Free Fire Girl Part 1 by Alivia Anderson Page A

Heavens all this billaboo over
nothing.” Grandpa still didn’t open his eyes. “We don’t control
anything, if I was meant to go I’d be gone by now. I’m fine.”
    Grandma wiped under her eyes and sucked in a
breath. “It’s not billaboo. We’ll all pitch in to get you
better.”
    Guilt seeped into the part of my soul that
didn’t want to face the fact that I’d wanted to leave these people
only minutes before.
    A buzz went through my jean pocket.
    Grandma looked down. “What is that?”
    I waved my hand through the air. “It’s my
phone, don’t worry about it.”
    A doctor in a white jacket with a thick beard
stepped in. He hummed in a deep baritone. I recognized the
tune— The Battle Hymn of the Republic .
    I released Grandma’s hand. I hated doctors. I
hated anything at any hospital. And I especially hated it when it
came with a bushy beard. A flashing memory of the coroner from
Garden City went through my mind. His beard hadn’t been shaggy. No,
it had been clipped perfectly.
    A deep frown held against the doctor’s face.
He tapped his clipboard on the metal bar at the bottom of Grandpa’s
bed. “You’re lucky, Frank.” His voice reprimanded.
    Grandpa cleared his throat and started into a
coughing fit.
    Grandma located a white cup of water on the
bedside table. She leaned over and helped Grandpa take a sip.
    “You know we’ve talked about your diet a time
or two in the past couple of years.”
    Grandma fluttered. “Doctor Hunt, I tell him
not to eat those jelly donuts, but I’ll quit buying them. It’s my
fault.”
    “It’s not your fault.” Grandpa barked
out.
Doctor Hunt looked between them and hesitated.
    “Is he going to be okay?” Uncle Bill moved
next to him.
    The doctor grunted at me. “I presume you’re
the one that I’ve heard about.”
    Grandma wrapped her arm around me
protectively. “Yes, this is our granddaughter, Maddie, we’ve told
you about.”
    Doctor Hunt lifted an eyebrow. An eyebrow
that clearly accused me of being the extra stress that caused this
heart attack.
    Grandpa cleared his throat. “When can I get
back to my house, Doc?”
    The doctor pushed back on the chair and the
metal wheels screeched out a whiny noise. “You’re lucky. Very
lucky. You had a mild heart attack, but your vitals look
normal.”
    Grandma lay her hand over his blanketed legs.
“What do we need to do for him?”
    “He stays on his medication. He—” the doctor
paused, “he takes it easy for about six weeks.” He shook his finger
at Grandpa. “I mean it, Frank, you can’t be haulin’ hay and running
the tractor and lifting things. I don’t even want you weeding or
burning or mucking out stalls. You have to take it easy .
Give the ticker a rest. Short walks, healthy diet, plenty of those
breathing exercises we’ve talked about to manage stress.” The
doctor shoved his glasses back onto his face and nodded. “Manage
stress.” He gave me a reproving look. His statement came out in a
purposeful, patronizing tone.
    Grandpa’s voice came out rough. “You’re
tellin’ me you don’t want me to get my crops in? That’s too
bad.”
    Uncle Bill leaned back into his heels. “It’s
not a problem, Dad. I’ll do it.”
    Grandpa stared at the ceiling. “Ya can’t do
everything, Bill. You have your own fields and animals to worry
about.”
    My phone buzzed again.
    “Would you deal with that?” Grandpa
commanded.
    Embarrassed, I turned away from them and
tapped the screen on the phone. A text from Carrie.
    Uncle Bill’s voice turned firm. “Dad, we can
handle this. We’ll hire help if we have to.”
    “The bank note is due at the end of the
season, Bill. There’s no money for help.” Grandpa shook his
head.
    A cold chill washed over me. Got the money—for real. When can we meet?
    “I can loan you some money, but you’ll need
to hire some help.” Uncle Bill’s voice went even softer.
    I pushed the phone back into my pocket and
turned back.
    “No one’s giving me