When You Try to Hide Fire

One

'Beep!' as the alarm went off.

Tina groaned as she turned off the alarm. 'Shoot! 6am!'. It was Sunday morning. She always slept in on Sundays – it was the only day she ever could. It was a few weeks to her 16th birthday in the fresh breeze month of April, spring vibes and all. Tina was still lying on her bed the sunlight had already started penetrating through the window blinds. Her eyes were still kept shut, she was shallow in her sleep, too shallow her eyes didn't seem to be heavy with enough sleep to carry her through till 8AM. She rolled left the she rolled right and left again. She sighed and finally opened her eyes.

'Ugh! Oh my God' she yawned rubbing her eyes. She sluggishly came out of bed and walked straight into the bathroom to pee. She then washed her face, walked back into her room and jumped back on the bed. She was restless. Some minutes later, she stood up to stretch. 'My back is really sore... God. How did I sleep last night?' she asked herself

Tina was a preppy, black skinned 15 years old Nigerian girl whom was loved by some people. She had a smile that seemed priceless, beautiful black eyes that sparkled in sunlight and her hair was short and ebony. She was tall and had a gap tooth which people laughed at her for – she looked just like her father except that he was light skinned. She was a different specie of girls, full of innocence and pride in herself. She always called herself the King's daughter, that was a few years after her mother died. It had been 7 years now and Tina seemed to be waxing stronger and better, prettier even.

Hours later, her father served breakfast. It was the usual deal; pancakes and fruit custard which was kind of the only thing her father knew how to prepare well enough. Tina was seated at the dining with her little brother George.

'The breakfast train has arrived and you're right on time. Choo-choo!' he playfully dropped the plate of pancakes on the table and tickled George as he chuckled.

'Don't worry, until my breakfast falls on the floor, we'll know if it was actually a train.' Tina replied hugging her father. 'Good morning daddy' she said

'Good morning sugar plum' he replied hugging her tightly

'GEORGE!!! Baby la cutie! Good morning' she greeted George as she carried him up and twirled with him.

... That Sunday afternoon had a feel of sunshine and workloads a whole lot of it. It was the day Tina's dad decided to clean up the attic. The attic was one of the least 'go-to' places that housed memories: junk and pictures; files of garage sales, library receipts; water hoses – a huge cluster of un-useables piled up in dust and cobwebs. In Tina's head, each item in that attic had a story or a memory following it.

Her late grandfather's bicycle for example: whenever she looked at it, she pictured grandpa in the grass fields coming home riding the bicycle. His white hair luminescent in the evening sun. What about the toaster, the one that almost burnt down the kitchen five years ago the time uncle William wanted to toast bread? It nearly shocked him to death. Just then, one look at her late mother's jewelry box sent chills down her spine. She missed her mother so. She, Tina, used to play a lot with her mother's jewelry whenever her mother was not around. She would dress like an Egyptian princess, Cleopatra, she called herself – wearing her mom's necklace on her head and her earrings on her nose.

'You decided on spring cleaning today, didn't you?' Tina asked her father as he picked up an old rusty portmanteau.

'Yes. And you could help me clean up in spring can't you?' he asked smiling at her

'Yeah, but I don't want to. I don't feel like it.'

'Pumpkin... I...'

'I... am not pumpkin' Tina interrupted 'Do I look like a pumpkin to you?' eyebrows raised 'Am I orange in colour?'