“Mom, I don’t need it.” Sadie Brown pleaded with her mother standing in her bedroom as the night in the Brown house was settling down.

“You should continue to use it even if you are breathing better, at least until it runs out,” Jenn, her mother stressed for the third time on this particular night.

Jenn shook the light blue plastic medicated device and handed it to Sadie. With a sigh of exasperation, Sadie took the inhaler and deeply breathed in its contents, filling her lungs to capacity before she slowly exhaled.

“Good. Thank you,” her mother said and accepted the device back. “You don’t give your body and mind time to recover, Sadie. You’re always thinking about stuff and on the go. You need to take it easy. Think about what you’ve been through.”

Sadie looked down at the floor. Her mind flooded with flashbacks of the house fire at the Sandrum house where she had saved a number of students who were passed out from intoxication after attending a party with the Smithfield Academy baseball team following the Fall Fest Formal back in October. It was now January. A boring, cold, dark month in the town of Borque. Icy wind whipped through the secluded downtown area, businesses and restaurants often closed early and the town, on occasion, was known to implement an 8pm curfew on particularly snowy nights to allow plows to clear snow from the tiny, cracked and ancient roads that snaked through the town. Borque and Smithfield Academy were still recovering from the news of Sadie’s experience and heroics. She herself had not fully recovered, though she would never admit it.

“I know,” she replied softly, almost in a whisper, never taking her eyes off of her LL Bean tan moccasins, plaid, red flannel pajama pants and graphics on her black t-shirt featuring Billy Idol young, muscular and shamelessly shirtless posing with ‘Hot In The City’ in retro black lettering running down his right side.

“Just go easy, honey,” her mother said and grabbed her hand. “Good night, love you, get some rest.”

“Good night, love you too,” she replied with a smile.

Her mother gently kissed her, turned and walked out of the room not before stopping to briefly admire Sadie’s framed poster of Michael Jackson during the Thriller era wearing his signature red jacket with stripes at the shoulders.

“That was such a fun decade of music,” her mother said. She continued out and shut the door behind her.

Sadie climbed into bed, pulled up the covers and her first good night’s sleep in months anticipated.

* * *

It didn’t come. She tried and tried and tried but failed. Another night of tears, another night of her racing mind. Another night of being Sadie.

Her mind and body endlessly playing and replaying , ruminating over the Fall Fest Formal, the Sandrum house fire, the people she saved, Grace and, of course, Jack.

Jack ruled all in Sadie’s mind.

She recalled all the fun they had had together that night. The people, the food, the music, the decorations, her dress, her and Grace shopping for the dress at Wycliff’s, her heart-to-heart with Ms. Stetcher. All this came flooding back. Again and again, just like it had before. It felt real, it felt raw, it felt like she was part of something. Sometimes she still felt it. Other times, she didn’t. The seemingly never-ending rumination never did end with Sadie Brown. She didn’t think it was anxiety or depression. Although she was probably a candidate for those all the same. It was a condition, a diagnosis of being different. Just a tick off from the rest. It served her well a lot of the time. But it came at a price. She knew it just like Jenn and Dave. But did they? She wasn’t sure. Maybe that was just who she was. Maybe this was her destiny she was fulfilling and she was in this chapter, supposedly ready for the next. And then again, maybe she wasn’t.

Pondering all of this in her tired mind reeling above her aching bones, Sadie Brown drifted off to sleep in the bitter cold night in Borque, CT.

* * *

“Sadie, are you on your way?” Grace said to her over the phone which was plugged into Sadie’s car via Apple Car Play. The second semester at Smithfield had been underway. Students trudged through the snow, slush, biting wind and bitter temperatures each day, longing for spring. It wouldn’t come. Not for a while at least.

“Yeah. I’m pulling in now,” Sadie replied.

“Hurry up!” with all the enthusiasm a high school junior could muster at 7:15am.

“I’m in the driveway now. I see you. Bye.” Sadie replied and tapped the red ‘end call’ button on the center console screen.

A few minutes passed while Sadie parked, grabbed her backpack, phone, headphones and finally met with Grace.

Smithfield had a class trip planned today, despite the cold weather. The junior class was heading to Bryant Mountain for hiking, snowshoeing and outdoor exposure as part of a collaboration of P.E. class at Smithfield. The annual trip was one of the most anticipated events of the year.

“This is going to be so fun,” Grace said as they made their way.

“Yeah, It’ll be cool,” Sadie replied, an inauthentic smile crossed her face. She was not particularly excited about going. She would go and probably get some enjoyment out of it, but she was not bursting at the seams with excitement the way others were.

They both entered the Smithfield lobby which was, true to form, buzzing with the conversation , activity and building anticipation of the day. The pair walked over to Sadie’s usual seating of choice, the wooden bench furthest from the main hub of activity which provided her the best views for observation of the many cliques, the coming and going of the front doors and the office where behind the glass partition sat Mrs. Diaz, the school’s receptionist.

From the middle of the groups, someone threw a balled-up foil wrapper from a breakfast sandwich into the fountain. The Smithfield water fountain, decorative in its intent and crafted of pure white stone, was constantly collecting various items discarded by students. This went on seemingly forever despite the school’s efforts to put a stop to it. Littering in the fountain was just part of Smithfield’s identity.

The girls settled into their seats, Grace pecked away a text to a friend and former teammate on her basketball team, Sadie put in her Airpods and listened to music as she did every morning at this time. ‘The Heart Of Rock And Roll’ from Huey Lewis And The News played from her device as Katie, Becca and Addison approached.

“You guys ready for the Bryant trip?” Katie asked the pair.

“So ready.” Grace replied. “I’m a little worried about the hiking with my breathing now, but it’ll be fun.”

Grace, a former basketball player with Smithfield had her career cut short due to lung damage and respiratory problems from smoke inhalation from the Sandrum fire. After her stint in the hospital along with the others, she was placed on an inhaler and a few other medications and it ended her playing career. Now, any sort of physical exertion exhausted the former athlete.

“What about you, Sadie?” Addison chimed in with a glance at her friends.

“Yup,” Sadie replied, glancing only briefly up from her phone.

“No parties this time, right?” Katie asked coldly.

“Nope,” Sadie replied.

She’s lucky to even be standing here right now and she has the nerve to ask me that?

“See you on the bus,” Katie said and turned to leave with the others.

“She’s awful, Sadie,” Grace said. “Don’t even pay any attention to her.”

‘I know,” Sadie replied. “I still have visions of that night. I can’t shake it. I don’t know if I ever will. In a small town like this, people don’t ever forget.”

“Yeah,” Grace replied. “I get that.”

“I just wish I could make it all go away and be myself and have people appreciate me for who I am, instead of being defined by ‘the Sandrum fire girl’.

“Maybe someday they will, Sadie,” Grace said.

“Maybe,” Sadie replied and looked at her phone. The song shuffled to ‘Landslide’ by Stevie Nicks. The bell rang, the lobby immediately erupted in excitement. A student tossed a half-eaten bagel with cream cheese into the fountain. The announcement was made for students to gather their belongings and line up for the busses. Sadie was headed to Bryant.

My heart

Which hurts

Cries out to you, wants you, begs you

My heart which bleeds

Which pleads, desires you

Your smile, your laugh, your beauty

Come back to me, take me in

My heart which says hold me, touch me

Be with me now and forever

My heart which longs for your presence

Waits patiently, softly, boldly for you

Now and forever.

So many faces

They say

You’re bad.

They say

You’re mean

They say

You hurt.

They say

Not me, it’s you

They say

Your fault.

They say

Why us? Why you? Why me?

I say it’s right, it’s just, it’s meant to be.

I say you’re kind, you’re soft, you’re warm

I say it’s love, we share.

It’s passion, it’s trust, it’s lust of body, mind and heart.

My love is yours and yours is mine,

Take my hand, walk with me, come to me,

Show me, what they say, how you can be mine.

When you look at me,

You look to me.

When you look to me,

You look for me.

When you look for me,

You look with me.

When you look with me,

You see us.

When you see us,

I see us.

When I see us,

I see love.

I need you,

I want you,

I long for you.

I wait for you,

I call out to you,

I ache for you.

I hug you,

I hold you,

I kiss you,

I care for you.

I miss you.

To be loved

What does it mean?

To be valued

To be cared for

To be one

To be loved

By another

By yourself

By others

To be somebody

To be anybody

To be loved

Means passion

Means joy

Means desire

To be whole

To be full

To be loved

Sadie drove to Smithfield on the first day of her junior year. She parked the same car in the same spot and sat in the same lobby on the same bench watching the same people. Her morning routine. She sat quietly listening to ‘The Entertainer’, by Billy Joel. Katie, Becca and Addison, Sam, Grace and blonde girl all filed into the lobby shortly behind her.

She observed intently as the pools of students participated in their normal antics of gossip, laughter and chit-chat. She watched a male student toss a used tissue into the fountain. Mrs. Diaz came flying out of her office to correct him. She checked her phone briefly to change the song. She switched it to ‘Gypsy’, by Fleetwood Mac. She watched still as Jack appeared from a smattering of students nearby. He waved to her. She waved back.

The morning bell rang. The Smithfield student body crammed itself through the set of double doors into the hall as it dispersed for first period. She grabbed her backpack, switched off her phone for the day and followed suit. Mrs. Stetcher was waiting outside her classroom. She waved to Sadie. Sadie waved back. She was a junior now. It was the end of August.

Life goes on, she thought.

“I’ll be right there,” Jen said over the phone after having been told the news of the incident involving Sadie and the Sandrum house. She was so rattled by the shock, she nearly dropped her iPhone in conversation.

“Your daughter is safe, Mrs. Brown,” the nurse told her from Bourke Hospital, “but you should come down here if you want to see her.”

“My husband and I will be there as soon as we can,” Jen replied and ended the call.

She hurriedly grabbed her keys, purse, ran out the door nearly knocked down a small cabinet display in the front room of their home, slammed the door behind her and drove off.

She called Dave on the way there and broke the news of Sadie. He, equally as shocked, hurriedly left a regional sales meeting for Mars, grabbed his keys and wallet and left for the hospital. They both arrived minutes later, raced inside, checked in at the lobby and made their way to room 203 where Sadie was quietly laying just as she had earlier that morning as she gazed out the window of her room. She sat still and silent. The TV was off and she intently studied a squirrel who leaped from branch to branch of a large oak tree positioned next to her window.

Jen stepped in first and nearly threw herself at her daughter. Dave followed only seconds behind.

“Sadie! Oh God, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jen cried as she threw her arms around her daughter and kissed her forehead.

Sadie spoke the first word she had in a while and said, “I’m Okay, Mom.”

The trio sat quietly for a few seconds. No one said anything. It was the most serene few seconds any of them had felt in a while.

Dave broke this and finally looked at Sadie intently before asking, “What happened? Please just be honest and tell us.” Jen grabbed both of their hands.

Sadie told them. Everything. In detail. She told them about the formal, what Mrs. Stetcher had said, the after party, her broken memory and the events that led her to the hospital that she now occupied. Both Jen and Dave were stunned. They truly did not know what to say. Above all else, they were just happy that Sadie was okay.

Jen grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on the small end table next to Sadie’s head. The three of them sat quietly for a few minutes and Jen dried tears from her eyes as a different nurse walked in the room.

“Miss Sadie Brown?” the blonde asked flipping through a clipboard of paperwork.

“Yes,” all three responded nearly in sync.

“You are a very lucky young girl,” the nurse told her looking up from her paperwork. “You definitely sustained some lung damage from smoke inhalation with how long you were exposed in there, but hopefully in a week or so, I think you’ll be able to head home. You have no other injuries and your health is otherwise in good condition.”

The group smiled brightly at this to each other.

“We will continue to monitor you for a few days and hopefully get you out of here soon.” The nurse turned to walk out. She stopped, turned around and added, “Oh, and by the way, you did an incredible thing, Sadie. People are already talking about it. You are a hero.”

Sadie blushed.

“How are the others?” Jen asked the nurse.

The nurse pursed her lips together. “Well,” she said, “some are better than others. I’m not at full liberty to say right now, but we are hoping all will be okay with time.”

The nurse turned again and left. The three sat quietly for a few minutes, Sadie continued to glance out the window. Suddenly they heard a rush of footsteps, chatter and camera clicks coming from the hallway. It was moving closer to them. Oh God, Sadie thought, here come the news stories. Sure enough, they did come. A slew of reporters, both male and female, young and old, made their way into Sadie’s room, all wanting the freshest comments from her and her family.

She was totally ambushed. Sadie was bombarded by reporters who shoved their microphones, cameras, notepads, smartphones and various questions in the faces of her and her parents.

“What is your reaction to all of this?” a female reporter asked.

“Who started the fire?” shouted another.

“How many people were at the party?” yelled another from the back of the swarm.

Sadie froze. She didn’t like all this attention. She knew what she did was extraordinary under her circumstances but didn’t quite want to face all of the aftermath. Jen and Dave tried to protect her.

“She’s not fully recovered,” Dave shouted. “Please leave my daughter alone and let her rest.

“We need this time to heal as a family,” Jen echoed.

The pair got into a couple further heated exchanges with a slew of reporters. Sadie took this in. She didn’t like it. It didn’t sit well with her. All the attention, media coverage, arguments, speculation, unanswered questions and the still unknown possibility of Sadie Brown going down as a hero or a stupid high school kid who got what was coming to her.

Sadie flushed. Her vision blurred. Her hands shook. She needed to set this straight. She owed it to her parents, to Grace, to Jack, to Smithfield, to Bourke and to herself. Her breathing slowed. Her hearing turned to a muffled whir. She had enough. She finally put her hands out to her sides.

“Everybody stop!” she shouted.

Her voice, normally soft in tone, instantly silenced her hospital room, the crowd of reporters in it and her parents in the hallway outside of it. Her demeanor, normally so mild-mannered, turned intense, dialed in and targeted. She was now in control. A group of 20 or so reporters pulled back their invasive equipment and collectively took a step back. Jen and Dave looked wide-eyed at her, their mouths hung agape. They had truly never seen Sadie like this before. The room stood silent for a few moments. No one said anything. Sadie took a breath, exhaled softly, tears welled in her eyes and nearly spilled over her puffy cheeks.

She took in the moment and calmly said, “this is what happened.”

And she told them and she didn’t hold back. Just as she had done with Jen and Dave, She told the press, and therefore her friends, family, peers, teachers, her town, everything. She couldn’t keep it bottled up inside her any longer.

The reporters, now towering back around her, took a moment to step toward her where they all stood moments before Sadie’s outburst. They feverishly took notes, recorded comments, and asked follow-up questions. The crowd, despite their overly forward tactics of getting all the juicy details of the story for their respective outlets, was in awe of Sadie’s candor, maturity and wisdom beyond her years which was on full display from her hospital bed.

After a lengthy and thorough session, the group began to disband. The last of the reporters gathered their final comments and left, leaving Jen, Dave and Sadie alone in the room.

“That took guts, Sadie,” Jen said.

“Not many people your age could have or would have faced that situation head on,” Dave added.

Sadie smiled faintly. Deep down, she knew they were probably right. The nurse who spoke to them earlier came in once again to deliver more information on Sadie’s condition and possible release. She gave a brief update and departed again. Jen and Dave gave her a quick hug and kiss, said their goodbyes and left for the day. Sadie sat and looked out her window contemplating the stories that would be out in a short while. She didn’t know the ways in which her words may be written, covered, talked about or twisted for that matter, but she was satisfied in knowing that it was now out in the open for all to know. She had consolation and some satisfaction in that.

She glanced to her right and saw a figure standing in the doorway of her room. She couldn’t make out who it was. A person gingerly stepped in the doorway, and into the light above them. She squinted. It was Jack. He tentatively stepped into Sadie’s room. The two just looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

“Hey,” Jack said quietly. His voice was hoarse, lacking sleep and conviction.

“Hey,” Sadie replied.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m doing okay, thanks.”

“Did they release you?”

“Yeah, they thought I was gonna be here for a while, but I only have minor burns and small treatable respiratory problems from smoke. They prescribed me an inhaler that I now have to use.”

“Oh,” Sadie said, “That’s great. I’m so happy you’re okay.”

Jack smiled. The two were silent for a few moments before Jack said, “You saved everyone, Sadie.”

She smiled. She didn’t quite know how to respond.

“Everyone’s talking about it. They’re recovering, but they’re going to be okay. You actually did it and you did it so well on your own. It was amazing.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Sadie replied.

The two fell silent again. Jack placed a bouquet of flowers in a small glass vase at the end table next to Sadie’s bed.

“I wanted to give you these to thank you,” he said and smiled.

“These are beautiful. You didn’t have to do that,” Sadie said.

“You deserve them. You’re a hero,” he replied, and put his hand on the bed rail next to him.

“I’m no hero, Jack,” Sadie replied and looked dismissively at him. “I just did what had to be done.”

Jack looked at Sadie for a moment longer and said, “I’ll see you at school. I’ll come by to visit again, but I’m sure there are others who will want to. Rest up,” he said as he tapped the bed rail and left.

* * *

Things began to calm down two weeks later. The sting of the house fire, those involved in it and the events and circumstances that led to it all eventually calmed down. Sadie’s comments to the barrage of reporters echoed repeatedly through Bourke’s local news outlets and even reached some New England regional coverage in Massachusetts and Rhode Island. Jen and Dave continued to visit Sadie through her recovery, the others soon followed. Grace, Sam, the blonde girl and all the others were released from the hospital, and in time, life returned to normal.

The story circulated around the town, on phones, in coffee shops, stores, restaurants and, of course, at Smithfield Academy. Sadie was truly at the heart of it all whether she wanted to be or not. Jen and Dave were fawned over and showered with compliments at work and around town. More and more, it seemed that Sadie had touched the lives of more than just the ones she saved the night of the Sandrum house fire. The Sandrums took out an insurance claim on their home with their fire insurance to cover the cost of the extensive damage. Tommy recovered and was able to return to school. The family stayed at a nearby hotel while the home was being repaired. The cause of the fire was still unknown.

Despite the extensive research, coverage and investigation, authorities could not seem to identify its cause. This of course brought on more speculation and questions. Was it set intentionally? Was it accidental? Who else could have been involved? Why was there no evidence of its start? All of these questions and more may or may not ever be answered.

And then there was Sadie, forever tasked with being a little different and now grappling with this situation. Some days were much better than others. Some days were positive. Some days were filled with laughter, joy and the seemingly never-ending blush on her face. Some days were routine. Some days were long, lonely and full of tears. Despite her heroic efforts, there was an underlying sadness to the situation that she may never escape. Regret, anger, poor decisions, peer pressure, young love, all thrown into the boiling cauldron of the modern day high school and you’ve got yourself a big pile of gum. Some days she felt that she would never forgive herself, that she would never truly be Sadie.

Sadie retained her relationship with Grace who was sent home shortly after her. The two continued their time-tested friendship. Grace suffered from smoke inhalation damage which permanently damaged her lungs, effectively ending her basketball career at Smithfield. With proper inhalers and medications, she was able to mostly recover. Blonde girl also recovered. She suffered respiratory ailments and some minor burns and scrapes from being pushed out of the house that night, but was sent home with some prescribed medications to help her recover. The two went their separate ways at Smithfield and did not speak again. Most unshockingly, she never thanked Sadie for saving her life. Sadie finished off the remainder of her sophomore year at Smithfield. Summer break came and went. Bourke began to recover and the people in it, although they moved on, never forgot Sadie and her heroics. Occasionally she and her family would receive accolades or compliments. Sadie would smile and thank them as always. Once in a great while, she would stumble across an old story on her phone, a stray headline from the thing, or see one of the involved players in passing. It would bring a brief reminder that was soon replaced by something else.

The final question remained, at least in Sadie’s mind, about Jack and her. They still saw each other regularly. The Sandrum fire bonded them in a way that they may never otherwise would have been bonded. Maybe it was for the best, maybe not. Maybe they’d be together, maybe not. She still wished they would. Jack had thanked her at the very least. He appreciated her. Would this send their relationship to the next level? Did he now see the depths of Sadie and all she had to offer? Only time would tell.

Sadie went to sleep on an August night, just one week before the new school year. She had been through the most turbulent year of her life, and yet it seemed it had only begun.

Your talk is your own

Your speech, your expressions

How subtle and yet, so telling

You say what words cannot

Through your face

Your smile

Your blush

Your lips

Which widen

Your cheeks

Which turn pink

A subtle blaze of passion

Warm, soothing peaks of flame

I wish I could hold them

Tenderly

Your talk brightens me

Your phrases, desires

Embers of language

Your and mine

A language of love

Ours

Talk to me, always

My love

Try to hide

Your feelings

Your desires

Your passion

Your lust

Try to hide

Masquerade

As something new

Blending in

To the crowd

Try to hide

I know you can’t

Your emotion says all

Tells me

Your wants

Try to hide your smile

Your laugh, your fears, your secrecy

Your eyes tell all

Try to hide

My dear

Try once more and then again

Try to hide

Our love

For each other

Each new day

The same as the last

Never different, never new

It sickens me

It robs me

To my core

Each day the same

Same place, same people, same routine

Where is the joy?

Where is my life?

Locked in this room

Each day, each hour, slowly eating me

To nothing

Each day the same

Free me from this hell

Each day the same.

Spring melts away the cold.

New life, new world, new meaning.

Budding.

Flowers, trees, plants, sunshine, reaching.

Down to the earth, warming its earthly companions.

A novel light is upon us.

A new calling, a new way.

I feel full, I feel whole, I feel life again.

The merry month of May.

Breathe its breath.

It is time.

All these people,

All these names,

All these faces,

Who are they?

Do I know them?

Can I know them?

All these people from my past,

They used to like me,

I used to like them,

We were safe, we were bonded,

All these people.

All these people hurt me,

They made me sad,

They made me angry,

They made me lose hope in myself, in the world I called home.

All these people,

I was good to,

Took me out,

Took me away,

Sold me, had their way.

All these people I loved,

Didn’t love me back,

And now I sit and think and wonder,

What it used to be,

How to move on, move on from all these people.

This hurt

Hurt in body, hurt in mind, hurt in soul

This hurt longs to be free again

To be loved again

To be whole again

To be alive again

These people hurt

I’ve been hurt too

How to cure this hurt?

Do we know?

Have we no heart?

I have seen this hurt

In many forms

A broken piece of glass

A shattered pane of promise

Healed only by time, this time, they say which heals all

I’ve played this game

I’ve seen this act

I’ve walked this walk

I’ve talked this talk

I’ve drank from this cup

This cup

Of hurt

This hurt which screams, which cries, which pleads

Set me free, let me loose, let me be

My heart which hates, which loathes, which takes

This hurt

This guilt I feel,

Trapped,

Inside me, around me, through me,

Confined to my body, my mind, my soul.

This guilt is strong,

Powerful, sad,

Trapped.

Where to go? It asks.

This guilt, it seems,

Does not end.

My life, my choices, my actions, my being,

Run by this guilt.

Do we all regret?

Do we all have guilt?

Where does it go?

Trapped.

Forever.

In my heart.

Is there a way out,

Of this

Guilt trap?

The way you blush

Have you been told?

Have you been shown?

The way you blush

Is special to me

Excites me, ignites me

Thrills, chills, spills me

My heart melts at

The way you blush

The way you blush is special

Your cheeks burn hot

Your eyes, pools

Shimmering, lit with the flame of your joy

Expressed so subtly, so passionately

The way you blush is yours

Your truth, your way, your expression, your desire

Yours to show, yours to take, yours to keep

The way you blush is mine

My joy, my desire, my passion

My attraction, my love

For you

For the way you blush

The way you blush is ours

Yours, mine, together

I fall in love all over again

At the way you blush

Forever?

Your hair is golden honey.

Sweet, tender, soft,

A natural comb.

Your smile is bright.

A sunshine.

It lights me, a fire strikes and burns

Inside me.

Your laugh is golden.

A sweet song.

A whistle, a tender bird flies to my heart.

You bring me joy.

You are golden honey

In every way.

Come to me, fill me up, let us be.

Golden honey.

Never will I forget that sound. That noise, that clatter which filled me, Chilled me, sent me to this place.

That commotion. That motion. That clang. That bang. It rattled me.

Never will I forget their voices, That shouting, those commands, their demands. What do they want with me? That noise.

Never will I forget that tapping. Well, not a tapping, but a rapping. A rapping on the door. A rapping of such violence, of such force. They’re here. For me.

Never will I forget those faces, Men and women, Who are these people? Unknown and yet unforgotten.

Never will I forget that sound, That pound, That single noise which changed my life.

Forever.

Sadie and Jack made a quick change into street clothes before getting back in his car and heading to the party. Nearly the entire student body was talking about it as couples and hordes of friends congregated in each other’s cars to head to the house on Borman Circle, one of Bourke’s most private and wealthiest areas.

Sadie anxiously stared out the window at Jack’s blue Camry, unsure of what to expect. She kept replaying everything that led to this moment and for the potential outcomes of the party in her head. She really didn’t want to go but told herself repeatedly she had to.

Go and have fun, and when you’re ready, leave. She thought and remembered repeatedly what Mrs. Stetcher had said in the lobby.

The pair chatted cordially on the way to the party. Admittedly, Jack knew Sadie was not one for parties or anything social, really. He knew her reputation as a wall flower among her peers and her rather unconventional demeanor. He knew deep down he went to the formal with her, not because he liked her, but because he knew she would. She didn’t have anyone else. He wasn’t one to join in on the seemingly ongoing efforts to single her out, but he also frankly didn’t understand her either. He was friendly, occasionally kind and for the most part kept his distance.

Jack pulled the Camry behind a few other cars already in the driveway of a large white house with blue shutters. Number 19 on Borman Circle. The gardens along the front and side of the house were perfectly manicured. The large driveway held a basketball hoop and a large net which looked to be for some type of sports training that extended down from a small side window of the house and was planted in the grass by metal stakes. Sadie nervously glanced around front and out her window again before gingerly stepping out of the car. Here we go, she thought. Go and have fun, and when you’re ready, leave. Jack walked with her up to the front door and knocked, Tommy Sandrum answered. He was tall and lean with a shaggy mop of dirty blonde hair on top of an angular face with blue eyes. He was dressed in a red Under Amour hoodie with gray sweatpants, sneakers and a white Vineyard Vines hat on his head backwards. He smiled at Jack when the two caught eyes.

“What’s up, man?” Tommy said and gave Jack a fist bump.

Jack smiled. “Hey,” he replied.

“There’s ten here right now and more coming later,” Tommy said as he stepped back to allow Jack to enter.

He did not acknowledge Sadie outside of a brief glance.

Tommy led the pair down the hall and up the steps to the loft of the house. He was followed rather closely by Jack. Sadie trailed a few steps behind. The loft was already starting to fill with Smithfield students who had mostly changed out of their attire from the event and into street clothes. The space was large with a rather low ceiling that ran the length of the house. It was a fully finished loft with wall-to-wall cream carpeting and beige couches in front of a large TV, which was playing re-runs of The Office on mute. This was behind a kitchenette with wooden cabinets, marble countertops and wooden bar stools which lined a small seating area. The space also held a small home workout gym with a home weight set and a few yoga mats rolled up and stacked in one corner along with a Peloton bike.

The walls were decorated in various sports photos, tokens and memorabilia of the New York professional sports teams, the Yankees, Giants and Rangers. A large Bluetooth sound system played loud rap music through Tommy’s phone as students began to gather. As the trio entered, a rather loud eruption of cheers and greetings were directed at Jack who smiled warmly and greeted his teammates and their dates. Sadie quietly stood back and observed. She was not introduced by the group or acknowledged formally.

The group was fully immersed in their own conversations, laughter, joking, flirting and, of course, drinking. Scattered across the counter, floor, bar stools and in between the couch cushions were various cans, mini bottles and cardboard boxes. Jack took a seat on one of the couches and was immediately engaged in conversation with the group about the baseball team, the latest gossip and, of course, was offered a drink. Sadie continued to awkwardly stand back from the group, unsure of how to engage.

The handful of girls with their dates all glanced at each other and then back at Sadie.

One of them whispered to another, “What the fuck is she doing here?”

Both girls giggled in response.

Sadie noticed this exchange and turned red. When you’re ready, leave, she thought.

“Hey, Sadie,” one girl said, and blushed to her friends.

“Hey,” Sadie sheepishly replied.

“Have a seat,” the girl said.

Sadie hesitated for a moment, then gingerly stepped into the group sitting on the couches around a coffee table littered with red plastic cups and empty cans, as she sat on the end of one of the couches.

“So,” one girl said. She had light blonde hair pulled into a ponytail with big blue eyes. She was a sophomore at Smithfield. Sadie knew her by face, but the two had never really spoken at school.

“How was the formal?” she asked. Sadie looked wide-eyed at the girl and glanced briefly at the rest of the group.

“Fine,” she replied. The girl caught eyes with the rest of the group and exchanged a smile once again.

“I saw you out there. Everyone did,” the blonde said. “Well, since you’re here,” she continued, “you ever been to a party, Sadie?”

Sadie glanced around again at the group. She took a breath and replied, “No.”

The group snickered.

The blonde rolled her eyes with a sarcastic, dismissive tone and said, “Nice.”

Sadie turned red. She looked down at the floor. The blonde girl noticed this and met her gaze. She picked up the can of raspberry Truly she was drinking and said in the same fashion, “See this? This is alcohol, you stupid bitch. This is what people do at parties. Well, normal people, not weirdos like you.”

Sadie didn’t respond.

“You want a drink, Sadie?” the girl asked, her eyes pierced into her like darts on a board. She picked up an unopened can of Truly and offered it to her.

Sadie hesitated for just a moment. It’s okay to be yourself, but it’s okay to be 16, too, she thought. When you’re ready, leave. She reached across the coffee table with the music blasting and as Tommy ushered another group from the formal to join them in the loft, Sadie took the can, popped the tab, and took a long, rebellious and gratifying sip.

* * *

The room spun. It wasn’t just blurred, it rotated on an axis. The group was drunk and so was Sadie. No one knew the hour or how long they had been there. All Sadie knew was that there had been a lot of people coming and going all night. Loud music, hookups, drugs and the sweet desire of rebellion all shrouded in the dark curtain of alcohol. And Sadie was stuck right in the middle.

She sat up, her head pounded. She had never felt this way before. The regret had not set in yet, but it would. She was sure of that almost instantly. She could feel the thudding of her heart pumping alcohol-saturated blood through her body and her ears, which felt full and clogged. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy. Her hair frizzed out in all directions. Her breath tasted of fruity concoctions and pre-made canned cocktails mixed with pizza, french fries and chocolate cake. Maybe buttered popcorn too, for some reason. The room smelled for some reason, too. Her clothes were stained with blotches of liquid. She didn’t know what kind. What was that smell? Food stains? Maybe. Green Apple White Claw? Could be. Strawberry Smirnoff from that girl who handed it to you a few hours ago? Who knows? What’s that on your pants? That’s not pee, is it? I hope not. Oh, God, it could be. It could be anything.

She looked around the room. The music was still blasting through the sound system. The TV was still on mute playing reruns of The Office. The room was trashed, annihilated by party goers. The couches were stained with spills, stuck on food, spit, vomit and, oh god, is that a used condom? Oh my god, it is. That’s nasty. Her stomach crooned. She felt like she might vomit herself. That would be a storybook ending to how this night had gone. Students still populated the room, but some had left. They must have hightailed it out of there before the real after-party began. Those that stuck it out were now out cold on the couches, floor, slumped over the barstool seats and laying down on the kitchenette countertop. Clothes and shoes were scattered all around them, of whom she may never know.

She gingerly got up. Her legs felt like jelly as she steadied herself on one of the couches. She put her hand down in a mystery stain on the way up. It was sticky. She didn’t know or want to know what it was. She wiped it off on her jeans. The walls were all but torn down to their studs. The pictures, décor in memorabilia that gave them life hours ago, was now ripped down and broken in pieces. A hole the size of a fist proudly stood out on one wall next to the TV.

She walked into the kitchen, stepping over a handful of passed-out Smithfield students on the way. She took a used red plastic cup off the counter, still holding half the contents of some neon green beverage, dumped it out in the sink and filled the cup with tap water. She leaned against the counter and drank. Oh, it tasted so good. Heavenly, in fact. She drank it all in nearly one large gulp and put the cup down on the counter. She rubbed her eyes. Her face felt hot. Was she still drunk? She didn’t know. She looked around the room once more. A thought occurred to her, her gut instinct. Her intuition, as her mother and father had always called it, she had to get out of here.

She stepped out of the kitchenette, took one look around the room again. She looked for Jack but didn’t see him. Did he leave? He couldn’t have. He was having such a good time, at least she thought so. She wanted to find him, but she knew she had to leave. When you’re ready, leave, she remembered. She peered around the room looking out at the students on the floor and the trash, filth and effluvia that surrounded them. The speakers still blasted the music. She wanted to turn it off. Where was Tommy’s phone? She really couldn’t be bothered to look for it, but she had to. Why did she care so much? She knew why. She came too. She understood. She heard a noise. It wasn’t a person or a clattering of items, but a noise. A beeping? A phone? No. What the hell is that? she thought. It’s coming from downstairs. No, it’s up here too. I’d know for sure, but if I could turn this fucking music off. It’s an alarm. A gas leak? Maybe. It still smelled bad in here, like fumes. A leak? Did something break? Somebody did something stupid. She knew.

It was a fire in the loft! It tripped an alarm. The haze she saw wasn’t from alcohol. It was smoke. She covered her mouth and nose with the collar of her shirt. She had to get out of there and fast, but she couldn’t leave everyone. She panicked. What to do? She had to help them. Even if they all hated her and pressured her into being here and drinking and hanging out in the first place, she’d never forgive herself otherwise. The smoke was rising and getting thicker. She didn’t have much time and had to act fast and sober up quickly in the process. She tried the way they came up originally. It was thick with smoke. She couldn’t see on her own, never mind helping another person in her state. She tried the railing. It was hot. She yanked her hand away. That wasn’t good. She had to find another way, quick.

She noticed a few windows. One of them faced out to the street, the other to the side yard and a third to the back of the house. She didn’t know which one would be the best, nor had time to think. She didn’t know where the fire was coming from, so she tried the side window. It wouldn’t budge. She hiccupped from the effort. Her vision was still blurry, her feet globs of quicksand. The room spun in circles. She tried again. She punched it with all her strength. The window clanged but would not go. She needed an object. something to break it. She noticed a crooked frame on the wall, a signed baseball bat behind glass from Derek Jeter of the New York Yankees as part of Tommy’s collection. Sadie ran to the wall opposite the window, pried the thick black frame from its now tilted placement and slammed it down on the ground with all of her drunken strength. It wouldn’t break. She tried again. The front glass cracked this time. She heaved it a third time and finally pried the bat from its case. She ran to the window, carefully avoiding the shards of glass now littering the loft. The smoke was much thicker now and continued to rise. It was starting to affect her breathing. Where the hell was the fire department? she thought. She stayed low to avoid inhalation. I need to get everyone out now.

There was something inside Sadie that kept her going. She never really could quite pinpoint it. Some might call it a force, others a calling, and some may have no idea at all. She had a resiliency to her. She knew why she was put there and the purpose she served, whether others did or not. She knew her struggles. She knew she was different. She knew there were those who felt she was weird and a lifelong outcast and that for some reason, they probably outnumbered those who didn’t. Yet that force inside her didn’t care. Sadie knew what to do because of that difference, because of that force, that pull, that calling and that destiny. She knew what to do because she was extraordinary. She was Sadie Brown. This, at the tender age of 16, was no different.

She crept low to the ground and felt for the window again. She stumbled over a couple of empty cardboard boxes of Truly only once before finding the glass again. She stayed low, her eyes watered, and she began to cough violently. She slung the bat up over her shoulder, nearly toppled backwards from the weight of the barrel and smashed through the decorative pane. It cracked and splintered. She tried it once more. She heaved the bat up again nearly hitting herself in the face with the barrel and struck the glass again with a loud clang and tatter of the shards landing on the carpet. Smoke began to pour out from the opening.

She needed to do it one more time. Her arms ached and her legs were wobbly. Her hair was a frizzled mess of messy, dirty blonde strands that stuck out in all directions. Her vision was nothing more than a blurry, teary, grainy sight. Spittle hung from her lips. Her head pounded from smoke and the loud music which continued to play through the speakers. Where the hell is the fire department? she thought again. The blaze had not yet reached the loft, but it soon would.

She tried to take a breath and coughed. She got down low again, gripped the bat handle, kicked some broken glass aside, slung it up over her shoulder, and again with every ounce of strength in her body, smashed through the remaining bits of the window. They fell both to the floor and down to the bushes below. Smoke billowed out more from the now totally open window. Who’s first? she thought as she dropped the bat and peered blurredly around the loft again. She grabbed hold of the first body she saw. She really wasn’t sure who it was. It was a male, probably the boyfriend of some girl who was there. She grabbed him around his waist, although he was much bigger than her. She decided to drag him to the window instead. She grabbed both of his arms, making sure he could still breathe, and positioned him at the open window. She checked the drop. The net was there from Tommy. It was not far at all for a second floor drop and he can roll down the net, she thought. He can make it. Sadie still had her wits about her in her condition. That force, that pull, keep going, she told herself. She checked the drop again. She could nearly reach the bottom, especially with the net. She gently but quickly moved him into position and pushed him out the window. He rolled down the training net and into the grass at the bottom on his side. He was still out cold, but safe. She looked back. She had a lot of work to do. She was going to get all these people and herself out in time before the loft nearly collapsed on her.

She ran back to the main room. She found a second person. A girl. She thought it was the blonde who had picked on her right from the start, but she wasn’t sure. She didn’t care. She had to get everyone out first. She grabbed her by the arms and followed suit as she had with the boy. She positioned her at the window and pushed her out. She rolled down the net and landed safely, albeit lopsided, next to the boy she saved. She let out a groan.

Sadie ran back and did the same to the next, and the next, and the next. It didn’t matter who they were, if she saw them, if she knew them, or the condition she was in. She had to save them simply because it was the right thing to do. Sure, she could have grabbed her things and left on her own, called the fire department and been done with it. On her way. But that wouldn’t have been right, at least to her. That wasn’t what special people did. That wasn’t above and beyond. That wasn’t what the old soul who saw the situation as bigger than her chose to do. That wasn’t extraordinary. That wasn’t Sadie Brown.

She helped Grace and Sam. She helped Katie, Becca and Addison and all the others who laughed at her and picked on her for being here in the first place. The flames were reaching the loft. She could barely breathe but had to check once more to be sure everyone was out before saving herself. Where the fuck is the fire department in this stupid town? she thought as she swept the loft again. It was searing in there now. Hot, thick, dense air filled her lungs. She was going to pass out soon. She grabbed a t-shirt off the floor and tied it around her nose and mouth to keep her breathing in check. Am I going to die in here? she thought. Is this it? This is my legacy?

Jack. She forgot Jack. He was the last one. He had to be. She had to go back one more time. She scanned the room one final time, crouched down low to the floor. She had maybe a minute before she passed out from the smoke or the blaze reached her. Where is this fucking fire department? she cried out in her head. Someone must have called by now. She noticed a dark figure slumped over the arm of one of the couches. They hadn’t come to yet. She took a few steps closer as the figure came into view. Jack.

She took as deep of a breath as she could and hooked her arms around his waist. She was weak from doing this to several others by this point. She lifted with all her strength and something clicked inside her, a final burst of energy. Adrenaline? Maybe. It was almost primal. She threw Jack over her shoulder, his legs dangled in her hands in front of her as she trudged her way to the window. Last one, she thought.

The heat was intense. It sucked the life out of her, but she didn’t care. She had to keep going. That force. That pull.

She reached the window as the blaze made its way to the stairs. It was now or never. Save Jack and herself or die.

She checked the drop below the window, braced Jack as she had the others and pushed him out. He landed in a heap with his peers, a few of them were just now starting to come to. She took one final glance around the room, now starting to smolder and burn as the orange blaze engulfed the once lively loft. Sadie checked the drop for herself, braced herself on the sill and leaped down to safety. She did it.

She laid still. She wanted to move but couldn’t. She ripped the shirt off her face and just stared at the night sky. It was so clear, so calm. Her breathing slowed. Her hair stuck to her face and neck with sweat. Her face burned, her eyes watered. She felt her heartbeat pound in her ears. She heard another noise. Her hearing was dampened, but she heard it. She was almost in a trance. She saw flashing lights. It was the Bourke Police, EMT, and Fire Departments. In her daze, she heard sirens, equipment clanking and felt the presence of their trucks and the men and women that were there to help. A man in a hard- hat and a uniform stood over her.

“Are you okay, miss?” he asked.

She said nothing. She just continued to look up at him, almost past him at the stars which somehow twinkled amidst the chaos.

“Let’s get her up and out,” he continued after a couple of seconds.

She was lifted by two paramedics onto a stretcher. She did not look at them. All she could do was gaze at the sky. It was as if the stars were telling her something, communicating to her in a way that no other person could. That force, that pull, keep going was all she could think.

More paramedics arrived in ambulances to take the others who had awoken to find themselves in a pile in the front yard. They, of course, did not know or recall what had happened, but they would soon find out. Everyone would. The others were soon lifted into their stretchers and were transported to the hospital, including Sadie. They would call their families and let them know their placements and what had occurred, but they were safe. Right now, it seemed, that was all that mattered. She had saved them all. It didn’t matter who they were, where they came from, male or female, Smithfield student or not, whether they had picked on her relentlessly and questioned why she was there to begin with, or had been her friend, her only friend since day one. It didn’t matter. Not with this, not on this night and not at the baseball party.

Sadie was placed in the back of an ambulance. She stared at the white metal roof, gently hearing the beeping of monitors and equipment around her. She would soon talk to her mom and dad and explain the whole thing. What happened, why she was there, how she acted, the decisions she made, good, bad, or otherwise. The local news would soon learn of the house fire which nearly collapsed the Sandrum home entirely. They’d send reporters and photographers out probably as early as tomorrow morning who would investigate and try to learn what happened. They would ask her questions and she would have to answer them. She could say no, right?

They’d have some story on it for a few days. Maybe it would be accurate, but probably not. She wasn’t sure. Was Sadie Brown a hero or some stupid high school kid who got what was coming to her? To all of them, really. What would people think? How would they react? Were they supposed to react in a certain way? She didn’t know.

As the paramedics loaded her into the stretcher, she broke her gaze and looked down in front of her. Just a second. A split second. In between a closing door, she saw Jack across the way. He too, was being lifted in the ambulance. The two caught eyes, both in a daze of their own. Just as both of their doors closed and the scene would be secured and ready for investigation and cleanup, Jack mouthed, ‘thank you’. Sadie did not have time to reply as the doors closed.

Sadie rode in the ambulance and stared up at the white metal roof. An EMT sat next to her and tried to comfort her. She was not interested in talking and answering her questions. She knew she would have to from a lot of people, from everyone, at some point, but not tonight. She and the others were rushed to the hospital and admitted to rooms for urgent care. Sadie was silent. She just kept gazing out. Gazing up in disbelief. She sat propped up in her hospital bed and had a large window next to her, which looked out at the road and the downtown area of Bourke, the town she had grown up in for 16 years.

She gazed out of the window at the otherwise quiet and sleepy town she had come to know. The restaurants, coffee shops and stores were still closed. They would not open for at least a few more hours. She watched the early morning sky as the sun began to present its light just over the tree line marking dawn of another day. She gazed out the window, still in disbelief of what she had done. Still in disbelief of herself, wishing she could be away from this place, these people and away from it all.

She continued to watch the daybreak and a single bird flew to her window. It looked at her. She looked at it. It tweeted at her twice and flew away into the cool early morning. Sadie Brown rolled her head forward, nestled herself into the hospital bed and drifted off to sleep.

All I want is love.

Love I can count on.

Love I can trust.

I see others with love. This thing they call it, this feeling, perhaps. Around it, people look, they see, they desire, they wish, they dream.

Above it, they wonder. What is love? They might ask. Below it, jealousy. Where’s my love? They might pout.

Inside it, tenderness. A soft, silky cloak cleansed only by the touch of commitment. Of trust. Of lust. Of heart.

How to get it? One never really knows. Some find out young, some old, some wait a lifetime and some never do.

All I want is love. It seems more and more that I may search forever. Is there anyone?