Amanda

Matt. Oh, my God. Matt.

The blood rushed from my head. The gear I was packing squirted from my hands, hitting the ground with a dull thud. I watched, dizzy, as the ghost in front of my eyes stepped out of the glare and became a living thing. Not Matt. Tall, maybe even taller than Matt, same toast brown hair, same piercing brown eyes. But where Matt's eyes used to glint with a bit of mischief, this boy's eyes held something else.

Pain.

My heart gave a long slow roll when I realized who this was.

Reece Logan. Matt's brother.

Oh, crap. I shot an uneasy glance over my shoulder where the guys on Truck 3 checked their equipment, but the lieutenant wasn't with them. And then I remembered he wasn't on-shift on Wednesdays. Is that why Matt's brother was here — because he knew his father wouldn't be? I looked away, really wanting to avoid getting sucked into somebody else's family drama, but it was too late. He drifted closer to me, stood so close, I could feel the anxiety radiating off him in waves.

Damn it, when he spoke, he even sounded like Matt, but without the laugh in his voice. Frowning, I looked at him again. Now that I could see him up close, I noticed his face was more angular, his lips thinner than Matt's and there was a tiny scar running through one eyebrow. When he took out a completed application from the bag on his shoulder, my mouth unhinged. He said something about Matt's funeral and I swear, I'd have blasted him between the eyes if Mr. Beckett hadn't picked that minute to walk in, crinkling a bag of potato chips.

He saw me talking to this boy and immediately frowned. "Amanda? Problem here?"

Crap, crap, shit. Mr. Beckett had a strict No Boys rule.

I quickly got rid of Logan and turned to my foster father. "Sorry about that."

He upended the rest of the chips into his mouth, folded up the bag and put it in his pocket with a frown. "Who was that boy?"

I shrugged. "A new volunteer."

"Do you know him?"

Don't lie. Do not lie. No Lying is another rule. "His father's a lieutenant here."

Mr. Beckett's eyebrows shot up over his glasses. "Really? He certainly didn't look twelve."

I shook my head. "He's not. He's in my grade, so he's probably sixteen."

"I wonder why he's volunteering now? What changed?"

I didn't wonder. I knew. "His brother got killed back in December."

"Ah. How tragic." Tragic — yeah, but Mr. Beckett's expression relaxed. "But are you sure don't know him personally? You seemed extremely upset speaking to him."

Oh, I knew Reece Logan. But I shook my head. "I never spoke to him until today." Not a lie. "I know the lieutenant and from what he says, he and his son do not get along. I don't want that drama spilling over onto my squad."

Mr. Beckett pressed his lips into a thin line and looked down at me, over the rims of his glasses. "I'm not comfortable with you continuing here if there's going to be drama."

Oh, God. The blood in my veins froze. Junior Squad was all I had — he couldn't take that away from me. I shook my head firmly. "There won't be. I won't let that happen."

Mr. Beckett considered that for a moment and finally smiled. "Okay. Just be sure you keep things entirely professional with that boy."

I nearly cried with relief when Mr. Beckett turned to leave.

"Oh, by the way... I came in to tell you I can't pick you up tonight. Can you get a lift?"

Yeah, from a boy. "Sure. No problem. Thanks, Mr. Beckett."

"What's on the agenda tonight?"

"Uh, we're doing PPE."

He flashed a wistful smile. "Oh, that's a fun one. Okay, have a good class. Don't let that boy's drama become yours."

Oh, count on it.

After Mr. Beckett walked back to his car, I finished checking the equipment on Engine 21.

"Man, got a minute?"

I looked up, found Neil Ernst, our instructor, standing behind me, his face tense. Immediately, I snapped up straight.

"Sure, Lieutenant. What's up?"

He waved a hand toward the parking lot, so I followed him out through the bay doors. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.

I started to sweat. This was bad.

"Um, yeah, so, the wife and I are moving to Florida. She got a really good job waiting down there and yeah. We're leaving Long Island."

I was nodding like I totally understood but all I kept thinking was what about us? I took a deep breath. "What about J Squad?"

Neil shrugged. "Chief's still making up his mind. He'll probably ask Steve Conner to take over for me."

I was still nodding like some lame bobble-head toy. "Okay, so congratulations. Or good luck." Or whatever.

"Yeah, thanks. Um, so I just want you to know I think you're one of the best damn cadets we've ever taught here. I hope you'll continue. When you turn seventeen, you're eligible for full volunteer status."

I knew that. I was planning to, assuming the Becketts didn't ship me back into the system. "Uh, thank you."

"I mean it, Man. You've been a great leader, a great assistant, and you really know your stuff. Whoever the chief puts in charge of J Squad, I know you'll be his greatest asset."

My face burned under the praise, but it made me happy to hear. I worked my ass off for the squad, for LVFD. It was nice knowing that was appreciated. "So, what about tonight's class?"

"Oh, um, yeah. So that's why I told you our plans. I can't stay tonight. We've got some hot shot real estate agent coming by tonight to appraise our place. Says she can get it sold like that," he snapped his fingers. "So I told the chief I couldn't do tonight's class. But you can. You've done PPE before — so has everybody else. Just run the practice drills and you'll be fine."

Still nodding. "Yeah. Okay."

Neil held out his hand. "Thanks, Amanda. For everything."

I shook my instructor's hand. That was the only time I could remember him calling me Amanda. To everyone here, I was Man — short for Mandy, but a way of making me feel like one of the guys.

That had been Matt Logan's idea.

While I watched Neil Ernst walk away, my eyes got stuck on Engine 21. It had been right there. That's where I first met Matt Logan, two years ago. I'd been standing behind my foster father, trying not to shake in my second-hand shoes.

"Hey. Can I help you?" He'd asked and smiled in a way that almost melted me into a puddle.

"Hi," Mr. Beckett shook his hand. "This is Amanda and she'd like to join the Junior Squad. Right, Mandy?"

I think I may have nodded or something. I know I hadn't been able to manage the powers of speech. Matt Logan was gorgeous and I wasn't allowed to talk to boys.

Like I said — it was a foster house rule.

There were a lot of them. Don't become a Statistic. (There were a ton of scary statistics about foster kids.) Don't use drugs. Don't steal. Don't lie. Don't defy. Don't skip school. I learned most of those at my first foster house. Mrs. Merodie's. I didn't last long there because there was one really big rule I didn't know about until after.

Don't love your foster parents.

"You're in luck," Matt had said. "We're having our meeting later. Come on. I'll get you started." He'd let us upstairs to the chief's office, Mr. Beckett signed the forms, and a few minutes later, I was officially a Junior Squad cadet. Mr. Beckett promised he'd be back later to pick me up and left me there, having a private panic attack. What if he didn't come back? Where would I go? Who would take care of me?

"We meet here every Wednesday night and Saturday morning. Bring a notebook." Matt led me into the conference room, where three boys sat with their feet on top of the table at the front of the room. "Guys, this is Mandy. She's our newest cadet."

I remember trying not to cry when all three boys eyeballed me. They were so different. One looked like he was twenty, tall and hairy and muscular. Another looked like a fire hydrant — short, wide, no neck. And the third boy was a scrawny kid that looked young enough to still believe in Santa.

Max, the muscular one, had stood up, walked over to me and put his hand on the wall, trapping me. My heart had started racing. He leaned in close, too close. "I'm Max. Anything you need, you tell me."

Beside me, Matt's tone suddenly went ice cold. "Max. Cut the playa act."

Max shot up one finger ordering Matt to wait a minute, his eyes never leaving mine. "How old are you?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't remember. Max was standing so close, I could count the whiskers that lined his jaw and the way he smelled...God!

"She's fourteen, Max."

White teeth flashed. "So am I so that's perfect."

My eyes popped. He was fourteen? Steroids. It was the only explanation.

Suddenly, Matt was standing between us. "Off limits."

Max's lips tightened but after a short glaring contest, he nodded and went back to his seat at the front table.

Matt led me to a seat, handed me a huge text book.

"Logan!" Lieutenant Neil Ernst had barked from the doorway. "A word, please."

Matt headed into the hall with the lieutenant and I tried not to shift and squirm under the stares from all those boys. A few minutes later, he was back. "Special assignment, cadets. Mandy passes all her practicals, or we all fail. Got it?"

"What? That's bull-"

"Tobay. This is a squad. She is now our sister."

Max sucked on the inside of his cheek. "Copy that."

The kid who was shaped like a hydrant had shaken his head, muttered something that sounded like, "Be easier if she was a guy." His name was Ricky, but everyone called him Bear for obvious reasons, I suppose.

Matt angled his head. "Then start treating her that way."

A few minutes after that, Gage Garner walked in. The fact that I was a girl had no impact on him at all. He nodded, shook my hand, and settled in to take notes. I didn't have a notebook. Matt ripped some blank pages out of his and slid them to me. "Got a pen, Man?"

I shook my head so he took one from his pocket, slid that over.

"Can you talk?"

Startled, I blinked at him and nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. Um, thanks."

He grinned. "Oh, good. I was starting to worry."

Lieutenant Neil Ernst began his lesson. It had been about fire suppression. I learned later that all of the boys, except for Kevin, had begun J Squad when they were twelve. They had two years of training over me. "Don't worry, Man," Matt had said. "We'll get you up to speed fast. Right, guys?" There was a second or two of hesitation, but they all nodded. Whatever they felt about me didn't matter; they liked Matt Logan. Respected him. Listened to him.

I had been Man ever since. Matt made me one of the guys that day, made me part of a family, a brotherhood. He gave me something that was mine, something I could keep no matter what foster home I landed in. And now, he was dead and everything changed. Our lieutenant was moving away, the boy responsible for Matt's death wanted to join my squad, and Mr. Beckett wasn't sure he wanted me to stay and I realized I didn't have a damn thing.

The PA system crackled into life. "Jamison, chief's office. Jamison to the chief's office."

I hightailed back inside and upstairs and wondered how much longer I'd get to be Man.