John hurried over, picking up the ball. "Jada, you okay?" he asked in his little nine-year-old voice.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered him wearily. Getting hit in the head with a baseball is not fun especially when it's thrown by the best pitcher in Adelaide, Australia.
John stepped back from me quickly as I stood up. Even he didn't like the feel of the heat coming from me. Anger mixed with the hurt I was already feeling as I looked into my older brother's face, the one who had thrown the ball.
He didn't look sympathetic or even sorry that he had hit me. All I could see on Jack's face was pleasure. And right then and there, I knew it had begun.
"John," I said in my bravest voice, "go back to your base. Let's get the game going." I held back the tears as John handed me the baseball ad ran back across the yard.
The ball in my hand started to fell softer and softer the longer I held onto it. I finally threw it and as it flew through the air toward Jack the baseball caught fire. Time for revenge, my dear older brother.
Jack stared in terror at the fireball coming straight for him. He ducked his head just in time and the baseball flew into a bush right behind him.
Flames soared into the air as the bush caught fire. I stared at it in amazement and my eyes grew wide in fear when I heard Jack yell, "Mom, call dad! The bushes are on fire!" Just so you know, my dad's the best fireman in the world.
Hearing Jack's screams my mother rushed out onto the back porch. She stared at her beautiful yard, which was now engulfed in flames, as she grabbed the phone and dialed the fire department.
After about a minute the sounds of sirens filled my ears. "Uh-oh. John, come on!" I yelled over the screaming sirens. They sure do not help the headache.
Dragging John behind me, I ran down the alley behind the house. I knew it was the road the fireman would be taking because they had done it so many times before.
As we turned the corner at the end of the alley we had a clear view of the Gulf St. Vincent. The fire truck zoomed down the road toward us. At the corner it started to turn but, as if some magical force were against it, the truck was pushed toward the Gulf.
The water flooded through the door on one side of the huge fire truck as it tipped over. John and I screamed at the same time; mixing with the sounds of water against the truck and the cries for help from the fireman.
"Jada, we've got to do something! Please!" John sobbed beside me. I had no idea what to do. I myself wanted to cry but I knew that I had to be an example for John.
I could see the heads of many familiar men appear above the water gasping for breath. But I never saw the most familiar face, the face of the man I loved most in the world: my father.
My uncle, the Fire Chief, saw us standing across the street at the entrance to the alley. He waved us over as he counted his men. "Jada, have you seen your father come up?" I shook my head slowly no, the truth settling on my mind.
"I'm going to go find him!" Uncle Roy pulled off all of his fireproof clothing and swam back into the water. I knew Uncle Roy was great but I never realized he would be willing to sacrifice his own life for my father's. Of course, it is something that I would do for John.
When he came back up, Uncle Roy was still alone. "Jada, John! Go home!" He tried to speak and catch his breath at the same time. "Have Jack call the cops and tell your mother that the door is stuck, the metal door. Your father's inside." John and I stood there in shock.
"Go! NOW!" Uncle Roy yelled!
At these last words I turned and ran back down the alley with John at my heels. This couldn't be true; they had to get my father out.
As I ran up my back lawn I tried to remember what Uncle Roy had told me about the door. The thoughts chased each other around and got mixed up in my mind. Stuck. Door. Dad. Metal. Stuck. Hurry! Call cops!
Jack was standing in front of my mother in the doorway. She was still staring in astonishment at her yard and the flames that were spreading everywhere.
"Mom, Jack!" Both sets of eyes came to rest on John and me.
"Jada, why did the sirens stop?" John looked at me questioningly.
"Help!" I cried, the tears finally spilling onto my cheeks. "Jack don't ask questions, just call the cops!" Panting, I tried to organize my thoughts to remember what I supposed to tell my mom. "Tell them the fire truck went into the gulf!"
Jack stared at me for a second. I could tell he didn't believe me. I had been known to play jokes before. "Go! Mom, Uncle Roy told me to tell you, 'the door is stuck, the metal door and dad's trapped inside.' Please do something." Whew. I remembered it all.
My relief was washed away when I heard my mother's muttering. All I heard was, "…fire truck's metal…metal door…Jeremy…inside."
"Mom, are you okay? Is dad going to be okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine." She sure didn't look or sound fine.
"Is Daddy going to be okay?" Both my mom and I glanced down in surprise. I don't think I'm the only one who had forgotten that John was standing there.
Mom answered ion a falsely cheerful voice, "Yes, he'll be fine." She grabbed John's hand and started leading him into the kitchen. "Who wants a cookie," she asked suddenly.
John started jumping up and down yelling, "Me! ME! ME!" All thoughts of my father vanished from his head. Kids sure have it easy. I wished I could have been nine again instead of twelve. It was going to be difficult being a teenager.
Standing in the doorway, I looked out at my blazing yard. Some of the fire was starting to creep toward the house. I better do something about this. I cleared my mind, closed my eyes, and concentrated. Nothing.
Disappointed, I followed my mother back into the kitchen and closed the door behind me. The fire in the yard disappeared.
The rest of the day went by in a haze. The thing that I remembered the most was Uncle Roy staying with us all day. He was there when the police came, the neighbors, more fire fighters, family; he was there when everybody came.
Uncle Roy asked John, Jack, and me if we wanted to play ball. I kindly declined-actually I yelled no- but to me that's kindness. Anyway, I declined because I figured that's how the whole thing had started; us playing baseball. John and Jack accepted though. I just sat and watched as they passed the ball back and forth.
Then, at 5 o'clock the thing I had been dreading happened. I remember he moment perfectly. John, Jack and Uncle Roy had stopped playing ball. They were all turned toward the kitchen. Uncle Roy had his hands on John's shoulders. I was sitting on the back porch, half standing, looking in at my mom.
After the shock of her scream faded I ran inside. My sudden movement seemed to cue the boys because they all followed me. "Mom!" The word escaped from mine and Jack's mouths at the same time. "What happened?"
As I reached the other end of the kitchen I had a perfect view of the front room. I could see my mom's tearstained face and I knew what had happened. "NO!" I screamed and turned around. I started to run back out of the house but my Uncle Roy stopped me.
He encircled me with his arms and pulled me into a huge hug, letting me cry onto his shoulder, while tears ran down his own face. "It'll be okay honey."
"Jada! Are you okay?" a familiar voice called.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered him wearily. Getting hit in the head with a baseball is not fun especially when it's thrown by the best pitcher in Adelaide, Australia.
John stepped back from me quickly as I stood up. Even he didn't like the feel of the heat coming from me. Anger mixed with the hurt I was already feeling as I looked into my older brother's face, the one who had thrown the ball.
He didn't look sympathetic or even sorry that he had hit me. All I could see on Jack's face was pleasure. And right then and there, I knew it had begun.
"John," I said in my bravest voice, "go back to your base. Let's get the game going." I held back the tears as John handed me the baseball ad ran back across the yard.
The ball in my hand started to fell softer and softer the longer I held onto it. I finally threw it and as it flew through the air toward Jack the baseball caught fire. Time for revenge, my dear older brother.
Jack stared in terror at the fireball coming straight for him. He ducked his head just in time and the baseball flew into a bush right behind him.
Flames soared into the air as the bush caught fire. I stared at it in amazement and my eyes grew wide in fear when I heard Jack yell, "Mom, call dad! The bushes are on fire!" Just so you know, my dad's the best fireman in the world.
Hearing Jack's screams my mother rushed out onto the back porch. She stared at her beautiful yard, which was now engulfed in flames, as she grabbed the phone and dialed the fire department.
After about a minute the sounds of sirens filled my ears. "Uh-oh. John, come on!" I yelled over the screaming sirens. They sure do not help the headache.
Dragging John behind me, I ran down the alley behind the house. I knew it was the road the fireman would be taking because they had done it so many times before.
As we turned the corner at the end of the alley we had a clear view of the Gulf St. Vincent. The fire truck zoomed down the road toward us. At the corner it started to turn but, as if some magical force were against it, the truck was pushed toward the Gulf.
The water flooded through the door on one side of the huge fire truck as it tipped over. John and I screamed at the same time; mixing with the sounds of water against the truck and the cries for help from the fireman.
"Jada, we've got to do something! Please!" John sobbed beside me. I had no idea what to do. I myself wanted to cry but I knew that I had to be an example for John.
I could see the heads of many familiar men appear above the water gasping for breath. But I never saw the most familiar face, the face of the man I loved most in the world: my father.
My uncle, the Fire Chief, saw us standing across the street at the entrance to the alley. He waved us over as he counted his men. "Jada, have you seen your father come up?" I shook my head slowly no, the truth settling on my mind.
"I'm going to go find him!" Uncle Roy pulled off all of his fireproof clothing and swam back into the water. I knew Uncle Roy was great but I never realized he would be willing to sacrifice his own life for my father's. Of course, it is something that I would do for John.
When he came back up, Uncle Roy was still alone. "Jada, John! Go home!" He tried to speak and catch his breath at the same time. "Have Jack call the cops and tell your mother that the door is stuck, the metal door. Your father's inside." John and I stood there in shock.
"Go! NOW!" Uncle Roy yelled!
At these last words I turned and ran back down the alley with John at my heels. This couldn't be true; they had to get my father out.
As I ran up my back lawn I tried to remember what Uncle Roy had told me about the door. The thoughts chased each other around and got mixed up in my mind. Stuck. Door. Dad. Metal. Stuck. Hurry! Call cops!
Jack was standing in front of my mother in the doorway. She was still staring in astonishment at her yard and the flames that were spreading everywhere.
"Mom, Jack!" Both sets of eyes came to rest on John and me.
"Jada, why did the sirens stop?" John looked at me questioningly.
"Help!" I cried, the tears finally spilling onto my cheeks. "Jack don't ask questions, just call the cops!" Panting, I tried to organize my thoughts to remember what I supposed to tell my mom. "Tell them the fire truck went into the gulf!"
Jack stared at me for a second. I could tell he didn't believe me. I had been known to play jokes before. "Go! Mom, Uncle Roy told me to tell you, 'the door is stuck, the metal door and dad's trapped inside.' Please do something." Whew. I remembered it all.
My relief was washed away when I heard my mother's muttering. All I heard was, "…fire truck's metal…metal door…Jeremy…inside."
"Mom, are you okay? Is dad going to be okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine." She sure didn't look or sound fine.
"Is Daddy going to be okay?" Both my mom and I glanced down in surprise. I don't think I'm the only one who had forgotten that John was standing there.
Mom answered ion a falsely cheerful voice, "Yes, he'll be fine." She grabbed John's hand and started leading him into the kitchen. "Who wants a cookie," she asked suddenly.
John started jumping up and down yelling, "Me! ME! ME!" All thoughts of my father vanished from his head. Kids sure have it easy. I wished I could have been nine again instead of twelve. It was going to be difficult being a teenager.
Standing in the doorway, I looked out at my blazing yard. Some of the fire was starting to creep toward the house. I better do something about this. I cleared my mind, closed my eyes, and concentrated. Nothing.
Disappointed, I followed my mother back into the kitchen and closed the door behind me. The fire in the yard disappeared.
The rest of the day went by in a haze. The thing that I remembered the most was Uncle Roy staying with us all day. He was there when the police came, the neighbors, more fire fighters, family; he was there when everybody came.
Uncle Roy asked John, Jack, and me if we wanted to play ball. I kindly declined-actually I yelled no- but to me that's kindness. Anyway, I declined because I figured that's how the whole thing had started; us playing baseball. John and Jack accepted though. I just sat and watched as they passed the ball back and forth.
Then, at 5 o'clock the thing I had been dreading happened. I remember he moment perfectly. John, Jack and Uncle Roy had stopped playing ball. They were all turned toward the kitchen. Uncle Roy had his hands on John's shoulders. I was sitting on the back porch, half standing, looking in at my mom.
After the shock of her scream faded I ran inside. My sudden movement seemed to cue the boys because they all followed me. "Mom!" The word escaped from mine and Jack's mouths at the same time. "What happened?"
As I reached the other end of the kitchen I had a perfect view of the front room. I could see my mom's tearstained face and I knew what had happened. "NO!" I screamed and turned around. I started to run back out of the house but my Uncle Roy stopped me.
He encircled me with his arms and pulled me into a huge hug, letting me cry onto his shoulder, while tears ran down his own face. "It'll be okay honey."
"Jada! Are you okay?" a familiar voice called.