The Fire Starter by Misty Wright, Summer Sauteur Page B

shoes--or rather, what remained of them, since it looked like they had gone down to the garbage crusher. It didn't smell like garbage though. It smelled like bananas. But no matter how it smelled, I just couldn't look at it.
    "Ugh, Spencer what did you do??" I asked, though not really eager to know what he had done. I crinkled my nose and he hid the shoes in a plastic bag and sealed it. Out of sight, out of mind--I wish. The image was still burned inside my head.
    Evan was shaking his head with a sheepish grin on his face. His usually messy hair looked more disheveled than usual and he wiped sweat from his forehead. "This isn't the end, Spence," he threatened jokingly.
    "It definitely isn't," though Spencer wasn't one who always smiled, his eyes were twinkling. I couldn't help but admire the bond that they had. Though they seemed to not share anything in common, they still managed to get along. And they also seemed to have a lot of patience for each other.
    "You two look cute," I noted. Both looked at me quizzically and I could see how similar they looked despite the minute differences. "I envy the kind of relationship you have."
    "Don't you have any siblings?" Evan asked before he took a large bite off his bagel.
    "None," I replied simply. "I grew up alone most of the time. And don't even ask about my friends. They're the worst."
    "Why?" It was Spencer who asked this time.
    "I don't want to talk about it," I shut my mouth, and so did the two, dismissing the subject.
    "Alright," Evan agreed, standing up and taking the remainder of his bagel with him. "I have to go now, but don't take your eyes off my brother will you? I don't want more shredded shoes," he waved and dashed off the hallway, melting in with the darkness as he got out of sight.
    Now I could safely return to what I was reading. Spencer had been taking care of the implementation of our project, and I was assigned to the heavily boring research. I have to admit, it gets better and easier being with him. I've moved on past the flutters in my stomach and the heavy pounding of my heart. Though I can't say that I didn't like him anymore--in fact, I think it just got worse. Whenever we're together, I seemed to be completely aware of his every movement, and of his musky scent. Sometimes I could even smell him inside my room, even when he's not really there.
    I sighed, trying to keep my mind off unwanted thoughts. I needed to avoid zoning out every time we're supposed to be together. I can't be one of those people who just let others do their work for them. I don't want Spencer to look at me that way.
    "Were your friends really that terrible?"
    When I heard him speak, I looked up, confused. First, he never did seem interested in where I came from, and second, it wasn't like him to ask personal questions about anyone. I always thought that he wanted others to confront their own problems instead of whining about them. Call me weird, but that was actually one of the traits I liked about him. Not that it wouldn't feel good to know that he was indeed curious about me, of course.
    I nodded, too surprised to answer coherently. He was looking at me in his peripheral vision; his brown eyes the color of dark chocolate this time.
    "It used to be fun," I said, remembering when I first met my friends. They were always talking about the pranks they wanted to do to other people. I, of course, being the careless person that I was, went along and didn't mind how we were hurting others. "I'm not proud of who I used to be with them."
    "But you should be proud of who you are now," he consoled. It made me feel better, hearing those words from him. I didn't realize I regretted the things I had done in the past until now.
    "Thanks," I mumbled as he went back to what he was doing.
    There was one thing I didn't expect from him. And I take back what I said earlier that the fluttering and hammering had stopped. They all returned, and this time even worse than the last. I felt like I was floating, I