that he’d like T.J. to attend. He feels T.J. is an extraordinary player, for his age.”
“Oh?” Mrs. Stenson turned on a light in the living room and sat down. “Tell me about it.”
T.J.’s feet pounded down the dirt lane, his breath coming in gasps now. He coughed, choking as he inhaled smoke.Ahead of him, he saw flames darting through the open door of the shed.
As he approached the burning shed, he saw Brody standing off to one side, watching the fire. A gasoline can, like the ones in the back of the truck, sat on the ground beside him. Brody smiled, looking like the groom at a wedding or an athlete who had just broken a world’s record. How could he stand there, looking so happy, when a helpless animal was about to be cremated alive less than twenty feet away? Did he plan to set the other buildings on fire, too?
T.J. didn’t stop to ask questions. He drew in his breath, held it, and ran through the open door of the pony’s shed. On his left, the flames were shoulder high. T.J. feared the wall on that side would collapse any second. To his right, the frantic pony pawed and kicked at his stall. The whites of the animal’s eyes were enormous with fear. His lip curled up and he neighed over and over, with no pause in between.
The slight covering of hay on the dirt floor had burned itself out. The ground still smoldered but at least T.J. did not have to run through flames.
He looked over the top of the gate on the pony’s stall and saw a metal latch that would allow the gate to swing open. He reached for the latch and then jerked away; the metal was so hot it burned his fingers. Instinctively, he stuck his singed fingers in his mouth and licked them.
He pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt down over his hand and tried again. With the sweatshirt acting as a pot holder, he got the latch open.
Sweat ran down the back of his neck. He had to let hisbreath out and inhale again. He held his arm up, trying to filter the smoky air through the sleeve of his shirt.
He kicked the gate open and saw that the pony was tied to the far side of the stall. T.J. stepped into the stall and fumbled with the pony’s tether. The animal seemed to sense that T.J. was trying to help him. He quit jerking his head and stopped kicking at the stall. His eyes seemed to plead with T.J. to hurry.
The tether was knotted around one side of the stall. T.J. pulled frantically at the leather strap, trying to untie the knot. He was choking now and his eyes smarted and watered so much that he had to blink constantly in order to see what he was doing.
The tin roof crackled from the heat. Beside him, the wooden walls sizzled and spit like a steak on the broiler. The flames danced around the perimeter of the shed.
At last, the knot gave way. Grasping the tether in both hands, T.J. tugged, leading the pony out of the stall. When the frightened animal saw that T.J. was pulling him toward the burning wall on the other side of the doorway, he braced his legs and held back. Clearly, the pony did not want to go closer to the flames.
T.J. pulled. “Come on, Friskie. This is your only chance. There is no other way out.”
The pony whinnied in terror and began to buck.
There was only one door. If they didn’t get through it soon, it would be too late. The entire left wall of the shed was now on fire; soon there would be nothing left to hold up that portion of the roof.
Sparks exploded like a string of firecrackers across the interior of the shed. Dry hay in the pony’s stall ignited.
The pony looked over his shoulder and saw the fire burning in the stall. T.J. tugged on the tether. The pony put his ears back, stopped bucking, and followed.
Just as T.J. pulled the pony through the door of the shed, the left half of the structure collapsed. With one side of the shed gone, the fire spread quickly through the rest. The dry wood of the door frame splintered and began to burn. Within seconds, the open door was a solid sheet of flame.
One minute later,
“Oh?” Mrs. Stenson turned on a light in the living room and sat down. “Tell me about it.”
T.J.’s feet pounded down the dirt lane, his breath coming in gasps now. He coughed, choking as he inhaled smoke.Ahead of him, he saw flames darting through the open door of the shed.
As he approached the burning shed, he saw Brody standing off to one side, watching the fire. A gasoline can, like the ones in the back of the truck, sat on the ground beside him. Brody smiled, looking like the groom at a wedding or an athlete who had just broken a world’s record. How could he stand there, looking so happy, when a helpless animal was about to be cremated alive less than twenty feet away? Did he plan to set the other buildings on fire, too?
T.J. didn’t stop to ask questions. He drew in his breath, held it, and ran through the open door of the pony’s shed. On his left, the flames were shoulder high. T.J. feared the wall on that side would collapse any second. To his right, the frantic pony pawed and kicked at his stall. The whites of the animal’s eyes were enormous with fear. His lip curled up and he neighed over and over, with no pause in between.
The slight covering of hay on the dirt floor had burned itself out. The ground still smoldered but at least T.J. did not have to run through flames.
He looked over the top of the gate on the pony’s stall and saw a metal latch that would allow the gate to swing open. He reached for the latch and then jerked away; the metal was so hot it burned his fingers. Instinctively, he stuck his singed fingers in his mouth and licked them.
He pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt down over his hand and tried again. With the sweatshirt acting as a pot holder, he got the latch open.
Sweat ran down the back of his neck. He had to let hisbreath out and inhale again. He held his arm up, trying to filter the smoky air through the sleeve of his shirt.
He kicked the gate open and saw that the pony was tied to the far side of the stall. T.J. stepped into the stall and fumbled with the pony’s tether. The animal seemed to sense that T.J. was trying to help him. He quit jerking his head and stopped kicking at the stall. His eyes seemed to plead with T.J. to hurry.
The tether was knotted around one side of the stall. T.J. pulled frantically at the leather strap, trying to untie the knot. He was choking now and his eyes smarted and watered so much that he had to blink constantly in order to see what he was doing.
The tin roof crackled from the heat. Beside him, the wooden walls sizzled and spit like a steak on the broiler. The flames danced around the perimeter of the shed.
At last, the knot gave way. Grasping the tether in both hands, T.J. tugged, leading the pony out of the stall. When the frightened animal saw that T.J. was pulling him toward the burning wall on the other side of the doorway, he braced his legs and held back. Clearly, the pony did not want to go closer to the flames.
T.J. pulled. “Come on, Friskie. This is your only chance. There is no other way out.”
The pony whinnied in terror and began to buck.
There was only one door. If they didn’t get through it soon, it would be too late. The entire left wall of the shed was now on fire; soon there would be nothing left to hold up that portion of the roof.
Sparks exploded like a string of firecrackers across the interior of the shed. Dry hay in the pony’s stall ignited.
The pony looked over his shoulder and saw the fire burning in the stall. T.J. tugged on the tether. The pony put his ears back, stopped bucking, and followed.
Just as T.J. pulled the pony through the door of the shed, the left half of the structure collapsed. With one side of the shed gone, the fire spread quickly through the rest. The dry wood of the door frame splintered and began to burn. Within seconds, the open door was a solid sheet of flame.
One minute later,
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