“Mr. Montgomery!” someone calls. I look around and see Mr. Carpenter, Noah’s teacher, pointing at him. “Is it okay if he goes over there with you?”
“Of course.”
Mr. Carpenter whispers something to Noah. He nods eagerly, then dashes for me. He grabs onto my arm, shaking it violently.
“Do you see the trucks? Do you see them, Uncle Miles?”
“I see them.” I laugh. “They’re right there.”
“Do you think they’re going to use the hoses?” he asks eagerly.
“I hope not.”
The firefighters get out of the trucks, dressed in full gear. A few go inside, while others wait outside. One of them holds an ax.
Our principal, Thomas Kooley, waits at the front of our group to speak with them and see what’s going on. It’s only a few minutes before someone comes out of the school, and in no rush. Mr. Kooley waves them down, and two firefighters walk over.
“Look at them, Uncle Miles. They’re so cool! Look at their jackets and their boots!”
“So cool, Noah. Seriously, super cool.”
I love his enthusiasm, but it’s also getting to be a littlemuch.Will he ever grow out of this obsession?
The firefighters speak with Mr. Kooley. One of them looks this way, giving a small wave to Noah.
“He waved! Uncle Miles, oh my God, he waved atme!”
My head is hurting even more as the loud trucks rumble, and the kids shout and talk loudly. Plus, my anxiety is spiking as I make sure all my students are safe and where they should be while also making sure Noah doesn’t try to hijack one of these trucks. I wouldn’t put it past him.
The principal shakes both of the firefighters’ hands, and they move to leave. One of them stops and turns toward us. It’s the one who waved at Noah.
“He’s coming. He’s coming!” Noah yanks on my shirt.
I laugh as I smooth my shirt down. “I can see that. Make sure you shake his hand and tell him thank you.”
The firefighter gets closer, and only when he’s standing in front of us and pulling his hat off, do I realize why.
It’s JJ.
Chapter 8
Miles
“This must be your nephew,” JJ says, smiling down at him.
“I am, I am!” Noah shouts. “My name is Noah, and Ilovefire trucks.”
“Enthusiastic,” he says with a chuckle, glancing up at me.
“I told you,” I say sheepishly. “Everything okay in there?”
“Oh, yeah. Someone microwaved leftovers with the fork still in the container. Caused a bunch of smoke. Alarm went off. We took care of it.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugs. “It’s my job.”
“Can I go in the truck, Mr. Firefighter?” Noah asks. “Please, please, please? I’ll be good. I swear, I will. I even know how to drive it, but I won’t do that because I don’t have my license yet.”
