Fyregirl -- Chapter 1

CRASH!1

I jerked awake from a peaceful doze to the sound of shattering china, footsteps charging down the hallway, and the slam of a bedroom door. Then I heard Olivia stomping up the stairs, dreading that this could not mean anything good for me, and knowing that it would only be a matter of time before she would rage and storm at me.2

“HOOOOOOOPE!”3

With a groan, I slowly pulled myself upright and leaned against the headboard of my bed, and glanced at the alarm clock that stood on my desk across the room; neon-red numbers stared back at me, telling me it was 7 am. Why on earth did she have to cause trouble so early?4

“HOPE! GET YOUR BUTT OUT HERE!”5

When I didn’t answer right away, she screeched, “NOW!” and I knew it would not be wise to test her temper this early in the morning.6

I shuffled sleepily to the door in my black slippers, opened the door, and instantly found myself face-to-face with a red-faced woman whom I did not recognize at first: her hair was standing on end, I could see a blood vessel throbbing in her temple, her fists were tightly clenched, and she looked more likely to breathe fire than the dragon on page 207, in one of my books.7

“Come -- here,” she growled through clenched teeth. She grabbed me by the collar of my pink pajamas (which I thoroughly hated) and dragged me none too gently to the scene of the crime, where a blue-and-white vase had apparently smashed on the laminated wooden floor. I felt a stab of annoyance because I had been nowhere near this thing; on the other hand, I thought it had actually been a rather hideous vase, and I was relieved that I didn’t have to get rid of it myself.8

“WELL?” Her fierce tone would have made even the bravest girl cower, but past experiences had built my resistance to things like this, and I looked straight into the brown eyes that mirrored my own, and replied, trying to keep my own temper in check, “Well what?”9

She pointed to the mess upon the floor. “Explain.”10

“I didn’t do it,” I replied flatly. “She must’ve done it.”11

“What a nasty little liar you are. A little angel like her? Ha!” Her expression slid into a dreamy state for a few seconds, then hardened. “It must’ve been you. Only a monster like you would break an expensive, magnificent vase like this.”12

“I didn’t do it,” I protested. “I wasn’t even awake until I heard the crash!”13

“Don’t try to fib your way out of this,” Olivia snapped. “You did it, and we both know it. Trying to blame someone else, hmph! Let’s go ask Mina then, see what she thinks.” My heart sank and I tried not to groan. There would be no chance of worming my way out of this one.14

Olivia rapped on the pearly white door three times, but, receiving no reply, twisted the doorknob and carefully pushed open the door to behold a pink haven twice as big as my own room, with pink fluffy pillows, and in the midst of the fluffy mass in the corner, a girl stirred, evidently sleeping.15

“Mina, dear?” No answer. Olivia reached out slowly to the big lump under the blanket and shook her daughter gently. “Mina, I’ve got a question for you, please wake up.”16

Mina turned, pushed back the covers, and pretended to wake from a deep sleep: She yawned, stretched, and scratched, putting on a good show of waking up that could’ve fooled me, but I knew better. “Hmmmm?” she asked sleepily.17

“Well, Hope has broken an extremely expensive, antique, beautiful vase, but when I confronted her, she panicked and tried to blame you for her wrongdoing. Now, I know that you would never do such a thing, but she insisted that she hadn’t done it, so I’ve decided to ask you, dear. Who broke the vase, sweetie?”18

Expensive? Antique? Beautiful? My head was swimming. True, it had cost 200 dollars, but that was a small amount compared to some of the prices I’ve seen these days. As for antique, it had been made last year and had only been around our house for two days. And anyone who said that appalling thing was beautiful would just as well say that I could fly.19

Mina feigned surprise and glanced at me; I could’ve sworn I saw her stick her tongue out at me, but if Olivia noticed, she didn’t let on, not that I expected her to.20

“Well…” she screwed up her face in fake concentration,” I do remember, maybe, hearing a -- a crash, then some footsteps running away, and then someone slamming a door…. Then I heard stomping, but I don’t remember anything else; I must’ve gone back to sleep, Mother. Sorry,” she added, not meaning it at all.21

Although she didn’t show it, I could tell Olivia was jubilant inside. “Thank you, Mina. I’m sorry I had to wake you.”22

“S’okay,” Mina replied, hinting that she was about to doze off again.23

Olivia turned me around and pushed me out the door. She closed the door behind her and turned on me, her face fiercely triumphant.24

“How’s that for proof?” she declared, victorious. “Your punishment is to wash the dishes for a month, to help Mina with her ballet, and no dinner for you today.” With that, she strode downstairs to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her dear old daughter.25

She was already thinking about dinner? I wondered, incredulous yet angry. I haven’t even brushed my teeth for breakfast yet!26

I stormed into my crimson-walled room, slammed the door, and jumped on my bed belly-side down. Why did the blame always fall on me? I grabbed my pillow and buried my face into it.27

If only my real mom was here, maybe things would be different… or even my dad…. But no, that could not be possible; Olivia told me that when I was really young, around 1 week old, Mom handed me to her, the secretary, to raise, then she went and burned herself, so Olivia was forced to keep me. This story seemed a bit wild and dramatic to me, so I sincerely hoped that she had been lying; then again, I never found a shred of evidence proving otherwise. I don’t know a single piece of information about Dad either.28

So, since my parents seem not to be around anymore, I was brought up by the secretary of this place. And then my sister came along.29

Now, when I say “sister,” I don’t mean that we’re blood-related; that would be terribly catastrophic; she’s simply the nine-month-younger annoying little brat that turned my life upside down, real daughter of Olivia Rhyna. Whenever something good happened in this place, it was usually in courtesy of. . . Mina. We’ve had celebrations because of a certain baby’s first word or first step… Mina’s. If something horrible occurred around here, even if it was on the other side of town, the blame was always pointed at. . . me. (You didn’t really guess “Mina,” did you?) My dear sister was always fondled, cuddled, and snuggled like the pampered princess she was. She could wriggle her way out of even the tightest spots, just by denying it.30

For example, once, when we were around eight, Olivia had found several tattered papers strewn across the floor, which had turned out to be the pages of her favorite book (Handling a Stubborn Kid by Villicre Bulline). She had shouted herself hoarse at me, but from the parts that I had been able to understand (most of it was incoherent and incomprehensible), it had been a valuable and informative book; my punishment for that crime had been buying her a new book. She had suspected me that time because she had thought I had not wanted her to use any of the disciplinary practices on me (which she of course did anyway). Predictably, she had failed to notice some other scraps of that book in my sister’s trash can.31

A few years before that, Olivia’s pair of scissors had gone missing from her drawer. An hour later she had found them -- as well as a wailing Mina. Turned out the idiot had tried to cut her own hair; the result had been a half-bald Mina screaming at the top of her lungs every time she happened to glimpse her reflection. But of course, the little berk always found a way to blame me for everything; while Olivia had been frantically asking who committed the crime, I had snuck over to right outside the room and was appalled at what I had heard: Mina’s story had been that I had grabbed the scissors and had given her a horrifying haircut, all the while insisting that it would come out great. As soon as she had finished her story, Olivia had flung open the door to find me cowering on the floor at her slipper-clad feet. The yelling that had lasted five minutes later inspired me to make a resolution that I haven’t fulfilled yet. . . .32

Next chance I get, I’m getting a fingerprint kit for Olivia.33

My bedroom door opened, and a snide voice said, “Been kissing your pillow?”34

“What do you want?” I shot back, looking up from my pillow to stare back into my sister’s hazel eyes.35

“Sheesh, so touchy.” She started casually inspecting her freshly painted, shimmery, magenta fingernails. “Just came by to see what mood you were in.” she grinned nastily, still looking at her nails. Maybe she was afraid to look at me. “Fiery temper you’ve got there. Not sulking, though, are we?”36

“Shut -- up,” I growled through clenched teeth. My blood boiled at the sight of her.37

“Or what?” Her grin widened. “Mommy’ll bust you if you even lay a finger on me.” She looked back up at me. “Well, I’m off for breakfast. Mommy’s gotten me a whole box of cupcakes.” She tossed her medium-length brown hair and flounced away down the stairs to the kitchen, where a delicious meal was sure to await her.38

I grabbed my pillow and squeezed it as hard as I could, willing myself not to succumb to the roaring monster created inside me.39

Suddenly the pillow burst into flames.40

I gasped in surprise and dropped the pillow, causing all of my anger to evaporate immediately. This had happened occasionally before, however, and my mind was crammed with thoughts already, so I put it aside for the moment; eventually, I got up, changed, and went to join Mina and my foster parents for breakfast.41

**********42

When I arrived at the dining room, all the cupcakes had vanished except for two. They looked so delicious, and I was so hungry from the morning’s action that I reached out for one, but was interrupted by a sharp, stinging slap across the wrist.43

“None for you, I’m afraid,” Mina gloated. “These are for Morina only. Looks like you get the stale pancakes today.” She crossed her arms and looked immensely smug, as if she had won a contest for the Fairest Queen of All (which she probably would have, after sweet talking all the judges).44

As I feasted on stale pancakes silently (while rubbing my wrist where red marks had started to show), Mina went up to her room to admire the fifty different tops and bottoms of her wardrobe and to decide what to wear for the day.45

For a few minutes all was hushed, until a Ding-Dong chimed merrily throughout the house, the way a bird sings “cheerfully” in a dark and lonely wood.46

“Good Lord, she’s early!” Olivia dropped a potato, wiped her oily hands on her apron, rushed to the door, and flung it open; she was greeted instantly with a silvery laugh and an innocent “Good morrrrrr-ning, Mrs. Rhyna! You look bee-yuuuuuuutiful today!”47

I sighed. Whenever it happened to be the birthday of a friend of Mina’s, she would automatically be invited to our house to “play”; whenever one of them came, I didn’t participate in their “games”, but instead did more chores. Today was to be no better, I could see that, especially with Morina here. She was chubby and short and usually the one who injured me physically while Mina wounded me verbally.48

I carried the remainder of my breakfast and my plate and dumped it into the sink. Olivia came back into the kitchen, looking relieved, having just sent Morina upstairs. She looked at me for a moment, and I had the impression she was considering something. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she said,49

“Hope, be home by sundown.”50

I blinked; I was speechless. For a second, I thought that Olivia had gone mad, because the chances of me getting a chance like that was like, once in a thousand years; on the other hand, she must’ve been in a pretty good mood to give a golden privilege like this: I practically never got to go wherever I wanted. My heart soared like a captive bird just set free.51

“Uh…” I stammered, “th-th--“52

“Just shut up and get out of my sight before I change my mind.”53

I hurried away, first going up to my room to strap on my watch and grab my skateboard and baseball cap, then back down to the door, where I slipped into socks and shoes. I felt glorious, more so than in a long time. I was free, free from them all! (until sunset, at least)