“Stop!”

                The man stopped, held his hands up, and pleaded, “Please, don’t kill me!”

                The small cans that the man had been holding fell to the ground, and made noise in the night. It seemed that he had been digging into Callon’s trash can, which stood beside the garage.

                “Get out of this place,” Callon ordered. The man ran out of the gate in fear, forgetting to bring his dirty bag of cans with him.

                Callon walked to the gate, putting his gun back to its holster. He examined the lock of the gate. The lock wasn’t broken. How did the man open the gate …? Callon stepped out, and locked the gate. He began to walk to the precinct.

June 9, 2010 (3pm)

                Class was over. The students took their things, left their desks, and hurried out of the classroom. The air smelled a bit like chalk. Chalano stood beside his desk, and waited for Kim. His gaze wandered to Row 3, and he saw John.

                John was still sitting before his own desk, and flipping through his own notes. He ignored all of the other students. He had a black eye, and there were some bruises on his face and neck.

                Chalano carried his schoolbag, and began to hurry out of the classroom because he was scared of getting left alone in the classroom with John.

                “Come on,” Kim said in a hushed voice as he joined Chalano. The two friends walked out of the classroom.

                As they walked past the auditorium, Chalano glanced at Kim’s face. Kim’s face was as neat as ever. Kim had no wounds, nor bruises. Chalano was going to ask him about what happened the other night.

                Kim asked before Chalano could speak, “I was just thinking, do you have a problem with integers?”

                “Huh? No. Why?”

                “They confuse me. I keep getting wrong answers.”

                “But you answered Miss Lola’s question correctly this afternoon, right?”

                “Yeah, you’re right, but I got a wrong answer after that, and ---“

                “Good afternoon, guys,” a musical voice greeted. It was Rella, the Muse of their class. She had been walking near them.

                “Well, hello,” Kim reluctantly greeted back.

                “I would just like to tell you that you are welcome to audition for our stage play,” she said with a smile.

                “Sorry, John does not want us to join. Even if John allowed us, we would be not that interested,” Chalano retorted.

                “Oh, I don’t know about what John said ---“

                “You heard it, you were there when he said it,” Chalano argued. “We don’t mind not being able to join in your stage play. What we mind is getting discriminated in your school, and by your partner ---“

                Kim gently elbowed Chalano’s side to shut him up. Rella didn’t see it.

                “Oh. I’m totally sorry. Yes, I was there,” Rella gently replied. “But you are welcome to join any workshop in this school. You are nice, kind people. People from 4^th Project Town are awesome.”

                The boys were too pleased with what they heard.

                “I wish that you will not hate the class officers. Thank you for your time, and have a nice day,” she explained with a smile, and left them.

                “You don’t argue with girls,” Kim quietly lectured Chalano.

                “A-alright! I take that back! What do you want me to do? Run after her, and say ‘sorry’?”

                “You don’t need to be sarcastic. Just don’t do that again,” Kim said as they walked to the gate. “She’s a nice person. It’s just that she’s always with an evil guy like John, so you’d think that she’s like him. On her own, she’s a nice person.”

                “Yeah, right.”

June 12, 2010 (5pm)

                “The glowing embers could be seen in the darkness like shiny, evil eyes. The fire was almost gone, but it was not gone. The air was filled with smoke, and the heat ---“

                Chalano’s writing was interrupted by the “heat.” Was it still in what he was writing? The air became increasingly warm. He stood up, and left his desk. He left his bedroom, walked through the corridor, and went to the room at the back of their second floor.

                There was a huge, ball of fire. At the farthest corner of the wide room. As he looked in fear, it spun in a circle. “Chalano Marchus,” a deep, powerful voice from it said.

                “Fire! Fire! Mother! Help,” Chalano screamed as he ran back to the corridor.
                He met his mother at the indoor stairs. She looked frightened. She asked him, “Where is it?”

                “At the back! The doors to the balcony are burning!”

                His mother ran to the back of the second floor. She stood still in the room, and asked, “Where?”

                He walked to her, and spoke as he pointed at the farthest corner of the room, “It’s ---“

                There was no fire there. Wide-eyed, Chalano couldn't believe it. He saw it burning right there only a few seconds ago. “It’s gone,” he said in a hushed voice.

                His mother walked to the double doors of the room, which were open. She angrily said as she closed them, “What a nasty joke! That is not funny!”

                No, I wasn’t joking. But he couldn’t interrupt her because she was angrily talking endlessly.

                “You opened the doors, and screamed for help. You, and your idea of fun! You don’t even have an idea how someone walks the streets of this town, and burns the houses and their residents. And you’re joking about fire?! All of our neighbors will condemn you! You’re grounded until Monday.”

                She went downstairs. He didn’t know what to say. He looked back at the corner. There were no traces of burning on the walls and the doors. He sadly walked back to his bedroom, and closed the door behind him. In his frustration, he grabbed his drafts, and dumped them into the trash can.