Page 11 of Almost True
Then we’re trudging outside to the overgrown field surrounded by forest behind the fire station, where we practice digging trenches, navigating through the forest, and playing out a whole bunch of imaginary scenarios that require everything from first aid skills to knowing when to abandon what we’re doing and hide in our fire shelters, which look like cocoons made from aluminum foil.
By the end of the day, I’m so wrecked that I could lie down and sleep right in the middle of the field.
The crew disperses for dinner, and I notice that Korren slips away before I can talk him into holding my hand on the walk home. It’s probably better this way. I’m too tired to keep up the friendly banter much longer. I just wish I had a girlfriend back at home, someone who could sit outside and drink beer with me, who I could complain to without worrying about anyone realizing I’m a total fraud.
I try my best not to limp on the walk home, but I can tell I look like I’ve got a stick up my ass, so I avoid eye contact with everyone on the street. Luckily it’s that time of year when we’re flooded with tourists, which means 99 percent of the people in Copper Creek right now are strangers.
I’m nearly to the turnoff to my uncle’s house when I remember that there’s a houseful of kids waiting for me there. Plus Aunt Linda, who is the town sheriff. She’s acted polite enough since I got back, but she knows what I did and I can tell she thinks I got off way too lightly. She’d lock me up herself if Uncle Rhodes would let her.
Shit. It’s still too early for dinner, and I have nowhere else to be.
I dig out my wallet and find a crumpled twenty. I’ve got a couple hundred dollars left, but that’s it. My account is drained. That was one of the conditions my dad set when he paid the fine after I was arrested—he emptied and closed the account I had under his name and basically said he wants nothing more to do with me.
While I’m moping about how I’m ever going to dig myself out of this hole when Uncle Rhodes isn’t paying me anything for the first few months, I remember that Korren doesn’t even have enough to wash his clothes. Even though he’s cagy about whatever happened to him, I gather he’s been living rough for a while. And he probably isn’t a criminal, so he doesn’t deserve the shit he’s going through.
Before I think it through, I realize my feet are carrying me to the used clothing shop at the back of town. It’s a dingy place off the main street, and I know it well because I found most of what I’m currently wearing there.
The bell over the door tinkles as I let myself in, and the owner greets me by name. I don’t know Korren’s size or what he likes to wear, so I choose a flannel shirt and a pair of lightweight beige hiking pants at random. At least they’ll be suited to the work we’re doing.
“You’re back from the fire, then?” the owner asks as he counts out change.
“Yep.”
“How close did you get to the flames?”
“Not too close on this one,” I say, bundling the clothes under my arm. “It wasn’t the most exciting job, to be honest.”
“Maybe next time.”
I muster up a smile for the owner, who seems to be struck by the same awe for wildlands firefighters that I felt when I first joined the crew.
On the way back, I grab a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a few packs of instant noodles from the supermarket. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can afford.
By the time I reach Uncle Rhodes’ place, there are delicious smells wafting out the kitchen window, and I can hear the kids arguing inside. I don’t want to embarrass Korren when he’s made it clear he doesn’t want sympathy, so I leave everything on the ground outside the campervan without knocking. It doesn’t look like he’s in anyway.
Then I trudge morosely toward Uncle Rhodes’ house, bracing myself for the storm inside.
Chapter 9
Korren
My first day with the fire crew was better than I’d expected. I haven’t lost my old strength, and it was easy to fall back into the routine of training. Plus, there’s no need for small talk when we’re all out of breath or trying to work our way through a challenge. This is exactly what I needed—uncomplicated team dynamics where I can remember how to function as a normal human without anyone paying too much attention to me.
Since I don’t have anything to eat for dinner, I wander off to explore Copper Creek as soon as the day finishes. There are enough tourists around that no one looks twice at me as I amble along the main street, peering through the windows of all the shops I won’t be able to buy anything from. Soon I reach the end of town, so I continue down to the waterfront and wander past docks crowded with fishing dinghies, sailboats, and even a midsized cruise ship. That would explain the sudden flood of tourists.
There’s a river draining into one end of the harbor, and a gravel trail runs alongside this, so I follow it through peaceful pine forest until it spits me back out on the opposite end of town.
Eventually I can’t avoid it any longer, so I make my way back down the main street until I reach the turnoff to Chief Rhodes’ property. I can hear loud conversation and laughter from inside his house, but I keep my gaze averted. I don’t want his whole family staring at me and asking me questions, no matter how tempting a hot dinner sounds. Besides, that wasn’t part of the offer.
I’m surprised to find a pile of stuff sitting on the ground outside my campervan. At first I think it’s my firefightinguniform, but when I get closer, I notice there’s a jar of peanut butter sitting on top.
Then I realize it’s a bundle of clothes and cheap food.
There’s a lump in my throat. I gather up the bundle and hurry inside, angry at my weakness. I don’t want handouts. This is embarrassing.
So why the fuck do I feel like Dex has just thrown me a lifeline?
I know it’s Dex, because Chief Rhodes doesn’t know I’m broke, and that’s even more surprising since he said he’s short on cash as well.
