Accidental Hero Ch. 01-04

Fire Marshall Craig Dullins showed up just as he had promised at four o'clock.

"How old are you, Ian?"

"Sixteen, Sir."

"Well, for a teenager, you are one in a hundred. You handled that situation in the works yard exactly the right way. I'm convinced you saved the driver's life, but I suppose the ambulance crew will take the credit," he chuckled.

"I'm just glad I was able to do something. I've had some first aid training, so that was what helped me do the right thing."

"Well, you definitely did the right thing. Well done, Ian. You might want to think about a career in the fire department. I can see you are very fit and strong. Let me know if you are interested when you are finished school."

"Thanks, Sir. I'll give that some thought. I've got a couple of years of school left yet, so it won't be soon," I smiled.

"No need to rush. Just remember what I said. You acted decisively in a very difficult situation and saved a man's life. That's no small thing."

The police wanted to know if I saw anyone in the yard that didn't belong there and I told them no. They tried to convince me that someone could sneak by me, but I assured them that except for when I was helping get Mr. Delaney out of the way and looking for Carlos, I never left the shack. I also reminded them that there was a security camera on the site and that should tell them if I was right or not. They looked a little embarrassed that they didn't check that first. Security cameras weren't common on industrial sites.

The explosion was all over the news again that night. They reported that Carlos Montoya had been killed and that the police had ruled out foul play. They also reported that the gate guard was responsible for saving the life of one of the employees, but didn't name me. Thank you for that. It sounded like no one was giving out much information so far. I wondered how long that would last. The answer was ... one day.

The Tuesday noon and evening news carried a picture of me, the burned out truck, and a picture of Carlos. Mr. Fosdick was interviewed and gave me a lot of credit for being the person who turned in the alarm and saved Jack Delaney. The Fire Marshall also mentioned my name and gave me a lot of praise as well. Oh brother, here we go again. Ian Dunlop, boy hero, has struck again.

Mr. Ullman, my principal at middle school, had been promoted to principal of Bennett High School, the school I was attending. He knew my previous record of doing good deeds, so sure as heck, on Tuesday morning, the PA system once again noted that there was a hero amongst the student body - namely, me. He also managed to include my previous exploits, naming the school bus incident and saving Kelsey Bates from certain death. I was cringing in my seat as the whole homeroom class turned around and stared at me.

It took a week for things to calm down and return to something like normal. I got a lot of comments about saving people becoming a habit and maybe I should apply for the job as Superman. I laughed. I remembered that was what Chug suggested when I saved Kelsey all those years ago. I had the feeling, though, that some of the kids were just waiting to see what I would do next. Who was I going to rescue this time? Thank goodness they got tired of waiting and forgot about it.

But the girls didn't forget. They were pretty obvious in their interest in me. It's not like I wasn't interested in finding a girlfriend, it was just that I wanted to do the choosing, not them. I admit, I was still hung up about Kelsey. She was my first and only girlfriend and I guess I was looking for another copy of her. So far, I hadn't found one.

~*~

By grade twelve, I had gone through three girls who wanted to be my girlfriend. They were all nice and not someone with a reputation, but none of them seemed to connect with me. I broke up with them, and for the most part, I think they knew we weren't right for each other. I might have been a hero a year or two ago, but that wasn't enough to make us serious friends.

I haven't mentioned my school work much. I wasn't an A student, but I was pretty well up in the B average. Also, I was getting worried about what I would do when this year ended. Would I go to college? What would I study? What did I want to be when my education was over? I really didn't know. And worse, I didn't know how to find out. It was time to sit down with the school counsellor. Mr. Cullen would know what I should do.

"Hmmm. There's nothing that stands out as particularly special, Ian. You're good at math, your science and history are fine, I wouldn't expect you to choose Shakespeare," he chuckled. "Otherwise, the field is wide open for you. I suggest you go to college, take a general set of required courses, and maybe try psychology as an elective. You're bright enough to do well and you have good work habits. I think you just have to give yourself enough time to figure out what really interests you. You're young, not yet eighteen. You have all the time in the world to decide on a life course. Good luck," he said, closing the file and letting me know the meeting was over.

Well, that didn't help much, but he didn't seem worried for me. I know the meeting he had with Chug went a lot differently. Chug was laughing on the outside, but inside, I know he must have been hurting. The counsellor told him he wasn't college material and that he should look to a trade school for his future. That wasn't what his parents wanted for him, and he didn't know how to tell them. But like I said in the beginning, weird stuff happens when you least expect it. Chug got an offer of a football scholarship at a college in eastern Oregon, and he jumped at it.

"They're going to let me play football and I hardly have to even attend class. Is that cool or what?" he told me.

"Amazing, Chug. I'm happy for you. Have you thought about what you will do after college?"

"No problem, Soup. I'll turn pro. Even if I don't make the NFL, I can play here in Canada. It might not be for the big bucks, but I'll be doing something I love and I can make a living at it."

"Good for you, Chug. I'll be watching your career. I hope you do make the NFL. You'll be set for life if you handle your money carefully."

"Yeah. Wouldn't that be something, Soup? Me in the big time NFL. I'd have to get me an agent and a money guy ... someone to make sure I get to keep most of the dough they pay. I'm no dummy. I know how to handle money. But think of the babes that will be hanging around. Man, wouldn't that be great for old Chug Tanner?"

"It truly would be, Chug. I hope your dreams all come true, buddy. We've been pals a long time and this will be the first time we've been separated. I'll miss you, Chug."

"Yeah, me too Soup. I never got to be a hero like you, but you never changed. You were always good old Soup, my pal," he grinned before giving me a bear hug.

~*~

Chug went off to college in Oregon and I went to my father's alma mater, right here in town. It was pretty scary at first with something over twenty thousand students on campus. I was invisible. Well, that was okay. No one knew about my hero stuff, and that was just as well. I could just be myself and not worry about anyone thinking I was something different.

I had saved enough money to buy an old, used pickup truck from someone my dad knew. It was almost twenty years old, but it had no rust, and was powered by a reliable inline six cylinder engine with a stick shift. It was cheap to buy and cheap to run ... except for the insurance. That cost almost as much as the truck itself. But, I needed transportation, and I couldn't rely on Mom's car all the time, so I stuck my neck out and bought the truck.

By mid-term exams, I had begun to have an idea of what I wanted out of the college experience. I enjoyed the psychology course. It was full of useful things about who we are and why we behave the way we do. It didn't have any stuff about heroes exactly, but it did discuss why people behaved and acted the way they did under stress. That would apply to me, I thought. I also really liked the history class. I learned a lot about Europe and Great Britain, and how the population of North America was formed. I studied about England, France, and Spain. It seemed like the same bunch were always in a fuss with each other of one kind or another. Until recently, they were always at each other's throats.

Anyway, I got through my midterms with no problem and was on my way in the second semester. I hadn't made any female friends so far, but at the beginning of the second, I met a young lady that I found very interesting. She sat beside me in psychology the first day of class. She was very attentive to the lecturer. As he droned on, she leaned toward me.

"You don't suppose he's a misogynist, do you?" she asked me in a whisper.

Now, I had no idea what a misogynist was, but I figured it wasn't good. "No ... no way," I whispered in return. "Why do you think so?" Maybe she'd give me a clue to what she was talking about.

"I think he hates women," she stated as emphatically as she could while still trying to avoid being heard. Luckily, we were at least fifty feet back and above the lectern in the amphitheatre-shaped room.

"Why do you say that? I don't hear that in his comments."

"Just look at him. You can see the smarmy smirk on his face as he eyeballs the girls in the front rows."

"Now you've got me confused. First you say he hates women. Then you suggest he locks onto the girls in the front. The fact that half of them are sitting down there to get his attention hasn't escaped you, has it?"

"Oh, I know those little sluts think they're going to get passing grades from him by sleeping with him, but that doesn't mean he isn't a woman hater."

"I must be stupid. I don't get your logic. Sounds to me like you are putting your values on someone you don't know."

"Oh, I know his kind alright. He just wants to conquer women. He's not interested in a relationship. It's all just lust and the thrill of the conquest to him. Out of control hormones."

"Huh! Well, I guess I'm just naïve. I don't see it the way you do."

"Well, no surprise. That's because you're a guy. All you men think with your penis."

I began to choke as she let me have the benefit of her wisdom. I looked around to see if we'd attracted any attention from others, but so far, we were unnoticed. I'd never met a girl ... or woman ... who was as plain spoken as this one ... and I didn't even know her name.

"Uhhm, I guess, since we're talking, I should introduce myself. I'm Ian Dunlop."

"Yeah, I know. I saw your name on the tag on your backpack. I'm Symphony Broadhurst," she said, holding out her hand for me to shake and I did so.

"That's a very unusual first name," I suggested.

"Yeah ... not my idea, but I'm used to it now. Both my parents are concert musicians. No surprise, huh?"

"Ah, well I can see how they came up with that name. Actually, I think it's quite nice."

"You do? That's a surprise. I didn't expect you to be so open minded."

"Why. I liked the sound of the name and that was enough for me."

She looked at me, concentrating on my face, I guessed. I was completely sincere. I did like the sound of her name, despite how unusual it was.

"That's nice ... what you said about my name. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I smiled. "Why don't we cut this class and go get a coffee at the Student Union Café. This isn't the professor," I said pointing to the lecturer. "He's the teaching assistant, and a well-known radical asshole."

She looked down at the guy at the lectern, then at me, then at the speaker again, and clapped her hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh. She did a good job of suppressing it, but there was no doubt she was killing herself laughing. I helped her put her books together and we quietly left the hall. When we got outside, she let go with the wildest belly laugh I had ever heard out of a female. She had me laughing with her for a bit until we both calmed down.

"What did you find so funny?" I wondered.

"I called him a misogynist, but you nailed it with 'asshole.' He's so full of shit it's trickling out his ears."

That set off another round of laughter and I could help but join her again as we strolled toward the café.

"So, what are your majors," I asked as we sipped our near-toxic coffees.

"Well, you already know about psychology. But I'm into art history, women's issues, and political science."

"Now that is a really interesting mix. I've been thinking about Poli-Sci for next year. I'd love to know what makes those idiots we elect tick."

"Ignorance," she said emphatically. "The ignorance of the public especially. They don't know the issues, they don't know the candidates, and they don't understand what politicians can and can't do."

"I think you'd find a kindred spirit in my father," I said. "That's his belief too. The politicians keep the public in the dark and feed them just like mushrooms - with shit"

"Don't sugar coat it, Ian, tell me what you really think," she laughed again.

"Anyway, tell me more about your courses. You don't sound like a freshman.

"No, I'm almost finished second year. I'm trying to get as many credits as I can as soon as I can."

"What do you study in art?"

"Mostly art history. I'm learning about styles and who developed them. How they used colour and how they made their works endure over the centuries. It's really interesting."

"I can hear that in your voice. I bet you'll do well in that course."

She looked at me and smiled. "You're right, I am doing well in it. I might never use it in the future, but when I look at a painting or any work of art, I'll appreciate what the artist is capable of and how he expresses him or herself."

"I think that's a good thing," I nodded. "The world would be a cold place without art and artists. The same with music. I don't mean just the classics, but music from any of the several kinds. They make the world a better place too."

"You aren't some ordinary guy, Ian. What's your background?"

I shrugged. "I'm a local boy. Went to school in the west end, my parents have a nice house not far from here, and I have a sister who's a little older. Dad is an owner-manager at a hardware distribution business and Mom is home except when she's doing her volunteer work. A pretty ordinary family, I'd say."

"I think I would have settled for ordinary," she said, concentrating on the remainder of her coffee, now cold in the cup. "Concert musicians live a very tentative life. Money is always in short supply. They love to make music, but they never can convert it into making much money. The only reason I'm here is because I earned a two year scholarship. I have to keep my grades up if I want to get it extended."

"That's good ... I mean ... earning a scholarship. I assume it was an academic one?"

She nodded. "Yes. I won a couple of bursaries too. And, I have a part time job as well. No problem keeping busy."

"I have a part time job also. What do you do?"

"I work at the library, stacking books and finding things for people. Actually, it was part of my bursary from them; the job, that is. It's not a bad place to work and I can keep busy during the days I'm there. What about you?"

"I'm a checker and gate custodian at the city works yard for now. I check the loads coming in and out and make sure everything's on the up and up. During the summer I'm on the work crews, fixing potholes and stuff like that."

"Wasn't there a tragedy at that yard a couple of years ago? An explosion or something."

I nodded. "Yeah. I was on that Saturday. A truck blew up and one man was killed."

"Did they ever find out what happened? I mean,

why the truck blew up?"

"They think it was a loose exhaust pipe getting next to the fuel tank. The heat of the exhaust pipe caused the gas to expand and it blew. It was an old gas powered truck that was overdue to be replaced with a diesel unit."

"And you were there?"

I nodded again. "Yes. Not my favourite memory. One man dead and one man badly injured."

"Wait a minute. You were the guy who helped save the life of one of the men, weren't you? I remember that. You were only sixteen at the time. I thought that was amazing. How did you do that?"

"I had taken a first aid course, so I gave Jack, the driver of the truck, mouth-to-mouth after I pulled him away from the fire. They think I saved his life. He's retired now and has a nice settlement and pension to keep him and his wife comfortable for the rest of their lives. That's the only good thing that came out of the whole mess."

"I've never met anyone who has done something like that. What's it like, knowing you're risking yourself to help someone else?"

"I never thought about it. I knew Jack was injured and too close to the fire, so I pulled him away far enough and started mouth-to-mouth. It wasn't something I planned or thought about. I just ... did it."

"That's amazing. You aren't like most of the guys on this campus, Ian. You aren't like them at all."

"Thanks, I think," I kidded. "I'm not trying to be different. I'm just trying to be ... me."

She gave me a nice warm smile. "I think you and I should get together more often, Ian. I see a lot that I like in you. I'm not trying to push you into anything you don't want to be a part of, but if you are willing, we could be friends, at least."

I nodded with a smile. "I was kind of thinking the same thing. Friends, right?"

She gave me another of her big smiles. "Friends for sure."

~*~

And that's how Symphony and I became a couple. It didn't start out that way, but as we got to know each other, we got closer. We told each other a lot about ourselves, our hopes and ambitions, not that I had any that I could identify as my future career. But we covered a lot of ground, but never mentioned anything about sex.

Our dates weren't the usual movie and a snack. We went to the city art gallery and to some of the private galleries around town. Symphony explained some of the techniques and skills of some of the painters. I won't pretend I got it all, but it was a lot more interesting than just going in and looking at paintings.

I took her to the museum. We had a really good one in town and they had developed a lot of dioramas to depict scenes for the origins of the area. I told her about the fantastic museum in Victoria, and promised we'd go there some day.

Symphony was very attractive in an offbeat sort of way. She wore ordinary clothes, nothing that you would call sexy. She didn't do anything with her long brown hair other than comb it straight to each side, parting it in the middle. She had nice brown eyes and a clear complexion, and used almost no makeup at all. She wasn't trying to show herself at her best. It just wasn't that important to her. Nonetheless, I found her attractive, and I believe it was her personality that made her so. She could be thoughtful at one moment, caustic another time, and raunchy at other times.