Burning from the Inside (1/4)

No one told me there would be fire.

Did they assume I already knew? No. More likely, they didn't think it would be an issue.

I've never been to a seance before. I thought seances meant talking to ghosts, or even just checking to see if there were ghosts around. Ghosts as in dead people. Dead people as in people who can't actually do anything, not any more. It all sounded so silly and harmless. Esmé Sutherland, president of our school's occult club, had a tin of cookies in his bag, for god's sake. A tin of plain old cookies that were supposed to be Meredith Warner's favorite brand. Meredith Warner died in 1998, long before any of us were even born. How much sillier does it get than that?

But then he took out the tealights. Anne Perry, our secretary who hasn't been showing up to the actual meetings because she has to rehearse for the fall play, had already pulled the blinds. The six of us were already sitting in a circle.

If I'd tried to leave, someone would have insisted I tell them why. And I would have said I was afraid of ghosts. And they would have known it was a lie, because I'm a terrible liar. They would have poked and prodded at me until I told them the real reason. Which they would never believe, occult club or no. And anyone who would believe me is exactly the kind of person I can't have finding out.

So there was really no escape for me.

Esmé lights the first tealight of three. So far, so good. That's a normal size for the flame to be, right? Now he's lighting the second—

Oh god that's way too high. It's not going down, either. Why isn't anyone saying anything? How can they not notice?

The third match is a dud. It went out as soon as Esmé touched it to the wick. Now he's striking another. At the same time, a flame absent a match is rising from the last tealight.

It's my fault, of course. I think I'm focusing too hard on all this. Ignoring the flames might only make everything worse, though. Nothing is on fire yet that shouldn't be. That counts for something, September.

"Meredith had quite the fiery personality," Cora tells us.

Everyone except me chuckles. Cora is Meredith's granddaughter. Somehow, Esmé got her permission for us all to come here. I'm not sure what she's getting out of it.

"Everyone hold hands now," Anne says. "And repeat after Esmé." Her dress looks so very flammable.

"Spirits of the past, follow the light of the living world and come to us. We would speak with you," Esmé says. We repeat after him. I try not to think about the flames in front of me.

Nothing's happening. I feel warm, but I also feel Hector's friend whose name I don't know shiver next to me. Don't think about the flames, September.

Esmé takes an eternity to repeat the call. Minutes pass.

Cora leans forward. "Grandmother, it's me, Cora. If there's anything you'd like to say to anyone in the family, I'll gladly pass on the—"

Something crackles and smokes. I jerked my hands away from the circle and scrambled backward before I even knew what I was doing. Cora shrieks. A chunk of her butt-length red hair is singed and waxy at the end, and—

The tealight got knocked off its saucer. It didn't go out. The carpet's burning. Esmé blows on it frantically, but it does nothing. The flame is spreading. We're all gonna—

Anne stood up to stomp on the fire. Furiously, she's squinting at the black spot it left behind. A translucent little ridge of flame rises from the edge of it. My fault.

Anne stomps on it again.

It doesn't come back.

<<>>

I don't know why I thought joining the occult club was a good idea. Well, actually, I didn't even mean to join. I was just going to try it out. I thought maybe I'd find someone there who was like me.

I've survived twenty-one fires in fifteen years. Most of them were my fault. There's just something about me and heat. I turn red at the slightest provocation. By most people's standards, I'm always mildly feverish to begin with. The tiniest flame swells the second I lay eyes on it. They get even bigger when I try to blow them out. I've melted and scorched my handprints into cheap tables and chairs when upset, without realizing what I was doing until it was too late. Candy wrappers practically liquify in my pockets in summer.

All I can do about it is stay away from any place I think might have an open flame, and forests when it's hot out. Even bookstores and libraries make me uneasy.

I can't say my expectations of the occult club at my new school were particularly high going in. But they weren't low enough, either. I knew as soon as I walked in the room no one there was like me. Normal kids, all of them. Totally carefree.

The vice president, Eddie Feld, was the most carefree of them all. Maybe it was infectious. Maybe that was why they all seemed so happy and oblivious to the social hazards of openly taking an interest in things that aren't real. I'm already a lost cause, and maybe some of the others were, too, but you couldn't tell from the way they acted. Maybe they couldn't tell, either. Or maybe being in Eddie's presence made them forget.

She wasn't the only girl in the club, but she was the only person besides me in the uniform skirt. Grey, though, not black like mine. Plus the maroon blazer none of us can get out of wearing, and the long black uniform tie with the gold stripe down the middle. Amethyst tie tack. Brassy, wavy hair down to the ends of her shoulder blades. Sitting on one of the tables. Absently swinging her legs and talking to everyone, but no one in particular. Or at least, not for more than a few seconds. And absolutely not about to let me enter the room unnoticed.

"Hiiiiiiii! I'm Eddie, what's your name?" she asked me before I'd taken two steps into the room.

"Uh." I hate being put on the spot. "September."

Eddie cocked her head. "Septemberrrrrr?"

"T-Townsend."

"September Townsend," she repeated, like she was tasting my name. "I like it. You can have my chair if you want." She pushed her book bag off the chair behind her, making it the only empty one within ten feet of her. I'd planned on taking one closer to the back of the room, but it would have looked weird after that exchange.

"Thanks," I mumbled. Blushing, of course. I pulled the chair back all the way to the edge of the table behind it, which wasn't nearly far enough, but then Esmé came in and Eddie hopped off the table to help him start the meeting.

He shines as much as Eddie, but in the opposite way. He's barely taller than her, paler than anyone else in the club, and has dark eyes and sleek black hair that's longer than mine, but only by a little. It doesn't reach his shoulders, but could cover his ears if he didn't tuck it behind them. I've only ever seen him wear the floppy black bow tie offered as an alternative to the long tie with the gold stripe. If he wanted, I bet he could pass himself off as a girl, especially with the way he keeps his mouth shut. They make quite a pair.

He gave everyone new a quick, stiff welcome, then told us the only items on that day's agenda were the visit to the Warner house I already told you about and the club's lack of a treasurer. Eddie barely let him finish his sentence before taking over and explaining the details. It was more like they'd rehearsed this and she was an actress stepping on the ends of his lines than like she was interrupting him. While she spoke, Esmé sent a sign-up sheet for the Warner house around the room.

"That's all we have for today," he said when Eddie paused to take a breath. "The official meeting is over, but we have the room for the next hour if you want to stay and talk amongst yourselves."

There was a teacher present, but she didn't say a word the whole meeting. I don't think she even looked up from the papers she was grading. In fact, I still don't know what her name is. Even her age is a mystery to me. Thirty-something? Forty-something? Older? There's something about her facial features that doesn't look young, but I can't work out what it is. Nothing obvious like wrinkles. Her hair is thick and dark, slightly wavy, kept out of her face in the back with a barrette but otherwise down. Maybe that's what threw me off. Anyway.

Eddie watched Esmé speak and nodded tamely when he said the meeting was over, then all but ran back to the table she was at before and hopped into a sitting position so fast and so close to me I reeled back in surprise. "Esmééé, what do you think about this—erm—September? For treasurer?"

It's always interesting to find out who thinks I'm what gender, and who isn't sure. When I was younger, I could control it with my clothing choices. I didn't realize I was starting to grow out of it until I cut my hair and suddenly people could see me in a dress and still think I was a boy. In a few years I'll probably grow out of it completely, judging by my dad's height. Already I feel like I have to choose between maximum comfort (skirts), and maximum invisibility. Except I don't, because with my curly pumpkin-colored hair, I will never be able to achieve that without going to the unreasonable effort of keeping my hair dyed dark and cut short. So. Comfort it is.

Someone scooted out of the way while Esmé pulled up a chair as close to Eddie as he could get, which meant right next to me. That was also the moment I realized everyone that wasn't leaving was now staring at me after Eddie's comment, and wondered if my face might actually spontaneously combust. And whether everyone else would be thrilled or traumatized if it did.

"I think," Esmé said, glancing at the table as he bought himself time, "that everyone who would like to be treasurer for this year should put together a statement of why they think they'd do well in that position, and we should vote on the best statement whenever we have two or more of them."

He looked up at Eddie first, then glanced at me. Possibly apologetically, but I might have imagined that.

Everyone paid attention to Eddie again after that. Which suited me just fine. Suited her, too. "I knooow, but come on, sie's so serious. Sie's got my vote."

I glanced at the clock and registered my protest before I could talk myself out of it. "We've known each other for five minutes."

Eddie grinned. "Seeeeee? Sie pays attention to numbers!" Then she looked back down at me almost curiously. I opened my mouth to ask what she'd just called me, but didn't manage to speak up before the conversation moved on.

Esmé somehow managed to roll his eyes lovingly at Eddie. I don't know how he does it. Probably doesn't even know he does. "September? Do you want to be treasurer?"

I couldn't shake my head fast enough.

"There you go," Esmé said. "Besides, it's fine if no one applies. I can keep doing it."

"He was treasurer last year," Eddie told a boy with freckles, horn-rimmed glasses, and skin the color of the dark bricks on the outside of the "new" science wing that got added on to the school a few years ago. Whose name I would later learn was Hector Burton.

"I could be treasurer," Hector said. "My math grades are impeccable."

"Put it in your statement and share it with the group next week," Esmé told him.

I stayed because I felt too hemmed in to leave. Neither me nor Esmé said much for the rest of the time. Maybe he felt hemmed in, too. Maybe that's why he seems so trustworthy to me. Even though he also seems to be hiding something.

Sure, sure, "but September," you're thinking, "he's probably just shy. Just because someone doesn't say much doesn't mean they're hiding something. You should know that better than anyone." I do. And I know what it looks like, too.

I also know what it doesn't look like. Not to the point that I can describe it, or give you examples. But I know. And I've seen it in Esmé every time I've been near him.

<<>>

"Esmé, no one wants to go to another one of your so-called haunted houses!" Eddie says, right in front of everyone.

It's been about three months, and I keep finding myself going to meetings because I know I couldn't rid myself of some of these people if I tried.

Emma Gershwin's my lab partner in chemistry, which is a complete nightmare. I've had two accidents with the bunsen burners so far. First, the girl in front of me burned her hand. The time after that, I somehow managed to light my hair on fire. Alex Cheney had to haul me over to the sink by the sleeve of my blazer and shove my head under the faucet because I was panicking too much to do literally anything (other than wait until I passed out from smoke inhalation and set everything else around me on fire when I finally fell, I guess).

After that, I started feigning sick whenever we got lab instructions involving fire, but Emma won't let me copy her notes. I think she's made a connection between me and the incidents. And wants more data points, because I guess science experiments are only fun for her when they're at someone else's expense.

Hector's strawberry blonde friend who went to the Warner house but not the first club meeting is Charlie Thompson, and it turned out he was in my math class, but I wasn't paying enough attention to notice until he started sitting near me and talking to me when we're supposed to be doing homework.

That class is right before lunch, and he always follows me to the cafeteria, so I always end up sitting with him and Hector, Trudy Coleman, and Emma. All from the occult club.

Oh, and now all of them call me those weird pronouns Eddie uses for me. She said there's a BBS where everyone calls everyone that because it's the internet and you never really know what anyone's actual gender is. Which is actually kind of neat, but when it's only them calling me that, it makes for this weird sense of false intimacy. I don't want to start actually liking them.

Sometimes Eddie and Esmé come sit with us for the last few minutes of lunch, too. Especially if I miss a club meeting. A couple of times I've even gotten the impression that Eddie came to our table specifically to interrogate me about why I skipped.

And then there was last week, when I ran into Esmé in the hall immediately after my last class, and he practically escorted me to the club room. Maybe he simply assumed I was on my way there anyway and that was his way of being social. Maybe his being in that area of the school at that time was a complete coincidence, even though I can't recall seeing him around there before that. Or, maybe, just maybe, he was making up for Eddie not having a chance to bug me at lunch about missing the meeting before that because she was out sick that week. Unless she'd been doing that on his behalf the whole time, of course.

I know those last two possibilities aren't likely. The stress from chemistry class is probably making me paranoid. The teacher gave me a massive packet of extra credit to make up for the labs after I pleaded my case after class (which was why I skipped club), but I don't know how I'm going to get it and my two papers done in the next two weeks.

"I never promised anything would actually happen," Esmé says, speaking at about the same volume as usual but noticeably faster. "You have to be patient when you're looking for genuine supernatural phenomena. It's hard to find."

"That's why I'm saying we should maybe at least try to bring the 'phenomena' to us! What harm could it do just because you didn't think of it first?"

Esmé scowls so hard it's like a knife made of his skin is hanging between his eyes. "'What harm could it do', Eddie? Really?"

Eddie sticks her lower lip out like she might actually cry. Pretty sure she won't. "We're not going to do anything bad, Esmé."

I suppose I should point out that Ms. Stencombe, our advisor, isn't even here today. Esmé had the key to the classroom, though. She must really trust him.

"I never said you were, but calling things like that to you is still dangerous no matter what your intentions are going in—"

Eddie's mouth drops open. Not a lot. Esmé's so upset he doesn't even notice at first. When he does, he stops talking and waits.

"You call 'things' to us every time we do a seance."

Esmé turns his head a little to the side, without taking his eyes off Eddie.

She crosses her arms and leans back. Looks him up and down. I've never seen a look like that on her face before. I guess even she realizes there are some situations that can only be made worse with talking.

Esmé's ears redden. He looks away, at the floor.

Eddie turns back toward the rest of us. "Anyone who wants to try out Anne's suggestion on the night of the full moon next week, don't worry about signing up. Come find me sometime tomorrow and let me know you're coming. I'll fill you in on the details." Then she walks out.

A couple people start to scoot their chairs away from the tables to get out, then stop. Esmé technically hasn't ended the meeting. No one says a word.

"Are we done, Esmé?" Anne finally asks. She's sitting at the front table, close to the door, with the club record book. Hector is next to her.

Esmé turns toward her, clearly struggling to keep his emotions off his face. But he's managing enough that I can't quite tell what they are. "Don't do anything you'll regret, Anne," he mutters.

Anne smiles grimly and stands up. "No chance." Then she walks out, too. Over the next minute or two, pretty much everyone else follows. I'm still trying to figure out what just happened.

<<>>

It's been a week. Two days until the full moon. The classroom we normally hold meetings in is locked. Very dramatic.

There's one other person I'm thinking might still show up, though. So I'm waiting until the official start time.

And here he is.

Esmé comes down the hall looking all around him like a nervous animal. At the sight of me, he sighs. "September, what are you doing here?"

"I believe there was supposed to be a meeting of the occult club."

Esmé chuckles. "I always knew she was capable of this. Just never thought I'd be on the receiving end of it."

"Who was capable of what?" I ask, even though I know what he's talking about. Wait, what if he doesn't know I know?

"I'm surprised Eddie didn't tell you whatever their new plans are." Esmé looks like he could say more, but he's deciding against it for now.

"Oh, she did." Friday. Eleven o'clock. The field on the other side of the drainage pond from the school. Which is breaking curfew, but we all know rules don't apply when you're as cute as Eddie. Not sure she's aware the others aren't in the same boat, though. "I just thought it was in addition to the usual meeting."

Esmé leans against the wall next to the door and shrugs. "I guess you're the only one. I'll see you after the break? If not at lunch?”

"One question first." My cheeks are already reddening. This is the main reason I showed up. That, and the sliver of a possibility there actually would be a meeting, but I knew it was a ridiculously thin sliver. "Can you tell me what actually happened last week?"

I have my suspicions, of course. But I don't want to get carried away. All I know was there was something about the way Eddie looked at Esmé that won't leave my mind alone. She didn't just look frustrated, or disappointed. She looked betrayed.

And who knows? Maybe it was only because Esmé disagreed with her openly for once, in front of people. Honestly, I suspect that may have been a big part of it. But I can't help but think there's something else.

Esmé presses his lips together and glances away for a few seconds. There's no one else around. Again, he shrugs. "Eddie and Anne wanted to do magic as a club activity." He looks back at me. "Mostly Eddie, if you really want to know. Anne's too independent to want to share her practice with a group. I'd be truly surprised if it was her idea."

My face burns before I even press him further. "And?"

He eyes me thoughtfully for a second, then looks away again. "And I thought it wasn't a good idea. Because it isn't safe. We're an occult study group, not a—a coven, or whatever Eddie's trying to turn this into."

Maybe this isn't a good idea. He might be more hurt than he's letting on. Actually, I'm surprised he's managed to stay this composed for so long.

No. I can tell from the furtive look he just gave me. He's trying to distract me from something. Or he might be. Or I might just be making an idiot of myself.

God, what do I even say? My mind's going blank. I know how my face must look, and every time I think about it, my cheeks get hotter.

"Is it me?" Esmé asks out of nowhere. "Or Eddie?"

"W-what?"

"Me, or Eddie? The reason you're making that face."

"I don't know what you're—"

The corners of his lips twitch upward for a second. "Nevermind. Sorry."

"No, I just—"

"I've got studying to do, September. You probably do as well. Might as well get to it. Since there's no meeting this week."