Burn.

The attic was really cold that Saturday so I decided to get out of the house and go to Cameron’s. Sometimes he stayed the night on Fridays because of the simple fact he didn’t like living in such a crowded home, and with so many younger siblings always screaming and running around he didn’t get much sleep.

I didn’t own a car so I just ended up riding my bike. It wasn’t as though he lived terribly far away, it was probably only a mile or so. I rode past the school through snow with my winter coat zipped up halfway since pedaling made me sweat but the air was frozen and my nose was red and frosty. By the time I arrived in front of Cameron’s house, I was breathing a little heavy and felt hot and cold, both at once. I brought my leg over the frame and kicked up the kick stand, propping it up beside the mailbox in their front yard.

As I made my way up the steps, I watched the snow in the front yard; there were tons of little footsteps that tainted the fresh snowfall. A half-built snowman lay in the midst of everything, and there were numerous grassy patches where the snow had clumped off the ground completely as the children rolled up their snowballs.

Before I could ring the doorbell with a gloved finger, the door swung open and the face of a little girl greeted me.

“Brody!” Cameron’s younger sister Anna shouted at me excitedly, throwing the door so far open it slammed up against the drywall inside the house. She had the biggest grin on her face and she practically leaped on me; her arms wrapped around my thighs and she rested her head on the bottom of my stomach because she was just so short and I was so tall.

“Brody’s here?” I heard another high-pitched female voice call from somewhere deep within the depths of the house. Before I knew it, there were two other small children wrapped around me.

Steps came pounding from up the steps as Cameron’s aggravated voice resounded loudly. “Let go of him, you’re freaking him out!”

“It’s okay,” I offered. But Cameron didn’t seem to hear me and the girls immediately let go, doing what they did best: running from their older brother.

“Yeah you better run!” he shouted, then muttered something under his breath about them. I couldn’t make out the words. “Sorry about them,” he said quietly to me as he held the door open for me. “They don’t know any better, and I doubt they’ll ever learn.”

I just nodded and walked inside, unzipping my jacket and slipping it off along with my shoes. I placed them side-by-side on the rug and hung my coat on the stair banister. Cameron led the way through his house, which was a complete and total mess because his parents never picked up after all the little girls; there were toys everywhere.

When we got to his room, one of his younger sisters was in there looking through his record collection.

“Hailey!” he shouted at her. “What did I tell you about coming in my room!”

She screamed loudly with a big smile on her face and ran out of the room.

I took a seat in the chair against the wall adjacent to the door and sighed. “You sisters are really hyper today,” I said, then, as an afterthought, added, “Well, more than usual, anyway.”

In comparison to the rest of the house, Cameron’s room was pretty clean - of course, this might have been due to the fact that he didn’t have the need to play with toys, so that factored out of the equation. Still, everything seemed to be in its proper place and the floor looked as though it had been vacuumed.

“I can’t stand this house today,” Cameron said, picking up the leather jacket that hung on the door of his closet. “D’you mind if we went out or something?”

I shrugged. “Sure, I guess. You driving?”

“Yeah,” he said, then laughed a moment later. “I wouldn’t make you ride your bike.”

The air in his room was warm, meaning I didn’t really feel like heading out anyplace. My throat was still raw and sore from the beginning of the week, so I was fine just hanging out at Cameron’s because he usually did a lot of the talking so I wouldn’t have to strain myself.

But if Cameron wanted to go out, I’d go with him. After all, I couldn’t blame him for wanting to leave the ruckus he had to deal with every day.

So we left the house and went to our favorite place to be on a Saturday: the mall downtown. It wasn’t that we went to do a great deal of shopping, because we honestly only ever went to the mall to watch the people there.

People watching was our favorite thing, which was strange because Cameron was usually impatient and I usually didn't watch people unless we were together at the shopping center.

We walked in through the automatic doors and headed right for the heart of the place where there was a lounge area filled with seats and couches for businessmen to sit and type away on their laptops, women in their forties to wait for their children, or to simply watch the people, as Cameron and I did.

Coffee in hand. Tired as hell with droopy eyelids. Just watching. Waiting.

There was a group of four black guys with gold chains and baggy shorts. One of them held onto the hand of a small dark girl with braided ebony hair. They all smiled.

There was a man carrying a briefcase while on his cell phone yelling at an associate about paperwork and deadlines. Spit flew from his mouth in a fury. He walked tall and strong and fast and he was furious.

There was a couple that held hands as they made their way toward the escalators. The girl was small and quiet and kept her eyes on her feet. The boy was strong and big and his hand wrapped all the way round hers. He looked up and led them up the moving staircase.

And then Cameron said something about how he wanted more coffee and got up to leave. I just sat there, still sipping on what was left of mine, and crossed my legs. We sat on the edge of the fountain they had going, and every once in a while a little girl or boy would close their eyes and toss a coin into the water, wishing their youth away.

I looked down into the fountain and my eyes watched the lights as they glowed through the clear liquid that rippled and tugged at the vision of pennies and nickels and ceramic tiles that all lined the bottom.

Someone came up to the fountain a few feet away from where I sat and shoved their hands in their pockets for a coin.

“Fuck!” they shouted.

That’s when I had to look up.

Some girl with blond hair and pale skin and a plain brown dress stood there. Her eyes were clouded, but still painfully blue, and she had dark brown clunky boots on her feet. She looked a downright mess, but - more importantly - she looked as though she were about to cry.

The second I looked up at her, she looked down and over at me. I could feel my heartbeat starting back up again, and it was only then that I took note of the fact it had stopped in the first place. My system was jaded and overworked and my mouth felt dry as sin.

And my mind couldn’t even compute anything besides that obvious name which blared in my skull and felt like speakers had been attached to my ears. Broadcasting that same name over and over with radio static distortion.

Julia.