ASHES OF YESTERDAY

CHAPTER 3- FIRE GAMES

The evening air pressed heavily on their skin as they stepped out of the restaurant. The bell above the door jingled behind them, fading quickly into the chorus of the street. Anna’s arms still tingled from carrying plates, her fingers sticky with oil, no matter how often she wiped them on her dress. Chase skipped a few steps ahead, his full stomach doing nothing to quiet his energy. Jay walked behind them, quiet, eyes everywhere at once.

The world outside smelled different now—less of pepper stew and frying plantains, more of smoke drifting from neighbors’ stoves, and the faint metallic tang of the street cooling after a day of sun. The sky had dimmed to the color of bruised peaches, streaks of purple bleeding into orange. Laundry still flapped on lines above the courtyard, shadows stretching longer with each flutter.

“Race you to the stairs!” Chase shouted suddenly, already leaping ahead.

“You just ate!” Jay barked, but Anna was already chasing after her friend, determined not to be left behind. Her legs pumped hard, heart hammering, the air cutting sharp through her throat.

She reached the bottom step only a second behind Chase. He turned, grinning widely. “See? I’m faster even when I’m full.”

Anna shoved him hard in the shoulder. “Only because you cheated!”

“Cheating’s just being smart,” Chase countered.

Jay caught up, shaking his head, though his lips twitched toward a smile. “You two are going to burst if you keep running right after eating.”

“We won’t!” Anna shot back, though her stomach cramped with each breath. She wasn’t about to admit it. She hated admitting weakness, hated how often they called her small.

They climbed the stairwell to the Hamilton apartment, shoes slapping against the concrete steps. The door creaked when Jay pushed it open, and the familiar smell of soap and starch met them. Their mother was in the living room, humming while she folded another neat stack of shirts. She looked up when the children tumbled in, and her face softened.

“You’ve eaten?” she asked.

“Yes, Mama,” Chase answered, bouncing into the room. “Anna’s mother fed us like kings.”

Mrs. Hamilton smiled, though her eyes searched their faces as though to confirm. “Good. Then no raiding my kitchen tonight.”

Jay lingered near the door, gaze falling on the boots resting stiff by the wall, their leather worn and flecked with dried ink. His father’s coat hung above them, smelling faintly of machine oil even from where he stood. The silence of that corner pressed against him like a weight. Chase and Anna chattered to his mother, but Jay’s chest tightened. Always the boots. Always waiting. But never him.

Anna’s gaze flicked to Jay, catching the way his expression darkened. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. She knew what it was to miss someone, though she didn’t speak of it either.

They didn’t stay long. The pull of the courtyard was too strong, even in the thickening evening. Soon, the three children were outside again, the air cooler now but heavy with the day’s leftover heat. Shadows stretched across the cracked concrete, and the swing creaked on its chains as if calling them back to play.

Chase picked up a broken stick and twirled it like a sword. “Alright,” he announced, “new game. Bravery tests.”

Anna perked up immediately. “What kind?”

“Dares,” Chase replied, his grin wide. “One at a time. You fail, you lose. You win, you’re the bravest.”

Anna’s spine straightened. This was her chance. Her chance to prove she wasn’t just the sparrow or rabbit or whatever name they teased her with. She folded her arms. “Fine. I’ll go first.”

Jay groaned, already wary. “This is a bad idea.”

“No, it’s fun,” Chase insisted. “We’ll start small.” He jabbed his stick toward the far wall, where the concrete had crumbled, leaving a narrow ledge about a foot above the ground. “Run across it without falling.”

Anna dashed forward without hesitation. Her feet skimmed the ledge, arms outstretched like wings. She landed with a triumphant hop. “See? Easy.”

Chase followed, wobbling once but steadying himself with a laugh. Jay went last, slower, careful with each step, but he didn’t fall either.

“That’s too easy,” Anna said, chest puffed. “Something harder.”

They upped the stakes quickly. Balance across a broken pipe. Leap from the second stair to the sandpit. Crawl under the laundry lines without touching a single sheet. Each dare came sharper, more reckless. Anna never hesitated, throwing herself at each one as though failure would be a wound too deep to bear.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Jay muttered after she skinned her knee on a too-quick jump.

“I’m fine,” Anna snapped, brushing blood away with the back of her hand. “Better than you being scared all the time.”

“I’m not scared,” Jay retorted. But the words didn’t feel true. He was scared—scared for her, terrified of what might happen if these games went too far. He didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like their father, always absent, always strict in the rare moments he was there.

Chase, meanwhile, was caught between excitement and unease. He loved the rush, loved daring, but every time Anna flung herself into a challenge, something twisted in his stomach. Still, he cheered the loudest, unwilling to let her think he doubted her.

The air around them grew heavier as the sky deepened into indigo. A neighbor’s window let out a puff of smoke where food had burned, and the smell curled into the courtyard, bitter and sharp. Jay flinched at it without knowing why.

“One more,” Anna declared, standing in the center of the courtyard, her face set with fierce determination. “One more, and you’ll stop calling me small.”

“What do you want to do?” Chase asked, eyes bright but nervous.

Anna looked around, gaze landing on the swing. It swayed gently in the breeze, its chains groaning. “Push me higher,” she said. “Higher than before. As high as it will go.”

Jay stepped forward at once. “No. That’s dangerous.”

“I can do it,” Anna shot back.

Chase hesitated, then grinned, trying to mask his nerves. “I’ll push you. You won’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Anna said, climbing onto the swing. Her hands gripped the chains, her small frame taut with determination.

Chase planted his feet behind her and gave a shove. The swing creaked, rising, then falling. He pushed again, harder, and Anna soared higher, her hair whipping back, her legs kicking at the sky.

“More!” she shouted.

Chase obliged, laughter bubbling from his chest. The swing arced dangerously, the chains straining, Anna’s voice high and fierce in the air.

“Stop!” Jay barked, stepping forward. His heart pounded, fear clawing at him. The image of those boots by the door, waiting for a father who never came, flashed in his mind. What if she falls? What if she breaks? What if she burns?

But Anna only laughed, wild and defiant. “See? I’m not small! I can fly!”

The swing reached its peak, the world tilting, the sky swallowing her. For a heartbeat, she hovered at the top of the arc, weightless, fearless.

Then the chains groaned louder, metal scraping against metal.

Jay lunged forward, his hand outstretched. “Anna—”

The swing dropped.

Her scream tore through the courtyard, sharp and sudden—half laughter, half terror.

And the sound hung in the air, caught between triumph and disaster, refusing to settle.