school. Can I get you something to eat, Mom?”

“Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, ignoring my question. I wondered when she slept last. “You look frozen half to death.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” I shivered.

“Phoenix…”she said, shaking her head. “You need to let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” I promised, switching on the TV. I pretended to be distracted by it, and Mom walked away.

How could I tell my mother that I needed to take care of her? I couldn’t put any more burden on her than she already bore. She had lost her daughter, her husband. Sometimes I wished I died in the fire that killed them too just so Mom wouldn’t have to be constantly reminded that they were gone. A clean break would have been so much better for her.

Plus, I was pretty sure I was going crazy. Seeing your dead sister meant you were crazy, right? That wasn’t the first time I saw Lexia and I had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

Stupid messed up meds.

Mom drifted back into the sewing room. It had been a shirt of Dad’s she held. He would never care again about the buttons. Or if it was ironed the right way.

King started snoring behind my back, shaking my whole body. My feet pulsed with radiating heat. My eyes drifted closed when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Dude. Just got ur txt. U make it home ok?” Pete asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “Still got my fingers and toes.”

“LOL,” he said.

I folded up the phone and put it back in my pocket.

It vibrated again. I flipped it open. The screen glowed silver.

“None of this is real,” the message read.

I blinked my eyes to clear them.

“Some of us want to play,” Pete had texted. “Can you get online?”

I shook my head and read it again. I could have sworn it said something different when it first showed up.

“Come on, Dogbreath,” I said to King as I pushed myself up. “Let’s go feed Princess.” King got to his feet and stretched his huge torso back down to the floor. He farted.

“What the heck did you eat?” I said. King just looked at me with his black face and his tan eyebrows and mustache. “Was it pizza?” The dog’s ears stood up pointy and straight at the mention of pizza. He tilted his head to the side excitedly and one of his pointy ears flopped over onto his head. “We’ve got to go feed the old nag,” I told him.

In the coat closet, I pulled on Dad’s old snowmobile suit. It was all one piece. It might keep me warm.

Maybe.

King waited by the sliding glass door. I opened it and we went out into the inky blackness together. The rain had stopped, leaving a glass sheet over the grass. It crackled beneath my feet.

Princess must have been waiting for the sound of the door. She whinnied into the night.

“I’m coming,” I promised her.

She was Lexia’s horse, but like the Northface coat, she was something I didn’t want to give up. Something that reminded me that once upon a time, there was more than this dark cold winter, more than the emptiness I felt whenever I didn’t fill up every second of my time.

Princess whinnied louder.

I ran down the hill to the corral. King ran far ahead, his black coat blending flawlessly into the darkness.

I went to the lean-to that spanned the corral fence and cut open a bale of alfalfa. The strings broke with a pop and the flakes fell forward. I grabbed a couple and chucked them over the fence into the feeder box. I thought about all those stories about friendly horses and sweet whiskers and velvet noses.

Obviously whoever wrote those books never met Princess.

She trotted over to the box and shoved her greedy mouth in, not caring a bit about me now that she had her dinner.

I checked the water, breaking ice on the surface and plugging the tank heater back in. Her royal highness pulled it out. Again.

Princess’s dark shape moved away from the feeder box across the shining ice-crusted ground.

“That’s weird,” I called. “Can’t say “hi” to me, but you leave your dinner for…?”

Then I saw her for the second time tonight. Lexia stood out in the corral. She seemed to glow, though she was dressed entirely in brown leather, like the elven Lexia from my daydream.

My heart thumped in my chest. My breath came short. Why was fat, greedy Princess walking away from her food toward someone who wasn’t there?

Lexia put up her hand and the horse bumped it with her white striped nose. Lexia looked at me across the darkness. Coldness deeper than the winter ripped into me as her eyes met mine. But I knew she wasn’t really there. I was just crazy. Really, really crazy.

“King,” I yelled into the night. “Come on King!” The black dog materialized from the black night and together we ran back up the hill into the warm house.

“Mom!” I called through the sewing room door. She was in there. The light was on. She was probably playing Solitare on her computer. Or Hearts. Or anything else that was infinite and could distract her from her grief. I didn’t want to tell her face to face.

“Mom, I don’t think my meds are working,” I admitted. “I’m seeing Lexia.”

“Okay,” she called back. She obviously didn’t want to deal with this, with me, face to face either. “We’ll take care of it tomorrow.”