Firestarter by Tara Sim

Author:Tara Sim
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sky Pony
Published: 2018-12-27T16:00:00+00:00

Every cough made Colton’s shoulders tense, worsening the ache in his neck and upper back. He’d been carrying that ache for days, ever since the doctor had told them Abigail’s lungs weren’t working as well as they had the month before. Her breathing was labored, and sometimes her lips turned blue.

Their mother was at Abi’s bedside day and night, barely eating, barely drinking water, barely sleeping. Colton had awoken that morning to find his mother slumped against the wall at the foot of Abi’s bed, fingers still wrapped around the knitting needles that had gently click-clacked him to sleep. When he shook her awake, she’d bolted up and resumed her knitting as if she’d never left off.

“Mum, you can’t do this anymore,” he’d pleaded. “Let me take care of her today. Instructor Beele doesn’t need me, and Castor can come and help.”

His mother had sighed and closed her eyes, which were now always ringed with dark circles. “I do need to go to the market, and your father said they might need help by the docks.”

“I’ll stay here with her, I promise.”

So his mother had left to run errands and get some much-needed sunlight while Colton fed Abigail broth and told her a story about a princess with the power to turn anything to ice, while her brother could turn anything to fire. They looked after each other, the princess cooling off the wildfires her brother kindled when angered, the prince melting the icecaps his sister froze when sad.

Abi listened to the story without interrupting, her blue-tinged lips turned up. When she fell asleep, Colton crept downstairs to pre-pare lunch for himself and his mother, whenever she came home.

As Colton cut turnips from the garden, Castor opened the door. The moment their eyes met, Abigail coughed wetly above them. Colton winced.

“Water?” Castor asked immediately.

“No, I’ve already given her some. The doctor says she shouldn’t have too much, in case it goes into her lungs.”

Castor sighed and rubbed a hand against Colton’s neck, fingers digging into the sore spots, as if he knew just where it hurt. As if they shared a body and a mind.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Help me cut these?”

They worked side by side in a silence broken only by the snap of the vegetables and the occasional cough from Abi.

“It’s not fair,” Castor said at last. “She should be healthy. She should be outside with her friends, not cooped up inside all the bloody time. Can you imagine? Spending your entire life confined to one place …” He looked over and swore. “Colton, I’m sorry.”

Colton set the knife down and choked on a sob. He put a hand against his mouth to stifle the sound, not wanting Abigail to hear, but hot tears kept falling down his cheeks and over his fingers, onto the sliced turnips.

Castor tried to wipe them away, but Colton waved him off, hiccupping a couple of times before forcing himself to stop. He couldn’t let his mother or sister see him with red eyes.

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