The Arsonists

Diana couldn't recall when she first learned she was not alone. It had been some time during her eighth year of life, probably in the spring or summer, because her memory of joining the Guild was crisp as a page of a seldom-opened scrapbook, and she knew it had been in the fall.

It was fall right now. This was her seventh year in the Arsonists' Guild, and she was fifteen this year, old enough to move from childish campfire-lighting to real fires. If only she could convince the Guild leaders of that! After so many years, it was no surprise that she didn't remember the first time she met another summoner. She'd begun, by then, to think that something was wrong with her, and to believe the words of the only one she'd ever showed her fire to- her mother, of course. The shrieks she heard that day still rang in her ears, some ten years later, but worse was finding her way on the streets. That summoner, John Newbar, had changed her life when he introduced her to the Arsonists' Guild.

All other thoughts vanished when Diana arrived at the building where the Guild meeting would take place today. The exterior was boring, posing as a closed fireplace store- the founders' idea of a joke, she supposed- and the inside was too, but the basement- she inserted her key, as the basement was always kept locked, and slipped through the door- was magnificent.

Stone floors for fire safety and dramatically loud footsteps, high arched ceilings, and large fake windows; the Guild building reminded her of a church. None of the members could be harmed by fire, but they could by collapsing roofs or smoke inhalation- not that they'd tested this, but it was a reasonable assumption- so fire extinguishers were hung every few feet, and on the back of every chair. Because a 'Smoke-Free Building' sign would have been pointless, several members were lighting cigarettes with their fingers before sticking them in their mouths.

Diana smiled as she took her seat in the back. The chairs were arranged in a half-circle, made up of several rows, and opposite them were the seats of the Guild leaders, similarly arranged but in only one row. She was early, so most of the seats were unpopulated. John Newbar, the summoner who introduced her to the Guild, was in his chair among the other leaders', and one summoner her age twisted around from his spot a row in front of her and shot her a wink. She didn't know what to do, never having seen him before, so she stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the gesture.

"May I have your attention, arsonists?" She looked up to see Katja Aswen, one of the Guild leaders, standing up. The chatter stopped. Several cigarettes were extinguished. "Thank you. The first topic for today is an important one. Some of you have heard that we are planning a burn for two weeks from now. The coronation of the new king of Norway is planned for that day, and as part of our plan to establish arsonist powers in as many countries as possible- the soon-to-be king is not, of course- we will be torching the ceremony. After this meeting, we will inform the chosen arsonists so that they can prepare for the trip. We have selected a fine team, including several promising young summoners." Diana was positive that the elderly arsonist's gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than everyone else as her eyes swept over the Guild members. "Now, next on the agenda, we will be holding a Guild-wide bonfire behind the building on Tuesday. Remember to bring marshmallows! After the accident during the last meeting, we have insufficient burning materials, so donations will be accepted..."

The meeting drew to a close. Normally, Diana would have joined the discussion on fire-proof nail polish in the corner of the room, but she spied the boy from the beginning of the meeting leaning against one wall, and walked towards him in the hopes of finding a more interesting conversation.

The boy looked up without interest. "Hey."

"Hey," she echoed. "Haven't seen you here before. I'm Diana."

"Dawson." He returned to glaring into the group of seats, where a few of the Guild leaders were conversing.

Diana struggled to figure out what he was so disgusted with, and finally gave up and asked him.

He glanced sideways at her. "All of this."

She was startled. "You don't mean the Guild?" She followed this up with, "Why'd you join if you hate it like this?"

"I didn't." Dawson pointed at John Newbar. "He's been after me to join for weeks, ever since he saw me, you know," he summoned a ball of flame to his hand. "I finally agreed to attend a meeting, just in case it wasn't as terrible as I thought, but nope." He narrowed his eyes at the conversing summoners. "Did you hear that? They want to attack the coronation of the king of Norway. Everyone here is a lunatic, a terrorist, or both, but they don't realize how messed up they are. I hate it, and I sure won't be joining it."

"Are you calling me a terrorist?"

"Can't say." He studied her. "Are you going to join that crazy mission, if they ask you to? Because if yes, then yes. If no..." He closed his fist, putting out the fireball inside it. "Then I don't know. Maybe not."

All the blood seemed to rush into Diana's head. The Arsonists' Guild was her whole life, the only thing she was loyal to, but she'd never thought the Guild's mission through. Suddenly, the whole matter seemed awfully clear, and she didn't know what to do about it. "I- it's the only thing I know," she told him, careful with her words. "I couldn't give it up."

The disappointment on Dawson's face was obvious, but he just shrugged and looked away. "Okay, then."

Diana gritted her teeth, but she couldn't find it in herself to be that upset with him. He raised a fair point, one she'd never considered, and if that was his opinion... What was her opinion? Did she need to have one?

Her turbulent thoughts were interrupted when Katja Aswen took a stance several feet away, her gaze beckoning. "Excuse me," she told Dawson, who ignored her. She jogged over to join Ms. Aswen.

"Diana. You'll be glad to know that we've selected you for the burn in Norway," the arsonist told her bluntly. It was obvious she'd already told most of the others on the team, and wasn't looking forward to another round of excited shrieking.

"Um. Actually," Diana responded, not expecting the words that flowed out of her mouth, and trying to keep up with them, "I... I don't think I'll be coming." She bit her lip, worried about the bridge she'd almost literally burned, and added, "I have... a thing... in two weeks, and I can't come... I'd love to, you know! An honor and everything. But I can't."

All the fire seemed to have drained out of Ms. Aswen. She turned almost white, her mouth open and shut like a suffocating fish, but then the fire roared back in again, and she snapped, "What commitment do you have that is greater than the Arsonists' Guild? This is disrespect to all the summoners who were not chosen, all the Guild leaders who agreed that you were best for the job. Disrespect to Mr. Newbar, who recommended your skills- disrespect to the entire Guild, for that matter!"

The hissing flames almost emitting from Ms. Aswen's skin seemed to catch Diana's afire as well, and she retorted with unthinkable lack of caution, "The Guild is my entire life, but it doesn't have to be. Maybe it's unhealthy to have one all-consuming passion- has that ever occurred to you, ma'am? I'm not helping you burn down the coronation, and if you think refusing to help you terrorize a country is disrespect, I don't want to be respectful. I'm leaving."

This time, Ms. Aswen really caught fire. Her skin grew red-hot, and flames rippled down her arms and shoulders. The lingering Guild members backed into the corners of the building, a few clutching fire extinguishers like rifles. "Get out!" she screamed. "We don't want you."

Diana nodded firmly, muscles tense so she wouldn't start shaking. "Mutual agreement, good," she told the spontaneously combusting woman. Her voice quavered more than she wanted, but she kept her cool as she climbed up the stairs. She felt more than saw the boy, Dawson, climbing the stairs behind her, an almost admiring expression on his face. Their exit of the building was heralded by the sound of fire extinguishers dousing the room in white foam.

Dawson shut the door of the fireplace store behind them, and Diana made it twenty feet or so before her shoulders started shaking. She turned away and wiped at her eyes, sobbing like she'd lost a family member- that was what the cavity in her chest felt like, the biggest thing in her life crumbling away into a powdery ash. She didn't speak to her family. She didn't have friends, not outside the Guild anyway. But she somehow couldn't believe in the Guild's mission any longer. That was the one thing she understood in this sudden new dimension of her life. Her eyes stung, flooded by the ugly bouts of tears trying to break past her clumsily wiping hands. Lacking a tissue, she mopped up her face with her sleeve, well aware of the whole world watching her awkwardly. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I think it was the right thing, Dawson muttered, looking at the sidewalk as though he didn't notice the crying girl next to him.

"You don't get it. The Guild was my life- that was true, what I told her. Now they hate me, just like the rest of the world would if they knew what I could do." Almost contemplatively, no longer crying, she summoned a tiny blaze along her fingertips, a fiery mountain range surging and flickering like a row of birthday candles. If the passersby noticed this, they pretended not to. One man in a suit stared, blinked at least five times, and then deliberately turned his head away and kept walking. She laughed, a hopeless giggle that was only a step away from tears.

"No. It was brave, you know? And what you said to that lady- it was your life, sure, but the other part was true, too. It doesn't have to be." Dawson glanced both ways as though crossing the street, but only ushered her along the sidewalk. "Come on, there's a vending machine a few blocks away that always malfunctions and gives you two bags of chips when you pay for one." He smiled ironically at the cheap favor. "My treat."

Soon they were snacking on potato chips and watching people stroll past them. Diana, her fingers coated in salt and grease, didn't dare summon fire for fear of burning it out of control, so she enjoyed the warmth of the sun instead. It was a nice day for early October, with a not-so-chilly breeze and perfect azure sky, and she was beginning to feel better. Maybe she could start again, in a new and less scalding way. Maybe that didn't have to hurt.