"Farah, no!"
Heat engulfed the shadow of a woman, her blonde curls blending with the dancing flames. A sheet of grey smoke separated mother from daughter, growing denser each second. Farah raced towards the shadow, but was held back by a strong hand despite her struggling, and dragged to safety. The silhouette behind the screen shrieked and slowed, deforming into a pile of ashes. Farah screamed -
"Farah Loughton." She blinked. Ms. Gorges was glaring behind her thick-framed glasses. "Stand up. What is tangent 2pi?" Crap. She had no idea.
"Zero, Farah!" Luckily, Sally was paying attention as usual. "Zero," she replied. Ms. Gorges motioned for her to sit down, though with slight resentment.
"Thanks, Sal," Farah whispered. Her neighbor smiled and shook her head.
"It's nothing, but you should learn to pay attention." At today's rate? Never. "Were you dreaming about your parents again?" She sighed.
"Yeah. It's getting worse - I think of them every day now." Farah's parents had perished in a fire seven years ago. Since then, she had become a long-term guest at Sal’s. Honestly, she could never thank them enough.
“You coming to the game tonight?”
“Sorry, can’t. Got to pick up a gift for a special someone.” Sally’s eyes twinkled.
“Sal! You know I hate it when you get all mysterious. Please?” But Sally shook her head.
“It’s a secret,” she whispered. “But you’ll know tomorrow.”
2
“And it’s the break before the last 30 seconds, North Islanders leading 85-84. Again, thank you for watching this year’s school basketball championship…” The speakers blasted with Emcee Jordan’s voice as the team got together to hear Coach Eunice’s comments on their performance.
“…STOP CELEBRATING Johnson! We haven’t won yet and we can’t lose, it’s the finals and this is the closest we’ve ever got…” Farah twirled her fingers around her hair. Yeah, this is amateur stuff. Easy going, North Islanders. We’ve got this match nailed.
The whistle sounded. “Will the East Mountains catch up, or is the championship North Island’s? It all depends on the next 30 seconds. So let’s begin!”
“Okay, Farah. This is it.”
Farah took her stance, calm amid the wild cheering of both schools. Blurred images of people jumping up and down entered the corners of her vision as she put her eyes on the ball. The bouncing figures soon transfigured to wavering smoke, the ball slowly evolving into a face…no, concentrate! The ball came back, and the thumping reiterated that reality into her mind. An instant later, the ball was flying to her, she took it, dribbled, aimed and shot - the basket was no longer a basket but a window, filled with black smoke, curtains flying and going out in flames. There was sizzling everywhere, a thousand individual flames rising from the elevating slope, a sudden burst of noise, the firemen raised her into the air, people were screaming her name…and everything went black.
3
“Farah! Farah!”
She opened her eyes. It was Coach Eunice, her eyes bulging out of their tiny sockets. At the sight of the conscious Farah, she gave a weak smile.
“You okay there, hun?” Farah nodded. “Must’ve been too nervous with that shot. But you know, we won! By three!” She grinned. “By three! And the team’s off to Emerald’s to celebrate, coming?” Farah shook her head.
“I’m tired, Coach,” she mumbled. “Thanks for the game.” Surprised, Coach Eunice watched Farah as she stumbled home.
“Funny Farah we’ve got today,” she thought.
4
Why?
She didn’t like the idea of revisiting the event at all, not to mention a couple times a day. And during such important moments, too! Perhaps she should see a doctor. But that wouldn’t come cheap, and she didn’t want to bother Sally any longer. A part-time job? That mightn’t work…what if she had a ‘vision’ during job hours and made a mess? What if she ended up owing instead of earning? She plopped herself on a long bench, lost and despaired. It was only nine, yet the streets seemed lonely and abandoned, and the sky unusually dark. Farah lifted her gaze in hope of seeing a shooting star, but couldn’t even spot a star, or even the moon. A thin layer of mist glided down from above, followed by persistent raindrops. “Can’t I even sit out here in peace?” Farah grumbled, dragging her soaked rucksack along the muddy path. She could wash that later, anyhow.
After swamps of rain and mud, Farah finally arrived at her 7-year home. The familiar door sported a ‘welcome-home’ feel as she turned in the keyhole. No one seemed to be in.
“Mr. DeBourgh? Mrs. DeBourgh? Sally?” Still no one. Oh well. She turned on the telly.
“We’re here with an urgent report of a car crash in the Northern Islands, Giorgias Street. Two adults and a teenage girl, their daughter, were killed in a fatal crash with a drunken driver this evening…” What? Farah put her eyes a few centimeters from the screen. That was the DeBourgh’s SUV. And…That was Sally and her parents.
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