A day like any other

It started out like any other day. Not that the days were ordinary or repetitive, but it sounded like a good way to start this. The sun was shining… No. Wait! I lied. There was so much smoke from the New Year’s Eve fireworks, that it could have been 8am or 8pm. Maybe I’ll go back a bit, to last night, so I can make sense of the how the day turned out as it did.

‘It’s so exciting!’ I squealed, as I lit the string of the firework. I suddenly wiped off the huge grin I had on my face and looked around, hoping no one had heard me sound like an excited 3 year old. Everyone else was looking down near my foot. ‘God I hope I’d cleaned my shoes before coming to this party,’ I thought, then looked down to check if I’d removed all the mud and crap that shows on black suede boots. I suppose it was my fault, I bought them. Anyway, I looked for the mud on my shoe, but instead saw smoke.

‘Smoke? Where was that coming from?’ I thought.

‘BiNg.’ A light bulb went off inside my head. I’d forgotten about the firework I’d just lit.

“Holy good gravy! For the love of jelly beans, get it off!” I screamed, realising that the flame was burning on my new jacket. Oh, and that it was burning me. But hey, I bought that jacket 2 days before.

“Stop moving.” One of the boys shouted, trying to remove my jacket.

“Hey. What are you doing there? I’m not that sort of girl.” I tried to push him away.

“Ahhh. I’m trying to remove the burning garment from you. I can stop if you want.” The boy retorted.

“Oh. Right. If you must.” I answered, while patting down the jacket. In all truth, it wasn’t really that big a fire. But I think it adds dramatic affect to the story.

With my jacket lying on the ground in the snow, it seemed like everything was fine. Let me just add that this whole incident took a couple of seconds, because a firework string cannot burn indefinitely. Also, there was only one person really around to help. The others were standing on the balcony upstairs, or out on the street with more fireworks. I’d just thought I was really clever in coming to a big open area and having it all to myself.

“Wow, your rocket really takes a while to launch.” The boy said. I’ll call him a boy for now, I’m not sure if a 15 year old is still called a boy. I know some people call me a little lady, or a girl, even though I’m 17 now. They could just call me by my name. Which I like even less. Lots of people I know have weird and quirky names, like Jezebel or Apple. I got stuck with Jane. Come on, could that be any less original?