Don't Stop the Fire

Today was the day before school registration—and it was also Valentine's Day. I sat in the back row of the classroom, watching Aurora Sharpe doodle hearts in her notebook. She's the campus belle of our class, with long hair down to her waist and two faint dimples when she smiles. But I know what kind of malice hides behind that pretty face. "Cynthia Sue, what do you think of the confession plan I put together?" Aurora Sharpe turned around, holding a sheet of paper filled with detailed steps. I leaned in to get a closer look, and my heart tightened sharply. Heart-shaped candle, sky lantern—exactly like last time. Last time, I was here too, desperately trying to stop her. I told her there were plenty of trees and dry grass on campus, and that candles and sky lanterns could easily spark a fire. But she wouldn't listen at all, even saying I was just jealous because she could confess to Ricky Deer, the school heartthrob. Later, a girl from the next class intercepted Ricky early, holding a huge bouquet of roses and confessed to him. Ricky smiled and said yes. Aurora Sharpe completely exploded when she saw that. She unleashed all her anger on me, saying that if I hadn't stopped her, she would've succeeded in confessing ages ago. That night, she cornered me in the narrow alley behind the teaching building. I'll never forget the icy cold blade of that utility knife slicing across my cheek, nor the soul-shattering pain when flames engulfed my body. In the final moment before my consciousness slipped away, I saw her standing just beyond the flames, grinning triumphantly. "Cynthia Sue? What are you spacing out for?" Aurora Sharpe's voice snapped me back to reality. I jerked my head up, staring at her familiar face, my stomach churning. I've been reborn—reborn on the very day she planned to confess. This time, I'm not going to stop her. I'll pretend not to hear a thing and watch her fall, step by step, into the hell she dug for herself. "Huh? What did you say?" I deliberately frowned, pretending I hadn't heard clearly. "I was just thinking about the start-of-term registration and wasn't really paying attention." Aurora Sharpe pouted, gave it little thought, and handed me the paper again: "I'm going to confess to Ricky Deer tonight on the playground using a heart-shaped candle and sky lantern. Can you help me set it up?" I lowered my eyes, masking the hatred beneath, and gently nodded, "Sure." She turned around happily, still smiling foolishly at her sketchbook. I looked out the window—the sunlight was just right, but I felt a chill all over. Aurora Sharpe, in this life, your tragedy is only just beginning.