Chapter 4: Symphony

I explained to the various people who wanted to talk to me about the explosion that I had school on Monday and that, with their permission, I would make myself available after classes. That seemed to satisfy them. The Fire Marshall said he would meet me at the school at four o'clock and we could do the interview there. I wasn't so sure that was a great idea, but I was too tired to argue. I just wanted to get all this over with.

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 boy, 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 Barnes 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."