Jo never liked to talk about his mom, or think about her, or even acknowledge the fact that she actually existed. Because to him, she didn't. She loved that other man more than she loved Jo or his father. So much more that she left without a trace. But no matter how much he denied it, Jo's mother did in fact exist and she was trying to contact him.
Her phone number was written on a slip of paper in his dad's messy scrawl. Jo had set it on the counter, and it stared back at him with malice as he held his phone with shaky hands. I don't have to call her, he thought, I don't have to call her. Why am I calling her?
What he didn't know was that he wasn't grown up. He wanted his mother; everyone did. I wasn't a matter of being a man or not, it was a matter of needing her to be there, of needing her to fill in those empty gaps that she had created years ago.
Josiah felt the urge to light the paper on fire. He crumpled the paper in his hand before shoving it in his pocket and running outside. The sun was beating down on him, and a lot of the Kingston kids were outside playing, for they often took the rare opportunity when it came. They waved to him, but he ignored them. He was too emotional now. Every feeling he'd ever had seemed to be rushing through him as he climbed in his car.
The feeling of missing his mother, of wanting her back and gone at the same time, anger, sadness, loneliness. Everything. It was all there as he pulled haphazardly out of his driveway and sped down the road, knowing that most parents didn't let their children play in the streets. He pulled into the corner store in a matter of minutes.
When he parked, Jo put his forehead down onto the steering wheel, his body racking with shakes. He needed to light the paper, right then. When he tried to calm his breathing, his breaths became more erratic, so he finally gave up and stormed inside.
He flung the door open and let it crash closed on its own. Immediately, he went towards the coolers where drinks of all sorts were kept. Knowing that he wasn't of legal age just yet, he grabbed a six pack of beer. There was no line for the cash registers, so he walked right up and slammed his item on the counter before grabbing a lighter and throwing it next to the beer. Jo knew the cashier; her name was Heather.
Her voice was timid, as usual. "Jo, I can't let you buy this stuff. You're underage, and your dad told us not to sell you anything that you can use to set a fire...."
"I'm not in the fucking mood, Heather. I need these things, dammit!"
"Jo-"
He didn't even care anymore. He snatched the lighter from the counter and fished the number out of his pocket. The lighter ignited when he pressed the red button, and the feeling of power surged through him, yet he was still tense. He brought the fire closer to the paper until it lit, but he still wasn't satisfied. He threw the paper onto a display case of cheap bracelets, and watched intently as the fire spread.
But he didn't feel the relief that he usually did after an episode. The manager, Mr. Moore, came out from the back room and tried to calm him down. Jo screamed in his face. When Mr. Moore grabbed him to calm him down, Jo thrashed in his arms. Heather had already called the police. Jo was sobbing now. Mr. Moore let him go, and Jo collapsed on the ground. He could hear the familiar whooshing sound of a fire extinguisher as he lifted himself up into a seating position. He cried and cried, choking out sobs and continually shaking. Officer White came next.
Since everybody knew everybody in the town of Kingston, most of the officer's knew about Jo's pyromania, so he wasn't in trouble. He would just be taken down to the station until his father came to pick him up. But even though Jo knew this deep down, he still thrashed around as Officer White handcuffed him and put him in the back of the police car.
"You okay, kid?"
Jo didn't respond; his voice wouldn't work. His tears were silent now, and all he could do was tremble. Officer White didn't press forward, he just drove to the police station and led Jo to his office, locking the door before uncuffing him. Jo didn't move from where the officer had released him. He just stood there, facing the window, while Officer White called his father, and then Aaron. Aaron arrived first, for he had nothing better to do.
"Hey Jo," Aaron whispered shyly as he stood in the doorway of the office. He never knew how to approach people in tense situations. Jo was riveted in his spot; he didn't acknowledge Aaron's existence in the slightest. Before Aaron could do anything else, Daniel, Jo's dad, pushed him out of the way and ran to his son.
He took the liberty of walking around to face him, but Jo just stared blankly back. Daniel put his hands on his son's shoulders. "Jo? Jo, my boy, talk to me. C'mon. Snap out of it!" He grabbed a water bottle that sat idly on the officer's table and threw the water in his face. Jo immediately came to, gasping and shaking his head.
"Do you know what happened?" His father asked.
Jo shook his head solemnly. "Who all knows?" It was all Jo cared about.
The officer replied, "We've asked Heather and Mr. Moore to keep it a secret. Our lie is that you were mistaken for Aaron, who tried to break into the store last week. That's what everyone knows."
Thank God for Officer White, thought Jo. Since the same scenario had happened before, he knew what Jo needed, and nobody would find out. Not even Eden.
"Thank you, Officer. We appreciate it," Daniel said. The three boys left the office and all went to Daniel's home in silence.
***
Jo sat rigid on his father's couch with impeccable posture, as if he was so attentive to the world around him. But he wasn't even aware that his father, Aaron, and Tony were all staring-no glaring- at him. Jo just watched the ground, for in his eyes it was moving back and forth, up and down, like a swing.
It was some type of strange anxiety that the doctors couldn't exactly place, but Jo knew that what he was experiencing was real. It was too real, and he hated it. He saw a flash of fire out of the corner of his eye, but he knew that it was nothing. At least, nothing of importance at the moment.
"Do you know fire?" Jo asked suddenly, without control.
The three just stared at him with wider eyes, not knowing what to say.
"Of course not," he intoned. "You've never been it."
Then he let himself slouch, falling backwards into the back of the couch and into a deep sleep.
Daniel's phone rang. "Robyn, I'm busy!" He hissed.
"I'm going out of town soon, and I need to get my work done, Daniel! Do you accept the offer or not, because I've already explained this to you a thousand times. Nobody else is going to want the crappy excuse of a home! Do you hear me?"
Daniel wouldn't have normally accepted the offer. Not with the low price and shadowy client, whom he knew nothing about. He wanted a friend to move in next to his son, someone who could keep an eye on him. But alas, none of his friends were looking. Still, Daniel wanted more time to contemplate, but if Robyn wanted an answer then, she should have gotten it an eternity before. Plus, he wasn't in the mood to argue with his son in the midst of an episode and his closest friends watching. So he caved. "If she really wants it, it's her's." The conversation ended there.
Daniel grabbed a blanket from the neighboring couch and placed it over his son gently. Jo was oblivious; he was completely passed out. The three men retreated to the kitchen, where they sat at the breakfast table wordlessly for a while.
"The boy's burned," Tony stated.
"Yeah," Daniel said. "I gave him his mother's number. Must've panicked at the thought." He reached over and clasped Aaron on his shoulder. "Thanks for being here, Aaron. You're truly his only friend."
"Jo thinks all the others believe he's a freak of nature." He shrugged. "I think the same way about myself, that everybody thinks I'm weird. It makes for a good friendship."
Tony shook his head. "Boy, they call that love. When you can rejoice with someone about your weirdness, that is love. Be it brotherly or otherwise."
Even with the true depth of his words, Aaron couldn't help but say, "Definitely brotherly, I swear it."
YOU ARE READING
We're All Burning (Contest)
Teen Fiction**WARNING: This is a ROUGH draft. Translated into non-writer lingo: this will probably suck. A lot. When their mother dies in a tragic and unexpected fire, pyrophobic (fears fires) eighteen-year-old Eden and mature fourteen-year-old Brooke pick up...