The Page on Top of the Tower

Fabrice and Amit were cadets at the fire station. Every week, the cadets ran a hose race in the yard. The winner wore a gold star on his helmet.

Fabrice won on Monday. Amit won on Tuesday. On Wednesday, they crossed the line at the same moment. They argued about it for an hour.

"My foot was first," Fabrice said.

"My hose was first," said Amit. "Hoses count more than feet."

They did not speak for the rest of the day.

On Thursday, the station cook came running into the yard. She held a big green recipe book in both hands. Her face was white.

"Cadets!" she cried. "Stop. I need your help."

The cadets came close. Fabrice stood on one side of the circle. Amit stood on the other.

"Open Day starts at six," the cook said. "Many people come to visit. I must make my famous chili for all of them. But page fourteen is gone!"

She opened the book. Between pages thirteen and fifteen, a thin line of torn paper showed. The old page was always loose.

"I wrote that recipe forty years ago," she said. "I do not remember the numbers. How many beans? How many onions? How much spice? Only the page knows."

"When did you see it last?" asked Fabrice.

"At breakfast," said the cook. "I left the book on the bench. The wind opened it. I went to help the captain. When I came back, the page was gone."

Everybody looked at the bench. It stood next to the practice tower. The cadets ate their snacks there.

"Amit sat there at ten," Fabrice said.

"And you sat there at eleven," said Amit.

They began to argue again.

The captain stepped out of the station door. He was a tall man with a very quiet voice. The cadets stopped talking at once.

"Here is what we will do," the captain said. "Fabrice and Amit will find the page. They will work as a pair. In my yard, nobody works alone."

"With him?" said Fabrice.

"With him?" said Amit.

"With him," said the captain. "You have two hours. After that, the cook starts from nothing. She will not be happy."

The two cadets stood side by side. They looked at the empty bench. They did not look at each other.

"Let us start with facts," Amit said at last. "The page was white. It was thin. It could fly."

"Or it could stick," said Fabrice. He bent down and touched the bench. The wood was wet. "Look. Someone sprayed water here."

"The hose crew did the drill at eleven thirty," said Amit slowly. "They pulled the wet hose across this bench. The wind pulled out the loose page. The wet hose took it. Then they hung the hose up to dry."

"Where?" asked Fabrice.

They both turned and looked up at the practice tower. A long fire hose hung from the top rail. It was three floors up. It moved a little in the air, like a very long snake.

Amit pointed. "I see something white on it," he said.

Fabrice shaded his eyes. "That is a page," he said. "That is our page."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then both ran to the ladder. Both tried to climb it together. They pushed and pulled in the narrow space.

"I go first," said Fabrice.

"I am taller," said Amit. "I can reach the top rail."

"I am faster."

"The captain said we work as a pair," said Amit. He stopped pulling. "One climbs and one holds the ladder. That is the rule."

Fabrice looked at him. Then he looked at the ladder, which shook a little.

"You climb," he said. "I will hold. I am heavier, and I hold better."

Amit blinked. It was the first kind thing Fabrice said all week.

"Thank you," he said. He put on a safety belt. Then he began to climb.

Fabrice stood at the bottom and held the ladder with both arms. He called out advice. "Left hand now. Not that step, the next one. Do not look down."

"I do not look down," said Amit. "I look at you. Your hands shake."

"They are not," said Fabrice. "It is the ladder."

Amit climbed three floors. It felt like thirty. At the top, he reached out and found the page. It was wet and soft. The ink ran across the paper in blue lines. He folded it carefully and put it inside his shirt.

On the ground, the two cadets sat down and opened the page. They looked sad.

"The numbers are unclear," said Fabrice. "I can see a three, or maybe an eight."

"I see one cup of something," said Amit. "Or is it one carrot?"

They put the page in the sun and held it flat. Fabrice read the left side. Amit read the right side. They shouted the numbers to each other. When one was not sure, the other leaned close. Together they decided.

"Eight onions," said Fabrice.

"Two spoons of spice," said Amit. "No, three."

"The cook always makes it hot," said Fabrice. "Three."

After half an hour, they had a whole recipe on clean paper. They carried it to the cook. She sat on the steps with her head in her hands.

She read the list. She read it again. Then she jumped up and hugged them both. Their helmets fell off.

"You saved Open Day!" she said. "Oh, this is exactly right. Come inside. You must help me cook."

For hours, the two cadets chopped onions and stirred the pot. Fabrice cut the onions. Amit counted out the spice. The chili smelled wonderful. Their eyes watered, but they laughed.

At last, the cook looked at the bottom of the old page. One line of her own writing was still clear. She read it out loud.

"Serves a big crowd. Whoever loses this page must wash the pot."

The kitchen went quiet. The pot was as big as a bathtub.

The cook smiled and held out one small sponge.

"There is only one sponge," Amit said.

"I know," said the cook.