Burning Flowers by June Beyoki

Chapter One
    Clarke Bennett ran her fingers through her hair, twirling her
Shirley Temple curls around her index finger. At only seven years
old she was already beautiful with long lashes, perfect blonde
curls and bright blue eyes. She’d heard people tell her she was
going to grow up to look like an old world movie star like Marilyn
Monroe or Bette Davis. But for some reason, her mother would always
get mad at that and tell people if they kept it up Clarke would get
a big head.
    Clarke skipped around the house while her
mother unpacked. They had just moved to a new home from their dingy
old apartment after her mother landed some big job. She’d been a
lawyer for years, but now she got a break at a big trial firm.
Clarke was already loving all the space at the new place, but her
mother kept shooting her dirty looks. At any point Clarke expected
her to yell and make her stop skipping around and messing with her
hair. If there was anything her mother hated more than anything it
was tom foolery.
    Clarke skipped her way into the master
bedroom where her mother’s things were sitting in boxes everywhere
other than the few clothes that were laid out on the bed. She
smelled of the perfumes and shampoos in the box next to her
mother’s vanity, and then ran her fingers across the soft materials
of her mother’s dresses. Her mother seemed to collect expensive and
beautiful things, but she was pretty much never allowed to touch
them.
    Clarke sat down on the floor in front of one
of the boxes and began unpacking it, hoping that it might make her
mother happy to see her helping out. The box was mostly jewelry and
odds and ends her mother kept on her nightstand. Clarke carefully
put everything away where she knew her mother had kept them at the
apartment. She knew her mother was going to be so surprised and
pleased when she saw Clarke had put away all her things.
    Then, at the bottom of the box, Clarke found
a gold picture frame with an old photo in it. She had to blow off
the dust to make anything out. It was a picture of a couple
standing in front of a large ferris wheel, like at a carnival. As
Clarke squinted, she realized the woman in the photo was a younger
version of her mother. The woman had a smile on her face like
Clarke had never seen, and her hair was down to her shoulder
instead of in the short boyish cut she kept it in now.
    Next to her was a tall, happy-looking man
who had his arm around her. He had blonde hair and blue eyes just
like Clarke. She instantly knew it must be a picture of her father.
She’d always wondered about him, but she’d never had the courage to
ask.
    She picked up the picture and skipped back
into the living room where she found her mother setting up a
bookshelf they’d bought from the thrift store. “Mama, mama!” she
called in excitement. “Look what I found.”
    Her mother wiped sweat off her brow and
looked at Clarke with frustration. “Clarke, can’t you see I’m
busy?” she asked harshly, but Clarke passed her the photo
anyway.
    “Is this my daddy?” Clarke pointed to the
man in the photo, and she saw her mother’s expression change just
for a moment before it went sour again. Her mother stayed silent
for a moment like she hoped Clarke would go away or maybe the
question would answer itself. But Clarke stood her ground, shaking
the photo at her. So, her mother snatched the photo away and threw
it in a pile of trash she was keeping to her right.
    “He was a quitter, Clarke,” she said
matter-of-factly, not even looking up at her daughter when she did.
She still hadn’t admitted for sure that it was her father.
    “I look like him,” Clarke said quietly.
    “Well, then you better change it. He’s not
the kind of man you want anything in common with,” her mother spat
at her.
    Clarke couldn’t stop the tears from running
down her cheeks at her mother’s words, but her mother ignored it.
“Forget about it, Clarke. This is a new life here, and we’re never
looking back. We’re