Nothing Left to Burn (3 page)

Oh God. The blood in my veins froze. Junior squad was all I had—he couldn’t take that away from me. I shook my head firmly. “There won’t be. I won’t let that happen.”

Mr. Beckett considered that for a moment and finally smiled. “Okay. Just be sure you keep things entirely professional with that boy.”

I nearly cried with relief when Mr. Beckett turned to leave.

“Oh, by the way…I came in to tell you I can’t pick you up tonight. Can you get a lift?”

Yeah, from a boy. “Sure. No problem. Thanks, Mr. Beckett.”

“What’s on the agenda tonight?”

“Uh, we’re doing PPE.”

He flashed a wistful smile. “Oh, that’s a fun one. Okay, have a good class. Don’t let that boy’s drama become yours.”

Oh, count on it.

After Mr. Beckett walked back to his car, I finished checking the equipment on Engine 21.

“Man, got a minute?”

I looked up and found Neil Ernst, our instructor, standing behind me, his face tense. Immediately, I snapped up straight.

“Sure, Lieutenant. What’s up?”

He waved a hand toward the parking lot, so I followed him out through the bay doors. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.

I started to sweat. This was bad.

“Um, yeah, so, the wife and I are moving to Florida. She’s got a really good job waiting down there, and yeah. We’re leaving Long Island.”

I was nodding like I totally understood, but all I kept thinking was
what
about
us?
I took a deep breath. “What about J squad?”

Neil shrugged. “Chief’s still making up his mind. He’ll probably ask Steve Conner to take over for me.”

I was still nodding like some lame bobblehead toy. “Okay, so congratulations. Or good luck.” Or whatever.

“Yeah, thanks. Um, so I just want you to know I think you’re one of the best damn cadets we’ve ever taught here. I hope you’ll continue. When you turn seventeen, you’re eligible for full volunteer status.”

I knew that. I was planning to, assuming the Becketts didn’t ship me back into the system. “Uh, thank you.”

“I mean it, Man. You’ve been a great leader, a great assistant, and you really know your stuff. Whoever the chief puts in charge of J squad, I know you’ll be his greatest asset.”

My face burned under the praise, but it made me happy to hear. I worked my ass off for the squad, for LVFD. It was nice knowing that was appreciated. “So what about tonight’s class?”

“Oh, um, yeah. So that’s why I told you our plans. I can’t stay tonight. We’ve got some hotshot real estate agent coming by tonight to appraise our place. Says she can get it sold like that.” He snapped his fingers. “So I told the chief I couldn’t do tonight’s class. But you can. You’ve done PPE before—so has everybody else. Just run the practice drills, and you’ll be fine.”

Still nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

Neil held out his hand. “Thanks, Amanda. For everything.”

I shook my instructor’s hand. That was the only time I could remember him calling me Amanda. To everyone here, I was Man—short for Mandy, but a way of making me feel like one of the guys.

That had been Matt Logan’s idea.

While I watched Neil Ernst walk away, my eyes got stuck on Engine 21. It had been right there. That’s where I first met Matt Logan, two years ago. I’d been standing behind my foster father, trying not to shake in my secondhand shoes.

“Hey. Can I help you?” he’d asked and smiled in a way that almost melted me into a puddle.

“Hi.” Mr. Beckett shook his hand. “This is Amanda, and she’d like to join the junior squad. Right, Mandy?”

I think I may have nodded or something. I know I hadn’t been able to manage the powers of speech. Matt Logan was gorgeous, and I wasn’t allowed to talk to boys.

Like I said—it was a foster house rule.

There were a lot of them. Don’t become a statistic. (There was a ton of scary statistics about foster kids.) Don’t use drugs. Don’t steal. Don’t lie. Don’t defy. Don’t skip school. I learned most of those at my first foster house. Mrs. Merodie’s. I didn’t last long there, because there was one really big rule I didn’t know about until after.

Don’t love your foster parents.

“You’re in luck,” Matt had said. “We’re having our meeting later. Come on. I’ll get you started.” He’d led us upstairs to the chief’s office, Mr. Beckett signed the forms, and a few minutes later, I was officially a junior squad cadet. Mr. Beckett promised he’d be back later to pick me up and left me there, having a private panic attack. What if he didn’t come back? Where would I go? Who would take care of me?

“We meet here every Wednesday night and Saturday morning. Bring a notebook.” Matt led me into the conference room, where three boys sat with their feet on top of the table at the front of the room. “Guys, this is Mandy. She’s our newest cadet.”

I remember trying not to cry when all three boys eyeballed me. They were so different. One looked like he was twenty, tall and hairy and muscular. Another looked like a fire hydrant—short, wide, no neck. And the third boy was a scrawny kid who looked young enough to still believe in Santa.

Max, the muscular one, had stood up, walked over to me, and put his hand on the wall, trapping me. My heart had started racing. He leaned in close, too close. “I’m Max. Anything you need, you tell me.”

Beside me, Matt’s tone suddenly went ice cold. “Max. Cut the
playa
act.”

Max shot up one finger, ordering Matt to wait a minute, his eyes never leaving mine. “How old are you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t remember. Max was standing so close, I could count the whiskers that lined his jaw, and the way he smelled…God!

“She’s fourteen, Max.”

White teeth flashed. “So am I, so that’s perfect.”

My eyes popped. He was
fourteen
? Steroids. It was the only explanation.

Suddenly, Matt was standing between us. “Off limits.”

Max’s lips tightened, but after a short glaring contest, he nodded and went back to his seat at the front table.

Matt led me to a seat and handed me a huge textbook.

“Logan!” Lieutenant Neil Ernst had barked from the doorway. “A word, please.”

Matt headed into the hall with the lieutenant, and I tried not to shift and squirm under the stares from all those boys. A few minutes later, he was back. “Special assignment, cadets. Mandy passes all her practicals, or we all fail. Got it?”

“What? That’s bull—”

“Tobay. This is a squad. She is now our sister.”

Max sucked on the inside of his cheek. “Copy that.”

The kid who was shaped like a hydrant had shaken his head and muttered something that sounded like, “Be easier if she was a guy.” His name was Ricky, but everyone called him Bear, for obvious reasons, I suppose.

Matt angled his head. “Then start treating her that way.”

A few minutes after that, Gage Garner walked in. The fact that I was a girl had no impact on him at all. He nodded, shook my hand, and settled in to take notes. I didn’t have a notebook. Matt ripped some blank pages out of his and slid them to me. “Got a pen, Man?”

I shook my head, so he took one from his pocket and slid it over.

“Can you talk?”

Startled, I blinked at him and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. Um, thanks.”

He grinned. “Oh good. I was starting to worry.”

Lieutenant Neil Ernst began his lesson. It had been about fire suppression. I learned later that all of the boys, except for Kevin, the scrawny kid, had begun J squad when they were twelve. They had two years of training over me. “Don’t worry, Man,” Matt had said. “We’ll get you up to speed fast. Right, guys?” There was a second or two of hesitation, but they all nodded. Whatever they felt about me didn’t matter; they liked Matt Logan. Respected him. Listened to him.

I had been
Man
ever since. Matt made me one of the guys that day, made me part of a family, a
brotherhood
. He gave me something that was
mine
, something I could keep no matter what foster home I landed in. And now, he was dead, and everything had changed. Our lieutenant was moving away, the boy responsible for Matt’s death wanted to join my squad, and Mr. Beckett wasn’t sure he wanted me to stay. I realized I didn’t have a damn thing.

The PA system crackled into life. “Jamison, chief’s office. Jamison to the chief’s office.”

I hightailed back inside and upstairs and wondered how much longer I’d get to be
Man
.

Chapter 3

Reece

Get ready. I’m going to get in your face.

Halfway up the stairs that led to the station house offices, I froze.

Why did I let Alex talk me into this? What in the name of all that was holy was I doing here? Here—Lakeshore Volunteer Fire Department, where Matt and Dad had formed their exclusive little club, where I had never been welcome?

I rolled my shoulders and set my jaw. I shoved my hand into my pocket, felt for the square of paper I’d stuffed inside, and immediately felt calm.

A door slammed in the distance, jerking me back to my mission. Okay. I could do this. I walked up the stairs to the station’s second floor, where I knew the offices were located. On the second floor, framed pictures lined the corridor, catching my attention. Smiling faces of guys in turnouts standing in front of shiny red trucks, newspaper clippings of honors awarded—and the losses experienced—since the Lakeshore Volunteer Fire Department was formed back in the sixties. I stopped in front of one large frame. Under the glass, a hand-painted sign commanded me to NEVER FORGET. Under that, a series of pictures stared back at me, all neatly aligned like the headstones that no doubt marked their graves. Men, way too many men, listed by the year of their death. An entire cluster of men listed for September 11, 2001.

But only one listed for December 9.

I traced Matt’s name through the glass, the burn in my chest as hot as the day it formed.

“Help you, son?”

I spun and found myself facing a huge bear of a man wearing station gear—dark pants and a blue T-shirt emblazoned with the LVFD Maltese cross over the left pec. The slogan PROUD AND READY curved around the logo.

I opened my mouth, but when the man’s eyes went round, I figured no introduction was needed. “Yes, sir. I’d like to join the junior squad.” I held out the application form clutched in my hand.

The man took the form, held it at arm’s length, and squinted at the words. With a sigh, he met my eyes. “So you’re him.”

My stomach dropped. “Yes, sir. I’m Reece Logan.”

“And you really want to do this?”

I
have
to.
“Yes, sir. I do.”

The man thrust out a hand the size of my face. “Chief Brian Duffy. Why don’t we step into my office and chat?”

I gulped once and shook the chief’s hand, then followed him to the office behind the last door on the right. Two huge windows overlooked the apparatus floor. I stood and watched the crew from Engine 21 set up their bunker gear—boots inside pants—for the next alarm.

“So, Reece.” Chief Duffy grabbed a pair of glasses off a desk littered in paperwork and took another look at my application.

“Just call me Logan.” After a moment, I remembered to add a “Please.”

Chief Duffy smiled under a bushy mustache. “Logan. Have a seat.”

I sat stiffly in a straight-backed vinyl chair facing the chief’s enormous desk. The chief lowered himself into a chair that groaned and protested his bulk but by some miracle held together. He just stared at me over his glasses for several minutes until I shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh, sir. I’m sixteen years old, and I realize most of the class probably started as soon as they were old enough, but I can promise you I’ll work hard—”

“Why?”

I blinked. “Sorry?”

“Why now?”

I frowned and thought how best to reply. “Sir, I’ve always wanted to do this, but my dad and my brother—well, I wasn’t…welcome then.”

“Son, you really think you’re welcome now?”

“Chief, I’m a strong, willing volunteer. From what the news has been saying, you don’t have enough of those.”

Chief Duffy’s eyes went sharp when they met my eyes over the desk. “No. No, we do not. Volunteers are leaving faster than they’re joining, and that is quickly becoming a problem for this house. But that doesn’t mean I have to take on somebody who I am damn sure is going to upset the climate around here.”

I looked down at my hands and sighed.

“Does he even know you’re here, son?”

I shook my head.

“That’s what I figured.” Chief Duffy sighed and scrubbed a hand over the short gray hair that still covered all of his head, though I knew he was in his fifties. “What do you know about my cadets, Logan?”

I sat up straighter and looked Chief Duffy straight in the eye. “Junior squad is the future of Lakeshore, Chief. The LVFD averaged two thousand calls last year—up from previous years. But you’re losing members. Even though you gained two full members from graduating cadets, you lost six members in the last fourteen months. Cadets meet twice a week and work under a supervisor, Lieutenant Neil Ernst. The squad practices fire service until age seventeen and only then are permitted on-scene. Since the squad was formed, there’s been a ninety-percent conversion—”

“Okay, okay.” Chief Duffy shot out a hand to cut me off. “So you’ve read the website. I want to know why you think you’d be a good cadet.”

Because
I
have
no
other
options.
“Because I come from a firefighter family, Chief. Dad, brother, uncles, grandfather. It’s in my genes. It’s not about parades and medals and pictures in papers. It’s about doing work that matters—even to the people who think their taxes are too damn high.”

Chief Duffy laughed once, a sharp sound that echoed off the office walls. He studied me for a long moment, and with a nod, he reached for the phone on his desk and pressed two buttons, and then that loud voice reverberated across the entire house. “Jamison, chief’s office. Jamison to the chief’s office.”