Boys Don't Cry

Bonfire Night

To prepare for Bonfire Night, the Chem I and II classes made fireworks and sparklers with red phosphorus and stored them in an empty cabinet in the Chemistry room. It wasn't locked- they expected that in an orphanage full of intelligent young men and boys, they'd have known better than to swipe them, or even look for them. Lady luck must have had a dig with one of the boys, because a troupe of particularly rambunctious ones found them.

During the seldom indulged evening recess after dinner, they began to light sparklers with a book of matches. Nate River was also out that evening, reading a monolithic book with minuscule print- rumor has it that L gave it to him, whoever he was to the younger Wammy's population now. He had left the institution a while back. No one was really counting the days.

He was blocking out the sounds as he always did while reading, and hadn't noticed the other boys fully even while they hooted with their sparklers and when a fat one was set just behind him. He was ultimately invested in the book.

Truth be told, the other boys didn't even know what it was supposed to do. All but the one who lit it was beginning to think it was a bad idea... Nate turned around in the nick of time to close his book and see it, but not to do anything to help himself. It was too late.

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"Why, again, have we come for this holiday?"

Sighing rang in his voice.

"I thought you might enjoy a break, and I had to catch up on things here anyway."

The lamp's halogen warmth filled the room, making the chilly November drafts almost bearable as Mr. Wammy presented L with his evening coffee. He opted out of dessert that night.

Suddenly, a shot rang through the night, and Mr. Wammy dismissed it from his thoughts given the date.

"I honestly don't... understand... the purpose..."

The young man directed his attention through the window and into the concrete courtyard to a screaming albino who was quite literally on fire. He smothered it efficiently by rolling on the pavestones, but lay crying anyway. Only his outer left thigh was badly burned- grotesquely black with the remnants of his pants, fleshy red, and almost tones of white and yellow- although it was indeed a nasty wound. The other boys who had lit it had already run inside as Mr. Wammy, old as he was, sprinted out with his tailcoats flying followed by a teacher, Mrs. Davis, out the other set of doors.

Looking behind him briefly, his eyes reflected nothing but furniture. His eyes had not deceived him; Mr. Wammy had run out, indeed.

Snapping back to the task at hand, he watched intently. As Nate rolled over onto his butt to look at himself, Mr. Wammy nearly flung his jacket onto the poor woman and picked Near up, left side facing away. Near had slipped his hands up to cover his mouth gaping with glistening little tears running down his skin, framing the picture.

Thinking back on prior research, the detective remembered that burning alive was regarded as one of the most painful things known to man. Childbirth and gallstones are also regarded in this manner, but that was beside the point.

Picking up the phone, he calmly dialed "999"- for emergencies- and listened for the operator. When she picked up, he swallowed and proceeded to tell her what happened. "Tell the nice lady what happened, go on..." was all he heard in his head as he began to shake. Near was brought inside, he could hear the sobs echoing from the walls- Suddenly, screams of agony.

"Burned you say? Fireworks? Is the fire out?"

"Yes..."

"Wammy's Orphanage for Intellectually Gifted Boys?"

"Yes... That's right..."

"Stay on the line, please, but I've sent an ambulance your way. Are you with the victim?"

"..."

"Sir, I say, are you with the victim?"

"No... I can't-"

"Yes, I see. Do you know if he's responsive?"

"Yes... Only his leg was burned."

The authorities came within minutes and whisked Near to the hospital, they believed he might need to visit a burn unit in London for it. He did.

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Ruvie spent the fifth explaining what had happened to Nate to the four boys who had done it; they listened solemnly.

"Do you have any IDEA what kind of pain being SET ON FIRE is? Do you even have the slightestt notion?! Why would setting an explosive next to someone and lighting the thing SEEM like any kind of fruitful idea? And, why, in the Virgin Mary's sacred name, would you break into the fireworks early to do that? Which one of you made that plan?!"

They sat quietly, listening to the fireworks booming all over Winchester.

"I am seriously reconsidering all of your qualifications to attend classes here; what you've done today demonstrates mental handicap- No. Not even the INVALIDS of this world would agree to do something so stupid without a second thought! It wasn't even purely accidental! What did you think would happen to a bursting fire sitting next to someone's clothes!?"

He did this for over three hours, but still returning the boys to bed before all the others so that they can be there when everyone casually mentions the festivities. It was decided that they would come to London with Ruvie to apologize personally to Nate.

The ride to was quiet, no boys rambunctiously calling the van's shotgun, nothing but the gentle violin concertos on tape through the stereo system was heard.

Upon arrival, the boys remembered vividly their own experiences with hospitals. It is, after all, where many can expect to die. Roger felt them flinch respectively and grinned- the point would definitely come across. Although he did hope Mr. Glashkov, the psychologist that came to the house once in a while, would be visiting, the counselor was out on holiday. They might need to talk some things out.

Initially, they weren't allowed into the room because Nate was having his wounds cleaned and debrided, a horrific process for the patient and the bystander. Ruvie got them in promising that they were close family and explaining the situation, but just barely.

They entered the specialized bathroom where Mr. Wammy and two nurses were huddled towards a weird unfilled bathtub which contained Nate. They couldn't see him yet, but they heard his sobbing/screaming in yet more agony. Upon taking a step forward, they knew why.

Nevermind that they were looking at their peer completely nude, his thigh was disgusting to look at. Bloody reds, blacks, and whites were becoming more present as skin and tissues were being scraped away with a metal tool like one would peel fresh mud off from a day in the yard. Suddenly, the nurse scraped off a bit more of the stuff and bright blood began to paint the picture in an overload of crimson. Mr. Wammy took the young boy's face in his hands and blocked his eyes.

Mr. Ruvie quietly spoke up against the sounds.

"Where is L?"

"He didn't want to watch it. He's in the cafeteria... Oh, do collect him, they'll think he escaped the psych ward. Ask him if he would like to ride home with you if you have the space- Oh, Nate, I'm sorry, I know..."

He took up Nate's hand in his as the boy began to whine. His left hand was bandaged, it must not have been so bad.

Roger led the four boys out, all of the ghostly pale as they breathed the air clean of the scent of, not quite rotting, stale bodies. He led them in a practical processional down the halls to find L exactly as described: In the cafeteria and being questioned by an RN. Upon removing him, L did want to go home, and left with Ruvie and the boys on the trip back to Winchester. The other boys had only seen L at the most, and being in his presence was very odd.

The ride home was very quiet.

Recovery came slowly to Near, but he was home before long, aided by Nursey and regular visits to the hospital. It healed well in the long-term, and left a scar easily covered.

It was the single most remarkable event in Near's childhood.