The Fall

Chapter 1: Burn the Night

Firecrackers. I remember their trails of light across the night sky.

It began during one of those dinners at the old orphanage, one of many when we were maybe five or six.

"Pssst, Quisty." He leans all the the way across the table, "accidentally" knocking over Zell's soup bowl with an elbow. "Wanna come out to the beach tonight? 10 o'clock?"

I clean up the spill for Zell, who seems on the verge of tears. Pushing my bowl of soup to him, I shoot a disapproving glance at the green-eyed devil across the table from me. Such an annoying boy--he's been here a little over a year, and he's already caused more trouble than all the rest of us put together. "We're not supposed to go out that late, Seifer."

"The beach? What for?" Selphie's wide eyes shine as she leans in to listen, with little Irvine fighting for elbow room.

Seifer rolls his eyes. "Little kids aren't invited."

"Hey, no fair!" Irvine's voice is a little too loud, and I shush him quickly: Matron is in the next room, talking to a guest. "You and Quisty's only a year older!" He says, lowering his tone.

"'You and Quisty are,'" Seifer and I say at the same time, and he returns my indignant glare with a wink; grammar correction has always been my department.

"See, Irvy-poo?" He pats Irvine mockingly on the head, who draws away with a scowl.

"Is this about that box under your bed?" Squall's voice is flat, as it has been since Sis left so suddenly. It's like he really doesn't care anymore... There's a little ache in my heart, like always when I hear how differently he speaks now.

"Hey, runt." In a flash Seifer is out of his chair and in Squall's face, knuckles white around the back of the smaller boy's chair. "You better not have been in my things."

"Whatever." Squall turns his back and stands--only to tumble to the floor when Seifer pushes him from behind, hard.

Seifer stands over Squall as he struggles to his feet. I just know this is going to be another fight. It's been like this ever since the day Sis left without saying good-bye.

"I asked you a question, runt."

"No you didn't, Seifer." Zell pipes up, as usual, at the worst possible moment. "You just tried to scare him."

Seifer pauses, and I go tense. Will he try to hit Squall? Zell? My hands fist up like they have a mind of their own.

But Seifer's never one to do the expected. He bursts out laughing instead, eyes sparkling, teeth even and white against full lips. Such a pretty child, they all say about him, the couples who come to the orphanage. That's what they say, anyway, until he spills a bucket of paint over them or shaves their poodle bald with Cid's old razor.

"What can I say?" Seifer catches his breath. "You're such a genius, Zelly." While Zell tries to figure out whether he has been complimented or insulted, chairs scrape in the next room and Matron will soon come in to check on them. I hurry to Squall, who has stood up and is brushing himself off.

"Are you okay?" He deliberately turns his back on me and leaves the dining room, his footsteps quiet on the old wood.

"'Course he's okay," Seifer says snidely. "Zombie Boy could have his guts spilled all over, and if you ask him, he's fine." I flinch at the horrible image and glare, wondering if he's been into one of those monster movies Matron forbade us, but his eyes are already on the other three in the room.

"You, you, you," he points at Selphie, Irvine, and Zell. "Stay away from the beach." Then, with a sly grin and another wink at me he is gone. Soon noisy footsteps pound the stairs on their way up to the second floor.

I know that look too well. Selphie and Irvine immediately resolve to each other not to let that meanie Seifer scare them, and even Zell looks interested despite himself. Of course, I sigh, someone responsible has to keep an eye on them.

Besides, is there any way I'd let him have all the fun? I duck my head to hide a smile as I clear away the dishes.

---

So it is that Seifer finds the three of us, Selphie, Irvine, and me, standing on the beach at ten o'clock at night. The most irritating part is, he doesn't seem the least bit surprised. Under all his pranks and noise he was always sneaky inside. Crafty. It's a new word I read today, and Seifer's exactly that--crafty.

He puts down the carton he's lugged here. It has a ripply look, as if it was wet once and dried afterward--probably a piece of the flotsam and jetsam he loves to dig through. He throws the lid dramatically open...

"Ohhhh!" Selphie squeals. "Fireworks!"

Seifer puts a finger to his lips, which is enough to silence her. "And matches, too." He fishes a matchbox out of a pocket.

I'm immediately suspicious. "Where'd you get that?"

"Filched 'em from the kitchen." His eyes seem to give off a glow of mischief in the dark.

I really have should put an end to the foolishness right there and then. Still, excitement rises inside me at the neat rows of vinyl-wrapped cylinders lying side by side. Well, maybe just a few...

"I wanna go first!" Selphie jumps up and down, trying to grab the matchbox that Seifer holds out of her reach. "Me, me, me!"

"Seifer," I say suddenly, "did you bring water? You're supposed to have water handy." If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right.

He looks at me like a cat at cream. Gotcha. He runs back up the slope leading to the house and carries back a bucket from the garden, which I fill with sea water.

The next few moments are a torrent of confusion that we were lucky to survive.

"It says here that you light the-"

"Whoo-hoo! Dibs on the match!"

"Waitaminnit, I want to-"

"Don't point that at me, twerp!"

"Don't call Irvy a-"

"You're not supposed to-"

"Hey! You all stand back."

We all do, just in time, as the first firecracker shoots into the velvet-black night in a trail of colors. It's a lot louder than we expected, but none of us care as we jump and whoop with joy, with the thrill of the forbidden.

Soon Seifer and I have taken our turns("Older kids first!") and collapse, laughing, onto the sand as Irvine and Selphie have a go at it.

Seifer casts me a sidelong glance as we lie side by side, hands pillowed behind our heads. "You having fun, Quisty?"

"Uh-huh!" I answer, caught up in the moment, before I realize I'm just giving him an excuse to gloat.

Instead, he just nods to himself without a trace of spite. "Good. You have to have some fun sometimes, right?"

"Then I guess you have way too much fun, Seifer." He's really very nice when he forgets about being mean to us. The sound of waves breaking on sand is like a lullaby, and I'm having a beautiful dream under a beautiful sky.

"That's good, ain't it?" He smiles and points up at the firecrackers going off, comets of gold and red and purple and green against the night sky. "I'm going to die like that, Quisty. Go out with a bang." He opens his hand to mimic explosions, then drops his hand.

I raise myself on one elbow to stare at him. A child not yet ten on a starry night, watching fireworks and thinking of his own death? I don't understand it, or him.

"Yooouuuuu!"

I wince before I turn to look. Only one person I know can turn 'you' into a twelve-syllable word.

"Kids aren't supposed to play with fireworks!" Zell comes running down the slope from the house. "I'm tell-ing! I'm gonna tell on you-ou!" He has that smug 'You're in trouble, I'm not' look on his face again.

Oh, Hyne. Zell is a nice boy, but sometimes he can be a little TOO nice, too ... goody-goody. Of course we did wrong, I realize as if coming awake from a dream. We shouldn't have snuck out at night, we should never have done something so dangerous without adults watching, whispers my conscience.

But then I am angry. Why can't Zell understand what it is to watch a dazzlingly painted sky at night, or what it's like when Seifer is so nice to me and tells me his deepest secrets while the sea whispers in the night?

"Crybaby Zell," I say petulantly, before I can stop myself. "Go back to bed, will you?"

"Yeah!" Suddenly Seifer is at my side, his usual mean smirk firmly back in place. "Cry-baby Ze-ell!" He chants. "Go back to be-ed!"

Soon Selphie and Irvine have joined in, and I meet Zell's hurt gaze with apologetic eyes. His eyes fill with tears and he runs away, no doubt to bring Matron if she isn't already on her way.

I sigh. The sky is dark and calm again. Used firecrackers are smoking in the bucket, and burned-out matches are strewn all over the sand. I wish I could see the colors dancing in Seifer's eyes again, his face content even as he spoke of death. It is forever how I will remember him, as a riddle and a dream.

The guilty pleasure of playing with fire has stayed with me all my life.

tbc