Nothing Left to Burn (5 page)

And for the first time since I got sucked up into the foster care system, I thought maybe I was lucky.

***

When I was in first grade, a girl in my class got a special surprise one day. Her dad came home from Iraq and showed up while we were doing reading circle, still wearing his military uniform. Erin cried and hugged him, and everybody clapped. I wondered if my dad would come home like that and surprise me in school, hugging me close and twirling me around. And then, he’d see me. He’d look at me, and his eyes would get all serious, and then he’d fold me up in the biggest hug and say,
Mandy, look at you. I missed seeing you grow up.
But it would be okay, because he was home now and loved me. I’d see it in his eyes. That’s what I thought a dad would be like.

But that’s not how John was. There was no love in his eyes. All I saw was blame and fury. Reece saw it too. I could tell by the way he kept squaring his shoulders. What the hell was he trying to prove? Better question: why was he trying to prove it
here
? Junior squad wasn’t some after-school special.

While father and son had their stupid staring contest, everybody froze in place, waiting for John’s reaction. For the first time since my mom was sentenced, I was kind of happy I didn’t have a family. It would
kill
me to see that look on
my
dad’s face. Reece abruptly turned and walked to the door. The lieutenant followed, practically breathing fire, and slammed the door behind him.

I rushed to the door to listen, along with most of the squad.

“Lieutenant Logan!”

The chief’s voice exploded from the hallway, and everybody on my side of the closed door exchanged matching
holy
crap
looks—all popped eyes and open mouths.

“Brian, what the hell is this?” the lieutenant demanded.

“Lieutenant.”

“Uh oh,” Bear whispered.

I let out a low whistle. Chief Duffy was pissed. You could always tell by the way he bit out your rank, kind of spit it at you. The problem was John was just as pissed.
Come
on, John. Don’t blow this.

“Chief.” He answered rank with rank, and I breathed a little easier.

“Lieutenant Logan, Reece is your newest cadet. Do you have a problem with this?”

There was silence for a long moment.

Don’t say it, John
, I mentally shouted at him.

“No, sir. No problem
here
.”

“Since Reece has assured me he also has no problem working with you, I am not needed here. Am I, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir.”

“Logan.”

Reece’s softer voice asked, “Yes, sir?”

“I look forward to seeing your progress. Carry on.”

Chief Duffy did not wait for a response. His heavy footsteps faded down the hall. The group of us hightailed it away from the door and back to our seats just as the door opened again. Reece took his seat, and the lieutenant closed the door, his face flushed.

“Okay,” John said, his eyes drilling holes through his son. I shifted uncomfortably, but Reece didn’t so much as flinch. “Okay. Everybody, this is Reece. Reece is—” He broke off abruptly with half a laugh. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s get started.” John returned to the pile of gear on the cart and unfolded a bunker coat. “Everybody stand up, shove the tables back, and gather around.”

Gage took a spot beside John. Reece stared at his father, and I felt this sudden pang of sympathy for him. John used to be so proud of Matt. I watched them but pretended I wasn’t, wishing John were
my
dad. Not that I wished Matt were my brother, because—ick. I just wanted what they had. Private jokes to laugh at, stories that embarrassed each other, knowing with a single look when the other was about to blow up and backing off before he did, having someone you could always count on.

No matter what.

John and Reece faced each other, their physical resemblance so strong, they looked like clones. John’s hair may be graying at the sides, but it was the same shade—the color of toasted almonds. Reece was lean and narrow where his father was broad. But he was also a good four inches taller than John. Matt would have fallen between them—taller than John, not as tall as Reece.

I had no idea who I took after. I shut my eyes and tried to remember my mom’s face, but all the details were gone now. I couldn’t remember her dimples or her birthmarks or the lines on her face. I asked her once if my dad knew about me. She snorted once and said he left the second he found out. Just as well. I’d rather not have a dad at all than one who looked at me the way John was looking at his kid right now.

It must have taken one hell of a lot of guts for Reece to be here, knowing the kind of reception he’d get.

Like he felt my eyes on him, Reece’s gaze suddenly snapped to mine and held. I wished he wouldn’t look at me like that…like the way I’d always wished Matt would look at me but never did. I shifted and squirmed, and suddenly, his face smoothed out and went blank until his dad’s voice made him blink.

“Okay. Your PPE is your last line of defense between you and a fire. There are quite a few types of personal protective equipment, but today, we’re going to talk about the most typical ensemble, which is…Tyler?”

“Um, structural ensemble, Lieutenant?”

“You asking or telling?”

“Um, telling.”

“Correct. The structural ensemble is commonly called what, Gage?”

“Bunkers, sir.”

“Bunker gear. That’s right. Your PPE meets the standards established by the National Fire Protection Association. Reece, what NFPA standard covers PPE ensembles?”

All those emotions spread over Reece’s face again, and I figured he knew John was purposely looking to trip him up. I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so much, but it did. John crossed his arms and waited for his son to choke.

“Fifteen hundred, Lieutenant,” Reece replied with a look that asked
is
that
all
you
got?

John’s grin froze, then slid off his face. He frowned and looked odd for a moment. Kind of sad, kind of pissed off, kind of hurt. Holy crap, it was the same series of emotions on Reece’s face not a second earlier.

“Good guess. All right. The tones sound. People are depending on us to respond to their calls sooner, not later, so that means the faster we get rolling, the better the chances of saving people and property. You need to learn how to put on all this gear in less than two and a half minutes.”

I already knew how to don PPE and started to zone out by watching Reece’s face. When he didn’t know anyone was watching him, his face was in constant motion. His eyes spoke as clearly as words—especially the
fuck
you
glare he shot toward John. His lips went tight and flat one minute, and they curved and lifted the next. And there was this little concentration frown wrinkling his forehead, like he was trying to memorize every word his father said.

John spoke about the bunker pants and worked his way up from there, describing each piece of gear in detail. It started to worry me that Reece wasn’t taking any notes. This stuff isn’t like the trigonometry you learn once and then never use again. Everything we learned in squad was critical for survival—ours or somebody else’s.

“Amanda.”

I jerked back to the present and met John’s eyes.

“Here. Time me.”

I stepped forward, took the stopwatch he handed me and clicked the button. “Go.”

He kicked off his shoes and stepped into the boots that had already been tucked into the pair of bunker pants, then with a leap and a tug, he had the pants up. He snapped both suspenders over his shoulders, fastened the waistband, fell down to his knees, slipped his arms into the coat, and flipped it over his head. It took about three seconds to seal the coat and loop the cuffs over his thumbs. He grabbed a protective hood, tugged that over his head, but then shoved it back so it bared his hair. Next up was the air tank. He gave the dial a few cranks, waited for the bell, slipped his arms through the straps, and tossed it over his head so it hung upside down on his back. A quick tug on the straps tightened them, and he was back on his feet, slipping the oxygen mask over his face and lifting the hood back over his hair to cover the mask’s straps. He slid his hands into thick gloves and only then placed a black helmet on top of his head.

He clapped his hands twice, my signal to stop the clock.

“One minute, forty seconds, Lieutenant.”

The class applauded, and John grinned. “Not my best time, but it’ll do. Okay, everybody, start practicing. You need to don PPE in two and half minutes or better to pass. Everybody got that?”

I looked at Reece, wondering if he’d been able to keep up. John only described the gear; he didn’t really teach us how to use it. John took off the gear and arranged it all back on the floor. Tyler went next, and I crossed my fingers. He always struggled with PPE.

“Two minutes, twenty-two seconds. Cutting it too close, Golowski. Practice.”

Gage was up next. He had the best times in the squad. “Two minutes, twenty-
three
seconds. Really, Gage? You’re gonna let Golowski beat you?” Gage’s lips tightened into a line.

I snuck another look at Reece, impressed to find him paying close attention, asking Bear questions when Tyler and Gage had their turns. Finally, it was his turn. When he clapped his hands twice, John failed to stop the stopwatch.

“You’re not done, Peanut.”

Peanut?
Reece was almost a head taller than John. What was with the
Peanut
stuff?

“What did I miss?” Reece asked.

“Think about it. It’ll come to you.”

Christ.
I shook my head. He forgot to turn on his tank. The son of a firefighter, the brother of a firefighter, and he forgot to turn on his tank? I felt bad for him, really bad, until I looked at John.

He looked happy, and that had me pressing my lips together to keep from saying things I shouldn’t.

“Dad—”

John whipped around. “I believe I identified myself as Lieutenant when I walked into this room.”

Reece’s jaw clenched—I could see it from here—and he nodded. I could almost
hear
his decision to accept whatever challenge John lobbed at him. Reece stripped off the gear and prepared to start over.

“Restart the clock.”

“Peanut, if you don’t mind, we have a lot to cover today. You flunked. Why don’t you quit now? You know you can’t do this work.”

“I can do it—”

John smiled and took a step closer. “We both know how this ends. You’ll play for a week or two, get bored, and move on to—I don’t know—robotics or chess club or something. So let’s save everybody some time and cut straight to the end, okay, Peanut?”

“Not quitting, Dad.”

The smile clicked off, and John got up in Reece’s grille. “While you’re in my class, you’ll address me by my rank.”

If John wanted to be addressed by his title, maybe he should leave obnoxious nicknames at home. But Reece never said a word. All he did was cross his arms and glare. I bit harder on my tongue to keep from butting in.

“Hey, Lieutenant? I have a question.”

John’s temper strained its leash but didn’t snap. With a curt nod, he turned away to answer Max. If I hadn’t been looking for it, I might have missed the way Reece’s shoulders sagged in relief. Before I could think twice about it, I opened my mouth and leaned toward him. “Hey, Logan. You forgot to open the tank.”

Reece shook his head with an eye roll. “Right. Thanks.” He gave me a look that held so much gratitude, I forgot I hated him for a second.

“Don’t sweat it. Everybody forgets something on the first attempt.”

“Not me. I don’t forget anything when I’m actually
taught
what to do.”

My mouth fell open. “Boasting and showing off are the surest ways to get killed around here.”

Reece hissed in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “I’m not boasting. I have a perfect memory.”

Yeah, right. “A perfect memory. You mean, like, photographic?”

He made a sound of annoyance. “Look, just show me a list of everything I need to do, and I’ll teach myself.”

John heard that part, strode over, and put his hands on his hips. “You got problems with how I teach?”

A distinct snort left Reece’s mouth. “No. No problems.”

John nodded, grinning. “That’s what I thought.” He shoved the cart out of the way and grabbed the textbook from Reece’s table. “The second part of today’s class is the SCBA. That stands for self-contained breathing apparatus. It can save your life—when you remember to turn on your tank,” John added with a pointed glare at his son. “Open your books and start reading. I’ll be back in ten.”

Wait, what?
John stalked out of the room. The second the door shut behind him, Bear cursed.

“Shit, I hope he doesn’t make us write a report. I don’t have time to write no report.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Reece pretend he didn’t hear that. I could tell he did though. His shoulders sagged just a little lower.

The door opened, and Chief Duffy crooked a finger at me.

“Jamison, a word, please.”

I met the chief out in the hall. John stood there, hands on his hips, mouth tight. “He gets no special treatment,” John insisted with a poke of his finger toward the classroom.

The chief took off his glasses and pinched his nose. “Jamison, I want you and your cadets to work with Reece, get him up to speed.”

“Chief, I don’t want him getting special—”

The chief shot John a look that plainly told him to shut up. “It’s
not
special treatment. It’s what we’d do for any new cadet who volunteered for J squad. Isn’t that right, Amanda?”

That was true. “Yes, sir.”

John continued trying to make a case, but the chief had his mind made up. Logan was staying.

Gage caught my eye as soon as I reentered the room. I joined him near the bookcases in the back.

“What’s up, Man?”

“Chief says to help him. Logan.” My teeth clenched.

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?”