Page 4 of Burning Embers

My life changed constantly as a child—one second, I would be sitting on a bunk bed in a small town in Ohio; the next, I would be in the city next door, starting all over again. New house. New family. New school. New friends. New life.

However, my one constant throughout all of that was my love for books. My first foster mom—one of the good ones—bought me my first chapter book when I was nine years old. I fell in love instantly with the world, relishing the way I could be transportedinto a kingdom far, far away just by flipping through some dusty, old pages.

But real life? It isn’t some stupid fairy tale. The monsters aren’t big and green and covered in spikes. No, these monsters wear human faces and pleasant smiles. They speak in cordial tones and make you feel cherished and wanted—all before they stab a knife through your back.

“You’re a fan of reading?” Hale’s question tugs my attention back to him. A bright smile lights up his face, making him look years younger than he probably is.

I try to tamp down my initial enthusiasm over the beautiful room. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in the foster care system, it’s that people use your likes against you. They wield them as weapons, ones capable of slicing at your skin more keenly than any bullet or blade can.

“I didn’t really have much else to do,” I confess with a half-hearted shrug.

Hale’s face falls at my nonchalant answer before he clears his throat.

“Yes…well…feel free to use this room at any time.” A more genuine smile teeters at the edges of his lips, though it doesn’t fully form. “You may not be able to live here, but you can use it as often as you please.” In a conspiratorial whisper, he adds, “Besides, if you stayed here twenty-four seven, where would you even shit if you had to go to the bathroom?”

A snort of surprised laughter escapes me entirely unbidden. I can’t help but gape at him.

He merely grins and flashes me a wink before gesturing towards the door. “Come on, kiddo. Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

He leads us down another long hallway with peach-painted walls and mahogany floorboards. The only sound is the click-clack of Amanda’s heels and the repetitive tick-tick-tick of some unseen clock.

“I sleep with my husband on the floor above,” Hale begins. “That floor isn’t off limits by any means, but there’s only our bedroom up there. And the adjoining bathroom.” He points towards the very first door in the hallway we’re currently in. “This is where Jake and Seth sleep. Jake’s actually in your grade; hopefully, he’ll be able to help you acclimate to the new school.”

Hale sounds so optimistic by the prospect that he completely misses the way my body shivers.

A strange man living a few doors down from me?

Prickles of unease race up and down my spine like scuttling spiders. My joints seem to be frozen; it’s physically painful for me to move forward, as if I’m the Tin Man in Oz.

Hale seems like a kind man, but what about this Jake person? Would he hurt me? Would Hale even care if he did?

Instinctively, I palm my knife once more, taking comfort in the familiarity of the metal against my suddenly slick skin, before allowing it to slide back up my sleeve.

“Seth’s twelve and in seventh grade. That kid’s a genius, I tell you. He’s either going to develop the cure for cancer…or blow up the world with one of his failed experiments,” Hale continues, shaking his head with a fond chuckle. He then gestures towards another door opposite the first one. “That’s the bathroom Seth and Jake share. Of course, you’re allowed to use it if there's no one in there, but that’s predominantly where the guys will get ready in the morning and at night.”

Hale stops in front of the door farthest down the hall. Tension lines his wiry body, and he seems to be holding his breath.

“Is this…?” I gesture towards the still-closed door.

“Your room. Well, the room that you’ll share with Vasilissa. But don’t call her that. She hates it.” Hale sighs deeply and finally pushes open the door to the bedroom.

The first thing that I note is the pungent scent contaminating the air—I can’t quite put my finger on what it is, but I can tell it’s some sort of flower.

The next thing I notice is the barrage ofpink.

It’s everywhere.

The bedspread, the walls, the rug, the clothes. One side of the room appears to be Barbie’s wet dream, while the other is much more modestly decorated with a black and purple comforter and a simple wooden dresser.

“I really hope you like pink,” Amanda murmurs with a chuckle, no doubt eyeing my all-black attire.

I shrug. “Don’t mind it.”

It’s definitely not my favorite color, but I’m not one of those girls who believes you’re somehow “lesser” because you enjoy it. If magenta gets your rocks off, then more power to you. I’m personally more of a green chick myself.

“Lissa is going through a pink phase,” Hale confesses somewhat sheepishly. He distractedly scratches at the nape of his neck. “She’s a freshman in high school and is still trying to find herself and all that fun teenage stuff.”

He shudders—something I can relate to.

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