Tommy’s shoulders sank even more and he started walking back to the group.
“That’s okay,” Adam said, sending Harper a wink that had her knees wobbling. “Questions mean he’s interested.” Adam looked at Tommy. “What’s your question?”
“Are you going to hook it up so we can see?”
Adam got down on one knee and held the nozzle for Tommy to look at. “There are a lot of components when it comes to working the hose, so we use it just when we’re fighting fires.”
His hand went up again and Adam, once again, entertained him. “If we start a fire, you’d have to put it out, and we could hook it up and turn on the water.”
William’s hand shot up, but he didn’t wait to be called on. “That would be awesome! Miss H said we have to visualize what we want to paint and the hose looks like a spaghetti noodle, so all I can visualize is spaghetti, and I’m not allowed to eat spaghetti.”
Adam didn’t even bat a lash at the ridiculous train of ideas. Instead he straightened and looked at the group, all twelve of them, who were looking back expectantly, their little bodies quivering with excitement as if waiting for him to light a blow torch, then crank the water to high and make their day as fantastical as a Disney movie.
“That is what our imaginations are for,” he said. “Real fires are dangerous. Even the smallest ones can get out of control quickly, which is why you should never play with fire. And if you see one, you go to safety and call . . .”
He put a hand to his ear and the kids all yelled, “Nine. One. One.”
“My dad starts fires on our property.” This was from Tommy, who was now pacing in front as if he had the floor. “And he holds his hose all by himself.”
“Your dad would have gotten permission from the city to burn things on the property. And his hose is probably your average garden-variety, easy to handle,” Adam said, then looked right at Harper and she felt a little fire start in her belly. “This hose here pushes water out at a force of eight hundred to two thousand kilopascal units a second. That’s fast enough to stop a bullet.”
“Like the Flash?”
Adam looked back at Tommy and that fire in Harper’s belly warmed its way clear to her chest. Because Adam put his hand on the boy’s slim shoulder and said, “Just like the Flash. Which makes you the perfect guy to help me.” Even though he was juggling a dozen kids with a dozen different expectations, Adam was aware enough to understand the moment for what it was. This was a chance to connect with a kid who had a hard time connecting with people. “Who wants to go inside the engine?”
Every arm went in the air with so much gusto that most of them had to be supported by the other hand.
“Well, you need one of these first.” Adam grabbed a stack of plastic fire hats off the back of the engine. “And to get one you have to come up and hold the hose, then tell the class something you learned today that you didn’t know before.”
“About fires and hoses?” Violet asked.
“About anything. It just has to be something you learned today that you think is cool.”
“Like if a cat gets stuck up in a tree you will come rescue him, but if there is a bad guy at the door I should call Mister Dax?”
“Something like that,” Adam grumbled. “Now I need an honorary fireman to demonstrate how to control the nozzle, so everyone can see what it looks like.” He made a big deal about studying each kid, up close and scratching his head, so that they giggled, then his eyes landed on Tommy. “You up for that, Flash?”
Tommy nodded, so hard his shoes blinked as if giving off Morse code for Holy smokes.
“Great, put your hand here.” Adam took his time, guiding Tommy’s hands, moving his feet to a stance, slowly instructing him how to hold the nozzle while his classmates looked on in awe. Then Adam did the one thing that could make Tommy cool—he pulled his own fire helmet from a closet and slid it on Tommy’s head. “Now who wants to come up here so Tommy can show you how to properly hold the hose?”
A cacophony of excited Me-mes filled the room, and Adam pointed to a red X taped to the ground. “A good firefighter knows that being a team player and knowing how to follow directions are important to everyone involved. So let’s start the line here. Girls first, then boys. And we go in order of youngest to oldest.”
“That’s lame,” William, the oldest boy in the class, said, folding his arms over his chest.
“That’s called being a good guy,” Adam said, not an ounce of waver in his voice. “And it’s up to the big guys like you, who are older and have more experience, to make sure the littler ones don’t get lost in the shuffle. Help them figure things out.”