Page 93 of Roaring Flames

Cold fear slithers through me like an insidious snake.

Shelby is my mother’s nurse and has been for the last few years. The only time she ever texts me is if things are bad. Really, really bad.

“Is your phone more important than my lesson, Mr. Harthorne?” Our teacher sneers down at me from the front of the classroom.

Izzy, beside me, gives me a worried look.

I try to articulate a response, but words fail me.

What explanation could I even give?

Oh, sorry. My mom is having a mental breakdown and is probably destroying the house.

I would be teased mercilessly by the other students—even more than I already am.

So instead of saying any of that, I simply blurt, “I need to go.”

Standing, I swipe everything off the table into my backpack.

Izzy’s eyebrows touch her hairline.

I’m almost meticulous about the way I organize my school supplies. Everything has its place in my backpack. Later, when I’m not consumed with worry for my mother, I’ll probably panic over how disorganized my backpack is. But not now.

“You’re not excused,” Mr. Holter says, but I ignore him and race towards the exit.

I know Mr. Holter won’t do anything to stop me. He may be a hard-ass, but I’m one of his best students. There’s a reason why I’m the top of my class and planning to go to college for pre-med. Science comes easily to me.

When I’m in the hall, I break into a run, not even caring when a few stragglers regard me curiously.

“Ansel! Ansel, wait!”

Izzy.

The pounding of her footsteps accompanies her voice.

She places a gentle hand on my arm, her touch sending an array of goose bumps throughout my body, and spins me to face her. Her brows dip in concern, and she eyes me from head to toe.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asks.

No, not asks. Demands. Concern undermines her voice.

“It’s… It’s my mom,” I choke out. “I just got a text from her nurse, and…”

I don’t need to finish my sentence. Izzy has met my mom. She may not necessarily understand the demons that haunt her, but she knows enough.

“Oh.” Her pink lips form a perfect O. Then her brows scrunch together. “But isn’t your car in the shop?”

“Fuck!”

I completely forgot about that. It’s why I couldn’t give Izzy a ride to school.

Perhaps I could walk. It’s not too far, if I run.

Though I can’t remember the last time I ran more than a mile…

“Izzy? Babe? Everything okay?” Emery and Ethan hurry out of the classroom as well, their backpacks slung over their shoulders and concern on their identical faces.

Belatedly, I wonder which one referred to her as “babe” and why but choose not to look at it too closely. I don’t think I’d like the answer.

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