Soul Fire, Page 2

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  I swung the door of my house open, my car parked haphazardly behind me in the drive. I’d been in such a bad mood on the drive home that I’d decided not to go to the river at all.

  “Rose?” I heard my mother call.

  I ignored her, pounding up the stairs to the roof; once I was there I was free. She wouldn’t follow me up, and I was in no mood for probing questions tonight.

  “Don’t ignore me, Rose.”

  She must’ve glanced out of the window then, at my car.

  “Rose! What the hell happened to your car?”

  I ignored this too, though shame clenched my stomach tight.

  I shared many things with my mother; intense green eyes, long brown hair, a house and exactly the same amount of patience; none. This resulted in us locking horns frequently, but more often with other members of the town.

  I reached my room, the attic of the house. I had thrown the windows wide this morning so fresh air cleansed the room, carrying with it the sweet scent of summer. I dumped my bag on the floor and ran towards the open window. I jumped onto the sill and slid onto the ledge, reaching up to grab the destroyed gutter hanging limply from the roof, prayed it wouldn’t dump me onto the ground two storeys below and pulled myself onto the shingles. The roof didn’t slope as steeply as other houses, so I was able to lie on my back and watch the sky. I basked in the afternoon rays of the sun, the tension of the day melting away. I was home.