Fire

Chapter 3

In my defense, I was trying to protect us from the mob. Perhaps Dean Martins does not know what Black Friday is, because, in the real world, we would have been trampled.

            I shift uncomfortably in my seat, shying away from his penetrating glare. It is unusual for one to be able to look at one person and every person in the room at the same time. Emma, who sits next to me, elbows me and gives me a questioning look. I raise my eyebrows, clueless.

            It is the six of us in there: Emma, Natalie, Samantha, Mark, Dean, and me. Raven is still MIA, but I doubt anyone notices. Or, for that matter, cares.

            I start to absentmindedly create a fireball when Dean Martins says, “You know, we have a policy about use of magic or powers indoors. It’s in the Kallister manual.”

            The Kallister manual. I try to search my vast memory to find out where I had thrown my manual. I figured since Natalie’s been here for four years, she’d be able to help me with all of the rules. So I threw it out.

            And it was now currently being tossed into a landfill, fifty miles or so away.

            “Sorry,” I shrug sheepishly. “I just remembered that Wal-Mart man that got trampled and died and I didn’t want to follow suit.”

            Mark’s laugh is short and sharp. Dean averts his eyes to glare at him, and he shoves his grin deep inside of himself. I sneak a glance at him, though, and his eyes are still smiling.

            “There are other ways to stop aggressive fans.” His crossed arms add to the statement.

            Silence. The silence is deafening. I can tell Natalie wants to say something. Samantha beats her to it.

            “Dean, you should’ve seen that crowd!” she cries. “It was humongous. Now, I’m not sure how large your school is, but there were about a hundred people there!”

            One of Dean’s finely tuned eyebrows raises just the tiniest bit. Samantha catches it and continues with, “I think…” she turns to me. “McKenna, is it?” I nod.

            She faces forward again. “I think McKenna was completely justified in setting up the Firewall. The injuries that the other students got are nothing major.”

            Dean sits forward, a frown on his face. He clasps his hands over his prized, varnished wooden desk. “Are you saying that severe burns are nothing major?” The question is transparent wrapping paper. The threat inside is visible for everybody to see.

            “Of course not,” Samantha says, like, don’t be silly. “I’m just saying that if she needed to defend herself, she should be able to. And, perhaps create another one of those policies about staying ‘x’ amount of feet away from new people.”