Keira's Fire

Chapter 1

Perhaps it was a little louder than I'd intended because Cecily was finally roused from her book and she began to look for me. It didn't matter if she saw me now though. I was getting close to the top and I wasn't about to come down. At the very least, until she promised to stop putting me in such horrible clothes.

Cecily stood up, irritated. "Keira?" she called, looking everywhere but up.

"Up here!" I panted, climbing higher and grinning happily.

"What are you doing?" she screeched when she spotted me. "Come down right now!"

I smiled bigger. Her reaction was better than I pictured. I could probably get her to promise to let me wear pants like the boys!

"Uh uh! Not till I get to the top!"

A minute later, my brothers began to appear, having heard the noise.

"Keira, stop!" Ian yelled. "You're going too high!"

I picked this particular tree because it was the tallest one I saw. Of course I was going high. "No!" I growled, irritated. "I can do anything you can!"

I think I felt it before I actually heard the snap of the branch I'd just grabbed. It was one of the highest - the one I pictured myself sitting in, in fact. Cecily screamed a split second before I did as I lost my balance and fell. It was strange the way everything seemed to happen in slow motion, yet at the same time, so fast that I couldn't even think of how I might protect myself. It felt as though I hit every branch on the way down, and with a final thud, I slammed into the ground on my back, dazed and winded. Cecily was sobbing hysterically and Ian was yelling at Jeremy to go get our mother. For a moment, I just lay there unmoving as my brain tried to catch up with what just happened.

Once I was able to breathe again, I sat up and saw Cecily, Ian, and Stephen closing in on me. Jeremy was running toward our mother, who'd apparently heard the screams.

I attempted to get up but Ian pushed me down. "Don't move yet," he ordered.

"Don't be stupid." I was still a little breathless. "I'm fine."

"What do you mean, you're fine?" he barked. "You must have fallen thirty feet! You could have been killed!"

"So?" I said, defiantly. I despised being yelled at and treated like a baby. "It didn't even hurt!" Honestly, I never felt so much pain in my life, but I couldn't have cared less just then.

Ian looked like he wanted to call me a liar, but what could he say? It wasn't the first time I should have been crying in pain and wasn't. If there was one thing my brothers knew about me, it was that I was no cry baby.

"Keira!" I cringed when I heard my mother. She was going to be so mad. She raced toward me, frantic but not crying. That's one thing I loved about her. She didn't get all weepy like Cecily did. She always stayed calm.

When she reached me, my mother threw herself on the ground and hugged me more fiercely than she ever had before. She pulled back and placed her hands on my shoulders.

"What were you thinking?" she demanded. "Are you hurt?" She began checking me over, not waiting for an answer.

"No," I reported happily. "I'm fine!"

She sighed. "You're all cut up. And look at these bruises!" She turned my arms over getting a good look.

I looked down at myself for the first time. Sure enough, I was completely covered in gashes and newly forming bruises. I stared, fascinated. I couldn't remember too many bruises before this. Under Cecily's normally watchful eye, I'd never been allowed to do anything to acquire bruises before. I felt as if each one was a badge of honor.

With glee, I realized that my dress was torn beyond repair. Perhaps I was a little too enthusiastic when I announced that fact because Cecily had finally stopped blubbering and she glared when I said it.

"She was trying to be like the boys." She turned her angry gaze on our bewildered brothers, as if they were the ones to suggest I climb the tree.

"I'm sick of being treated like your little doll!" I screamed. I wanted the boys to be impressed with what I'd done, not getting in trouble for it!

"Oh, Keira." My poor mother sounded exasperated. "Wait till your father hears about this."

I grinned. For most kids, that would have been something to fear, but not for me. My father was the only one who understood me. He loved who I was and told me he never wanted me to change. He would probably think of this as a great story to tell people.

"Well." My mother stood and scooped me up in her arms. "Let's get you inside."

She carried me the whole way, and I thought it best not to push my luck by asking to walk like I wanted to. Once we were in the house, she checked me over better, cleaning me up and making sure everything still worked as it should. When she was satisfied, I was exiled, despite my many protests, to bed for the rest of the day. I'm sure my mother knew I was fine by then, but I guessed she did it just in case I harbored any lingering feelings of invincibility.

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The indignity of being carried like a baby and confined to bed, I later realized, was a small price to pay for my new found freedoms. Much to my siblings' dismay, I was now allowed to tag along with my brothers sometimes, and Cecily's control over me was limited. The only condition was that I promise never to do something that stupid again, which I agreed to without a second thought. I knew what to watch out for in trees now.

In the following months, I learned quite a bit about myself. Not only could I keep up with my brothers and their friends, but before long, I was able to beat a lot of the boys at things. I ran faster, had better aim, and was just tougher than many of them.

My competence was not appreciated at all and it didn't take long for the teasing to start. Apparently they were embarrassed. After all, girls were supposed to be sweet and delicate. Weak and helpless and stupid. Boys were suppose to be better at everything but housework and taking care of babies.

When mere teasing didn't make me cower and go away, they started bending the don't-hit-girls rule, especially for me. And once they figured out that I was not easily intimidated and could, in fact, hold my own, they decided I could handle real fights.

Their attempts only strengthened my resolve to outdo them and I was glad they were beginning to take me seriously. I rarely lost a fight, and some of the boys were at least two years older than me.

My brothers were nervous when I started getting in fights. They'd automatically intervene, and pull whoever it was away from me, but they soon learned, as the others did, that I could take care of myself. If I ever really needed help, they'd defend me, but mostly they would laugh when one of the boys picked a fight. Sure, they'd grumble when I would follow them, but it was mainly for show. Ian was close to fifteen. He wasn't supposed to want his baby sister around. But I think he and Jeremy and Stephen were proud that I could beat up boys older than myself. And I loved that they thought of me that way.

Looking back, I don't know if I would have preferred to know what was coming. I suppose it would have ruined my happy, carefree childhood. On the other hand, it might have made me appreciate it more. I certainly wish I'd have appreciated my family more. Especially Cecily.