Page 3 of Bronx

"Anyhow, I missed lunch, and Harrison, jerk that he was, never asked if I got to eat. He sent me back to class. I ran three races at the track meet on an empty stomach and in a pair of shoes that were more air than shoe."

"Ah, I see why this is a perfect moment. You got two first places and a second that day."

I shook my head. "Nope, those ribbons didn't mean shit to me. I was so cold and hungry by the time the meet ended that I was pissed as hell."

King snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "That's right. You got into a fight with that sixth grader, Chuck whatever the hell his name was. He was pissed cuz you left him in the dust on all three races."

"Yep, took a punch to the stomach that knocked the wind right out of me. I couldn't wait to get out of school that day only I knew I was going home to an empty house . . . again . . . and an empty fridge."

A tarantula crawled out from beneath some dead leaves. The two of us left our nostalgic memories a second to watch the monstrously big critter make its way across the trail.

"Shit, that thing looks like it could carry off a squirrel or possum," King said. "So where does the crystal clear, perfect moment come into play? Cuz I've got to say—if this is one of your great memories, I don't want to hear about the bad ones."

A lizard skittered out from under the fallen tree we were perched on. "Thought you checked this thing for reptiles before you sat down," King chided.

"Yeah, the kind with diamonds printed along their backs. Those lizards are harmless."

King rested back on his hands. "When does this moment get perfect?"

"That's where Millie Price comes in. Robbie saw me sitting on the icy ground still trying to suck air back into my lungs. He offered me a hand and asked if I wanted to go to his house and hang out for awhile. I felt bad that we were always ignoring the guy, so I said yes. Wasn't like my mom was going to be waiting for me with a warm bath and a plate of cookies. We walked to his house—"

"I only went inside his house once for a birthday party," King interrupted. "It was small but I remember there was a red and white checked table cloth on the kitchen table. I don't know why, but I thought that was cool. I even asked my mom if we could get one. She didn't even respond. I don't know why I liked it—guess it just showed Robbie's mom cared enough to put a nice cloth on the table."

"Yeah, the same cloth was on the table. Along with those cookies I'd been dreaming about. Chocolate chip. Millie gave me some warm sweats to wear. She even stuck them in her dryer first to heat them up. Robbie didn't mind me wearing his sweats. In fact, I think he was kind of glad." I shook my head. "Why the hell were we such jerks to him?"

King shrugged. "Maybe deep down we were jealous that he had a mom who baked cookies and put checked cloths on the table."

I nodded. "You might be right about that. Especially after that day. I'd been freezing my ass off that whole, terrible day. Hunger had been gnawing a hole in my stomach from the second I stepped out of bed, and after running all those races, I could barely see straight. Millie sensed it too. She cooked up a can of tomato soup and tossed a cheese sandwich on a frying pan. It was only stale white bread and that weird sliced stuff we called cheese back then. It was the best fucking grilled cheese I ever ate. And I remember that hour in Millie's kitchen, with her clock that had a rooster painted in the center and her collection of tea cups, like it was yesterday. It was the best thing in the world after the nightmare of a day."

"I'll bet." King leaned back and patted his stomach. "Speaking of a stomach gnawing itself with hunger. I think I'll head over to Steer Burger when we get back to the base. Wanna go?"

"Yeah, maybe. Let's first get down from this mountain before we start thinking about burgers, otherwise these next few miles are going to be torture."

"Let's move out," Mixx said as he heaved his backpack onto his shoulders.

It was almost harder putting the pack back on after a short rest. I grunted as I yanked it on. King made the same sound, only louder.

"Still don't get what made you think about Millie and her grilled cheese out here in the middle of a hot, dry trail," King said as we fell in line behind the others.

"Not sure," I said quietly. But I knew. King had brought up the memorial and that had triggered another memory, one that was so perfect every detail remained crystal clear in my head. Only thing was—it had no right being so damn perfect.

3

Two years earlier

Ipulled my jeep into one of the last parking spots at the Morgan Lake Recreation Center. The early September sun pierced through the front windshield like a laser. It was going to be another flaming hot day. The first week of September had brought some unusual and unexpected rain, a reprieve for those of us who fought wilderness fires. The wet weather prompted the idea of having our end of summer party a little early. Our luck could change at any minute, with a long bout of hot, dry weather like this afternoon. The moisture that gave the hillsides a nice drink for several days would evaporate soon enough, and we'd be back in our Kevlar suits with our parachutes and our axes.

I wasn't one to dislike parties, but this afternoon, I couldn't have been in less of a mood to celebrate. And that mood was only darkened by the next few minutes and a string of shitty texts and phone calls.

"I've moved the last of my stuff out. Stay safe." Carly added a heart emoji at the end of the text. It seemed a little cheesy considering how much fighting we had done at the end. The rough patches in our two year relationship turned to jagged ditches and finally a bottomless pit of anger. We both knew it was over six months earlier, but for some dumb reason we kept trying to make it work. In between the occasional nice dinner and always great sex, we were picking at each other, wearing down each other's souls by staying together.

"You too." I texted back. No heart emoji.

The lake and beach were behind an opaque set of oak trees but the thick canopy didn't block the music. A base beat thrummed against the sides of the jeep, causing the whole car to vibrate.

"Where are you at?" Kingston texted. "This is our party, remember? Goodbye rookie-hood."

Kingston and I were officially done being the rookies on the team. It felt good to know we'd pulled it off. When we left our hot shot crews to try out for two of the coveted spots on the smokejumping crew, neither of us were sure we'd make it. The process was grueling, both physically and mentally. And, even after all the training, nothing prepared you for your first moment staring out the open side of a plane as you're about to jump into a burning hillside. It was a rush and scary as fuck, but we loved it. No regrets. No turning back.

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