Chapter 3

The reporter showed up about three hours later. Her name was Janet Edwards, and she seemed nice, but she asked a ton of questions, most of them several times. The next day both the story and the picture were on the front page.

Local Hero

For those of you who think there is no hope for the younger generation, meet fourteen-year-old Tony Sims.

Tony the quarterback led his middle school football team to their best season in ten years. Tony the shortstop led his baseball team to their best season ever.

Not your typical dumb jock, Tony gets 'A's and 'B's in school and sings in local shows.

Tony is also a hero. Yesterday, Tony charged into a burning house to rescue Jessica Miller and her three children, Adriana (7), Carl (3) and namesake Tony (3 months).

Tony suffered several burns and smoke inhalation and is resting comfortable at City hospital and is expected to be released tomorrow.

The Millers were all treated for smoke inhalation and released. They are staying with relatives.

The picture was taken by Dana Bradley, wife of volunteer Darren Bradley, who was riding with him when he was called to the scene.

The fire is believed to have started from a short in a power cord that caught a drapery on fire.

Also on the scene were Tony's friends Roberta Tait (14), who helped Tony in the rescue, and Tami Sharp (14), who went for help.

Tony...

"Oh, fuck!"

"Tony! Your language," Mom chided as she gathered my stuff and I sat in the wheelchair reading the paper.

"Mom, did you read this?"

"Of course I did. It was a very nice article. There's one in the Seattle paper, too, but they cut it down a lot."

"Mom, they did everything but give away my secret identity as mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent."

"Oh, it's not that bad."

"They made it sound like Robbie sat on the sidelines, waved her pom-poms, and yelled, 'Go, Tony, go!' She's the one who got Mrs. Miller out. And the baby."

"It's not that important."

"Really? How many copies of the paper did you buy?"

Mom pretended not to hear.

"They didn't even spell her name right. And they called her Roberta."

"That's her name," Mom said as she set my stuff in my lap and started pushing me out.

Wheelchairs are cool if you want to have races, or pop wheelies. They are not cool when you're being pushed down the hall by your mother and could walk just fine.

"It's not fair."

I swore if she said life isn't fair, I wouldn't talk to her all the way home.

She did and I didn't.