Prologue - The Burning
Aiden stared into the flames and could not believe that this had happened again. The fire ate away at the hanging tapestry, while dark smoke cascaded into the ceiling of the auditorium. The palms of Aiden's hands were still warm from producing the fire.
John stammered in disbelief, looking rapidly back and forth between Aiden and the flames. Aiden already knew what John was thinking. John had been threatening to pummel Aiden just moments before, but now the tall boy was speechless and wide-eyed. He finally managed to utter something unintelligible, clasping his closely-shaven head and looking wildly around.
John raced from the room, his sneakers squeaking and echoing chaotically on the flooring. Aiden felt glued to the spot. He released a sigh of exasperation and blinked uncontrollably for a moment. When the blinking had subsided, he realized that people were rushing into the room and gasping at the fire.
Shouts filled the expanse and bounced off the walls. Someone told the others to remain calm, but Aiden heard a handful of feminine shrieks from somewhere behind him. The flames had crawled to the top of the hanging by now and were sprawling along the fabric connecting the other tapestries. What once had been a symbol of school pride now hung as a smoldering hodgepodge of threads and charred materials.
A firm hand landed on Aiden's shoulder. It was Principal Sevalis.
Aiden said nothing, especially in light of the man's firm demand that Aiden follow him. The principal was a rotund man who always wore striped jackets, and when his mustache twitched--as it did now--students knew the man was serious. Aiden trailed the principal out of the auditorium and into the hall, keeping his own small frame in the large man's shadow even as crowds began to gather around the fire. Principal Sevalis' eyes were furious, and he reached around to grab Aiden by the collar. They were now side by side. They continued on in silence, and the man only stopped to bark commands to teachers passing by. He was letting the others deal with the emergency, and Aiden prepared himself for what he knew would come next.
In moments, Aiden found himself in a seat against the wall, just across from the school receptionist. After his face had grown a shade of red, the principal told Aiden to wait. After a moment, Aiden heard the principal talking to someone inside his office, then came the clack of the receiver, abruptly ending with a small ding.
All was quiet behind the Principal's closed door, so all Aiden could do was wait.
Aiden might have been more upset or even scared, if this sort of thing hadn't already happened at two other schools within the last couple of years.
He observed the scene just outside the large office windows. Firemen rushed through the hall, followed by teachers. Finally a handful of police followed. A whirlwind of energy and commotion could be heard from somewhere beyond the outside hallway. Aiden buried his face in his hands and could only hope it would soon be over.
The minutes seemed to drag on, but in record time, Aiden saw his mother's face come through the office door. She was somewhat tall with a calming presence, despite her troubled expression. She rushed to Aiden's side, sweeping her auburn hair away from her pale complexion. Despite how much her features greatly contrasted with Aiden's olive-toned skin and dark hair, there was no doubting their connection to each other.
"Are you alright?" his mother asked, her face more wrinkled with worry than usual.
"Yeah, I guess," Aiden said, maintaining his indifference.
"But the firetrucks and the police..."
Aiden stood as his mother forced her arms around him. "Yeah, I know," he said with a sigh. "I, uh, caught a tapestry on fire. This time, I swear it wasn't on purpose."
His mother broke their embrace and glared at him.
"You've only got a month left of school," she said, disappointment dripping from her words. "We'll figure it out. But what am I going to do with you?"
Aiden shook his head and sat back down. He didn't care to recall how many times he'd heard her utter that phrase.
His mother sat next to him and grabbed his face, her brown eyes searching his. "I just don't know what to do," she said, her eyes turning glassy. "You and I have to figure out how to control this thing."
Aiden averted his gaze and remained silent, pulling free from her grasp.
"I don't know if this changes anything," Aiden's mother muttered, her forehead wrinkling in anger. "But no more TV, music, or video games for a month."
"Seriously?" Aiden snapped, as if broken out of a trance. "That's all I have left."
His mother threw him a piercing look. "Aiden Gailhart," she said through clenched teeth, glancing back to make sure the receptionist was not paying them too much attention. "What am I supposed to do? I've tried everything, haven't I? Until we get this thing figured out... This--thing that you do--until you can learn some self-control... I mean, who else can start fires--"
By now, she was so upset that Aiden leaned back, unsure if she would scream or cry. Her thoughts no longer seemed coherent.
"Fine," Aiden finally responded, moved by his mother's emotion. "I'll do what I have to do I guess... But you would punish me on my birthday?"
His mother straightened up and almost laughed, dabbing at her eyes. "It's not your birthday," she said, maintaining a serious tone. "Not yet anyway."
"Dammit."
"Watch your language," his mother chided him. "Anyway, how could I forget your fifteenth birthday? I'm your mother. Of course, you will be spending it grounded with none of your toys..."
Aiden groaned and rolled his eyes.
"He threatened to kill me," Aiden said, watching his mother's eyes dart to the principal's door. "John threatened to kill me this time."
"Kids say all kinds of things they don't mean," his mother replied somewhat casually despite Aiden's somber tone.
"I don't need this place anyway," Aiden sighed. "It's bad enough that they're always calling me a gook."
His mother's head snapped back in Aiden's direction. "You listen," she began with a ferocious gleam in her eyes. "If all you do is care about what others say--I don't care how terrible it is--you'll never get past who they think you are. You'll never be who you're supposed to be."
Aiden sat silently, surprised by his mother's reaction.
"Understand?"
Aiden nodded, feeling as though he were a child again.
His mother stood, straightened up her skirt, and asked the receptionist if the principal was ready to see her now. The receptionist nodded. Aiden slumped back in his chair, wishing he had a hat or something to pull down over his face.
"Wish me luck," his mother said in a sardonic tone.
"It's your favorite part," Aiden muttered, staring straight ahead with an empty gaze.