Read Online Nothing Left to Burn by Patty Blount - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patty Blount
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voice said from somewhere outside my visual field. It hurt even to roll my eyes.
Two hands grasped mine and abruptly pulled me up to a sitting position. The world reeled for a second, then righted itself. “Gah,” I might have said. It was all a blur.
Amanda peered at me and shook her head in disgust. “Guess you’re cooked for the day.” She tossed me my water bottle. It sailed right past my head and landed with a dull plunk somewhere to my right. Amanda shut her eyes, and Max snorted.
“Logan, have you ever done anything physical without a game controller in your hands?” Max laughed.
Huh. I wondered if walking Tucker counted. “You know…it’s all about…finger strength,” I said between pants.
“Logan, think you can pull the heavy rope?” Amanda asked.
Oh God. I wasn’t sure my arms were still attached. I just sat there, panting. Amanda retrieved my water bottle—it had rolled down a few steps—and popped the cap. I managed to get my arm high enough to swallow some.
“We’ll forget the heavy rope for today.” She pulled out her cell phone, an ancient flip, and tapped out a text message. “Go meet Bear. He’s gonna quiz you on fire extinguisher types.”
There were types ?
I climbed slowly to my feet and managed to make it down to ground level without passing out. Max and Amanda laughed, and my face burned, but I didn’t look back. I made it to the library, muttered a prayer of thanks that Bear chose a table on the main floor, and slowly shuffled over.
“Hey, Bear.” I fell into the chair opposite his.
“Hey, Reece. You okay? You look like you’re gonna puke.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He slid over a book. “Okay, we need to know about fire suppression.”
I glanced at the book. “I had no idea there were different types of fire extinguishers.”
“Yeah.” He pointed to the one bolted to the wall in the corner of the library. “You need to make sure you’re using the right tool for the job.”
I read the page he had open. The most common types were water, dry chemical, and carbon dioxide. In addition, there were categories based on the type of fire each was best suited to put out. Class A fires were ordinary things, like wood, paper, and household stuff. Class B fires were petroleum-based, like gasoline or oil and paint. Class C fires were usually electrical, like wiring or transformers. Class D fires were metal-based, like potassium or copper. Class K fires were kitchen- and restaurant-based, involving cooking greases.
“We’re taught to never use a water extinguisher on a kitchen fire. Tell me why.”
I considered that for a minute. “Oil and water don’t mix.”
“Yeah. The water extinguisher will spread the oil drops, which just spreads the fire instead of suppressing it.”
Made sense.
I kept reading. The cans were color-coded and labeled for intended uses, and some could be used for more than one type of fire. We kept this up for an hour or so, with me reading the list and Bear quizzing me, and it was really working for me. Once I read something, I never forgot it.
Matt always called my eidetic memory my superpower. But Dad? Oh, he hated it. Thought it was just another thing that made me…weird. Mom—well, she kind of played the center. She encouraged me, but she also tried to downplay my ability. That was another reason I knew I had to leave. She’d been playing the center for so long, she didn’t know where the edges were anymore.
Alex was the only person I knew who thought my memory thing was cool. Smart as he was, he didn’t have an eidetic memory, and so, he had to study—hard—for whatever it was that interested him at the moment. But the difference between Alex and me is that he grasped the things he studied. Applied them. Thought about them. Expanded on them. All I could do was regurgitate what I read. But Bear’s quizzes were helping me truly understand this material.
“Okay, make sure you read the next chapter. Tomorrow, we’re supposed to
Two hands grasped mine and abruptly pulled me up to a sitting position. The world reeled for a second, then righted itself. “Gah,” I might have said. It was all a blur.
Amanda peered at me and shook her head in disgust. “Guess you’re cooked for the day.” She tossed me my water bottle. It sailed right past my head and landed with a dull plunk somewhere to my right. Amanda shut her eyes, and Max snorted.
“Logan, have you ever done anything physical without a game controller in your hands?” Max laughed.
Huh. I wondered if walking Tucker counted. “You know…it’s all about…finger strength,” I said between pants.
“Logan, think you can pull the heavy rope?” Amanda asked.
Oh God. I wasn’t sure my arms were still attached. I just sat there, panting. Amanda retrieved my water bottle—it had rolled down a few steps—and popped the cap. I managed to get my arm high enough to swallow some.
“We’ll forget the heavy rope for today.” She pulled out her cell phone, an ancient flip, and tapped out a text message. “Go meet Bear. He’s gonna quiz you on fire extinguisher types.”
There were types ?
I climbed slowly to my feet and managed to make it down to ground level without passing out. Max and Amanda laughed, and my face burned, but I didn’t look back. I made it to the library, muttered a prayer of thanks that Bear chose a table on the main floor, and slowly shuffled over.
“Hey, Bear.” I fell into the chair opposite his.
“Hey, Reece. You okay? You look like you’re gonna puke.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He slid over a book. “Okay, we need to know about fire suppression.”
I glanced at the book. “I had no idea there were different types of fire extinguishers.”
“Yeah.” He pointed to the one bolted to the wall in the corner of the library. “You need to make sure you’re using the right tool for the job.”
I read the page he had open. The most common types were water, dry chemical, and carbon dioxide. In addition, there were categories based on the type of fire each was best suited to put out. Class A fires were ordinary things, like wood, paper, and household stuff. Class B fires were petroleum-based, like gasoline or oil and paint. Class C fires were usually electrical, like wiring or transformers. Class D fires were metal-based, like potassium or copper. Class K fires were kitchen- and restaurant-based, involving cooking greases.
“We’re taught to never use a water extinguisher on a kitchen fire. Tell me why.”
I considered that for a minute. “Oil and water don’t mix.”
“Yeah. The water extinguisher will spread the oil drops, which just spreads the fire instead of suppressing it.”
Made sense.
I kept reading. The cans were color-coded and labeled for intended uses, and some could be used for more than one type of fire. We kept this up for an hour or so, with me reading the list and Bear quizzing me, and it was really working for me. Once I read something, I never forgot it.
Matt always called my eidetic memory my superpower. But Dad? Oh, he hated it. Thought it was just another thing that made me…weird. Mom—well, she kind of played the center. She encouraged me, but she also tried to downplay my ability. That was another reason I knew I had to leave. She’d been playing the center for so long, she didn’t know where the edges were anymore.
Alex was the only person I knew who thought my memory thing was cool. Smart as he was, he didn’t have an eidetic memory, and so, he had to study—hard—for whatever it was that interested him at the moment. But the difference between Alex and me is that he grasped the things he studied. Applied them. Thought about them. Expanded on them. All I could do was regurgitate what I read. But Bear’s quizzes were helping me truly understand this material.
“Okay, make sure you read the next chapter. Tomorrow, we’re supposed to
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