Creative Writing Awards: 2019 Selected Poems, Stories, & Memoirs

How Long Does a Wildfire Last? by Serena Yang

"The Japanese word for dirty cleaves its way out of Jun's mouth"

—Serena Yang

How Long Does a Wildfire Last?

By Serena Yang

HUNTER COLLEGE HIGH SCHOOL

Jun is doing that thing again, the one where she wonders out loud about stuff that most people are too careful to say. This time it's about the chances of her house burning down with her grandfather in it.

I dig my heels into the sand and watch as Jun paces the shoreline looking for shells. I know she isn't really looking for anything. We've been on the beach for ten minutes and she hasn't told me what's wrong yet. I feel very small like this, sitting with my knees tucked into my chest as Jun paces across the horizon, her body blotting out the sun every so often.

"—and yesterday the news lady said that the fires could spread here if someone just sneezed too hard, you know?"

"She didn't say that."

"She didn't, but you know what she should have said?" Jun kicks something, hard, and her bare foot leaves a deep furrow in the sand. "Fucking California won't stop setting itself on fire and we should all just light ourselves up too. Before the end of the world can take us."

I laugh. It's not really that funny, but she's stopped talking about her grandfather. "It's not the end of the world though. It's just wildfires," I say, watching Jun crouch down to scoop sand back into the rut her foot had made. She presses her palms over it until the sand is smooth.

"It makes you think about the end of the world though, right?" Jun jumps up, spreading her arms wide and spinning to face the gray horizon. Sunsets are gray in a burning California. Jun pitches her voice and, in the affected tones of an evening news anchor, says, "THE YEAR IS 2012. Tomorrow, the world ends. Why? Cause the Mayans said so."

I let myself laugh out loud. This is one of the things I both love and hate about Jun: she cheers herself up faster than anyone can. The part I hate is that she does it by distracting herself with trying to make me laugh.

Jun crouches down in front of me and mimics holding a microphone. "Miss Lily Qiu, are you ready for the world to end tomorrow?"

I tilt my head and pretend to think. "'Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.'"

"Ooh, Rob Frost." Jun grins, all teeth and gums. "And if it had to perish twice, I hope it burns a second time."

I knock Jun's ankle out from under her, and she sprawls out on the sand, laughing. She looks a little happier now, so I grin back. "You know that's not how it goes."

"That's how it should go." Jun sits up and rests her chin on her knee. Her smile a sharp curve of shadow in the quickly fading light. Angry gashes of orange tearing open the gray sky behind her. "Looks like those who favor fire are in luck."

The sun has dipped far below the horizon by the time Jun tells me what happened. She doesn't look at me when she says, Gramps threw me out. He thinks I'm crazy. Jun's long limbs are all folded up, and she's curling into herself like my mom's Costco air mattress with all the air let out. You're sick, he said. There's something wrong in your head. Never say dirty words like that ever again. The Japanese word for dirty cleaves its way out of Jun's mouth.

Jun grits her teeth. "I like girls. Okay? I like girls and I'm going to say that as many times as I fucking want." Even Jun's anger feels burnt out, choked full of exhaust.