By the time the first wisps of smoke rose into the night, the arsonist had made their escape. The streets were empty. A dull orange glow emanated from the courthouse, not yet bright enough to challenge the moon or the neon beer signs of the tavern across the road.
The smoke thickened quickly. Angry, dense clouds were rising in rolls, and yet when a car drove past, its only response was to speed up.
Soon, orange flames grew from the roof, replacing the smoke. The fire was so dazzling now that a contracted pupil could no longer distinguish between the dark gray and the black of the sky. People emerged in time to witness the windows exploding, one after another in a series of dry pops. The fire extended its arms out of each window, waving crazily at the gathering crowd.
Sirens began, but no one could hear them. The sound of the fire overtook everything, its low, light roar like the warning sound made at the back of a cat’s throat. Two girls appeared from the tavern, late to the party. One ran toward the flames, asking if anyone was inside, if anyone had seen anything. The other stood still, shoulders fixed, her hand over her mouth.
When the firemen pulled up, the bright street looked like daytime. The crowd had stepped back, the ones who had been closest damp with sweat. Everyone’s eyes were wet. Perhaps from the ashes in the air, or perhaps because by now the news had circulated.
Yes, there was someone inside.
’Tis a lesson you should heed: Try, try, try again. If at first you don’t succeed, Try, try, try again.
—Proverb
Laura hurried to keep up with Scott and Sophie, her schoolbag thumping against her back.
“Wait for me!” she yelled, but they never did.
She had hesitated at the memorial outside the burned-out courthouse. A big picture of Ben was surrounded by lots of flowers and toys. The flowers were all brown and dried up, but there was a little plush cat that would have fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. Ben didn’t need it; he was dead. But when she’d gone to take it, she’d looked up at the photo of him. His accusing brown eyes looked straight into hers. So she’d left the toy there, and the twins hadn’t waited and she’d had to run as fast as she could to make sure they didn’t leave her behind.
The sun bounced off the twins’ blond hair, making Laura squint. They were sword fighting with sticks now. Galloping and fencing up the street, screaming “En garde!” at regular intervals. They wore the same white-and-green school uniform as Laura, except her shirt was no longer quite white. It was a pale alabaster from being washed a few hundred times at least. It had belonged to Sophie once, and to their older sister, Rose, before her, as had her shorts.
Despite her every possession being a hand-me-down, Laura was unique. She knew that she was the cutest child in her kindergarten class. Her fringe was cut blunt, accentuating her large dark-lashed eyes. Her nose was a button, her mouth a little pink tulip. She lived for coos and pats on the head.
“Hurry up, Laura!” Scott yelled.
“My legs aren’t as big as yours!” she yelled back, her little black school shoes clip-clopping on the pavement as she hurried.
Then she saw it.
A bee.
She slid to a halt. It was the shape of a jelly bean, with mean-looking yellow and black stripes. The bee buzzed in front of her, blocking her path as it hovered near a bush of pungent purple flowers. Laura was overwhelmed by the urge to see what it felt like. Squishy, she was fairly sure. She wanted to pinch it between her thumb and forefinger to see if it would pop. Laura had never been stung by a bee but Casey at school had once and he had cried in front of everyone. It must hurt a lot.
Very slowly, she inched around it, walking like a crab on the very edge of the pavement until there were a good two meters between the bee and her.
When she turned, the street was empty. Sophie and Scott had turned one of the corners, out of Laura’s sight. If she really thought about it, she would probably know which one, but she couldn’t think. The suburban street seemed to be growing bigger and bigger and Laura felt like she was shrinking smaller and smaller. A sob rose slowly and heavily in her throat. She wanted to cry out for her mum.
“En garde!”
Laura heard it loud and clear from her left. She ran, as fast as she could toward the sound.
* * *
Sophie and Scott changed into T-shirts then continued their sword fight in the backyard. Laura wasn’t invited. They didn’t like to play “baby games,” even though Laura told them that now she was at school she was officially not a baby. She sat up at the kitchen bench, listening to the screams and laughter from outside and staring down at the three plates of crackers that Rose had left for their afternoon tea.
Laura could hear Scott yell so loud it came through the glass. “You’re dead!”
She watched as Sophie feigned a dramatic and violent death. It was a stupid game; she wouldn’t have wanted to play anyway. While they were distracted, Laura quickly reached over, took two crackers from each of their plates and stuffed them in her mouth.
She chewed happily, swinging her legs and kicking the bench. The house filled with the banging sound. She knew she was being naughty. If her mum was at home she’d be in big trouble. But she kept kicking, trying to leave some