"Fire. Fire."

An hour ago, the fire alarm went off. It made a loud blaring sound and a robotic voice (sounding very much like Siri's) said, "Fire. Fire."

I, who had been lazin' around with the iPad in H's room, stopped, dropped, and rolled. Just joking. *pinches self* Y'shouldn't be jokin' 'bout that, girl.

So all I did was put down the iPad in fright, and I sprinted out of H's room and stood in front of the bathroom, right where the fire alarm was blaring loudly on the ceiling. I panicked. There couldn't seriously be a fire! I ran inside my room and was about to say something to S but she told me to turn off the alarm. So I pressed that nice round button and the blasted blaring died away. S came out. "Did you turn it off?" she asked. "Yes," I answered. "There isn't any fire!"

S felt around the alarm, feeling for any hot air. But nothing. Nothing at all. "Go and see if there's any fire," S ordered bossily. I went to the front door and opened it. No fire in sight, and no smoke either! What was this madness? "No fire in the front yard," I reported as I passed by my room and walked briskly through H's room into the sunroom. I opened the back door, and the kids at the playground were still screaming like lunatics.

From behind me came a voice, "Obviously there's no fire back here."

"Maybe it was a jinn, because jinns are made of fire," I said. Then another thought came to me:  the fire in Yosemite Park. It was just a thought, and it couldn't be true since the fire couldn't have reached our fire alarm. But what had really caused the alarm to leap into action?

N