The Bag of Mismatched Dice

The training yard behind the fire station smelled of hot metal and wet concrete. Bela stood at the foot of the practice tower with her helmet under her arm. She had waited six months for this morning.

The youth cadet course had twelve places. Only one pair would win the badge for the best final drill. Everyone knew it would be Bela or Lior.

Lior stood at the other end of the line. He was tall, quick and annoyingly calm. Last week he had finished the ladder drill four seconds faster than she had. Bela had not stopped thinking about it since.

"Cadets, gather round," said the instructor. She held up a worn canvas bag, and it rattled. "Today's drill is different. Nobody runs alone."

A groan went down the line. The instructor ignored it and tipped the bag onto a table. Nine dice rolled out. None of them matched. One was as big as an apple, one was tiny, and one had ten sides. A blue one carried letters instead of numbers.

"These came from the old station game box," she said. "Each die gives your pair one job. Roll them all, read them together, and finish every job before the buzzer."

She read out the names from her clipboard. Bela heard her own name, and then she heard "and Lior." Her stomach dropped.

Lior only shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Just stay out of my way."

"I was going to say the same thing," Bela answered.

They walked to the table side by side, but they did not look at each other. Bela grabbed the dice first. She wanted to prove that she could manage without any help.

The big die said four. The tiny one said six. The blue one landed on the letter H, which meant hose. The ten-sided die said seven. Nobody could remember what seven meant until Lior found the rule card under the bag.

"Seven means we carry the training dummy down from the platform," he read. "Ten metres. Two people."

"I can do it alone," said Bela.

"You can't," said Lior. "It weighs as much as you do."

She did not answer. She pulled the tower hose toward the first marker, and Lior went straight for the ladder. When the buzzer sounded, they were working at opposite ends of the yard.

The first run was a disaster. Bela laid the hose in a long loop that kinked twice. Lior climbed the ladder before the foot of it was secure, and it wobbled. Then they both reached the dummy at the same moment and pulled in different directions. The dummy slid off the platform and landed on its back with a heavy thump.

The buzzer rang again. The instructor looked at her watch and wrote something down.

"Eleven minutes and forty seconds," she said. "The other pairs finished in eight. Do you want to try again?"

"Yes," said Bela.

"Yes," said Lior, at exactly the same time.

They glared at each other, but the instructor only smiled. "You have a ten-minute break," she said. "Use it."

Bela sat down on an upturned bucket and stared at the dice. She felt hot and tired, and her pride hurt more than her hands. Lior sat down on the other side of the yard and studied the rule card with a frown.

After a while, he walked over. He stood there for a moment before he spoke.

"Your hose was faster than mine would have been," he said slowly. "Before it kinked, I mean. You walk the line first. I never do that."

Bela looked up in surprise. "Your ladder was solid once you stopped rushing," she said. "I watched you. You know the knots better than anyone."

"So that's one job each," said Lior.

"If we split the work, we might finish faster," Bela said. "But we have to decide the order before we roll."

Lior sat on the ground beside her. He picked up the rule card and turned it over. On the back, in small letters, someone had written a note about the dice. Each die matched a skill. The big die needed strength, the tiny one needed patience, and the blue one needed a clear head.

"Listen to this," he said. "It says a pair should always roll together. One person reads, one person plans."

"So that's why the dice are all different," said Bela. "They want different people."

They spent the rest of the break making a plan. Bela would read the dice and lay the hose. Lior would set the ladder and check every knot. Both of them would carry the dummy. They would count aloud so that they moved together.

"One, two, lift," said Lior, trying it out in the dust.

"One, two, lift," Bela repeated, and for the first time that morning she laughed.

The second run started when the buzzer sounded. Bela rolled the dice and called the jobs in a steady voice. The big die said two, the tiny die said five, and the blue die said L for ladder. Lior was already running.

He set the foot of the ladder against the tower and tested it twice. Bela walked her hose line from end to end before she opened the water. It lay flat and straight. She did not rush, even though the seconds were passing.

"Ladder is ready," called Lior.

"Hose is ready," Bela called back. "Roll the last die with me."

They rolled the ten-sided die together, each with one hand. It tumbled across the table and stopped on the number seven. The dummy again. Bela smiled. She had hoped for it.

They climbed the platform one behind the other. The dummy lay heavy and still. Lior took the shoulders, and Bela took the feet.

"One, two, lift," they said together.

They carried the dummy down the steps without a single stumble. At the bottom, they laid it on the mat as carefully as if it were real. Bela did not look at the clock. She only heard the buzzer, and then the silence after it.

The instructor stepped forward with her clipboard. The other cadets had gathered round, and nobody said a word.

"Seven minutes and ten seconds," she announced. "That is the fastest time this course has ever recorded."

A cheer went up from the line. Someone slapped Lior on the back, and someone else shook Bela's hand until it hurt. She hardly noticed. She was looking at Lior, and he was looking at her.

"I could not have done that alone," he said quietly.

"Neither could I," said Bela. It was the truth, and saying it felt strangely light.

The instructor held up two small silver badges. "I planned to give one badge to the winning pair," she said. "But a pair that works like this deserves one each. Well done, both of you."

Lior took his badge and turned it in the sun. Bela took hers and pinned it to her jacket with fingers that still shook a little. Neither of them said anything clever. There was nothing clever left to say.

When the crowd drifted off toward the engine bay, the dice were still lying on the table. Bela scooped them up one at a time. She took the big die, the tiny die, the blue one and the odd ten-sided one. She dropped them into the canvas bag and pulled the string tight.

Lior picked up the rule card and the hose nozzle in one hand. He held out the other hand for the bag.

"Together," he said.

Bela passed him one side of the bag and took the other herself. They carried it across the yard.