Science- Eden liked science. Eden was good at science, straight A’s, unlike her abysmal english grade. There was something satisfying about finding the components of another thing, putting them together, figuring them out, or better yet, blowing them the fuck up.

Today, today they blew stuff up.

A fortnight after that day spent in the library, and after many others spent looking over past entries of Sam’s journal (Rosewood’s bible, June had coined it.) they had finally found the time to gather in the Rutherford’s back lawn, under the pretense of a group science project.

There was a routine now, meet in the mornings, anywhere they could, the library, the diner, Eden’s house (This was a popular location due to the copious amounts potato tostadas her grandmother provided,) and talk. About Rosewood. About Eden’s fire.

And other times, about nothing practical at all. Sometimes they took half an hour.

Other times, they took the whole day.

Now, a wonderfully balmy evening, they all gathered in Sam’s backyard. A few trips prior to the hardware store, and between them there was a fire blanket, a burlap sack full of dry twigs, and lighter fluid.

Sam had his book out, a table drawn, clutched to his chest like a clipboard on an inspector. Only it was summer. They were fifteen. Orderly reasoning had no place here.

And so instead, there was chaos.

June ended up screaming with the tail of her shirt in flames, Lewis yelling “STOP DROP AND ROLL!”, Samuel chasing her with a bucket of water, and Eden quietly sniggering. She didn’t mean to set fire to the other girl, but she couldn’t say she was sorry. The huge, four foot column of flame she had conjured, one from each palm, that had caused said shirt burning had been epic. No regrets.

More importantly, it was massive. It had taken nearly all her strength. Conjuring fire was like bending a muscle and holding it for the duration of the flame. A small flicker was nothing more than the bend of a finger. A bonfire like that one? Was at least fifty squats.

It was tiring work, magic. So they took a break.

Somewhere along the line of all this, Sam’s parents had come out with a bag of marshmallows, and beaming smiles on their faces. Contagious grins ran in the family, apparently.

Amazingly oblivious to the events unfolding in their backyard, they congratulated the group on their hard work.

“Pyrotechnics, huh?” Mr Rutherford glanced at the embers of a flame, “What class is that for?”

Eden said Physics at the same time June said chemistry.

“Both!” Sam laughed nervously, “It’s… Uh, joint.”

It was surprising how easy they took the bait.

“They’re just happy I have friends over.” Sam grumbled, doling out the marshmallows between them, before padding his own face full of them. Eden was reminded of a chipmunk.

As a result, the whole thing had turned into a campfire. It was perfect on a friday night, the sky as black and the cicada’s louder than their thoughts. Eden insisted on singing god awful camp songs, which Lewis and Samuel adored and hollered along to as well. June rolled her eyes, but she saw her smile.

“Charlie had a pigeon, had a pigeon, had a pigeon, charlie-e-e-e-e-Come on June! Sing with us!”

“I’d like to keep what’s left of my self dignity, thanks.”

“Ah, wet blanket!”

She giggled quietly in her palm, the long sleeves of a flannel shirt covering her hands and flopping over her wrist.

“How long have we all known each other?” Eden suddenly asked.

“Two weeks, give or take.”

“We get along really well.” As if we were meant to.

“We’re special.”

They laughed, playful shoves to the grassy ground.

“You and Eden don’t get along,” Sam commented thickly, popping another sticky marshmallow in his mouth. There was powdered sugar all over his hands. Eden wondered how he didn’t have diabetes yet. Those were supreme mega sized camp pack candies, and it was not normal for a kid that short to be able to eat half a bag of them.

“We’re making progress.” said June. She looked at her black gaze intense and unwavering. It was something Eden wasn’t used to. People didn’t look at her like that unless they had a deathwish. It made her uncomfortable, to be frank, but as June sat on the summer grass in her too big flannel shirt, cheeks red and giddy, ponytail high and glossy in the firelight, she thought that she could forgive her.

“Well.” Lewis commented, “That’s something.”

“Yeah. Ok.”

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Happy episode this time! They're about to go through some Shit™ soon, so for now they get bonding time and marshmallows :)

Leave a like if you liked it! I'll try to update again sometime this week.