8th January, 2252.
New Jersey, New York.
3rd person POV

"Adam. Get up! It's time for school!"

He groaned at the sound of his Aunt Cass's voice and rolled onto his side, his face away from his aunt. She laughed and rolled him onto his back again. He was being difficult. As usual.
He usually slept bareback, with a long purple and black checkered lined pants, that stretched all the way down to his feet.

"Adam. C'mon, you're gonna make me late. Up!" His aunt coaxed him. Adam snorted.

"Why do I even have to go to school today? What's the use?" He said, sleepily.

"Not this again Adam Augue Jefferson. We talked about this." She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Will you stop sleeping!"

She hit him softly in his side and he laughed, opening his eyes.

"Okay, okay! I'm up." He snorted and scratched his auburn hair, his hazel eyes gleaming at her. She smiled and stood up straight and playfully glared at him.

"It's 7:45 Adam. You have school in 30 minutes." She smirked a bit at him.

"Let me guess. The bus is gone?" He rubbed his eyes and sat up on his bed. She nodded and walked out the room.

"Good luck, puer ignis." She called back to him.

Adam smiled. Puer ignis. He liked whenever Aunt Cass called him Latin names. Fire boy. It was her favourite nickname for him. And his middle name? It practically meant Fireball in English.

When he was four...living in San Francisco...His mother had been downstairs cooking. His Aunt Cass had been ironing clothes before, in his nursery and went to use the bathroom.

"Remember maiori, stay away from the iron." She'd warned him.

Adam didn't know why but he just felt like he had to touch the iron.

(It is totally natural for kids to do the opposite of what adults warn them not to do. Trust me, I did this. I know.)

It was on top of the ironing board. He may have been too short to reach it. But there was a stool that his mother had at the corner of his nursery. She'd used it to reach high stuff on the bookshelf. Adam got it from in the corner of the room and pushed it over to the ironing board. Phase 1, complete.

He stood on top of it and stared at the iron as if it were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. It seemed so amazing...he wanted to touch it. He reached out his hand to touch it. He felt it getting hotter as his hand got closer. He smiled and placed his full hand on the iron, which instantly started to steam. It surprisingly didn't burn him. In fact it felt...good.

At that exact moment, Aunt Cass had walked in. She looked surprised for a moment but her surprise quickly faded away to a smile.

"Well done puer ignis, well done." She looked on, her face shining with pride. Adam laughed and put his other hand on the iron.

At that same moment, his mother had walked in. She looked exactly like Adam but older with longer, curlier hair, and she was feminine. Aunt Cass didn't look any different either. There was a point in time where Adam had been mixing them up, but eventually he figured it out. Aunt Cass looked like a girl in her late teenage years at the time, while Adam's mother looked she was about to hit thirty. There was a 11 year age difference between the two. His mother's Hispanic eyes widened with fear when she saw what he was doing.

"Adam! No! Get your hands off of that! Cassandra!" Her voice had gone an octave higher, making Adam nervous.

"Maria, calm down." Aunt Cass had sounded worried all of a sudden.

Suddenly, touching the iron started to hurt. Badly. Adam shrieked and pulled his hand off, crying and screaming. Both women looked at him and rushed to his side, looking at his badly blistered bleeding hands...

Adam shook his head. He'd self consciously been rubbing his hands, as if he were checking for the blisters. Enough of this. That was all past. He had a new life to live. And besides...his mother was dead. Aunt Cass was all he had.

He put on a brave face and smiled. He had to hide the pain from Aunt Cass and everyone.

"Adam! Prandium!" Aunt Cass called from downstairs. Adam smiled. Breakfast. The best start of his day.

He quickly put on a plain white jersey and headed downstairs.

-Dedicated to Maria Jefferson.