The Arsonist

"Tell me your deepest, darkest secret," Aaron said with a devious grin across his face. He was sitting on the floor in Evelyn's bedroom, leaned up against her dresser. Evelyn was sitting on her bed, glancing down at him every once in a while. She despised small talk, but this was definitely worse.

Aaron had come over to hang out with her brother Joey; they had been best friends for years. However they both knew Joey wouldn't be home for half an hour. When she pointed this out, Aaron pretended to be surprised, and then basically invited himself into her room. He said he wanted to see what it was like up there since her room was in the attic. There was a wooden ladder leading up to a trapdoor, which opened to pale blue walls decorated in twinkly lights and posters, a bookshelf overflowing with novels, and a bed pushed up close to the window.

Evelyn shifted uncomfortably, racking her brain for anything interesting she had done. "I don't know. I don't really have any secrets?"

"Bullshit, everything about you is a secret. You tell me nothing."

"I guess I don't have anything to say that I think you'd care to hear. What's your secret?" she asked quickly, regretting her last comment.

"I do care," Aaron contended, staring into her eyes. There was a split second of silence between them and for a moment she almost believed him.

"Yeah alright, what's your secret?"

He shook his head but let it go. After staring at the ceiling for a second, eyebrows furrowed, he claimed, "I committed arson." His voice was steady and unfazed, as if he was proud of it.

All of a sudden, she became extraordinarily aware that she was alone in a room with this boy. She became aware of every inch of space between them, of any slight movement he made, of the sound of his breathing, and the sound of her own.

She laughed, a sort of uncomfortable laugh that weakly fell out of her mouth. She wasn't even sure why she was so anxious but her heart was racing. Her eyes flickered from his lips, to his hands, to his eyes. Was he telling the truth? His eyes, dark green pools with little flecks of yellow, were locked on her.

"That abandoned building on Ninth Street?" she asked. It had burnt down two weeks ago. He nodded, shifting his gaze to the floor for the first time.

She remembered the night. She was leaving her room, planning on heading to the park. Her dad was out at a dinner thing, or a drinking thing, probably a drinking thing. Her mom was home but buried in work on her laptop. Evelyn climbed down her ladder and down the stairs. Loud voices drifted down the hallway.

Joey, Aaron, and another friend of theirs were gathered in Joey's room. She paused to listen. Aaron's voice rung out, deeper than the rest, "Let's get out of here guys."

She peered around the corner, careful to remain far enough away that no one could see her. The boy replied quietly, "I've got some stuff in my bag."

Joey looked out of the room, gazing down the hall to see if his mom was still there. Evelyn quickly ducked further behind the corner. Joey flicked his lighter on, the little flame shining brightly on his face in the dimly lit room. He looked questioningly at his friends, who nodded eagerly. Evelyn hurried out the front door before they ran into her.

Aaron shifted around on the floor and spoke again, "It's not like it was just me. I think we all kind of started it."

"Right, that makes it better," she responded under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

She wondered if Aaron was dangerous. He was taller than she had remembered. He looked muscular, but she could hardly tell under his baggy black shirt and basketball shorts.