Taking the Heat

‘Oh no, the grass caught fire!’ I yelled to my friend Jim, and I started blowing on it as hard as I could.

‘Don’t blow on it, it’s making it worse!’ Jim said, pushing me away from the growing flames.

‘But there’s no water around here to put it out!’ I was getting scared. It was getting out of hand. ‘God, I wish it would rain now, please!’ I prayed, looking up at a clear sky.

Jim tried to squelch the fire with his shoes.

‘Don’t stomp on it, your pants can catch fire!’ Jim’s hiking boots turned black from the smoke and the soles almost melted from the heat.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Jim said, giving up.

‘Yes, let’s go home and call 9-1-1, I didn’t bring my phone,’ I said.

‘You call. I’m out of here, I'm going home,’ said Jim as he ran down the hill faster than I’d ever seen him run.

I ran home too, and it felt like hours until I reached the front door. I burst to the kitchen, where my little sister was talking on the phone with a friend.

‘Hang up, I’ve got to call for help, and I can’t find my phone. The hill’s on fire!’ Before my sister could react, I’d hung up for her and dialed 9-1-1. I didn't say my name, but I gave the dispatcher our address, since the hill is right behind our home.

My sister told Mom, and they went outside to see what I was talking about. When I came out, I saw that the fire had spread, burning the dry grass past the hilltop, across a hillside, and was getting dangerously close to some homes.

Alerted by the smoke, our neighbors were coming outside and gathered on the street, with dread on their faces. Some went back to the apartment building to check that everyone was alerted, in case we had to evacuate. With the strong winds, the fire was approaching a nursing home.

‘Where are the firefighters? Why aren't they here already?’ God, please have them get here on time!’ I pleaded.

‘How did this fire start?’ I heard a woman ask. 

‘I don't know, but some kids have been playing on those hills, I’ve seen them running around over there,’ said our next-door neighbor.

‘Well, I’ve lived here over twenty years and there’s never been a fire on this hill,’ said an older man, shaking his head.

I moved away from them, feeling guilty and afraid. I felt even worse when I noticed a couple of deer running away from the burning hill. Bambi’s story flashed through my mind. Maybe a fawn was losing its mother to this fire, and it was my fault.

If only Jim and I hadn't lit those sparklers… After all, we knew that it doesn’t take much for dry grass to catch fire. We should’ve known better. We’re twelve years old, not little kids. Jim had dared me. Like a fool I went for it. But who would've thought we wouldn’t be able to put out a fire that started with a tiny spark? Now the air was smoky and stung my eyes. The smell of burned grass was strong and I started to feel sick to my stomach. 

The sound of sirens brought me back from my thoughts. There were four fire trucks and over a dozen fire fighters. When the three police cars arrived, they set up a barrier to keep people away. A helicopter hovered overhead. They worked for what seemed like hours. Finally, the fire was put out. The hill was charred black. But no buildings were burned. And no one was hurt. Thank God!

That’s when the police officers started asking questions. They went to our home, for we had made the first call. I hid in my bedroom. But soon I heard my mom calling me. 

‘Charlie, come here, maybe you can help the officers find out how this fire got started.’

I pretended I didn’t hear her. I faked being asleep. But I couldn’t sleep even if I tried. My conscience was keeping me awake, restless, worried, scared. I prayed for guidance, and it didn’t take me long to know what I should do. Then I had to pray for courage to do it.

I came out of the bedroom and faced them: my family, the police officers, the truth, and a punishment for sure.

‘I know how the fire started. I set it… by accident.’ I told them the whole story. About how Jim and I like to hike in the hills. About us not meaning any harm when we lit the sparkler that day. About how sorry I felt. The officers looked me in the eyes with serious faces and wrote it all down. My mother and my sister started crying. 

I’ll never forget that day, or that night. My dad got home and heard all about it. At the dinner table, when we said t, my sister gave thanks for nobody having gotten hurt in the fire. Dad gave thanks for the homes having been spared from the flames. And Mom said: ‘I thank you God for today we learned about safety, courage, and honesty.’ They all looked at me, smiling. I couldn't say anything, but I felt God's presence closer than ever.

I had to go see a judge and pay for my mistake with community service time. I wrote a letter of apology. My parents had to pay for damages, so I’m not getting an allowance for a long time. I guess that’s fair.

Jim told his parents what had happened, but when the police talked with them, they denied he had anything to do with the fire. His parents want to keep Jim out of trouble, and now they don’t let him spend time with me, as if it had been all my fault. I wonder how he really feels about the whole thing. I know I'm sorry I lost a friend that day.

Funny how it is sometimes. Jim’s soles melted in the fire, but my soul was able to take the heat.

(An earlier version of this story has been published in children’s magazines.)