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Sick to his stomach, Mike crouched at the side of the football field, retching onto the grass. Coach Jensen meant what he said, too. He’d punish the entire St. Paul’s Catholic High School football team if one member had an infraction, so Mike Saint turned to get back on the gravel but fell to his knees.
“Crawl if you have to, damnit. You’re not getting away with this.”
Standing behind the coach in the crowd of team members, Devon Lyon clenched and unclenched his fists. He was on the edge—either punch the coach in the face and get kicked off the team and suspended two months before graduation, or help Mike stand up and make it around the track. He ran around the coach to the other side of the field and got alongside Mike.
“Get up, buddy. He’s out for blood.”
“Okay,” Mike moaned, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. “I feel like shit.”
“Let’s go.”
“Leave him on his own,” Coach Jensen yelled, but Devon ignored him.
Devon propped him up, holding on to his arm, with the other around Mike’s waist, and he started to run, dragging him around the track. In seconds, another teammate joined him, and soon, the entire team surrounded them, running the final lap of the two-mile run in a cluster.
Within hours, the whole school heard about it, and in spite of following the coach’s orders, both boys were suspended and prohibited from going to prom.
Devon’s parents were livid and ended up hiring a lawyer to represent both boys. The Saints had six kids, and there was no money for attorneys. In the end, the boys would graduate and their prom privileges were reinstated, but both of their dates had found other prom partners, so Devon and Mike went to prom together.
Devon and Mike sat on the side of the pool, legs dangling in the water. The housekeeper, Yolanda, had brought out a tray of lemonade and homemade sugar cookies.
“You live in a fairy tale,” Mike said, thanking Yolanda.
The lemonade was fresh squeezed from trees on their property, the cookies still warm out of the oven. Mike took one cookie, but Yolanda pushed the tray at the skinny teen.
“I like it at your house,” Devon said, frowning. “It’s never boring.”
“That’s for sure. Too many kids make it too noisy to be boring. That’s why I’m always here.”
They finished the cookies, and then Mike pushed Devon in the water, and the roughhousing commenced.
“You two are like ten-year-olds instead of seventeen,” Mr. Lyon said, laughing. ““What are you two going to do with your lives now?” Mr. Lyon had asked after graduation.“Devon, you have a decision to make. You’ve been accepted at two of the best colleges in southern California, and they aren’t going to wait forever. Where are you going to school?”
Mike and Devon looked at each other.
“We’re going to the firefighter academy, Dad,” Devon said. “Mr. Saint is a firefighter and so was Mike’s grandfather and his brother Joey.
Mr. Lyon glanced off over the amazing vista, thinking. His only child wanted to be a fireman. It wasn’t something they’d ever discussed before. They’d expected Devon to follow inhisfather’s footsteps and go to the University of California at San Diego, like he had. The engineering firm of Raymond Lyon, Inc., just waited to become Lyon and Son. Now he was learning his son would follow in the footsteps of his friend’s dad instead.
Leaning forward with elbows on knees, Ray Lyon thought carefully before he spoke. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Get a bachelor’s, then go to the academy.”
Devon didn’t respond because he didn’t want to leave Mike behind, and Mike’s family wasn’t about to send Mike to college. He didn’t want to say that out loud. But Ray Lyon was a wise man and he had an idea for Mike. Later that night, when the family was around the dining table, he broached the subject with Devon.
“The Army Reserves will pay for Mike’s college tuition. I bet fire science is an approved course. Either that or paramedic training. He’ll have to take six weeks of his summer vacation to do basic training, but after that it’s weekends only once a month and two weeks a year. Talk to him about it.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Devon said, thinking the man had enough money to pay for two college educations, but he couldn’t ask that and be subject to the aftermath. “I’ll mention it to Mike.”
He did, too, and taking the advice, Mike enlisted the following week so he’d be ready for classes in the fall. Both boys were accepted into UCLA’s paramedic program, lasting two years. It wasn’t a bachelor’s degree, but just about. Ray paid for an apartment for the boys close to their classes. Once a month, Mike left for Army Reserves weekend duty, and once a year, he did two weeks of training.
When they were finished after almost two years, they moved back home and were completing work on a certificate in firefighting from the local college. Right before graduation, Mike met Aisling.
“Come on, Mike. You need to get out,” Devon had cajoled.
They were both on course for major burnout, which Mike loved to say, a little play on words. “Get it? We’re going to fire school? Burnout? Fire? Burnout?”
“Yeah, I get it,” Devon said, laughing. “Seriously. This sounds like a great party. It’s not your standard graduation party. The girl’s apartment is in Oceanside right on the beach. She’s very nice. We’ll meet some new people, have a few brewskies. Come. I don’t want to go without you.”
“Okay. I’ll probably fall asleep.”
