Playing with Forever

Chapter 11: No Burns

The next day, Sam showed no signs of our adventure the night before, not even his leg. He walked fine into class the morning after the fire. I looked over at him anxiously. "How's your leg?"

He looked down at it and shrugged. "No problem."

"I don't believe you," I said, and reached over to pull up his pant leg. He jerked his leg away, then reluctantly rolled up his jeans himself. The skin underneath was perfect.

"Just my pants and shoe burned, it did not even get me."

"That's not true," I said vehemently. "It was burned, I know it was. I saw it."

"It must have just been the lighting, Abigail. Look, I am perfectly fine. Touch it."

I did reach out, putting my fingertips against his shin. His skin was warm and smooth, no burn left behind. His leg hair wasn't even singed.

But I'd seen it.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen burns on him. There was that time before we were friends, when he was helping me on the laptop. He'd had burns on his arm. I darted a look at them now, exposed with his sweater sleeves pushed up his forearms. It was all fine. Perfect. No scars. How could that be?

He had other scars, I remembered, looking down at his bottom lip. It sat there proudly, bringing attention to how perfect his mouth was.

Not the point, Abby.

There was a faint scar on his neck, a thin one. It wasn't huge or recent, just a pale line peeking out of his shirt collar. It was faint enough to make me think he got it as a child.

I had scars, too, but those were mostly hidden from eyesight. There were a few I couldn't hide, though—one on my cheek, four marks permanently scratched on my wrist.

But that morning, Sam looked completely normal. "I don't understand."

"There is nothing to understand. I am okay, and so are you. Right?"

I guess I really was confused, thinking I saw things that weren't really there. There was proof right in front of me that I was wrong. I shook my head and met his eyes with my own. "Right."

"And I have our paper done, so there is no reason to worry."

I sighed. He was right. I must have been confused with all the shock of it. It was over, and like he said, we were both okay. "Thanks for taking care of it," I told him.

"No problem."

"We better get an A on it."

He laughed. I smiled at the sound, twisting to look at him. He grinned back. "You have my word."

I was particularly bored in Study Skills. The class had dissolved into the daily party, Coach Wilson doing nothing to stop it. I usually spent the time doing my homework for all my other classes, while Sam read or sketched intently. Sometimes he'd do his work with me, if I asked.

"Do you want to work on the English vocab together?" I suggested to Sam that afternoon.

He considered for a moment before deciding to humor me. He put Robinson Crusoe away and pulled out the AP English homework.

"I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty good at this," I told him. He gave me a placating smile, one you'd give a child. "I am!" I defended. "I excelled in the English portions of the practice SATs."

He looked surprised. "You have not taken the SATs yet?"

Oh. "I'm a little behind," I admitted. Though I studied hard and got good grades, I had failed to complete assignments outside of school hours the past couple years. Namely the SATs and college applications. There was a time I didn't expect to escape Sacramento and go to college, but that time had passed. My future had opened up again, and I could do anything I wanted.