Wolves, Boys and Other Things That Might Kill Me (20 page)

Loud angry boos fill the air. People are yelling. Mothers are tucking their kids in their laps. Virgil says, “You two . . .”

“What?” I say.

“That’s it,” yells the Fed lady.

Officer Farley raises his hands. “People! People!”

Suddenly Tom from the Cowboy Hotel store runs in from the back. He is still in his coat. He has snow in his mustache. “Hey. Hey.” His eyes are wide open. “Where’s the Fire Department? We got a blaze at Sam’s shop.”

A HOT TIME IN THE OLD TOWN TONIGHT

I SHOVE THROUGH the crowd onto the street. Smoke hits my lungs. Virgil runs next to me. The fire alarm goes off at the volunteer fire station. I’ve heard that alarm plenty of times, forest fires are a way of life around here, but this time the noise sickens me. The alarm is for our store, my father.

In the heavy air the smoke stays low, choking the streets. I slip on the ice. Virgil grabs my arm. “He’s all right,” he calls over the noise.

I don’t say anything. He has to be all right. I’ve already lost my mom.

When I reach the store, black smoke is everywhere. Flames leap out of the back of the store while the face of the store is dead and motionless. I gag on the ash in my throat.

Coach Henderson yells for people to get out of the way. I search the rim of people forming in the street. Neighbors are sprinting to the scene with buckets and extinguishers, but I don’t see my dad. Every freak from here to Missoula is suddenly here to watch our store burn. I feel Virgil’s arm. “Keep looking,” he yells, and drags me into the crowd.

I don’t see my dad.

Even in the subzero weather the sickening heat is everywhere, burning into our clothes and skin. People are shouting.

“KJ?” says Virgil. He looks at me funny. “Cover your mouth. Let’s go around back.”

We push through more gawkers and then swing behind the fire truck. Two volunteer firemen yell at each other. Smoke, snow, noise, and flashing orange lights all roil around me. I keep moving without moving. I hear sirens.

Suddenly I don’t know where I am. I hear the sirens, popping wood, and shouting, but I disappear in the smoke, even to myself.

“KJ? Hey!” Virgil is pointing.

I look into the smoke and see what I think is Dad’s head. It’s him. He’s standing next to the unmistakable frame of Big Larry from the gift shop next door. The two men are back from the main fire, spraying the huge campfire extinguishers from the store on the smoking bushes. I choke again.

Virgil grabs my shoulder. “Whoa,” he says, and then pulls off his shirt. I realize he’s still wearing his camera. “Hold this over your face.”

I do what he says and walk away, to Dad.

I stand behind him.

He turns. He looks at me and then past me. He looks angry.

I feel Virgil behind me. I hand Virgil his shirt.

“Can I help?” says Virgil.

“Do you ever wear clothes around my daughter?” says Dad.

“What happened?” I feel the ash burn in my throat.

Dad coughs. “We nearly have this contained but you’d better get away from this smoke.”

Three men I don’t recognize push us out of the way and run another hose into the back door of the store. Maybe it was a good thing we had everybody in three counties here tonight. After a few horrible minutes the flames quiet, but smoke blooms everywhere with the water. I see the guts of the store through an open wall. I can’t tell how much they saved. Some of it.

“How did it happen?” I say.

“Someone set a fire in the garbage bin and it jumped,” says Larry.

I say, “Could it have been an accident?”

“They cut off the lock on the Dumpster to do it,” says Larry. “That doesn’t seem like an accident.”

Dad gives me the look. The one that says,
Hold onto yourself
. He says, “I was resting in the office with the lights off. I heard a truck in the parking lot. It lurched as it pulled away. Backfired like . . . a fart. I kind of drifted off for a second, wondering about it, until I smelled smoke.”

“If you’d fallen asleep . . .”

“I didn’t,” he says. “And whoever set the fire didn’t know I was there. They would have had to be stone stupid to drive right up to the store and park like that if they thought I was here.”

“They must have figured you were at the meeting, Samuel,” says Eloise, arriving behind Virgil. “Must have thought the whole town would be at the meeting.”

Dad squints at both of them. “Apparently a few people missed it.”

I say, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s a little late for that,” says Dad, looking off into the smoke of his shop.

“Don’t you dare take credit for this fire, KJ,” says Eloise. “We have no idea who or what started this. And if someone did start this because of the wolves . . .” The idea seems to stop her for minute. “It just shows that you must be doing something right to make a person capable of being this mad.”

“You know, Eloise,” says Dad. “For an educated woman you can be genuinely stupid. I would really appreciate it if you and your son would stop filling my daughter with asinine ideas.”

“Dad,” I say. “They didn’t do this.”

“Well, they may not have lit the match . . .” He shakes his head at me and walks through us to talk to the firemen standing at their truck.

Eloise kicks the blackened snow with her boot. “I handled that pretty well. Virgil, will you walk me home?”

“Just a second, Mom,” he says. “I’ll catch up.”

Virgil walks around the scene and takes pictures of everything. True to form, most of his pictures aren’t of the fire. He takes a lot of shots of the giant burned-out garbage can and the snow around it. He gets some great close-ups of the tire tracks that lead up to the garbage. Like we could match those?

Larry and I stand watching. Stupid as sticks. Finally Larry says, “Need to feed my dog.”

I put my hand on Larry’s arm. “Thanks for being here.” He shakes his big shaggy head. “You’re dad’s a nice guy. Folks sure hate them wolves though.”

Virgil walks back to us and takes our picture. “Larry, you have a big cut on your head. Do you want me walk home with you?”

Larry looks out from under his blood-smeared eyebrow and then spits in the snow. “Nah, I’m good.”

Looking at Larry I start to make a list in my head of all the bad things that have happened since I got interested in wolves: Virgil and my dad getting hurt, Mr. Muir’s store getting smashed up, maybe the Martins being vandalized. It’s possible that someone accidentally lit the Dumpster on fire behind our store after accidentally busting open the lid. But it’s hard to imagine on the night of the meeting on wolves that a store that’s owned by the father of a wolf lover can catch fire by coincidence. So this is round two, and my dad, who has patiently tried to stay out of this thing, is the big loser again.

I say, “I have to go find my dad.”

“Good idea,” says Larry, walking off.

My eyes are burning. I look at Virgil. “When I saw that smoke . . . I couldn’t have handled tonight without you.”

Virgil tips his face to mine. “No way. You’re the Wolf Girl, right?”

Wolf Girl? What a joke. The idea that I could be some kind of new, braver version of myself, that I could make a good difference instead of screwing everything up, is an absurd fantasy to me now. A fantasy that could have cost my dad his life.

Virgil touches my shoulder. “But hey, you have some serious repairs to do here. And the less you see of me for a while, the better.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m just saying maybe I should make myself scarce.”

“You didn’t do anything. Unless you want to see me less.” I knew I’d screw things up with him. It’s me. I screw things up. And Addie’s sweet and pretty enough to sell toothpaste. Why wouldn’t he want to be with Addie instead of me?

“Sometimes it’s hard to know who to be mad at. But people usually find someone.” He pauses and looks around like he’s lost something. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

Then he squeezes my hand and disappears into the dark.

THE QUIET GAME

VIRGIL IS ABSENT in journalism. The rest of the class wants to hear about the fire. Dennis compares it to the planet in
Star Wars
that blows up. Addie asks me if I would like to talk about it. Sondra tells her to mind her own business.

Mrs. Baby marches in as the bell rings. She drops her purse in her desk drawer and slams it closed. She points at me and says, “Outside.”

Once we’re out in the hall she says, “I’m being put on probation.”

I didn’t see that one coming.

“Apparently the principal has some concerns about me letting the students have too much freedom of expression. I don’t even know what his problem is. You haven’t said anything . . . what did he call it . . . ‘provoking,’ have you? I mean you just write your little updates and talk about . . . wolf stuff.”

“Some people really hate . . . wolf stuff.”

“This is ridiculous. No one reads what you write in the school newspaper. It’s not like you started a riot.”

“No . . . But I did call the guy with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife and asked him to have the town meeting here.”

“What are you talking about? You can barely dress yourself.”

“I’m pretty sure I dress myself, Mrs. Bab . . . Brady.”

“Oh, I know. I just mean it’s all so silly. You’re a kid.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s pretty silly.”

“Anyway you have to cut the wolf thing or I’m fired.”

I feel bad for Mrs. Brady. She didn’t sign on for trouble. She didn’t even really sign on for the newspaper. She just wants to teach people to sift their flour before they mix it with creamed sugar. She wants health insurance and a quiet lunch hour. “Mrs. Brady, I’m going to be busy helping my dad with the repairs on the shop. Would you mind if Dennis takes over as editor?”

“The principal mentioned that to me.” She pauses and makes a face like her underwear is too tight.

I say, “Dennis will do a good job.”

“You were a fine editor, honey. And you’re a spitfire of a writer, too.”

Mrs. Baby has no sense of irony.

Virgil makes it to school in time for math. I see him talking to Addie outside of class. When I get close they stop talking. I say “hi” and walk past them.

I find my seat. I don’t fall apart.

Joss and Mandy titter when I sit down.

 

Mr. Muir stops me after class. “Sorry about your store.”

“Yeah, it’s a bad year for stores around here.”

Mr. Muir looks impatient. “The ACT is in June. I’m driving the van to Bozeman with anyone who wants to go to college when they grow up.”

“June?” I look at him doubtfully.

“Here’s a prep book. You’re going to start now.”

“I haven’t exactly been setting the world on fire in here lately.”

Mr. Muir squints at me and smiles. “Don’t worry, KJ, you’ll burn it up.”

Mr. Muir. Holy smokes.

 

There is no hurry to get home.

Tomorrow and every day after, there will be more work than I can do to repair the shop but today the insurance people are counting the cost of things. I head to the tree house.

I walk on a packed snowmobile trail. I look around for tracks. I know that wolf I saw isn’t going to be this close in to town, but I look for signs anyway. With the hysteria in West End, it would be a disaster if the wolf started poaching people’s dogs or showing up on people’s porches. But that’s not going to happen. I haven’t heard anyone mention anything about seeing a wolf in town. So that means that wolf is dead or gone. Probably both.

I only sit in the tree house for a minute—well, a couple of minutes.

It’s hard to believe everything that’s happened. Last summer I was afraid of not fitting in and of failing algebra. I guess it’s like my dad says, the quickest cure for a hangnail is a broken arm.

I look out over the edge of the tree-house platform at the deep crusty snow beneath me. With the snow drift it’s only about ten to twelve feet but I’m not crazy about heights, even mini-heights. A squawky raven grazes the tree line and lands not far from my perch. “What are you looking at?”

The raven doesn’t answer.

“What do you think?”

The raven tips its head at me and flies away. Show off.

I climb the small handrail and jump.

I get stuck feet first in the snow. After a little scrabbling I pull myself out. Unfortunately one of my boots comes off. I sit on the snow, look up at the tree house, and laugh. I would never have done this last year. I’m just not sure if that is a good or bad thing.