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I had always known what I was going to be when I grew up. Not everyone has that kind of clarity at such a young age, but I did. I was going to be a firefighter. I knew it the very first time I watched Fireman Sam - he was my hero.
I couldn’t understand why people laughed at me when I told them of my ambitions. Even my father, who had always been supportive of me before, patted me patronisingly on the head when I told him. "Yes, yes, and your brother wants to be a ballerina," he chuckled.
I didn't understand that. Ricky certainly did not want to be a ballerina. He wanted to be a masked vigilante. I knew because I had overheard him talking to his friends the other day, but I didn’t say that. There were certain things that you just did not do, and correcting my father was one of them - I had learned that the hard way.
Ricky didn't approve of my ambitions either. I told him that he was the one being unrealistic for wanting to be a masked vigilante which wasn't even a real job, but he just got mad at me for eavesdropping.
Ricky was the first to up the game after that - he lit a match and threw it onto my chair, calling to me to "come do your job, then!"
I dealt with that no problem - flipped the cushion over and smothered the flames before they could grab a purchase, then flipped the TV over to the news station and prayed something good would turn up. It must have worked, because the story being shown right then was of a local teenager who had done some seriously awful things. He had gotten let off on account of his age and his lawyer's ‘ingenious’ boys-will-be-boys defence - the perfect candidate for some vigilante justice from a peer. "You go do your job!" I yelled at my brother, pointing at the television set, and never thinking he would actually do it.
Ricky didn't say anything. He just got a grim look on his face and left the room. He wouldn't tell me what he'd done when he got back, just that he'd taken care of it. He said it was my turn again, but I stopped him before he could set anything alight on the grounds that I hadn't had proof of his job being done yet. I didn't mention how much he was starting to scare me.
The kid was reported missing a few days later. I heard the news while I was at school and spent the rest of the day in nervous anticipation. There was no more 'starting to' about it; Ricky was scaring me. A lot. I still had no idea what he’d done to the kid but I had visions all day of coming home to a house on fire. Clearly something had happened to him, so it was my turn again. I knew Ricky wouldn't really go that far, but then I'd also known he wouldn't really harm that kid. I didn't trust what I knew anymore.
I dawdled all the way home, taking the long route and adding a good ten minutes to my trip. Wanting to put off having to face my brother for as long as possible.
I shouldn't have done that. I really couldn't trust what I knew. When I got near home there was a distinct acrid smell in the air and I knew before I even saw the smoke. I couldn't quite work out where it was coming from though. I ran all over the house yelling my brother's name and wondering why it didn't feel hot before I thought to look out the window and saw the blaze eating away at the shed. It must have been burning for quite some time, from the looks of it. It had taken hold of the whole structure, and parts were already beginning to fall inwards.
There wasn't much I could do to save it, but I got the garden hose and turned it on it, making the tiniest bit of difference in the flames. I could hear sirens in the distance and knew the real firefighters were already on their way, so I wasn't worried. If anything, I was excited that I'd get to meet some real firefighters for the first time.
That was when my brother turned up again. He was wearing a mask, but I could tell it was him because of the giant orange 'R' sewn onto his clothing. Ricky had always liked orange. He threw some sexist taunts my way, and I threatened to turn the hose on him if he kept them up, but I didn't really want to take the water away from the flames and he knew it, so he called my bluff and kept calling me names.
He kept it up until the real firefighters got there, and for some reason seemed surprised that the police came with them to investigate the arson. Now he's the one being let off because of his age, and because ‘boys will be boys’, and I got made an honorary firefighter for my ‘heroic efforts’ - officially in fighting the fire by myself before they got there, but unofficially, according to the fire chief, for my inhuman ability to ignore my asshole brother while I was doing that.