Becoming Belle

One

I stood huddled against the cold with my parents, watching orange tongues of fire destroy my home. The firemen pulled up with their sirens blaring and got to work immediately, spraying hoses at the flames, drowning our house with water. I thought miserably about the clothes filling my closet, the books on my shelves, the pictures on my walls.

By the time the firemen were done, our house was completely unrecognizable. It sat limply before us, a crumbling mess of wood and furniture. Neighbors were curiously emerging from their houses, talking worriedly with my parents, but I ignored everything, and stood in a shocked silenced.

From time to time, a friendly neighbor would approach me and offer their condolences, but I simply murmured a quiet 'thank you' and then turned away. I was devastated. I knew that it was just a house, and I should be grateful I was alive, but I couldn't distract myself from the fact that the house held ten years worth of memories and possessions.

The firemen sorted through the rubble, occasionally finding something of value. Each time they brought something out to my parents, they would give a relieved smile, but the things they managed to find were such a small fraction of what the house had held.

I soon became aware of the fact that I was wearing my old polka-dot pajama shorts and a flimsy white tank top with no bra. I was incredibly self conscious, and crossed my arms tightly over my chest. I was freezing, despite the bright August sun, and was incredibly thankful when a kind woman draped a soft blanket around my shivering shoulders.

My parents were slowly recovering from the shock, and starting to think about where we would be sleeping until we could find a new place to live. A neighbor offered his basement for one night, and my parents gratefully accepted. We made our way to the house, weighed down by the items that had been rescued.

When we reached our neighbor's basement, we spread everything out on the floor and looked through it. We were immensely grateful to find that all of our phones and two computers had survived. Aside from that, we discovered some of my mom's jewelry, a few decorative plates, a half-burned chair, and not much else.

For the rest of the day, I simply sat around sadly, calling my friends and informing them of my situation. I had very few people to call, and no one I felt at all close to. I wasn't a complete loner- I had people to sit with at lunch and I had even gone over to a few peoples' houses- but I hadn't had a close friend since middle school. When my junior year started in just over a week I would go back to my monotonous routine of fading into the background, trying not to be noticed.

When the sun went down and we all started yawning, we settled down on the thin foam mats we'd been given. I fell asleep dreaming about our future, hoping we could find a better place to stay.