FIRE ALARM
"Come on," Paul said. "Either you are going to pull it or not." George looked at the red box. It read: FIRE ALARM. George was having second thoughts. He looked up and down the street. No one was coming.
"Look, George," someone else said, "You want to stay with the Cool Ones, right? Well, show us."
George's hand felt heavy. But he did not want to show that he was afraid. He took a deep breath and raised his hand. Everyone was ready to run.
"Hurry up, George," Paul gave him a little shove. "We can watch the fire trucks from down the street."
George looked up and down the street again. Still no one was coming. His fingers touched the fire alarm. No one made a sound. George could hear his heart beating. He pulled down.
"Run!" Paul yelled.
George was breathing hard when they stopped. At the end of the street they ran around the corner. From there they could watch the trucks. They did not have long to wait. The fire trucks came screaming down the street. They stopped in front of the fire alarm box. The firemen looked up and down the street. Some of them went into the buildings. George could see some of them standing near the box.
"Well, you did it," Paul smiled.
Just then there was a blast from one of the fire trucks. All the men went running back. As soon as they were all back, the trucks went screaming down the street. Once again the street was quiet.
"They were in a hurry," George said.
"So, what?" Paul said. "You are one of the Cool Ones now."
George felt great. He had made it. They headed to their club house.
"You see, it was easy," Paul laughed. They were all laughing - until they got back to the club house. There was nothing left but ashes. A fireman walked over to them.
"Sorry, boys. Got here a little too late. False alarm had us busy."