Killing Secret

It was all an accident, really, but Oriole still couldn’t forgive himself. Nobody blamed him—they didn’t even know. No one knew, in fact, but his new best friend Kal. Actually, even he didn’t know the whole story, though he didn’t question Oriole’s weak alibi. He was the right kind of friend: kind, easily forgiving, and loyal beyond anyone else alive. Everyone liked him because they could dump their problems on him and he would listen without asking any questions or gossiping later. That made him the special target of all the girls in school, but he handled it exceptionally well.

Oriole smiled. Kal’s a good guy, he thought. He looked up from where he was sitting, legs akimbo on the sofa, to see Kal try for the fortieth time to toast a slice of bread by blowing on it. Oh yeah, that was another thing about Kal: he could channel fire through every part of his body. Yes, every part. Except his eyes—he was still working on that.

“Aww, man!” Kal ejaculated for the fortieth time, “Burnt again. Maybe I could shoot for a more even spin….” And he tossed the newly charred square aside into a heap of previous failed attempts on the counter and reached for a new victim.

“Or,” said Oriole, trying not to laugh, “You could shoot for the toaster, and practice those fire eyes instead.”

“When you’re angry, there’s enough fire coming from your eyes for both of us.” He steadied the fluffy white piece of bread on his thumb and forefinger, eyeing it menacingly. “Besides, I like my eyes the way they are. They’ll burn up if I shoot fire out of them.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Of course not! They’ll burn!”

“Have you ever been burned?”

“Errrrmm, no.”

“Right. Plus you shoot fire out of your hands on a minutely basis.”

“It kind of tickles.”

“Oh, so you don’t want eye tickles?”

“Eww! Okay! Now you’re creeping me out!” Kal dropped the bread and scrunched his hands over his eyes, now squeezed shut.

Oriole laughed. “There’s a reason you stay in the kitchen to help your mom cook while I stay over here. You astound her by remaining unburned no matter how many times you touch the stovetop. I would just melt clean away if I did that.” They both laughed uncontrollably.

“You know,” Kal laughed through tears, “If you ever wanted to touch a hot burner without getting burned, you could always—”

“No!” Oriole interrupted. His face instantly transformed from one of laughter to a stony one of grim firmness.

“Sorry,” Kal muttered.

Oriole brooded, his head dropping down between his shoulders again. He shivered. His shoulders trembled and his chest heaved rapidly. Those terrible memories came flooding back to him and he was once more plunged into a sea of despair.

“Look,” Kal tried again more gently, “You never told me what happened, but I know it’s not your fault.”

“I DESTROYED HER!!! ” screamed the voice inside Oriole’s head. But he only nodded. No one could ever know what he had done. Ever.