xTWOx

.Fire.

We had spent the night talking and laughing, even over the silliest things. We had watched the Sixth Sense before turning the lights out, and I was baffled by the ingenious story. Now it was morning, and still shocked that Bruce Willis was a ghost, I stooped over to the bathroom and took a shower.

It was almost 10:00 and I bounded down the stairs, prepared for my Saturday morning cartoons.

I decided to call a friend to stay the afternoon, and it worked out fine. Now, all I needed was mom's approval. Joe was one of my best friends - we had been pals since the fourth grade. It was going to be a good day for me, and I couldn't wait to be out of the house.

The normal TV shows were on - the ones that I watched every Saturday morning. They were one of the things that I loved in life. There really was nothing better than eating a bowl of fruity-o's in front of a 26 inch flatscreen television on the weekend.

By noon, my mom emerged from her bedroom. Her hair was in a nasty twist and she blinked all too often at the sunlight that shone through the windows.

"About time you got up." I laughed. She ignored me and stumbled into the bathroom, closing the door carelessly behind her. I slouched on the blue, microfibre sofa and glared intently at the television.

Within minutes, she was dressed and looked like she had been up for hours. She put the perk on for a cup of coffee, grabbed a bagel from the cupboard and began spreading cream cheese on it.

"I want to go to Joe's today, mom. Maybe spend the night." I informed her, hoping for her approval. "I haven't had a sleepover for weeks."

"Sounds okay to me - has he talked to his parents?" She asked. It was what moms always did - strangling their kids for impertinent details and then finally giving them a warm 'goodbye'.

"Of course he has." I informed her. "I called this morning."

"And how do I know you're not lying?" She demanded with a smile as she took a bite of the crisp, whole wheat bagel.

"Well, you can either call them to confirm - or you can just trust me because you know I'm a good kid." I said.

"You're too clever, Everett." She stated. "Go ahead - be back by noon tomorrow." I smiled.

"Thank's mom. I'm going to eat lunch and get some things together, and then, would you be so kind as to drive me?" I requested with a pout. She shook her head and took a sip of coffee.

"You can walk."

"It's like... twelve blocks." I told her.

"And good exercise." She added adamantly. "Better than lazing around everyday. I think it's about time you got some good activity in."

"Mom," I dragged out a whine. "Please?" Another pout came through.

"Don't 'Mom' me," She imitated my whine. "Walk, or don't go." I shrugged in defeat upon hearing this.

"Fine." I said contently, and then leaped up the stairs to get ready.

It was already 2 o-clock by the time I rang the doorbell at Joe's house. He yanked the door open and let me in quickly, just to avoid letting his doberman out. The black, vicious dog pounced up on me immediately, but Joe knew how to calm him down and he landed back down on his feet, quiet as a rock.

"What do you want to do?" He asked me. "It's saturday, warm out, a good day to do some sports." His brown hair covered most of his left eye. I nodded.

Joe was average height with brown, curly hair that usually covered his green eyes. Although I was taller and slightly older than him, he was still a good person to hang out with.

It was only seconds before we were out in the driveway with the basketball. Joe's dad was just coming home in his SUV. He came around the driveway, parked the vehicle, and shouted a 'Hello' to me. I smiled and shouted one back.

"So do you really like living here in Toronto?" Joe asked me. The question seem a little out-of-the-blue, but I decided to take it seriously.

"I guess. Its cool - I like being in touch with society instead of in a country hick-town." I replied.

"I hate hick towns. They're so boring - who would really like to live in one, anyway?" He said with a shrug and tossed the ball over my head. It clanged against the iron backing and bounced off the hoop. The conversation was working in a knot - I wasn't sure what was going to be said next and it didn't seem like either of us were really into it.

"Not me." I said. I grabbed the basketball and gave it a shot towards the hoop. It slipped into the basket and bounced on the gravel, making a loud 'poink!' sound.

It was how we spent most of the afternoon. Conversations were dull, but we played monopoly for about an hour until I gave up. I had never liked board games anyways.

By 8:00, we discovered that I couldn't stay overnight. It was a twistin my own plans that leftme bitterly disappointed. But, grateful for the time I did spend with him,I began my walk home. I didn't want to walk in Toronto at night, so I took off early and headed towards the house. It was a good evening to walk. The faded shouts of kids around the neighborhood were all that could be heard apart from the faint roll of evening traffic in the distance. The sun was just easing its way down onto the lake, sending an amber light across the horizon.

I was beginning to smell smoke about 3 blocks from my house, but I guessed it was just a barbecue or bonfire. I continued walking. I shot a glance at my watch. It was almost 8:30. Looking around for a minute to see where the smell was coming from, I began walking again.

Then, I saw the smoke, billowing up in black figures above the neighborhood. It clashed and swirled up higher and higher. By now, I was beginning to say to myself that that was way too much smoke for a bonfire. One of the houses must be on fire. Thoughts struck my head with sour chords. Thoughts that a neighbor was dying in a house fire. Thoughts that one of my close friends was in that fire. I was even having thoughts that it was my own house that was on fire. I tried to chase them away but as I drew closer worry gripped me. My heart was skipping beats as I could see better - the orange flames licking out the windows of a house down the street from me. Flashing lights from a fire engine caught the neighbors' attention. Now, I had to know what house it was.

I ran up closer to where the fire engines and ambulances were parked. Paramedics scurried back and forth, muttering into their radios as a pile of feedback came through the speakers. The crack of burning wood was louder coming from a suburban home. Fire fighters were running in, and some of them stood outside with hoses, blasting water through the windows. Then, I saw it.

My heart shattered when I noted the green mailbox with my last name on it.

Sloan.

There it was, printed in bright white aluminum letters. I couldn't even recognize my own house, it was burning so violently. I ran up closer.

"Thats my house!" I shouted. "That... That's my house!" I repeated. Tears were streaming down my face. My thoughts were finally concluded with the truth. I was right. It was my house, burning down to the ground. All other circumstancescollapsed at my feet as the one before me gave it's grand appearance. I blinked, and then hid my face from the saddening sight. For a moment, I shot a glance back at the burning simultaneously,afirefighter ran up to me.

"Excuse me, did you say this is your house?" He asked.

"Of course it is!" I cried, falling down onto the paved road. I sat down with my head between my knees, trying my best to block out all reality.

"I'm going to have to ask for your name." The brightly dressed man said.

"It's Everett." I said slowly, swallowing my tears. "Everett Sloan. Where's my mom?"

"You have to come with me, son." The firefighter said. He had a solemn look on his face and he reached a hand down toward me. I buried my head in my lap again and clenched my fists.

"Where is my mom?" I repeated "Where is she!?" I was shouting now. The tears choked me. I swallowed and wiped them away, fightingmy fears from their evening heist. I felt like my life was being stolen from me. I felt like I was being ravaged of my childhood. I just wanted to lay and die, but I wanted my mom.

"Take my hand, Everett. You're going to have to come with me." He said again. I swallowed and reached for it, standing up with his help.

He sat me down in a car with flashing lights.

"I'll just be a minute, alright?" He said tenderly and slammed the door. I watched him through the window, talking to an old man with a mustache. The firefighter glanced at me and so did the other man. He approached the car and peered inside. After a moment, heopened the door.

"Your name, son?" He asked. He wascasually dressed in black and gray and wore medals on his uniform.

"Everett Sloan." I said with a frown. "What happened? Where's my mom?" I began to ask.

"Everett, I'm sorry," There was a pause as the man fought for words. It wasn't necessary anymore. By that time,I already knew thetruth. Adamantly, he continued,"Your mom was in the building when the fire started. She perished in the fire." The mustached man said. It rang in my ears. I hated to hear it. I didn't want to know it. The fire still lapped around the windows and burned through my home. It was the fire's fault - it killed my mom, it stole my life, it destroyed my home. I had nothing left. I didn't even want to live anymore. I wanted to die and be buried, right next to my mom.

If I couldn't live with her, I wanted to run into that inferno and die with her.

Another car door slammedsoon afteranother uniformed man entered the vehicle. He started the engine and drove us away from there. It was the end of the life as I knew it, and the beginning of what was left to come.