Free Rush by Jonathan Friesen

hauling lumber into the yard. Today, the mill is bigger than I remember and less a place I recognize.
    â€œYou’re eighteen now, nearing nineteen,” Dad says.
    â€œYou’re fifty-six.”
    â€œThere’s a lot of life left for you. Lots of time to make things right.”
    Hairs on my neck bristle, and I inch away. “Maybe. But maybe not in Brockton. Scottie left. Salome’s leaving. I’m thinking I should, too.”
    Dad’s fists clench the rail.
    I tap my foot and think hard of something to say. “How’s Mr. Ramirez holdin’ up?”
    Dad doesn’t answer. He just stares across the mill, his face expressionless.
    â€œMr. King?” Julia, one of Dad’s most underdressed employees, places her hand on Dad’s neck and rubs.
    So that’s where Brooke got that. Like mother, like daughter.
    â€œCould I get a signature?” she asks.
    Dad doesn’t look at the clipboard—he just scribbles.
    â€œWell, what’s the town nut been up to? You look terrible.” She cocks her head and gives a saccharin smile.
    Dad shakes—a whole body tremble—and Julia steps back. He grabs the clipboard from her hand, cracks it in half over his leg, and throws it down behind him. Julia freezes. I do, too.
    â€œPack up your things and leave.” Dad stares at Julia and points toward her office. “You’re done here.”
    She steps forward, eyebrows raised, makeup cracking all over her face. Her voice is quiet. “But the way you’ve been talking, I thought—”
    â€œThis is my son,” he says quietly. “And you’re my ex-employee.”
    I don’t get it. I don’t understand him—how in the same breath he can destroy and defend me.
    I enter his office and plop into a chair. Behind me, the door quietly shuts. Dad takes his seat.
    I exhale hard. “Julia didn’t say anything that terrible.”
    â€œYou’re all I’ve got left.” He rubs his face hard. “You asked about Kyle’s dad. He’s still taking it tough. A man losing two sons to stupidity is more than any man can bear. He’s never gotten over Carter.”
    It’s my turn to rub my face. You don’t forget people jumping trains with four-wheelers or floating facedown in caves.
    Dad whispers, “Like they’re playing video games. These stupid kids.”
    I look at Dad. His eyes glisten.
    â€œWhy do you do it? What makes a boy like Carter do that?”
    â€œPlenty of people think it’s Mox. They think those jackets are the kiss of death.” My eyes grow big. “Since Drew, that’s what Salome thinks.”
    â€œNot her, too. Scottie and Salome—will you please tell me what Mox did to deserve all these rumors?”
    â€œHey, I said nothing about the man.” I lean forward. “What did Scottie tell you about him?”
    Dad shakes his head. Conversation over.
    I check my watch. “ Are we done? I’ve had a tough day, and I have a sick dirt bike that needs me.”
    He sniffs and looks at me. “What do you think about the Forest Service . . . specifically Mox’s team?”
    â€œYou’re asking me what I want?”
    â€œYou could do something good for this town,” he continues. “And for me.”
    I look off toward the window and whisper, “I’m not Scottie.”
    â€œNo, you’re not.”
    â€œAnd Mox made it clear he doesn’t want to see me.”
    â€œTrue again. But what else do you have?” Dad leans forward. “Here’s the deal. You’re still under my roof.” He raises his hand and lifts two fingers. “I’m giving you two choices for the rest of the year. Work at the mill.” He looks out the window. “Heck, you can have Julia’s job. Or get your fire training and prove to Mox and Brockton that he’s pegged you wrong.”
    I stare back. “Has he?” Dad leans back