Pyro (7 page)
Terry is on James's balcony. I know because of the tomato plants. Things are moving so quickly now that it's hard for me to keep track. Tracy is talking to the 9-1-1 operator. Terry starts the fire. It catches quickly, thanks to the gasoline. At first, it's a glowing ball, and then the ball gets bigger and more orange. Fiery puddles form on the balcony floor.
Mom's not in the apartment. At least, I don't see her car in the parking lot. Maybe she's gone to buy groceries.
Terry will need to flee the scene. I watch as he stops to look at the fire. I know what he's thinking, because I've thought it too.
That's my fire. I made it.
It's only a step down to the lawn that borders the apartment. Terry will be back behind the wheel in a minute or so. I know what will happen after that too. In about fifteen minutes, he'll turn up in his volunteer firefighter's uniform, ready to play the hero.
Terry turns to step down to the lawn, and his eyes land on me. First, he looks surprised. Then he starts to laugh. “Hey, squirt!” he calls to me. “You're making this too easy! Imagine that! Here you are, setting fire to your mom's boyfriend's place!”
Terry is laughing so hard, he has to wipe his eyes. That's when he loses his balance. He bangs his head on the edge of the balcony. A tomato plant topples at the same time Terry does.
“Oh my god,” Tracy says, “his foot!”
Terry's foot is caught in the railing. The weird thing is, he's not trying to get it loose.
“I think he knocked himself out,” Tracy says. “The fire truck better get here soon. We need an ambulance too.”
Tracy is back on her phone when I start running toward the balcony. “Franklin!” she calls out after me. “Don't!”
Terry tried to frame me. Even so, I can't stand there and watch the fire get to him. The flames are awfully close to him now. “Terry!” I scream. I think I can reach his foot from here. “Wake up!” I shout. But he's still out cold. Maybe he's inhaled too much smoke.
The smoke is making me cough now too. First, I need to get his foot out from between the railings. It's not easy, but I manage.
Where's the fire truck? I'm waiting for the sound of the siren, but I don't hear it.
There's someone else nearby. It's too smoky for me to see who it is. But I need to get up on the balcony to reach Terry. I cover my mouth and hoist myself up with my other hand. I can hear the other person getting up on the balcony too. “We need to get him out of here,” I manage to say.
I grab Terry's feet. “You take his head,” I say.
“I'll try.”
“Tracy?”
For a girl with stage fright, Tracy is amazing. I hear her panting and coughing. Or is that me panting and coughing? Or is it Terry? I'm afraid I'm going to pass out too.
Yet somehow, Tracy and I manage to drag Terry out of danger just as the fire engine comes flying down the street.
The last thing I hear before I do pass out is my father's voice. “What the heck is going on here?”
Who knew I'd have a talent for stage lighting?
Jeff says there's lots of work on movie sets for lighting technicians. The really good techies sometimes even get to be lighting directors in Hollywood.
Right now, I've got the spotlight on Tracy's hands. She's strumming the ukulele. Her voice sounds good. Confident.
I'm pretty sure Tracy has her stage-fright thing beat.
I'm working on my fire-starting thing.
Dr. Ford, the psychologist Dad and Mom forced me to see, isn't a bad guy. For one thing, he's really interested in fires and how they work. I asked him if he ever set fires when he was a kid. He didn't say yes, but he didn't say no either, which makes me think maybe he did. Only I guess it wouldn't be very professional if he told me so.
Jeff is home for Christmas. He's sitting in the third row, next to Mom and James. Dad is in the front row, of course. Where else would the mayor sit? He says I helped him win the election.
Terry is in jail. Dr. Ford and I talk about him sometimes. I know that if I don't get the fire starting under control, I could end up there too.
Even after everything Terry did or tried to do to me, I still hope he gets help while he's in prison. Dr. Ford thinks it's a good sign that I feel that way. He says it shows that I'm developing empathy, which is another way of saying that I've got a heart.
No matter how old I get to be, I know I'll always be amazed by fire. Dr. Ford says that's okay too.
“Fire is elemental,” he said in our session last week. “Perhaps that's why it captures the human imagination.”
That reminded me of something Dad used to say when I was a little kid, watching him start a fire in our fireplace-“Fire creates, but it destroys too.”
This summer, a lot of stuff got destroyed, but other stuffâgood stuff, hopeful stuffâgot created.
A big thank you to all the young people I've met during school visits who have shared their stories about playing with fire.
Special thanks to Dr. Kenneth R. Fineman, a California psychologist who treats young firestarters, and who made time to answer my questions.
Many thanks also to my friends at the Kahnawake Fire Brigade. Firefighter John Rice gave me a great tour of the station and introduced me to the world of firefighting. Assistant Fire Chief Bryan Deer and firefighter Cheryl Montour patiently answered further questions.
Thanks to the wonderful team at Orca Book Publishers, especially Melanie Jeffs for her fine editor's eye and ear.
Thanks, too, to my friend Viva Singer, for letting me talk out another story. So did my husband Michael Shenker and my daughter Alicia Melamed. I love you both too much.
Monique Polak has written numerous novels for youth. Many of them are, like
Pyro
, set in the Montreal area, where she lives and teaches English and Humanities at Marianopolis College. Monique also works as a freelance journalist.
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