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The Boy in the Burning House
by Tim Wynne-Jones
'I want to know what happened.'
She came closer, stared at Jim, and despite the medication, it seemed like she was looking right inside him.
'No, you don't,' she said. 'You're too afraid.'
Then she started to walk away toward the woods.
He couldn't let her go just like that. Letting go was a problem he had.
'I am not afraid!' he shouted.
'You aren't ready,' she shouted back.
'Ready for what?'
'You don't want to face the fact that your daddy is dead. D-E-A-D.'
Jim felt like he was teetering suddenly. On the edge of a rushing stream and not sure whether to jump or go looking for a bridge. Not sure he could clear it, not sure he wouldn't drown if he fell in. Ruth Rose was on the other side of that stream and she wasn't the kind of guide he would have wished to lead him anywhere. But what was there anymore on this side of the stream?
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Leapt.
'Tell me,' he said. 'Please.'
(Copyright by Tim Wynne-Jones)
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