Fire & Ash

I remember your face perfectly, even as I lay with my eyes closed on my bed in the early morning. The straight line of your nose and your chiselled cheekbones protruding just the right amount out beneath your skin are illustrated well in my mind. I can see the dark circles under your eyes, smudges of tiredness, and the one scar you have scratching only slightly just by your left eye. Your eyes, even as I stare at them in my head, make my heart stutter. They’re dark, as they usually were, with flecks of golden brown in them, sparkling when you smiled and dancing wildly when you laughed. I can picture your lips, dry but warm. And I can even remember the way your hair flopped gently into your eyes, the dark russet strands a little longer than the usual boyish haircut I had stereotyped you for.
But what I cannot picture perfectly is your voice, rough and dark, almost a warning sound that would scare anybody. But to me, it was an ongoing purr of velvet, a low sound of safety and strength. And I grip my duvet with a scowl as I try and remember it desperately.
Try to remember you.

I remember the first day I met you, I had just moved with my mother to your town. She had finally decided my deceased father’s hometown was too old-fashioned for us and we packed up. I remember her driving me to your school, undoubted excitement in her face. She was always this vicarious. She made me promise to make friends and try my hardest. She even told me to look out for a possible boyfriend. I had scowled hard at her; boys were definitely not my thing.
I had got out of her car, slamming the door hard to silence my mother’s squeals when she pointed out possible candidates. Many of the students milling around casually watched me with faint curiosity. New girl.
I stood out from the people at your school; my skin was paler and my hair darker. It was sunny in your town and I had grown up in a constantly rainy place. Everybody else seemed to have sun-bleached blonde hair and caramel skin that showed barely imperfections. I felt dejected already as I hugged myself with my crossed arms. You weren’t among the hundreds of students crowding the halls. Or perhaps you were. Maybe you noticed me long before I noticed you. Slinking through the crowd I was so desperately trying to stride through without making a fool of myself. A few people introduced themselves to me, their faces so tanned and warm I felt like a porcelain doll against them. They all seemed to smile widely at me.
Your perfect smile was not there, shining at me.

1.

I made my way to my first class quickly. After scanning the classroom for an available seat, I found one lone desk in the back corner. I got seated there without hesitation and put one iPod earphone in on low volume; I liked the familiar lyrics of my music.
The teacher strode in with his bellowing voice shouting out our lesson aims of the day. He was short, dark-haired and wore unattractive brown square glasses. It was also obvious that he enjoyed one too many fast food meals as I noticed his beige sweater stretching dubiously across his rotund stomach. Even with the help from his glasses, he seemed to squint constantly at the students sat patiently in his class. He only realised my presence when my unfamiliar name cropped up in the register.
“Anna Fraybern?” He asked, his tone changing. I looked up at him and smiled slightly.
“Me, sir.”
He beamed at me for a few seconds. “Ah, a new student. Lovely to have you among us Anna.” He nodded once then seemed to forget entirely about me. He droned on without introducing himself to me, scribbling in his scrawny writing about the solar system on the smeared whiteboard. I copied his nearly unreadable notes down in my new book, finding my eyes drifting to the neat bald patch on the top of his head every so often. My head was near the desk as I bent over my work so the sudden jab in my arm made me jump.
“Oh, sorry,” a boy’s voice mumbled apologetically to me, “I didn’t mean to make you jump.” I pushed the curtain of my dark hair back and saw another tanned boy with the same warm smile on his lips. His eyes were a deep jade colour and sparkled as he spoke. “I’m James,” he put out his hand for me to shake hesitantly.
“Anna.”
“New girl huh?” James mused. “We don’t get many new people.”
I nodded as if I was interested and tucked my hair behind my ear.
“Do you need a lunch partner?” James asked. I blinked at him once and he grinned. “I don’t mean to spring myself on you or anything,” his eyes sparkled again, “but I thought you might need a friendly face.”
“There are plenty of those around,” I mumbled and he laughed quietly. My eyes flickered downwards before meeting his again. “But sure, thanks.”
“No problem.” James smiled once before leaning back over his desk to continue writing.
I spent the rest of class trying to decode the stupidly messy handwriting on the board to copy down in my book. I gave a sigh of relief when the bell signalled for me to give up. I expected James to follow me to my next class, treating me like some sort of rescued animal that needs supervising nearly every second, but he simply grinned at me before disappearing into the crowd.
The school wasn’t that much of a cryptic maze; I found my English classroom quickly. I felt a sense of relief as I reached the room, knowing English was a favourite subject of mine. Hardly anybody was seated yet so I hesitated at the door, not wanting to sit in someone’s seat by accident.
Suddenly, a whole wave of students filed in, pushing and shoving past me with rambunctious laughter. I remained still as they began to resemble a crowd of squawking birds released from years of being trapped in a small wire cage. The only seat left was near the front. The desk, big enough for two, creaked as I put my bag on it.
I sat down quickly, shoving my bag on the floor. The students around me chattered noisily and I reached in my pocket to take out my iPod again but my English teacher, a slender woman, waltzed in.
“Morning,” she called out. Everybody looked up at her and smiled; a rarity in my old school. She was fairly young, with bouncy blonde hair that cascaded down her back, just about reaching the top of her trousers. Unlike my still unnamed Science teacher, she noticed me immediately and beamed. “Ah, Anna, am I right?”
I nodded.
“I’m Miss Walker.” She introduced herself before settling at her desk, logging onto her computer. The class began to chatter again as she got herself sorted. The bell rung out awkwardly and Miss Walker began calling out the register.
I quite liked Miss Walker and decided against blocking out her voice with my iPod. She began writing our objectives on the board and her tremendous knowledge of vocabulary poured out of her mouth effortlessly. She glanced down at me once or twice, just to check I was following. Impressed at my attentive note-taking, she smiled once and began writing about Thomas Hardy on the board.
She was just about to do the swirly curve of her Y when he walked in.
He was ten minutes late but he still walked at a casual pace. He took a seat next to me silently and pulled out his tatty English book. I tried not to stare at him but I failed miserably. He was still tanned like everybody else but his skin was almost a darker coffee colour and his hair was a deep shade of brown. It was a colour I was familiar with and instantly I found myself inspecting him. The humming of chatter ceased for a few moments after his entrance and I began to see he was well known on the school food chain. His position on the chain, however, was yet to be decided.
Unlike everyone else, he wore a grey hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up due to the humid weather and a pair of jeans. A black iPod stuck out of his jean pocket, displaying one of my favourite songs on pause. I smiled automatically.
“Ah,” Miss Walker turned back to us, “Logan, how nice for you to join us.” There was a murmur of gentle chuckles that vibrated throughout the class. Logan smiled up at her, making my breathing halt.
“Sorry Miss, got caught up.” His voice was gruff and almost menacing, even in the light-hearted tone he spoke with.
Miss Walker nodded and smiled. “I’m sure you did.” It amazed me how she was able to talk coherently with him smiling at her like that.
His eyes twinkled as he looked back down at his book, sending my heart beating frantically. A haze swirled in my head; unfamiliar feelings clouding my head as I found him utterly attractive, but I forced myself to look back down at my book. Miss Walker’s voice that I had been listening to attentively with dulled slightly against his.
Logan’s boyish smell washed over me momentarily as he leant over to grab the pencil he had rolled along the table. I froze, my pen in midair, until he slid back into his seat. His eyes met mine for a second and again, the haze began descending.
“Logan, do you mind?” Miss Walker asked, bending down to block the path of his pencil with her tanned hand that he had rolled once again. He chuckled to himself and smiled up at her impishly, knowing he wasn’t ever going to be scolded too harshly. Logan’s charm was undeniable. I couldn’t help but tilt my head in his direction to catch that irresistible grin on his face but to my sudden panic, he met my gaze.
“Am I distracting you?” Logan asked innocently, the bright squares of his white teeth glinting perfectly behind the dark colour of his lips. I forced myself to shake my head silently and turn away. He attempted to suppress his chuckle but I heard it. Somehow all of my senses had tuned into him, his movement, his sound, his smell, and I had only known him for ten minutes. I didn’t like this momentary loss of control over myself – it had never happened before – and I began to scowl.
Miss Walker bent down beside my desk, finished talking to the class. “Are you following ok?”
I glanced up at her, quickly wiping my scowl away, and nodded. “Just fine thanks.”
Her eyes flickered towards Logan and a smile crept onto her lips. “Let me know if you find him too distracting.” Her words were only light-hearted and had no meaning of attraction whatsoever but I felt my cheeks blush. Thankfully, she had turned away when the reddish colour painted my cheeks…but he hadn’t.
He watched me for a couple of seconds with the same tilted grin before turning back to his work. He was undeniably irritating, I concluded, but stupidly attractive.
I continued with my work, avoiding all means of communication with Logan, and managed to finish before the other students. I tried to ignore the fact that his eyebrows rose as I put down my pen. He was impressed, his face gave it away, and I couldn’t help but feel smug.
The bell rang, its jerky rhythm shaking me up, and I put my book in my bag.
“Dismissed guys, well worked today.” Miss Walker called out to the bustling students, her words drowned slowly in the chatter that rose in volume. She strode up to the front of the class and put her hand on my arm to get my attention. “You impressed me today, Anna, well done.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled back. Her expression then changed as she looked at Logan.
“You, on the other hand, need to pull your socks up.” She raised an eyebrow but he laughed gently.
“Sure, sure,” he replied casually, slinging his bag onto his back. He winked at her and strode out of the classroom without a backwards glance. I raised my eyebrows at his mannerisms but Miss Walker didn’t seem surprised.
“Watch out for him,” she murmured as I began to walk out of the classroom. I didn’t look back just in case the embarrassing pink colour that threatened to flood my cheeks reappeared.
The playing fields were quickly dotted with students at break and I found a spot on the continuous slope that curved around one edge of it. It was quiet and nearly deserted. It was a perfect refuge for a new student that shunned the welcoming sentences and automatic over friendliness of the regulars.
“Anna?” A slightly familiar voice called out my name. I glanced around to find James walking over with two friends. They were both lanky boys with ruffled golden hair and bright eyes, blending easily with the other students. I had my iPod earphones stuffed in my ears but at the sight of James and his friends, I slowly pulled one out. My moody and mysterious persona had worked well for me back home, mostly because everyone else was the same, but it was clear by the large grins plastered on everyone’s faces that this would not be the correct approach if I was to fit in. I allowed myself to be polite and friendly to the mildly cute and perfectly innocent boys who hovered in front of me.
“Hey,” I greeted them as they sat beside me.
“This is Lewis and Bradley,” James gestured to his friends, who smiled at me identically. “How’re you finding school?”
“I’m fine,” I replied quietly, looking away from James’ friends who could not stop smiling.
James laughed softly. “You’ll find your way round soon enough. Are you still up for a lunch buddy?” He nudged me carefully as if I were made out of glass. I smiled as best as I could and nodded. “Great,” he grinned.
His friends turned their heads as their names were shouted out. Some other boys were waving at them in the middle of the field, obviously taking part in the short game of football that was occurring there. They mumbled goodbyes and ran down to the make-shift pitch. James’ gaze lingered on them.
“You can go,” I gestured to his friends, “you don’t have to stay with me.”
His eyes darted back to mine. “Hey, you sure? You’re all alone and I’ll feel pretty mean if I-“
“No,” I assured him quickly, “I’m a solitary person.” He eyed me sceptically. “Honestly.”
“Okay,” his voice was unsure at my confidence but he rose to his feet, “if you’re sure.” He wavered at my side.
“I’m sure.” I smiled up at him and he returned it almost automatically before bounding away off to the pitch. His run wasn’t at all graceful, more like an awkward jerking than anything, but it was endearing. I couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at him.
I stuck my hand in my pocket and fished out my iPod, sticking the earphones quickly in my ears again. I began blasting some of my music, enjoying being alone for once, when I felt somebody beside me. I turned around quickly, startled to find Logan sat a metre or so away from me. His eyes were intent on me but they were warm and bright, almost as if he were humouring me. I frowned, looking back down at my iPod’s scratched screen. I was hoping that if I concentrated on something else, the temperamental pigments in my skin would forget to flush an embarrassing pink. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him ruffle his gorgeous dark hair with a short sigh before he looked at me again. At the sight of his mouth slightly opening, I automatically turned down my music just in case.
He was trying to think of something to say, he had that expression of concentration on his face. As his brow furrowed gently, I noticed the dark scar he had by his left eye. It would have made him look even more hostile if it had not been for the warm colour of his eyes. I wondered what had caused the imperfection on his face. A fight with anotherstudent?A go-karting accident? No, Logan didn’t seem the type to be fooling around like a teenage boy. It must have been something serious.
“You’re in my spot,” he finally said with a carefree tone, breaking my train of thought. I looked at him properly then.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, pulling out one earphone.
“You’re in my spot.”
I looked down at the grass. “Oh.”
He annoyingly made my heart stutter as he laughed under his breath.
“You see I’m fine right where I am, its just where you’re sitting has the best view of the hills,” Logan pointed past the large garishly painted sports hall to a cluster of hills I hadn’t noticed. They were a beautiful shade of green and their rounded tops were perfectly curved. It was a wonder why a view so incredible appeared to be invisible to many of the students here. He saw me gazing at them appreciatively and smiled. “You see?”
I looked back at him at the sound of his voice and began to blush. “I’m sorry,” I began to stand, “I’ll move.” Logan moved quickly to press his large hand against my arm and I froze.
“No, its fine, really,” he smiled again, “I was only pointing out that you were in my spot, not that I wanted you to move.” I hesitated, my knees bent awkwardly until he pressed a little harder on my arm to make me sit back down again. He released my arm and then offered the same hand for me to shake. “Logan.”
“Anna,” I shook his hand nervously.
“New girl huh?” Logan mused.
I sighed and looked away from him. “Unfortunately.”
“It’s not all that bad being new,” he said, “all the attention, the new friends, the mistakes you’re allowed to make.”
“I don’t want attention,” I frowned. He laughed in surprise and I found my eyes lingering on his charming face. “What?”
“Sorry,” he apologised as he stopped laughing, “it just comes as a shock to me that a girl doesn’t want attention. I thought it was a genetic thing?”
“You have obviously misjudged me.” His eyes flickered with interest at the confidence in my voice. “I’m not like other girls I guess.”
There was a slightly amused smile on his lips as he spoke, “No, you’re not.” He did not continue, even when prompted by the eye contact we suddenly retained
“Maybe that’s why you like me,” I joked. He did not smile and immediately I began to blush once more. “I’m joking of course.”
The quietness between us was hard to bear and I fidgeted uncomfortably on the grass that grew itchier by the second.
I noticed how Logan’s face was lined; I realised with dismay that he was frowning. He looked regrettable. It was an emotion I was familiar with; I often expressed it myself after barking unintentionally in response to questions I regarded as irritable and pointless uses of words. My mother often showed regret on her face with the slight crease of her brow and her teeth sink into the side of her bottom lip, especially when she was faced with my innocent questioning of my father’s absence as a child. Regret, however, did not seem to be an emotion I expected on Logan. I studied his face carefully; cautious not to draw attention to myself just in case he might return my gaze. The teenager looked down at the ground, his frown hardening, and shook his head ever so slightly.
“Are,” I stuttered slightly, “are you ok?”
Then suddenly, his frown sharpened into a harsh scowl and his eyes flickered with furious fire. He continued to sit in silence, though he was gritting his teeth as if he was fighting back words. I stared at him in shock; his sudden turn of emotion was unexpected and uncalled for. His hands that had been resting lightly on the greenish grass curled into large fists. His whole body just seemed to harden into a rigid, fearful statue.
The bell rang then. I nearly jumped at the shrill sound. Logan stood up swiftly, throwing his bag over his shoulder and vanishing into the crowd of students without looking once at me. I couldn’t help but stare after him but he had disappeared into the brownish colour of people milling around. I bit into my lip nervously, worrying erratically if I had upset him somehow. But how? My ‘humorous’ comment was clearly a joke and I hadn’t said much apart from that; my breathing had been far too irregular to say more than a few words. I shook my head with confusion and stood up slowly, preparing myself for another lesson, another new teacher scanning the room for my unfamiliar face and another round of new people wanting to know my life story.

I felt ultimately relieved when the final bell went. It surprised me how the students around here weren’t as eager as me to leave school. They hung around outside the building, gossiping and hugging as if they hadn’t already spent the majority of the day together. I blinked in the harsh sunlight that was beating down on us, reflecting off car bonnets and blinding me momentarily.
I forced myself not to think of Logan’s face. Unfortunately, I had lost control entirely and his frowning face cropped up more than once or twice in my head.
After looking for him, it was obvious that he wasn’t hanging around with the rest of the students. Logan had vanished quicker than I was about to. My mother’s car glinted in the sunlight, alongside her teeth that were visible as she smiled wildly. She had pulled back her curly ginger hair into a rough ponytail; the unfamiliar heat obviously taking a toll on her body. I anticipated her interrogation as I fell into the front seat of the car.
“So,” she began, starting up the engine, “how was your day?” I stared hopelessly out of the window and shrugged.
“Average. Like another school day I suppose.”
My mother sighed at my unenthusiastic response. “Anna,” she shook her head disappointedly, elongating the syllables in my name in that irritatingly disapproving tone. My eyes flickered to her face.
I began to scowl. “What?” I snapped. It seemed like Logan’s obvious dislike of my company was affecting my mood severely. She turned down our road without speaking but her eyes darted quickly to my face. Her expression was slightly worried; she probably thought I’d been bullied or something. An automatic feeling of guilt began to rise in my stomach, sliding around thickly as the car slowed to a halt on the drive.
“I’m sorry,” I apologised as I got out of the car. “I just miss home, you know?” My mother turned to me with a sympathetic look in her eyes and leant on the car roof.
“This is home now,” she told me gently. I nodded as if I understood, which of course I did, but that didn’t mean I liked it here. Nor will I ever like it here. The kids were far too smiley, too tanned…and too charming.
There were no remnants of Dad here. Back home, there was the familiar diner, the run-down garage I used to clean cars at and the big bricked cinema that everyone went to on the weekends. There weren’t heat waves there, there weren’t any young bright teachers and there certainly weren’t any irritatingly gorgeous but upsettingly confusing people there.
Oh how I missed home.
Without a backwards glance, I rushed up the stairs to my new bedroom. It was still a dull greyish colour and dampened my mood further. With a groan, I threw my school bag towards the floor but my aim was terrible and my throw was stronger than I thought; my bag slammed into my wall with a loud thud. I cringed.
“Anna?” My mother’s expected voice called worriedly up the stairs. The sound of her footsteps followed.
“Sorry!” I shouted as an explanation. She didn’t question me and seemed to disappear downstairs again. I didn’t retrieve my bag; instead I fell backwards onto my bed with a groan. Starting at a new school sucked. My phone vibrated in my jeans pocket and I wriggled it free before flipping it open.
“Hello?”
“Anna!” It was Leona, my best friend practically since birth. Her effortlessly bubbly voice poured out of the phone, softening my hard mood immediately. Our friendship was potentially dangerous as we seemed to start off as complete polar opposites. Although not quite a loner, I began my teenage years detaching myself from certain cliques and idle gossip but somehow, one of the most popular girls in our town took an interest in me. Amused by my moodiness and unwillingness to fit in, Leona proceeded to take me under her wing and suddenly, I became a well-known name myself. Her track record with boys was horrific and I lost count of how many times I’d splashed all my pocket money out on endless tubs of ice creams and chocolate to stuff into her wailing mouth. Strangely enough, I enjoyed her stereotypical excitable personality and allowed her to drag me out of my shell a little.
Moving away from her felt like I was being pushed back in it again.
“Oh I missed you so much today! How did it go? Did you make friends? Oh don’t forget me Anna, I’m going to ring you everyday just so you don’t forget me!” She babbled on for another few minutes, her words eventually merging into one long squeal of excitement and sadness.
Eventually, however, she slowed her speech to a halt to let me answer.
“It’s horrible,” I growled down the phone. She giggled affectionately and then made sympathetic noises.
“Isn’t it amazingly sunny there?”
I frowned. “Sure.”
“And the kids are supposed to be really nice…” She hinted.
“Yeah they are.”
Leona laughed. “So what’s the problem then?”
I scowled, even though she couldn’t see me, and let out another groan. “It’s too nice, it’s too perfect. I miss you. I miss home.”
“Oh brighten up Anna, I’m stuck in boring Rainville and here you are complaining that your new home is too nice!” Her voice was incredulous and made me realise how spoilt I was being. No, I wasn’t being spoilt. I was simply unravelled because of Logan.
I continued to chatter with Leona but my mind was elsewhere. His dark, meaningful eyes that were full with many complex emotions flickered behind my eyelids as I blinked, making me flinch every time. He was gorgeous, I could understand that, but what was making me obsess over him so much? I’ve had crushes before; I wasn’t a boyfriend virgin at all and it wasn’t as if he was the first boy I had ever found attractive.
Sure, I wasn’t a huge fan of the male species; I grew out of that phase pretty quick. So what was it about Logan that was making me slip slowly and dangerously back into a physcotic version of that phase?
“Well I suppose I better go now,” Leona’s change of tone made me jolt out of my daydream and frantic questioning.
“Oh, okay.”
She laughed again. “Don’t sound too depressed. I’ll call you on the weekend, ok? I’m already swamped with homework.”
“Ok.” I replied slowly. My one connection to home was about to disappear.
“Later!” She hung up quickly, a habit she had had since she was little. I looked at my phone with a sad expression, weighing up the odds of my phone breaking if I threw it like I had done my bag. I thought rationally and tossed my phone lightly onto my pillow.
I sat up slowly, scraping the hair out of my face, and crossed my legs. Logan’s sudden change of emotion had frightened me more than anything; the way his scowl fit so easily on his face, as if it had been worn there for most of his life, and the deep set lines where it had made his scar looked darker than when he smiled. His brown eyes had lost all signs of warmth, the deep dark colour just a mass of complex issues I couldn’t pick out. And what had made Logan suddenly flip? It was beyond me.