Page 90 of This I Know
I’m about to back off when I hear a metallic flick.
I peer around the corner.
I see a glow, no larger than the width of a coin, floating through the air in the dark.
It illuminates a hand.
The fire begins small and creeps steadily up the side of the house. The orange glow brightens the side of the house, illuminates grass below, then the siding, then the gutter, and in an instant, it’s approaching a window.
I start to run after the culprits but stop myself, turning on my heels. The flames are more important. I don’t waste another valuable second. I pull away from the side of the house and rush to the front door.
I twist the knob. It’s locked. With a running start, I slam my weight into the door. It doesn’t budge. I favor my shoulder at the area of impact. Quickly, I search; there must be a spare key hidden around here. Isn’t there always? I pull up the doormat – nothing. No key. I frantically search through some bushes off the side of the porch, looking for one of those plastic rocks – same thing. I’m about to give up and break a window, when I see a pot of red and yellow primrose next to the door. I lift up the pot, and underneath is a solitary, silver key, glistening up at me.
Without thinking, I grab it. I burst through the unlocked door.
The house is dark and silent, with no sign of the danger outside and no hint that it’s raised anyone from their sleep. A nightlight shining from the kitchen shows me the way from the foyer to the stairs, leading up to what I assume must be Avery’s room. I race up the them, taking two or three at a time as my legs will allow, and fall through the first door I see – which I quickly realize was the right choice, as I see her there sleeping peacefully.
Somehow the sound of me barging in hasn’t woken her. She’s a lump of flesh hidden beneath a bundle of sheets, her head facing away from me and toward the wall that will soon be on fire. Her steady breath rises and falls in perfect calm.
I’m at her bedside in an instant and grasping her body through the covers, shaking as hard as I can to rouse her.
“Avery,” I yell. “Wake up.”
From here, I can hear the crackling of the fire spreading closer to us. She stirs but doesn’t wake. I look around. A cup of water is sitting on her nightstand … next to the flower I left for her at the hospital.
I freeze, but then blink away the thoughts. I don’t have seconds to waste thinking about the flower. I pick up the cup and dump it over her face.
She gasps and bolts upright.
“What–” She brushes her hand across her wet eyes. When she sees me, she scoots back. “Ethan? What are you doing here?”
I take her face in my hands and look into her eyes. “You have to come with me right now.”
She nods, not breaking our gaze. She trusts me.
Our hands grasp each other and I lead her out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and I’m about to guide her out the door when she stops me. She’s dug her heels into the floor and is pulling against my arm.
“Wait, Ethan! My mom.”
“She’s here?” I don’t release Avery’s hand willingly, but she pulls away so suddenly that she slips from my grip.
Avery rushes to a room off the hallway of the foyer; a kind of lower-level bedroom that was initially hidden from view.
I’m starting to smell smoke. My heart pounds in my chest. I can’t see her. “Avery!”
The smell grows stronger. I can’t wait here any longer. Just as I lunge forward, Avery appears. She’s dragging her mother along through the darkness, who’s holding her mouth to the crook of her elbow.
“What’s happening?” Avery’s mother asks as we arrive at the door.
We run out into the driveway, and I pull Avery closer toward the street.
“Mom, get over here,” says Avery.
Avery’s mother is too busy staring at the house, holding her hands on her head in shock. The fire spreads and engulfs Avery’s side of the house.
Avery’s mom turns to us. “Call someone, for Christ’s sake.”
I pull out my phone and hand it to Avery. “Here. You call.” Now that she’s safe, I have something more important to do.
