Cee Cee Cougar ducked behind the fire truck and pressed her back against the cold metal. Her lungs fought for air in short, desperate pulls. This was her routine before every call — the part nobody could see. If she could just keep it hidden, keep performing, maybe one day she'd win that golden medal at regionals and prove she belonged here. But Canada Moose had other ideas. He found her by the side door of the station, where the old welcome mat sat crooked on the concrete. "I've been thinking," he said, tossing a scuffed baseball from hand to hand. "We should start a crew ritual. Something we do together before every call." He gestured toward the wooden bench someone had built near the equipment bay. "All three of us. Every time." Cee Cee's chest tightened. Her private moments behind the truck were the only thing keeping her together. But Canada Moose stood there with that baseball, waiting, and Prickly Porcupine was already walking over with a curious look. They were everything to her. How could she explain that she needed to fall apart alone? She picked up the baseball from Canada Moose's palm. The worn leather felt solid under her fingers. "Okay," she said, the word coming out smaller than she meant it to. "We meet at the bench." Canada Moose grinned and Prickly nodded, and Cee Cee realized she'd just traded her hiding spot for something she didn't know how to do — be afraid where people could see.