Backwards by Todd Mitchell Page A

asking.
    Cat didn’t reply.
    “I know what this is about,” said Finn. “You think you can jump me away from school. You think this will make you feel better.” He shook his head, disappointed. “I thought we were cool, Dan. I tried to be your friend.”
    Dan’s thoughts raged around me, making me worry about what he might do.
    “It’s not too late,” continued Finn. “I’m still willing to forgive you.” He held out his hand.
    Take it,
I thought.
    Dan charged. It was such a spastic, clumsy attack that all Finn had to do was pivot like a matador and Dan stumbled past, smacking into a wall.
    Pain exploded around me, bright as the desert sun. I recoiled, avoiding the sensation. Dan tried to punch Finn, but his fist glanced off Finn’s shoulder. Finn countered with a blow to Dan’s chest. The two of them kept fighting, only things felt duller now. Distant.
    For Dan, the fight might have taken on a sort of slow-motion clarity, but for me it was like watching a poorly filmed action sequence with the camera jerking from the ceiling, to Cat’s shirt, to an empty milk jug, to a clenched fist. Dan swung blindly, and his forearm cracked Finn’s jaw. It was a lucky hit, sending Finn staggering back. Then Dan tackled Finn and the two of them skidded across the dusty floor into the couch.
    Dan attempted to choke Finn, while Finn shoved the zombie’s head to the side. In the candlelight, I glimpsed a giant turtle painted on the wall. I only saw it for an instant before Finn’s hand crossed Dan’s face. I couldn’t see Cat, but I heard her.
    “Dan, stop!” she screamed. “You have to stop!”
    A thin, heady smell filled Dan’s senses. He shifted to get a better hold on Finn and kicked over some candles.
    Instantly, the couch whooshed into flames. The heat stunned me. I thought Dan’s hair had caught fire. He leaped back, brushing his head with his hands, but he seemed okay.
    Finn scrambled away from the burning couch. “What the hell?” He kept backing up, looking from Dan to Cat as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. “You’re crazy. Both of you are crazy.”
    Dan grabbed a board and tried to beat out the flames with it, which ended up being worse than useless. Sparks shot onto the floor and wall. Pretty soon, the whole couch was burning and flames swept the ceiling. In the sudden light, I glimpsed giant mushrooms, rose vines, teacups, flamingos, and other odd images on the walls, until the acrid smoke grew thick and Dan’s vision blurred.
    He turned to survey the room. Finn must have left. Only Cat remained, standing close enough to the burning couch to roast marshmallows on it.
    “We have to get out of here,” Dan said with his typical flair for stating the obvious.
    Cat kept staring at the flames.
    “Cat!” Dan shouted.
    Still no reaction. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the door — or at least to where the door might be. It was hard to see anything now.
    He bumped into the kitchen counter and felt along the cabinets, clutching Cat’s arm in his other hand. At last they made it out, but Dan still wouldn’t let go. He led her down the driveway. Cat resisted. I was afraid she might run back into the house. Did Finn mean so much to her that she’d rather die than be without him?
    Dan doubled over, coughing. When he could stand again, Cat was several steps away, staring at the house.
    Smoke poured between the cracks in the boards on the windows and under the front door. A few flames licked through a broken window by the porch. Once the fire reached outside, things spread quickly. Flames climbed the shutters, skipping along shingles to the roof. Dan began to curse. “We have to go,” he said.
    Cat didn’t reply.
    Sirens wailed in the distance. “The cops are coming.” He tugged her arm. “Cat, come on.”
    Cat looked at him, orange light glinting off her eyes. “You ruined it,” she said. “It’s all ruined.”
    The sound of a screen door slamming rang out from across the