Obscura Burning by Suzanne van Rooyen Page B

back of my hand, shepherding him with a pencil.
    Boring. Even harassed, the bug doesn’t bite me. Disappointed, I drop him back in his tank. I try Danny again, but now he’s hanging up on me after half a ring.
    I flip open the book of matches. Only two left, taunting me with their pink heads. They’re just dying to burn. Scrunching up a scrap of paper torn from my drawing book, I contemplate fire. The terrarium’s still open, the bugs sluggish. It takes three strikes to light the match. I inhale the aroma of burning phosphorus.
    It takes a moment for the paper to catch. Flames licking at my fingers, I drop the fire into the terrarium and close the lid. The vinegaroons scuttle away from the heat, seeking out the cool, damp spot beneath their driftwood. It will take them a while to die. The paper turns to ash, the flames extinguished.
    If the matches aren’t mine or my dad’s, that means they’re Mom’s. That means two things: that she’s smoking again and going out to the less than salubrious motel. Not wanting to think about what Mom’s doing at some seedy by-the-hour establishment, I try Danny one last time. It goes straight to voice mail.
    Searching through the pockets of my jeans, I find a half-crushed tea leaf cigarette. It’ll do. My left forearm is mottled with scars, the freshest still pink and oozing around the edges of the blister. I light the cigarette with the last match, watch the flames, then stare at my skin until my arm is no longer my own. As I touch the smoldering tip to my flesh, I expect to feel something more than just a jolt of pain. Nothing. Nothing but the searing ache in my arm and the fragrance of burning tea, like potpourri.
    I chuck the remains of the cigarette out my window and blow a stream of cool air on the new crater in my arm. Danny has a home phone. I dial the number, but hesitate before calling. What if Gabriela or his mom answers?
    Sleep seems like the only decent option. I knock a few painkillers into my open palm. It’s not that I want to die. I just want to sleep, a numb, senseless sleep that’ll keep me in the other world for longer. A few more pills then, just to be sure I don’t wake up for a while. Maybe permanent sleep would be best. I chug down most of the bottle.
    Waiting for the drugs to kick in, I lie staring at my ceiling, taking deep, aching breaths. How the hell did I not get hurt? Shira and Danny were trapped inside…
    Trapped.
    For a moment, the memory is as clear as the New Mexico sky. Hands shutting the barn door, their screams ripping through the night as flames made kindling of the dry roof. My hands covered in their blood.
    My ceiling ripples, peels open like an orange, revealing the sapphire surface of Obscura. I try to lift my arm, to reach out and touch the planet filling my vision, but I can’t move. There’s a moment of panic at my paralysis before the orb descends in a rush of blue, smothering me in a cool blanket.
     

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    Danny’s dead
     
    “Kyle?” A hand waving in front of my face.
    I blink and the blue mist clears from my vision. “I’m alive?”
    “Yeah, silly. You stopped midsentence too.” Mya’s voice. Sunlight, blue sky. My house crouched on the corner beneath the withered oak tree. I’m on my knees as needles of pain skewer my head. Blood pours out of my nose and I spit into the sand.
    “Crap, Kyle. What’s happening?”
    I can’t think beyond the pain. I’m going to explode. Blood spatters the neighbor’s flower beds. The agony slides down my spine and blossoms across my side, raking fire across my ribs. I’m gulping air and tasting blood. Surely there are easier ways to die.
    Mya’s holding me, stroking my hair, mumbling soothing words.
    I can barely hear her over the pounding in my ears. The pain recedes, leaving me a shaking, sweating mess in its wake.
    For long moments, I remain on my knees with Mya’s arm around my shoulders.
    “Can you stand?” she asks, and with her help, I manage to rise.