“You saw what your dad was doing right? Trade him jobs. Work this left side now and scrape away anything that’s not dirt.”
The shovel feels like lead in my grip, the weight of it clunking against the ground when I transfer it to my dad’s hands. Between the swept-away brush and the channel Jack dug, the right side of the two-foot fire holds steady beneath their barrier.
We get to work on the opposite side. They continue the trench while I work between them, raking everything I can find.
“Now stand back!” He motions away with his arms and hauls two coolers a few feet in front of the flames. As I watch them eat up the ground he’s standing on, all I can think about is how brave he looks. How bold he has to be to command a running fire like that. The flames reach the toes of his boots by the time he dumps the ice. They sputter, sending smoke billowing overhead.
With the fire surrounded on all sides, and everything burned in the center, the active flames die down and we breathe a sigh of relief.
Well, Jack and I do. My father levels me with a look of disgust.
“What were you thinking, dammit? I told you not to wave the stick around like that! Do you know how much worse this could have been?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. I know this was my fault. If I could take it back…
“Why can’t you be more like your brothers!” he screams, and something inside of me dies along with that fire.
How will I ever be good enough for him after this? I more than disappointed my dad today. I made him realize he’s better off never relying on me.
I trudge toward the truck and open the passenger door. The leather seat bounces with my jump and the hunk of metal slams shut with a pull. I don’t know how long I’m sitting in there before Jack approaches my side of the vehicle. He presses his palms against the window. My reflection in the side mirror is hard to look at, my eyes swollen and red from crying.
He wraps his fists around the window frame and caps his large palm around my scrawny bicep, giving it a squeeze. “You did good out there, kid.”
If it weren’t for him, we would’ve never stopped that fire on our own. I know that. He knows that. Yet he still praises my efforts? My eyes well with fresh tears as he squeezes a second time.
“Most people freeze in fight or flight.” His eyes find my dad through the driver’s-side window. He’s pacing with his hands threaded behind his head. “Not you. I think you would have jumped out of an airplane into that if you could. You have a future in this if you want it someday, and we were lucky to have you by our side.”
NotIbutwe, he says. A word I’m not sure will ever describe the kind of relationship I’ll have with my father. I may not have gotten what I wanted out of this weekend, but I found something better. A new dream. An answer to Jack’s question.
I’m going to be a wildland firefighter when I grow up.
Present Day
A thick fabric covers my nose and mouth as I jolt up in bed.The sleeping bag slithers from my face and down my torso until it falls in a heap on the stone floor. Strobes of golden light shine through the blind slats, and I block them with my forearm.
What time is it?
“Get up. We’re meeting at the trailhead in ten. And you’re not rooming in here,” McCafferty barks.
“Take it up with Murphy,” I tell him.
He kicks his sleeping bag back to his side and stomps out of our shared bedroom.
I groan. Between the deep ache settled in my muscles and the tender wounds on my heels, I’m not ready to be a whipping boy today.
I crawl out of my makeshift bed and bunch the sleeping bag from the top until it fits back in my pack. Shirtless and in gym shorts, I stuff my feet into unlaced boots and grab a change of work clothes to bring with me to the bathroom. Laughter sounds from the kitchen I have to pass through. I should have thought about the fact that other people would be up by now.
“That’s a good look for you, Morgan.” Hailey rakes my torso with her gaze as I tromp through the archway. She’s leaning against the countertop, nursing a cup of coffee. Steam curls from the top of the mug.
“That was supposed to be from me.” I nod at her hands.
“Got to get up a little earlier next time.” A guy dressed in the same blue polo as her smirks.
Hailey swallows a sip of her coffee and sputters out a cough.
“Everything okay?” he asks, reaching for her.
My eyes glue to where he’s touching her arm.
