I considered it for a second. When I had agreed to tag along for poker night, I had promised myself that I’d only stick around for a couple of rounds before I bailed and went home. But now, I had to admit that I was actually enjoying myself.
“I’ll stick around for one more round,” I decided.
“‘Atta boy!” Josh said, clapping his hand on my shoulder proudly. “I’ll deal you in!”
“I’m gonna grab another beer, first,” I said, eyeing my empty bottle on the table. “Anyone else ready for another round?”
I didn’t have any takers, but as I made my way towards the spiral staircase leading up towards the kitchen, Duke cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted after me, “Hey, if you hear any dramatic sobbing while you’re up there, just ignore it… it’s probably just Troy feeling sorry for himself.”
I smirked and rolled my eyes, then I climbed up the stairs to the upper level of the firehouse. The kitchen was empty. I flicked on the lights and chucked my beer bottle into the recycling bin, then I cracked open the fridge to peruse the assortment of brews.
I was debating between a local IPA and a lager when I heard footsteps. When I glanced over the fridge door and saw Logan Ford stride into the room, I felt my blood thicken.
His hands were wedged in the front pockets of his jeans and he had a blank expression on his face. He walked towards me, but stopped a few paces short.
It wasn’t easy working in close proximity to the guy who used to make my life a living hell back in high school. I’d been doing my best to avoid Logan Ford, and the pursuit seemed to be mutual.
Until now.
Stay cool, I told myself. Be the bigger man.
“What are you drinking?” I asked, nodding towards the open fridge.
Logan looked confused, then he blinked at the selection of beers and muttered,
“Umm… just a Miller Lite.”
I reached for a white can and resisted the urge to shake it before I tossed it towards him. He caught it with one hand, but didn’t make any motion to pop open the can or walk back towards the stairs leading down to the vehicle bay.
What do you want? I was tempted to ask, but I kept my mouth shut as I turned back to the fridge and grabbed myself a Voodoo Ranger IPA.
“Hey, listen…” Logan said behind me. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s been eating at me ever since I saw you in the locker room that day…”
“Oh really?” I kept my back to him as I popped the metal cap off of my beer and took a swig. I savored the mouthful of bitter hoppiness, then I swallowed and slowly turned around.
Logan Ford had been the antagonist in nearly every bad memory I had from high school. Maybe his words didn’t leave visible scars on me, but they stayed burned and branded in my brain, even years after the fact.
I could have just about stomached his constant mocking and insults, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Logan Ford was the literal embodiment of everything I wasn’t; everything I couldn’t be.
He lived in the nice part of town, where the streets were so clean you could eat a sandwich off of ‘em. His dad was a town hero -- a firefighter at Firehouse 56 -- and his mom was a modern-day June Cleaver. They were the perfect, all-American family, and Logan was the perfect, all-American son.
He was a star football player in college. He had good hair and a wardrobe that looked like it came straight off the pages of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue. He drove around in a shiny red convertible that he had gotten for his sixteenth birthday, and he threw wild house parties when his parents went out of town.
We were cut from different loaves; Logan Ford was like a slice of pristine, bleached-white Wonder Bread… and I was like the unwanted end piece from a stale, day-old loaf of food bank bread.
I always knew the score. I was well aware of the fact that I rode the bus to school and wore clothes from Salvation Army and smelled like my stepfather’s cigarettes.
Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that Logan Ford was better than me. It was fucking obvious. But that didn’t stop Logan from making it his personal mission to remind me of my inferiority, day after day after day…
Even now, nearly a decade later, part of me still expected Logan Ford to make a snide remark or cruel insult when I turned to face him in the firehouse kitchen.
I definitely wasn’t prepared for what he had to say.
“I owe you an apology, Rory,” he said.
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I folded my arms across my chest without saying anything, waiting for him to continue.
“I was a total ass to you in high school,” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Actually, I was a total ass to everyone… but I was especially an ass to you.”
“I know it’s not an excuse,” he said, looking up at me, “But I felt like my world was falling apart. Everyone thought I had this perfect life… but the truth was, it was an act. My dad was cheating on my mom. My mom dealt with it by popping pills until she turned herself into a zombie. I felt all of this pressure on my shoulders to hold it all together. I had to be perfect; it wasn’t a choice.”
Logan leaned back on the countertop and flicked his eyes up towards me. His face was so full of humility and shame that I barely recognized him.
“It must sound like such a cliché, the popular jock, looking for an easy target,” he shook his head. “But it wasn’t like that. Believe it or not, Rory… I was actually jealous of you.”
“Fuck off,” I snorted, rolling my eyes.
“That’s the God-honest truth,” Logan held up his palms. “At fifteen years old, my entire life was already planned out for me, what position I had to play in football, who I could be friends with, what scholarships I needed to win, what scouts I had to impress, what university I had to get into…”
“Sounds really tough,” I scoffed bitterly.
“It fucking sucked,” Logan said. “But you… you had total freedom. Nobody was telling you what clothes to wear, or who to talk to, or what you had to be when you grew up. Rory, you could have been anything you wanted to be. Anything.”
“I couldn’t be you,” I corrected him. “I had ‘freedom’ because my parents didn’t give a shit about me. I would have given that up in a heartbeat for your life.”
“I guess the grass is always greener on the other side, right?”
Can your grass look greener, if you don’t actually have any grass in the first place?
My shoulders were tense and my chest was full of knots. I wanted to be angry. I wanted to hate Logan. But when I glanced across the kitchen, I didn’t see the guy that used to torment me back in high school; I saw a grown man weighed down by regret and remorse.
Were we really all that different, Logan and I?
My mind flashed back to that night at the construction site, when I had lit a fire and nearly burned a house to the ground. Hadn’t I been a stupid teenager, acting out of hurt and frustration? Hadn’t I come to feel regret and remorse for my mistakes, too?
“I know that an apology won’t make it better,” Logan said, “But I am sorry, and I--”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I repeated. “All is forgiven. That was a long time ago… let’s leave the past in the past and start fresh.”
“Wait… really?” Logan blinked at me in disbelief.
“Really,” I said, and I meant it.
A grudge is a heavy thing to hold onto, and I had been holding onto my grudge against Logan Ford for years. Not anymore. I couldn’t let the weight of my past hold me back anymore.
It was time to let go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR | DESIREE
Knock, knock.
I had just finished packing my bag after the sixth-period dismissal bell, when I heard a soft tapping sound coming from the door to my classroom. I glanced up and saw Callie Watson standing in the doorway.
“Hey Miss L,” she said. “You said you wanted to
see me after school?”
“Callie! Perfect timing!” I grinned, standing up behind my desk. “I’ve got a little surprise for you today!”
My ‘little surprise’ had actually been a work in progress since last week, when I had first pitched my idea to the principal. Our discussion had gone so well that he had invited me to present my idea to other members of the administration later that week, and from there it had evolved into a full-fledged plan.
And today, that plan was finally becoming a reality.
I pulled open the drawer underneath my desk and pulled out a bright neon orange traffic vest. I slipped it on over my shoulders, then spun around in a little circle.
“Ta-dah!” I announced. “What do you think?”
“It’s… umm… a bold fashion statement?” Callie said awkwardly.
“Well I’m definitely wearing it to make a statement,” I said. “But not about fashion. Actually, this is my new bus monitor uniform!”
“Bus monitor?” Callie repeated.
“That’s me,” I nodded proudly. Then, with a tiny salute, I added, “Bus Monitor Leduc, reporting for duty.”
Callie still looked confused, so I explained,
“I was really troubled when you told me about that group of guys that bullies you when you walk to and from the bus lanes. So last week, I met with the principal to discuss possible solutions--”
“Oh, Miss Leduc, you didn’t have to do that!” Callie’s face turned bright red.
“Of course I did,” I insisted. “Nobody should have to deal with that, or feel like it’s unsafe to walk around this school. Something had to be done. Luckily, the principal agreed… and we came up with the bus monitor program!”
I turned around again to flash the back of my vest, where the words ‘BUS MONITOR’ were spelled out in big bold letters.
“Starting now, there will be group of faculty members monitoring the parking lot and bus lanes before and after school every day,” I explained. “Right now we’re working on a volunteer basis with teachers, but if things go well, the principal will propose hiring additional monitors at the next school board meeting.”
“Miss L, that’s… amazing!” Callie gushed. I saw tears welling up in her eyes, and she immediately started fanning her hands in front of her face to whisk them away.
“Nobody has ever done anything like that for me,” she added, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Well somebody should have done it a long time ago,” I said. “Unfortunately, most students aren’t as brave as you are. It’s a lot easier to keep your head down and not say anything. But not you. You spoke up, and now you helped make a big difference here at Hartford High.”
I grabbed my bag and swung it over my shoulder, then I motioned for Callie to follow me.
“Come on,” I grinned. “You’ve got a bus to catch!”
Callie and I walked together, navigating through the crowds of students that were milling out of the building and making their way towards the bus lanes.
When we pushed through the exit doors, I heard an audible gulp.
“That’s them,” Callie whispered under her breath. I followed her line of vision to a group of guys that had camped out by the side of the building. They were cackling and exchanging jokes, and their eyes lit up as soon as they spotted Callie.
“Act casual,” I hissed. “I’ve got your back.”
I dropped back a few steps and kept my eye on the group of guys. One of them kicked away his skateboard and cracked his knuckles, then started to saunter towards Callie.
“Hey baby,” he jeered. “Long time no see! I was starting to think you were hiding from me…”
“Leave me alone,” Callie muttered in a tiny voice.
“What’s that? I can’t hear you?” he asked loudly, leaning towards her. “It sounded like you said, ‘take me home.’ Is that what you said?”
The rest of the guys cackled as they watched from a distance. I decided that I had seen enough. I stomped forward, slipping through the crowd and stepping directly between Callie and the douchebag.
“Is there a problem here?” I barked, staring him straight in the eye. When I heard the strength in my own voice, I immediately got goosebumps.
“Nah, man… we’re just talking,” he said nonchalantly.
“Is that so?” I challenged him. “Because it looked to me like she was asking you to leave her alone.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” he shrugged, flashing a cocky smile.
“Well, if you’re having difficulty hearing, I would encourage you to visit the school nurse for a comprehensive hearing impairment screening,” I snapped. “But since you seem to be hearing me just fine now, I’m guessing that the real problem here is comprehension.”
“Thanks for your concern,” he glared back at me, “But my comprehension skills are just fine.”
“Good. Then you shouldn’t have any problem comprehending this,” I said, holding up my pad of detention slips. His face immediately melted and he shrank back.
“What is your name?” I asked, pressing my pen down onto the pad. Before he could answer for himself, Callie stepped forward.
“Dustin Smith,” she said loudly. Her face was bright, filled with pride and newfound confidence. “His name is Dustin Smith.”
By the time I had finished sentencing Dustin Smith to an after-school detention session, I had a hunch that him -- and the rest of his posse -- wouldn’t be giving Callie much grief anytime soon. Still, I continued walking with her the rest of the way to the bus lanes.
She waited until we were out of earshot before she turned to me and squealed,
“Ohmygod, that was the most epic thing I have ever witnessed!” she pumped her fists into the air triumphantly. Then she added, “Miss L, that was literally the best moment of my entire life!”
“Well I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I smiled. “But I can promise you this much, the best is yet to come.”
We were walking along the final stretch of sidewalk that led towards the bus lanes when Callie stopped in her tracks and gasped again.
“What?” I asked urgently. “Do you see those guys again? Are they coming back?”
“It’s not that,” she shook her head frantically, eyes flooding with panic. “It’s… him.”
She nodded straight ahead, and when I glanced that way I saw a boy dressed in all black. He was wearing a pair of headphones and glaring down, kicking at the ground as he walked. His hair was shaggy and overgrown, and there was something about him that was immediately familiar.
It took me a second to realize why, and then it hit me, he reminded me of Rory.
“Who is that guy?” I whispered to Callie.
“Oh, just the love of my life,” she hissed back. She let out a deep sigh, and her shoulders sank down at her sides. “Too bad he doesn’t even know I exist.”
I smiled, understanding the situation immediately.
“Well… have you ever tried introducing yourself?” I asked. “That might be a good place to start.”
“We have photography class together,” Callie explained.
“Ok… so he does know you exist,” I nodded. “We can check that off the list.”
“Barely.”
“Have you ever tried talking to him?”
“A few times,” Callie admitted. “Just about random stuff, though. Like photography, music, school, politics, our shared hatred for competitive sports…”
“It sounds like you guys have actually talked quite a bit,” I said.
“I guess,” Callie shrugged. “But he’s probably just being nice. I mean… if he was actually interested in me, wouldn’t he just ask me to the homecoming dance?!”
“Not necessarily,” I shrugged. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask him.”
“Yeah right,” Callie gulped nervously. Her eyes went wide and she shook her head, “I could never do that!”
“Why not?”
/> “Because that would be terrifying!” she said. “Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up!”
“Maybe he feels the same way,” I pointed out. “Guys can get nervous and shy, too, you know…”
My mind drifted to Rory. I couldn’t help but think about how many years we had wasted, pretending we didn’t have feelings for each other...
“I know,” Callie sighed wearily. “But I can’t ask him. I just can’t!”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked.
“Umm… he could say no. And then I’d be mortified. I’d have to switch schools. I’d have to get a new identity. I’d have to move to another state--”
“I think you’re being a little bit dramatic,” I grinned. “It would definitely suck, but at least you would know how he felt. You would never have to wonder ‘what if?’ or regret not trying.”
“What would you do, if you were me?” Callie asked.
“I was you once,” I said, thinking about Rory again. “I was in love with my best friend, but we were both too terrified to say anything.”
“So… what happened?”
“I thought I had lost him forever,” I said. “But we got a second chance. Everything worked out exactly the way it was supposed to.”
“Would you do anything differently, if you could?” Callie asked.
I sighed. That was a hard question to answer. So much had happened in the eleven years that Rory and I had spent apart; things that I wouldn’t change for the world, like Charlotte.
Maybe we had to grow apart, so we could come back together when the time was right. Was there anything worth doing differently, if the outcome was the same?
“Yes,” I said finally. “I would have asked him to the homecoming dance.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE | RORY
“Alright, Chef Charlie,” I called over my shoulder. “Can you read me the ingredients list?”
Charlotte gave an affirmative nod, then she scampered towards the kitchen table to grab her iPad.
“We need… chicken.”
“Got it,” I said, reaching into the refrigerator for a vacuum-sealed pack of raw chicken breast.
“Butter.”
The Complete Firehouse 56 Series Page 75