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firefighter, and he was working that night. I thought I might see him charging to the rescue on his big red fire engine. I was excited at first. And then I got closer." Sean walked over to the small attic window. "I was over there."
    She joined him at the window, following his pointed finger to the house across the street.
    "When I got to that tree I realized it was Stacy's house that was on fire. I couldn't believe it. I just stopped and stared. The fire was huge, much bigger than what I'd seen from my window. And then Stacy came running through the front door." He turned to Jessica, his eyes bleak and filled with pain. "Stacy's clothes and her long blonde hair were on fire," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "There were orange-red flames surrounding her. It was the strangest sight. It didn’t seem real. But she was screaming in terror and running around in a crazy circle."
    "Oh, God," she whispered, putting her hand to her mouth, his words painting a very vivid picture.
    "The fire engine pulled up in front of her house. I saw my dad run to Stacy. He wrapped her in a blanket and rolled her on the ground. Someone else beat at the flames shooting off of her. And then she wasn't screaming anymore."
    She put a hand on his arm. "You don't have to do this, Sean."
    "I do. I have to say it all. I can't stop now."
    "Okay. What happened next?"
    "I watched them put her on a stretcher. She was quiet, really quiet. I knew it was bad, because Stacy talked more than anyone I knew. That's when I ran. I don't remember how I got back to the house or what I did when I got there. I think I went up to my bedroom and hid under the covers. Some time passed. Then my mom came to my room. My dad was with her. He smelled like smoke. His face was black with soot. They told me there was a fire, and Stacy was hurt. They didn't tell me then that she was dead. Maybe they didn't know yet." He let out a breath, then added, "My mom put her arms around me. She was kind and sympathetic, but my dad was furious. He wanted to know why Stacy was at her house when she was supposed to be playing with me."
    "Oh, Sean." She felt a wave of anger at Jack's callousness. She understood why he'd be angry, but Sean had been eight years old, barely older than Kyle was now. She searched for comforting words that would make him feel better, but there were none. Sean had witnessed something no one should see. He'd clearly been traumatized. No wonder he'd been so shaken to come into this house, to relive that night.
    "I told my father that I didn't know she'd left, but he didn't care about my excuses."
    "He was upset. I'm sure it hurt him to see Stacy in that condition, too. He took it out on you, and he shouldn't have done that. Did you tell your parents that you saw Stacy?"
    "No. I was already in enough trouble. And I can't say I didn't deserve everything my father dished out. It was my fault that Stacy was at home. If I had told someone, maybe my mom would have come over here and seen the fire before it became too big. Maybe Stacy would be alive now. Maybe her dad would be, too."
    "That's a lot of maybes."
    He ran a hand through his hair. "I have more of them running through my head. You don't know how often I've relived that night. I had nightmares for months. I'd see monsters in the shadows of the trees. I'd hear voices whispering that it was my fault. I'd see lights flashing in my head. And Stacy always showed up at the end, screaming in terror."
    "I'm so sorry, Sean," she said, feeling his pain. "I know you blame yourself, but you were a child. The fight you had with Stacy is one I have witnessed with Kyle and his friends a dozen times. It's normal for kids to tell each other to go home or go away. You couldn't know what would happen to Stacy when she ran out of your room. You certainly couldn't have predicted that she'd go home and get caught in a fire."
    "Logically, I know what you're saying is true, but I can't shake the guilt, Jess. I thought I had gotten the