The Fated Fire Princess

Fire Doesn't Burn Me

Harper’s POV

Oh, f**k.

I am not this person. I’m not the person who goes to pep rallies and enjoys herself; the only reason I went at all was because Jack blew me off so hard, I decided I had to attempt to make new friends in case he abandons me altogether. Of course, I’m still sitting right next to him and not talking to someone else, so I’ve already failed.

I’m also not the person who gets serenaded at the pep rally by the quarterback.

But that’s what’s happening.

Look, I like Justin Timberlake as much as the next person. I mean, he’s cute, and I’m not denying that he’s talented. But I came into the world to the Beach Boys and grew up with Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, the Kinks, and the Cure. (Among about a thousand others.) If you want to serenade me, you do it with There is a Light That Never Goes Out by the Smiths, not Girlfriend by JT.

Then again, it’s not just me he’s serenading. It’s the whole school.

And they certainly love it.

I feel a knot forming in my stomach from the moment he starts singing, but it’s not until I catch a glimpse of Effie that I start to smell smoke.

It’s not the first time the intensity of my emotions has caused me to create smoke; I’ve even started fires before. But when I see Effie glaring up at me with teary eyes, then storming out of the gym, the flames start licking at the perimeter of the gym with an intensity that I’ve never seen before.

It takes them a while to notice. The cheers are too loud; Logan’s too focused on singing, and everyone else is too focused on him. 

He notices, though. Jack notices everything.

I bring my eyes to his, realizing as I do so that they’re even more filled with tears and panic than Effie’s were.

It’s hard to say what I see in his eyes. Not tears, exactly; not anger, either.

Hurt, though. Definitely hurt.

And defeat. 

That look of defeat is what truly ignites the flames.

And that’s when people start to notice.

It only takes one or two screams for Logan to stop singing, and once he does, he sees them—the giant, crackling flames that are now spreading across the glossy, wooden floor of the gym and straight toward him.

For a split second, Logan looks up at me again—this time with concern, rather than… well, I won’t use the word love, but some sort of immature, teen version of that.

He’s a good guy, I remind myself as I look at him. He’s worried about me, not himself, despite the fact that he’s about to get burned.

But he’s not my guy.

“Harper.”

It’s Jack’s voice. I tear my eyes away from Logan’s and look back at Jack, hard as it is to face that defeat. He looks concerned now, too. “You need to calm down.”

Really, has that ever worked?

I scramble to my feet, trying to tune out the crescendoing screams of everyone around me as they sprint for the doors to the gym. I need to leave. At least if I leave, the flames will follow me. I can make for the creek…

Well, that might not be smart, either. The creek is in the woods. Trees catch fire even quicker than gyms.

I want to ask Jack for help. I want to ask him what to do. I want to ask him to hold my hands and never let go, since it’s the only thing that could possibly calm me.

But I can’t. I don’t know what’s going on with me and Jack, but I know that he ran away from me at the creek, and I can’t take that again.

So I make for the nearest window, hoist it open, and scramble into the woods.

It should have been hot enough to burn my fingers, but it didn’t.

Fire doesn’t burn me. People do.

- - - - -

I love my parents; I really do. They’re calm, patient, loving, and kind. They’re also madly in love with each other still, unlike most. Which is, normally, pretty inspiring.

Right now, though, it’s too much.

I know I’m only sixteen. I know I have the rest of my life to find the perfect person and fall madly in love.

But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking. I’ve found him.

So why can’t we just be together?

Is it me? Am I a total chicken? Am I being anti-feminist and cowardly in waiting—hoping—he might one day confess that he has feelings for me?

I started a giant gym fire because I was being serenaded by the wrong person. What’s going to happen if the right person rejects me?

Not knowing what else to do, I make for the beach—the real beach, which will take me most of the day to reach.

At least the ocean can’t catch fire.