• Lighters, Fires, and Toilets



    Scarlet leaned over in concentration, doodling while the teacher spoke of historical things. School was boring enough without a teacher out for your guts droning on about something you would never use in the real world.

    She was about to finish the fancy heart design on her notes when—“Why is this so, Scarlet?”

    "Ngh?” she grunted, hoping the teacher would go hard of hearing and mistake it as “Niagara Falls,” or something of the sort.

    Apparently not. “I said, why is the Middle East in a water crisis?” Mrs. Tailor inquired, foot tapping impatiently, her face contorted into a smug face. “Come on now, darling. We don’t have all day.”

    Scarlet relaxed her jaw, which had jutted out in defiance, and answered: “They get very little rainfall.”

    “And?”

    “Um, the fresh water is becoming polluted.”

    “And?”

    “…I don’t know, ma’am.”

    “80 percent of the water there is used for agriculture. I suggest that you pay attention to the front of the room instead of to your friends.” The demon teacher’s small smug smirk grew to a large grin. A round of snickers could be heard from the back. Anyone who knew anything knew Scarlet Black had no friends. Nada. Zippo.

    Not wanting to point this out, Scarlet put on a grin that rivaled the teacher’s, and through gritted teeth: “Yes, ma’am.”

    Scarlet did not relax her jaw until the end of class.

    It is known to many people that every girl goes to the restroom after lunch. Scarlet, though unusual, was a girl and proud of it, so, like others, she walked into the bathroom.

    It wasn’t any different from what it usually was. Girls talked and applied makeup, the few girls that actually needed to go bathroom waited at the stalls.

    Three girls stood in a corner, and Scarlet recognized them immediately. It was difficult not to, as they were the most popular girls at the school, and they loved to find juicy gossip and use it against anyone. Particularly Scarlet.

    The leader of the gang, Abby, spotted her first. “Well, look who it is. The dumb a** that couldn’t listen in class,” she said with a sneer, her so-called friends spraying her perfect hair. “God, what a freak. What’s under that hat, huh?” pointing at the baseball cap that currently covered the top portion of Scarlet’s head. “You wear a hat every day.”

    Abby, Susan, and Mallory all laughed. They fished for something in their huge purses, and each took out a cigarette. Mallory also took out a lighter, and handed it to Abby. Everyone noticed this, but no one said anything. It was an unspoken rule of the school: No one helped Scarlet, and no one called Abby out. Doing so meant a life of social ruin.

    Scarlet blinked. “You shouldn’t do that.”

    Susan held the cigarette up to her mouth. “Why? You give a crap about our lungs?”

    Washing her hands, she whispered, “That’s not the reason.” She silently hoped that she would take her advice.

    She watched as Abby raised the lighter to her mouth…

    …Then scream as the fire engulfed her. Scarlet’s eyes widened as Abby’s hair caught on fire. The two other girls seemed to have realized what the redhead had meant, and backed up beforehand. They stared, mouth agape, as their friend shriek as the flames flickered.

    Scarlet really didn’t know what to do at that point. Should she save her? How? She didn’t think past that. Grabbing Abby by the neck, Scarlet drug her to the stalls. She plunged her head into the water.

    The effect was immediate: Steam rose from the girl’s head. The crackling of the flames was gone. Scarlet sighed in relief.

    Someone must have told the teachers, because they suddenly burst into the room. Scarlet was dimly aware of people screaming, yelling, talking angrily and afraid.

    "Scarlet Black, get your hands off of Miss Raye now!” Scarlet hadn’t noticed her hands still grasped to Abby, and quickly let go.

    She looked at Abby, who spluttered and gasped from being in the toilet, then at her hands, which were ashy from the fire. Her eyes widened as she realized how it looked like. “No, it wasn’t like that! See, I—”

    “Scarlet did it!” Abby wailed. “A-after I put on hairspray, she-she flicked out a lighter and put me on fire. Then-then she dunked my head into the toilet!” She gasped as she sobbed. Or maybe she was still trying to catch her breath after being dunked underwater.

    Mrs. Tailor clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Oh, you poor thing! Let’s get you cleaned up. And you,” she said, glaring at Scarlet, “you stay right here. Don’t you dare move, you hear?” Scared and baffled, Scarlet jerked her head up and down in a nod.

    As Abby limped to the exit and Mrs. Tailor helped her, Scarlet saw the extent of the damage. At least three-fourths of her hair had been singed off by the flames. The back of her shirt was still smoking, and her arms were ashy. Though Scarlet couldn’t see her face, she suspected it was badly burned.

    So Scarlet was left with her own thoughts. She slumped to the floor, and stared blankly at the wall in front of her. The corners of her eyes began to prickle a bit. What bad luck. She was simply caught doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. She tried to remember that you ought to feel proud in doing the right thing, whether people knew it or not. But with the weight of a possible (and inevitable, in Scarlet's mind) expulsion, it was hard to think in a positive light.

    She was distracted from her thoughts as the door slammed shut. A boy, about fifteen, walked into the bathroom.

    Wait. A boy in a girls’ restroom?

    Scarlet stared at him as he looked around, noticing the places where fire-singed things had fallen. Finally, his eyes fell on her. Somewhere in the back of her head, Scarlet wondered why he hadn't left, and then another larger part worried about rapists and molesters. He strode straight to where she sat and yanked her up by the arm. Scarlet let out an involuntary cry of surprise and looked at the boy. His face was just starting to lose the childish chubbiness. Thin, dark eyebrows framed two large hazel eyes. He had a small nose and his thin lips were curved into a friendly smile. The handsome features of his face made up for the hair, though. Short in the front, long in the back. At least, it would come down to his shoulders, if it didn’t fan out in little spikes like it did. She wondered if he gelled it like that.

    His face broke out in a grin; Scarlet noticed a dimple on his left cheek. “Nice work there. Fast on your feet, huh? I like that." He blinked in surprise, noticing her wary expression. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you or anything. I'm harmless as a fly! ...Or was it 'wouldn't hurt a fly'? Ah, well, my name's Jake. What's yours?"

    Scarlet stared at him blankly before answering. Maybe she should give him a fake name? “Scarlet. What..." She shook her head in disbelief. "What is going on? And who are you? What could you possibly want from me?"

    Jake winced. Scarlet thought that was a bit cowardly. It wasn't like she'd said it that harshly. “Look, I don’t really know myself, all right? All I know is that you’ve gotta come with me.” His hand still on Scarlet’s arm, he dragged her to the exit.

    She struggled against him, trying to sit on the bathroom floor. "Let me go! I'm supposed to stay here, anyway!"

    “What, are you scared?”

    Her brilliant emerald eyes glared at Jake. What kind of question was that? “No. But I know enough as to not blindingly follow complete strangers out to who knows where,” she said scathingly. With that, she yanked her arm out of his grasp.

    The brunet sighed. "Okay, how can I say this...? Either you come willingly and conscious, or I can knock you unconscious and carry you out. Which do you prefer?" He looked at her, frustration gleaming in his eyes.

    She considered breifly whether he could knock her out. Didn't seem like it, but she suspected he was probably stronger than she initially thought. Whatever, she thought. I'm gonna get expelled anyway, so why not? "Fine." She started to the door.

    “Do you even know where you’re going?” She halted. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe she ought to quit while she could. She glanced at the boy. He looked at her, expectant, and tried unsuccessfully to comb his disheveled hair down.

    Well. He didn't look all that dangerous. She hoped that this was just a bad impression, and that he didn't normally go to high schools to kidnap certain oddball girls. A small part of her brain reminded her that he ought to be in school, too, but she dismissed it. Another question for another time. For now, she'd trust him.

    Even so, she glared. “Lead the way.” Jerk, she added in her head. Jake smirked, like he knew the unsaid insult, and, taking her hand, led her out of the restroom, and out of the school.