Page 7 of When It Burns

THEO

My first thought when I wake up is that it’s much hotter than it should be. In my groggy state, I think that the air conditioner must have broken, but I quickly realize that this heat is way different from a normal Alabama night.

It's dark when I open my eyes, but I can feel the heat on my face. I look around and notice the gap under the door shows a bright light and smoke is billowing in through the space. Coming to terms with what’s going on, I scramble out of bed and start screaming for my siblings. Calling out for my parents. Looking for a way out of my bedroom. I grab for the door, but the knob burns my hand, warning me not to open it. I cough and sputter still trying to yell for anyone that could help me. But help isn’t coming. My heart races out of my chest and I continue screaming “MOM, DAD. HELP ME! JAKE!!!! MARGARET!!!”

I’m jerked awake by my screams, and Margaret pounding on my door. It takes me a minute to realize where I am before realizing I’m in the farmhouse in Springside. Trying to force air back into my lungs, I grab for the water on my bedside table. I’m covered in sweat and my throat is raw from calling out in my sleep.

“Theo, you gotta wake up!” Margaret screams, still pounding on the door. I stand from the bed and walk over to the door trying to dodge all the shit I still need to unpack on the floor. Opening it, I see the clear signs of worry on her face. “Another nightmare?” she asks.

“Yeah, you know the usual,” I tell her.

“I’m worried about you, Theo. You can’t keep living like this.” My sister tries, clearly worried about me becoming upset with this line of conversation.

“I’m fine,” I snap. “Yesterday was fucking hell. I made a fool out of myself, and now I have to figure out how to make good with this damn town along with the teacher I was a complete ass to.” I don’t bother to mention that the nightmares have been a constant for the last several years. Margaret and I have talked every day since the night our lives fell apart, but this is the first time we’ve lived together since I moved out.

Margaret was living with her asshole boyfriend until she walked in on him last month with his cock down another girl’s throat. He’s a high-powered attorney in Birmingham, and she’d thought he’d been the one. They’d looked at wedding rings this summer, but it turned out he’d been sneaking around with one of his clients' wives for over six months. They’d met as he was defending her husband’s company for fraud. I knew my sister was still healing from his betrayal and that it had been a major factor in her deciding to move to Springside with me.

“Okay, well Caroline and Hannah confirmed they are coming over tonight. I’ll take care of the sides and dessert, but I need you to be in charge of the grill. I figured you could grill some steaks and I’ll make a pasta salad and baked potatoes. I’ve been itching to make some fresh bread and I have a new cookie recipe that I am thinking about making as a signature item for the bakery.”

Margaret and I had stayed up through the early hours of the morning to make the living room and kitchen somewhat welcoming for visitors. We’d unpacked the lamps and some of the other girly shit Margaret insisted we needed from throw pillows and area rugs to lemon verbena candles. She’d refused to let me touch anything in the kitchen since she’s obsessive about knowing where everything is while she bakes. I was dog-tired by the time we finished, but I had to admit that it felt good to finally feel like I had a home.

After the fire, I decided to go straight into fire training. I eventually went back and got my degree online from a community college while I was working my way up to Captain, but I always knew city life wasn’t for me. While I worked in the suburbs outside of Birmingham, I still felt suffocated by the lack of fresh air. I’d worked my way through the ranks and rented a small apartment close to the station, but it had never felt like home. I hadn’t even bothered to buy much furniture other than a bed and sofa in the twelve years I’d lived there, much to Margaret’s frustration.

I was grateful for the opportunities at the old station, but I never felt like I’d found a place to belong. Add on the fact that I had beaten a few older members of my old squad out for Captain, easy to say I hadn’t been sad to leave the tension in the station.I'd been worried that would be a problem in Springside but everyone I met yesterday seemed fine—until I insulted Huey.

“Well I have to get going to work, but get whatever you need for tonight. I’ll leave some cash on the bar for groceries before I leave, and just so you know, I’ll be taking care of our expenses until you get the coffee shop opened. I don’t want you to be stressed about money. I have to jump in the shower before I head to the station,” I tell Margaret as I grab a clean pair of boxers and shorts and start to walk out of my room and toward the bathroom down the hall. I’d given her the master bedroom, considering that she has about four times the shit that I do.

As I started to walk past my sister she put out her arm to stop me and threw herself into my arms. “Theo, you know I give you a whole lot of shit, but you know you can always talk to me,” she says as she looks up at me with tears in her eyes.

Swallowing an unexpected lump in my throat, I hug her back. “I know Marg, I’m good. I promise,” I tell her, trying to make sure my voice is as convincing as possible.

I may be a broken man, but I’ll be damned if anyone else knows that.

CHAPTER SIX

CAROLINE

“Run it full out this time, ladies,” I shout Tuesday afternoon as my squad marks the last count of their first routine of the season. “Y’all know that Meet the Saints sets the tone for the whole season, and I’m expecting perfection.”

“Yes ma’am,” the squad choruses at me as I turn to run the music again.

Once I make sure the girls are set, I hit play on my phone and hear the Bruno Mars mix start to play. Hannah and I worked this summer to choreograph all the material we would need for the season, and we were spending today running several of our upcoming performances. As “That’s What I Like” blasts through the gym, the girls dance and flip through the routine for Meet the Saints. The single base extension stunts fly through the air and they cradle to the beat of the music. Finally, the girls move to the ending formation and yell, “Go Saints!” with huge smiles on their faces.

“Okay, good job girls. Now that you’re warmed up, let’s run our competition routine we’re using for later in the season.” I instruct the girls, and they all move to their formations.

We’ve worked on this routine for months, and I am so anxious for us to finally hit it. I press play again, and this time the remix of “High Hopes” by Panic! at the Disco fills the speakers. I watch to make sure everyone is hitting the choreography perfectly before all three stunt groups execute flawlessly synchronized basket tosses.

Smiling to myself, I hold my breath a little, as I always do, while they move to their final pyramid. We spent all summer sweating our asses off and trying to perfect this stunt sequence.

I look over at Hannah to see her completely zoned in on the routine. It took a bit of convincing to get her to agree to come on as a coach for my squad, but I eventually wore her down and she’s fallen in love with the sport the same way I have.

We both stand extremely still as Maggie, our team captain, sets for her back handspring tuck into the stunt. We’ve spent days of practice discussing grips and hand placement to make sure that she lands the tuck and is immediately ready to go up and pull her heel stretch so that the other groups can link up for the final sequence. We came close last week, but the stunt still wasn’t hitting exactly where we wanted it to. Hannah and I spent the weekend texting about ways to correct the timing, and I am so nervous to see if it’s going to work.

When I took over three years ago, the program was in chaos. They’d been through six coaches in the last five years before I accepted the position. No one knew anything about tumbling or stunting, and the squad had a reputation for drama since there wasn’t any oversight. Since I came in, I’ve managed to turn it around with Hannah’s help. I take a lot of pride in what I’ve built and I know that this year could be the year that we’re ready to take on regionals.

By the time Maggie perfectly hits the tumbling pass, both Hannah and I are close to screaming. When she pulls the heel stretch I can feel my excitement mounting, and by the time the flyer on the side grabs her foot and helps her flip over the top, we are barely containing our excitement. Finally, all three groups finish in libs as the music ends with a yell of “Go Saints,” and Hannah and I explode into cheers.

The girls dismount cleanly and all of a sudden they rush Hannah and me with hugs and yells of “We did it!” We both laugh as we try to get them to settle down.

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