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Fanning the Flames by Pauline Yates

The crackling bonfire spits up sparks like a swarm of angry fireflies. My classmates give a rousing cheer then return to feasting on prime beef burgers. The boys’ boisterous banter drowns out the bellowing bull in the next paddock. The girls sit on hay bales, consoling Eloise who dabs at her eyes. Ethan stands alone, frowning at the fire. Not good.

Grabbing two colas, I join him.

His eyes light up as bright as the fire. “Hey, Grace, the birthday girl. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Or can I come to your rescue?” 

“Ha, ha. Always the joker.” I hand him the drink—he’s cute, but my scorched heart still stings. “Having fun?”

“Who doesn’t love a bonfire party in a cow paddock?” His nose wrinkles. “Bit on the nose, though.”

“Sorry, that’s my fault. I stuffed it with straw from the cattle yards, forgetting my dad butchered a cow in there yesterday.” The rising smoke carries my white lie away, but an unsavoury tang lingers. “It doesn’t smell too bad, does it?”

“Nah. Everyone’s preoccupied with Eloise and Billy. Did you hear what happened?”

“No. What?” The phone in my pocket vibrates. I ignore it.

“He text-dumped her, the same as he did to you.” He shakes his head. “Loser.”

“So that’s why Eloise is crying.”

“It gets worse. She received a text from him meant for some chick named Samantha. He’s with her this weekend. That’s why he’s not here.”

“Sounds serious.”

Ethan scoffs. “He’ll probably dump her, too, after he’s carved another notch into his belt.” 

“Hey.” I slap his arm. “Not all of us put out.” Eloise excepted.

“Sorry. I assumed… well, you and Billy dated for what, six weeks?”

“And you assumed we fucked every night? Why do you think he dumped me?” 

Ethan shuffles his feet. “That would hurt. I heard Eloise is pretty cut up, too.”

“Yeah? It must be tough being a notch on a belt.” 

“Meow,” Ethan says. “Someone has their claws out.”

“At least I’m not weeping about it. Here, help me stoke the fire. I didn’t spend all day collecting wood to have it rot on the ground.”

“You stacked the bonfire?” Ethan asks. “Impressive.”

“Oh, please. I was driving tractors and wielding chainsaws before I learned to walk.”

Ethan studies me. “We should hang out. I’m not into notching belts, just so you know.”

“Can you drive a tractor?”

“No. But I’m fast learner.”

I smile. “I suppose I could teach you.”

We toss more wood onto the fire. The phone vibrates again. Pulling it out, I read the message.  

“Want another drink?” Ethan asks.

 I pocket the phone. “Hell, yes. I’m celebrating.” 

Our hands brush as we walk to the esky; it’s nice. Ethan grabs two colas, tosses me one, and raises his.

“A toast. To…?”

“To Billy.” My scum-of-the-earth ex-boyfriend. “May his belt be long enough for his notches.” 

Ethan laughs and slams his can against mine, spraying me with cola. Using his shirt, he pats me dry. 

“Aren’t we cute?” Eloise appears next to us, clutching her phone.

Flustered, Ethan steps away. 

I glare at her. “Hi, Eli.” She hates being called Eli—as much as I hate her ruining relationships. “Are you having a good time?”

“Sure, if you love stepping in cow pats.” She looks at her phone. “Did you invite the whole class?”

“Of course. Everyone’s here. Except Billy and Samantha, that is.”

Ethan laughs. “Touché.” 

Eloise shoots him a withering look, but I like Ethan more and more.

“I’d say sorry about you and Billy, but…” I smile smugly.

“Oh, get over it.” Eloise stomps away.

Ethan grins. “Want a burger?” 

“Love one.”

I stoke the fire while he fetches food. A log rolls, exposing a blistered hand. Using a stick, I cover it with red-hot coals. In my pocket, Billy’s phone vibrates again. Pulling it out, I read another pleading message from Eloise. I type a reply: BACK NEXT WEEK. TALK THEN.

And hit send. 

About the author
Pauline Yates (she/her) is the Australia author of Memories Don’t Lie, a fast-paced science fiction novel inspired by her love for dark and dangerous action and adventure. An Australasian Shadows Awards finalist, her short-form horror and dark fiction appear in numerous publications in Australia and abroad. She loves writing at midnight when her muse is the most volatile, and enjoys taking pictures of the sunrise, if she wakes up in time. https://paulineyates.com/