Smoke

41: Bed

I laid in bed, feeling the fire inside of me. I was so still I could see my body breathing, could see it move as my heart beat, could feel it. The fire was hot in my stomach and my hand stung, stiff and red and wrapped in a bandage.

I skipped school today. I couldn't go. I had lost control of this power when I was at home. I couldn't expect myself to control it better at school.

Mom's footsteps grew louder as she walked to my room, opened the door.
"Are you alright?" She said and I turned to her, held up my hand, looked at it. I shrugged, meeting her eyes. Her face was curled in worry, in concern. She still didn't know about my power; she probably thought I was being dramatic. I would be if it wasn't me setting my blanket on fire, if it was just the sun's magnification or whatever Mom thought it was.

She left, and I looked at the ceiling again. My mouth was clamped closed, breath thick and warm as it left my nose, cold as it came back in.

In drama class, Oliver was probably wondering where I was. Danny probably was, too, I guessed, my stomach curling at the though of school, of using my powers. Danny could probably just guess what happened, based on my thoughts, on how often he reads them.

I closed my eyes, trying not to remember the half-conversations we had about him reading my mind, trying not to picture his face. My stomach was swirling, and I could feel the smoke in my throat, coming up, could feel the fire, burning through my body. My hand stung.

If I didn't have this power, this wouldn't have happened. I wouldn't have a Danny to think about or an Oliver or a Skill Management class or theater rehearsals I had to practice using it in. I could've had a normal life.

I laid in bed, feeling the fire inside of me, the smoke, the stinging of my burned hand. At least I didn't have to sit alone during lunch today.

But mother was constantly checking on me.
"How's your hand, sugar?" She asked, coming into my room. I sat up, looking at it.
"The same." I replied as she softly lifted it up, taking off the bandage. She put aloe on it then wrapped it with a new bandage.

"So," Mom started, setting my hand back down, "what do you think was doing the magnifying?" She asked, looking around my room.
"I don't know." I said, looking around with her. "Maybe my phone." I shrugged, unable to come up with anything else. "Maybe it was just really hot." I offered, and she continued looking around thoughtfully.

"Yeah, well, we need to make sure it doesn't happen again." She said, looking at me.
If anything, it would happen a hundred more times. With how bad I am at using the power, that seemed more likely. It'd probably be easier just to confess to doing it and swallow my embarrassment, my guilt, my withering pride. But, then again, it would also be fine if I don't.

She left, and I laid back down.

I didn't want to go back to school tomorrow, if at all, but I had theater rehearsals. I would just have to figure it out.