Flame

It was five years ago when everything changed for Oliver Ford. The calamity of his childhood life was something he would never forget. The life or death situation of his life. The one thing that would change his future tremendously.

A nine year old Oliver Ford was laying down on a couch in the living room reading Doctor Who, his favourite book. His mother was in the kitchen cooking. His life was perfect. Nothing could make it go wrong. His mother came up to him and told him that she was going to take a quick shower and that dinner should be finished in an hour. Oliver smiled and continued reading.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, a wooden spoon that was resting near the stove caught fire. Oliver’s attention was totally focused in his book and was unaware of the fire brewing in the kitchen. It was when he sneezed did he smell the fire or to be more precise, the smoke. He dropped his book and got up and looked in the kitchen. It was growing into a crazy bonfire. He yelled out to his mother. No response came back. He rushed to the bathroom down the hall, grabbed a bucket of water, ran to the kitchen, and splashed the water in. The fire made a small sizzling noise; nothing else happened.

The fire soon exited the kitchen and started spreading towards the living room. Oliver panicked and yelled once more for his mother. His mother rushed down, her hair dripping wet and wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, after hearing Oliver’s yell and screamed when she saw the fire. Oliver swore he heard his mother say something, but couldn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart. Oliver’s mother ran down and grabbed Oliver by his hand and started pulling him out of the house. Oliver just then remembered his Doctor Who book, which was given to him by his father who had died at war. He yanked his arm free from his mother, who attempted to grab him again to no avail, and Oliver ran back inside.

The fire was just entering the living room when Oliver dashed to the couch. The fire entered the living room and was spreading like a wildfire. Oliver bent down and grabbed his book. As he turned around the sleeve of his shirt caught fire. The fire slowly snaked up his arm; meanwhile, he yelled at the burning. His arm felt like a marshmallow you cook at a camp out. Oliver quickly ran out of the house and dropped his book. He yanked his shirt off. He saw his mother walk over to him, but he collapsed from exhaust and pain. A wave of darkness flooded into Oliver’s mind.

A fifteen year old Oliver Ford is sitting in his third to last class; the worst part of the day. His shaggy strawberry blond hair covering his eyes. He sits in his green swirly chair, leaning back and reading his Doctor Who book; waiting for the school bully to come from the back of the room to make fun of him, as most of the students in Oliver’s class know it. Oliver hears footsteps behind him belonging to only three people. The bully and his goons. Oliver sighs and prepares for what’s coming.

“Hey Ford, what's the jacket for?” the bully says. Oliver looks down at his unzipped navy blue jacket covering his t-shirt he got from choir. The same question everyday, can’t he think of a better one? Oliver complains in thought. He grew accustomed to the bully coming after almost six years of it, but he still couldn’t get over the fact that he had to be asked the exact same question everyday.

“Shove off Aldrich,” Oliver says, turning around to see him. His goons are standing next to him, ready to beat up Oliver at a simple request.

“Hiding that hideous arm?” Aldrich taunts. Oliver stands up, really wanting to punch him, but Aldrich can hardly feel pain. “You couldn’t even punch me if you wanted to. You’re just a pathetic, weak, and scraggly loser.”

For the first time, rage fills Oliver’s veins. A balloon of defence inflates above Oliver’s head and he yells, "Hey Aldrich, you're a coward! Getting your goons to do your dirty work!" One of Aldrich’s goons punches Oliver right in the stomach. Oliver bites his bottom lip, but doesn’t show any defeat. “How about you leave me alone and go pick on someone worth your time,” Oliver suggests through clenched teeth. The bell rings for class to start.

“You are worth my time Ford!” Aldrich yells, pushing Oliver in the chest, making Oliver stagger back a little. Oliver ignores the push, turns around, and sits back down and starts reading his Doctor Who book once more. “Hey Ford, I’m talking to you,” Aldrich says.

“Whatever,” Oliver mutters. Aldrich is just about to punch Oliver, when the teacher finally walks in. Aldrich walks back to his desk. The teacher walks to his desk and grabs a stack of paper. He walks around placing them on everyone’s desk.

“Summative test. Full class,” the teacher says, taking a seat back at his desk. Oliver sighs and looks down at his test. He takes out a pencil from his pocket and starts scribbling stuff down on his paper.

After a few minutes he looks up and to the window. Fortunately for him, the person’s desk who is right in front of the window is none other than his long lasting crush, Sarah Finley. She looks towards Oliver and smiles at him. Oliver feels his cheeks turn red and looks back down at his desk.
Oliver has liked Sarah since the fifth grade when they first met. Sarah's long light brown hair, greyish blue eyes, similar to his own, and light freckles. To the eyes of ten year old Oliver, Sarah was like an angel sent to earth by God. Of course now Oliver thinks of her more by her loving attitude and just being awesome in general.

He writes some more, but feels something hit the back of his head. He turns around and sees Aldrich and his goons sling shotting paper pieces at him. Oliver is about to do something about it when the teacher looks up.

“Mr Ford, please look at your paper only,” the teacher asks.

“Yes, sir,” Oliver says, biting back what he was originally going to say. He knew better than to tell the teacher what really happened, in fear of being sent down to the principal’s officer for talking back to a teacher. He looks down at his paper and continues his test. In the corner of his eye, he sees students passing some piece of paper to each other. Wonder what that is? Oliver feels a tap behind his back. He turns around.

“Oliver, this is from Sarah,” the student says, handing Oliver a piece of paper folded.

“Thanks,” Oliver whispers back. He looks down at the piece of paper. He doesn’t want to open it just in case its a bad message. Might as well open it anyways. Oliver slowly opens it waiting to see the message. He opens it fully, takes a deep breath and reads the scribbled writing message:

Oliver,
It’s been awhile since we last hung out. The Winter Social is coming up and everybody is talking about and asking people to go with them. What I’m trying to say is, I really like you. Will you go to the Winter Social with me?
-Sarah

Oliver can’t believe his eyes. Here he is the odd ball and fire deformed kid and he gets a message from one of the prettiest girls in school and his crush saying she like him. Oliver looks over to Sarah and he can see her blushing. Time goes slow from there. Oliver keeps glancing up at the clock waiting for class to be over.

After almost an aeon the bell finally rings. Oliver hands in his test and throws his stuff into his backpack and leaves the class. He walks down the hallway down to his locker. His locker, lucky for him, is near Sarah's. He takes a deep breath and a mint and walks over to Sarah's locker.
Unfortunately a bunch of girls are hanging out around her.

“Err… Can I talk to Sarah? Alone?” Oliver asks. They all look at him oddly. Jeepers, haven’t they ever heard me talk? Oliver questions.

“Guys c’mon, just give me a couple minutes. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria,” Sarah says. They all just start walking away. “Yes?” Sarah asks. Should I say it? Should I not say it? Oliver mentally kicks himself to stop.

“Yeah," Oliver mumbles, looking down. He kicks a stone that's near his foot and it scatters to the other end of the hall. "I just wanted to say I’d love to go to the Winter Social with you,” Oliver says, looking back up. I probably just screwed that up, Oliver thinks. People around come and start watching the exchange between Oliver and Sarah

“Awesome!” Sarah exclaims, smiling.

“Err… I also was wondering… do you want to… um… catch a movie after school then go grab some pizza?” Oliver asks. He bites his bottom lip. People start whispering to each other and making bets on how the exchange will end. Most of the viewers are girls who love to gossip about the latest couples. The outcome of the exchange could be either good or bad for both Oliver and Sarah. People could start teasing Oliver more or people would actually start talking to him. His school life was hanging on the tightest of tight ropes miles above a dark chasm.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Sarah asks. Her answer shakes Oliver just a bit. Is this what asking someone out is? Oliver just nods stupidly.
Sarah thinks about it and answers, “Yes.” She said yes! She actually said yes!Oliver’s heart skipped a beat.

“That’s brilliant,” Oliver says, letting out all the air that he was unknowingly holding in.

“Do you want to grab lunch me with and my friends?” Sarah asks, surprising some of her friends who had stayed. Oliver looks at them, then back to Sarah.

“Sure,” Oliver responds, smiling. Sarah takes his hand and pulls him closer. She kisses him on the cheek. Oliver is speechless. S-she just kissed me. Oliver pulls back a little, but smiles sheepishly.

“I'm pretty sure Sophie and David are fighting near the bleachers," Sarah says, causing the crowd to quickly break apart to go catch the new dramatic scene.

"Are they actually fighting?" Oliver asks. Sarah shrugs, grinning from ear to ear. "Never expected the great Sarah Finley to make up stuff like that," Oliver jokes. Sarah looks at him then playfully punches him the shoulder on his unburnt arm.

"Thanks," Sarah sarcastically thanks. “Ollie, I think you don’t really need that jacket anymore and you like you're sweating like a dog," Sarah comments. Oliver didn't realise it, but the back of his neck is wet and his jacket is sticking slightly to his arm. Oliver smiles at the nickname that Sarah had used to call him back in fifth grade before Sara had joined the populars and started ignoring him more. Oliver looks at her and thinks about it. Do I really need it? He decides he doesn’t, but then again he is also sweating so it's nice to take it off. Oliver slowly takes off his jacket and places it inside his backpack; meanwhile, the burn on his arm showing bright and clear for the world to see.

“Do I look okay?” Oliver asks, biting his lip.

“Okay? I think you look great! This is the Oliver that I like. The one that doesn’t care what others say. The one from fifth grade,” Sarah says. Oliver puts an arm around Sarah's shoulder and they walk up to the cafeteria together.

“Hey Sarah,” Oliver says. Sarah looks up at him and answers, “Yeah?”

“Is black your favourite colour?” Oliver jokes, giving off a lopsided grin causing Sarah to laugh. Back in fifth grade, Oliver had asked Sarah if her favourite colour was black due to her always wearing black clothing, but her response always being, “I wear it because of being in theatre.” Oliver always saw her wearing black clothes to school, so continued assuming that her favourite colour was black, even though she had told him that her favourite colour was purple. They laughed about it and it kept them connected, until when she left for the popular group. Even as they talk now, Sarah is wearing a black Henley and black jeans.

“You know Ollie, sometimes I don’t think you’ll ever change,” Sarah teases. “And I’m sorry for leaving you in fifth grade.” Oliver smiles and says, “It’s in the past. It’s a burnt out flame.” Sarah smiles and they continue walking up to the cafeteria.

For once, Oliver didn’t care what others thought and said. For once, he didn’t care that the fire ruined his life. For once, he felt normal.