Archie stood at the entrance to the exhibit hall. He wore his best suit—well, his only suit—with a shiny new tie that Uncle Dan had given him to mark the occasion.

He patted the left side of his jacket for the hundredth time. His essay was nestled in the inside pocket, waiting to be revealed. Actually, he should stop calling it an essay now and start calling it a speech. The top five had been announced a few days ago, and Archie and Desta were on the list. For an aspiring writer, that had been a proud moment.

Inside, he was a strange mix of emotions. Happy that this night was finally here. Proud of what he’d created, yet nervous about how it would be received. Hopeful that people would like it—especially certain people.

Especially one person.

He wanted tonight to feel special. Tomorrow, Grandpa would move into his retirement home. Once the decision had been made, it had come together too quickly. Archie practically had whiplash from how fast everything was changing.

By the end of tomorrow, it would all be different. But that was tomorrow.

His family approached, dressed like they were going to the opera. The academy treated the Stone-Katzman Project like an important occasion, so everyone wore their best. Aunt Candace and Uncle Dan were in the lead, followed by Aunt Violet, then Mom with her arm looped through Grandpa’s.

Archie tried to catch Grandpa’s eye, but his gaze was clouded over. He glanced back and forth, studying his surroundings without recognizing anything. Archie’s heart sank. He had hoped the real Raymond Reese would be here tonight, but what Archie read about “sundowning” had turned out to be true: Alzheimer’s patients often grew less alert and more confused in the evening.

Another fantasy that hadn’t come true.

“Wow,” Uncle Dan said, shaking Archie’s hand. “They didn’t tell us James Bond would be here. Nice suit.”

Archie laughed. “You all look great too.”

“So where’s this secret project?” Aunt Candace said.

“I’m literally dying to see it,” Aunt Violet added.

“Follow me.”

As he led them into the exhibit hall, a wave of festive sound washed over them. The cavernous hall was packed with students, family, and academy alumni. The crowds roamed up and down the grid-patterned rows, enjoying the results of nearly a year’s work from all the eighth graders. Even Archie had been astounded by some of the results.

“This way,” he said over his shoulder and plunged into the crowd.

They passed Kamiko’s quadruple-sized booth, which she had turned into a pen filled with dogs and cats and some less common animals in need of rescue. Actually, the word pen didn’t fully capture what Kamiko had accomplished. She had turned a corner of the exhibit hall into a full-on animal sanctuary, with a squad of volunteers from the shelter caring for the animals and running the adoption program. Kamiko presided over it all like a pro, looking happier than Archie had ever seen her. From the crowd around her booth, he guessed she wouldn’t have a single animal left to rescue by the end of the night.

Spencer’s booth was nearby. Archie had been able to see it up close before the exhibit hall opened, yet he felt astonished all over again as he walked by. True to his word, Spencer had completely abandoned his first idea. His new plan was to go to law school, then work pro bono—representing people in desperate need who couldn’t afford to pay for legal help.

His booth was surprisingly understated. It displayed his top choices of law schools and professional specialties, along with notes on how he’d use his law degree to help protect the little guy from big corporations. Spencer had forgone his usual muscle shirt for a tailored gray suit, and in place of a cocky grin there was an earnest expression as he spoke about the human right to clean drinking water.

They were getting close. Eagerness, intertwined with fear, writhed around in Archie’s stomach. He suppressed the anxiety as much as he could.

Passing Zig’s booth helped. Archie smelled it from fifty feet away, and as they drew close he saw Zig using his wok to sear the scallops for his ramen dish. The crowd ooohed.

They reached the open space at the center of the exhibit hall. Traffic flowed along the outer edge of the circle, scores of people passing from one area to the next.

His family stopped in their tracks. He watched their faces, savoring the open jaws, the gasps, the way Mom covered her mouth in surprise.

Archie didn’t have a regular booth, or really a booth at all. Instead he had placed a large glass display case on the floor, with five temporary walls extending out from the case like the rays of a star.

Desta had found the case in the art studio’s storage room, and a few of Grandpa’s firefighter friends had supplied the walls. Desta had helped Archie design the setup to mimic the feel of an art gallery, so people could move easily from one wall to the next, always keeping that central display in view. Then the whole project group—along with a few firefighters—had helped Archie erect it in the exhibit hall.

Speaking of firefighters, four of them were here. All of them had been trained by Raymond Reese. They stood near Archie’s display, ready to share stories about the man who had taught them so much about protecting their fellow humans. Archie’s heart burst with joy as they welcomed Grandpa.

Archie had made sure the display was well lit, and he’d set wireless speakers at each corner to play Grandpa’s favorite songs.

A large three-sided sign sat on top of the case, announcing the title of his project. It read WHAT I WANT TO BE. Except WHAT was crossed out, and written above it was WHO.

Inside the glass case, Archie had arranged years’ worth of relics from Grandpa’s days as a firefighter. The dress uniform, the rescue gear, the Medal of Valor he had been awarded for risking his life. On each wall, a different quote was written in large block letters. Archie watched his family as they read the quotes and thrilled at the recognition in their eyes. Each one was from Grandpa—his wisdom about what mattered in life.

Around each quote, Archie had arranged old photos showing Grandpa in all the stages of his life, newspaper clippings of things he’d accomplished in service to others, and even written stories that Archie had convinced more of Grandpa’s old friends and colleagues to send him. Stories about Raymond Reese—the man he was and the way he had lived. How people had trusted and admired and relied on him. How he had made mistakes and learned from them, grown from them, used them as fuel to do better. Archie watched his family absorb it all, working to hold back his own tears as theirs traced down their faces.

When they had questions, Archie answered. Mostly, though, he stood back and let the project speak for itself, swelling with pride as they reacted to each element. All the while, he hoped they could take enough pictures and video to share with Grandpa, so that on a good day he could enjoy it.

“I love this song,” Grandpa said, leaning on Mom’s arm. “Your Grandma Ella and I used to dance to it.”

Something had shifted. Grandpa’s eyes were clear and sharp. When he looked at Archie, he was really seeing him. When he looked at the display walls, he read the words and saw the photos and reacted just like himself. “You outdid yourself, Fletch. I feel like I just woke up. I just wish your grandma could be here to see this. She’d be so proud of you.”

Archie couldn’t speak. Grandpa patted his shoulder with a knowing expression.

“Let’s just enjoy it, okay? Don’t know how long I’ve got, and I don’t want to miss a minute.”

Archie nodded, overcome with gratitude. Whatever happened tomorrow, at least they would always have this.

“Have to admit, though,” Grandpa said. He hesitated, taking in Archie’s work with a sweeping glance. “I’m not sure I’ve earned all this. I’m just an ordinary man, Archie.”

“I know you are,” Archie assured him. “You’re an ordinary man, and you’re my hero, flaws and all. You always will be.”

This time Grandpa was speechless. Archie gave his back a reassuring pat. As he did, he glanced over Grandpa’s shoulder and saw that the crown jewel of his project had just arrived. The woman was about thirty, and she looked both anxious and excited.

Grandpa seemed lost in thought, so Archie left him with Mom and stepped away to greet the newcomer.

“Thank you so much for coming,” he said as they shook hands.

“Thank you for finding me,” she said. “I’m so happy to be here.”

“Aunt Candace, Uncle Dan, Aunt Violet,” Archie said, then gestured to the woman. “Meet Isabelle.”

“It’s such a pleasure,” Isabelle said, shaking each of their hands.

“Um, likewise,” Uncle Dan said.

“Who are you again?” Aunt Candace said.

Archie glanced over his shoulder. Grandpa was still absorbed in looking at the display. He hadn’t turned around yet. Still, Archie nodded to Isabelle, encouraging her to go ahead with her story.

“Twenty years ago, I almost died in a fire,” Isabelle said. “My mother and I were trapped in our apartment. I remember her crying. At nine years old, I knew I was going to die there.”

Grandpa had half-turned toward Isabelle now.

“But then the smoke parted, and a man was there,” Isabelle said. “We could barely move, so he picked us up and ran. Fire and smoke didn’t stop him. Burning things fell on him and he just kept going. And then we were safe.”

Recognition shone from Aunt Candace’s face. Her eyes glittered with tears. “He used to tell us about that fire,” she said. “He told us about you and your mother.”

“What are you doing now?” Archie prompted.

“I’m a pediatrician,” Isabelle said. “I try to help kids too. For twenty years I’ve wanted to find that firefighter. I . . .”

Isabelle cut off as Grandpa finally turned around and stepped toward her. For an eternal moment they stared. Then they reached for each other and collapsed into an embrace.

Archie watched their reunion with pure joy, no longer caring about whatever else happened tonight. He wiped away happy tears as Grandpa met, for the second time, the little girl whose life he had saved. Whatever anyone thought about how strange his project might be, none of that mattered. Because it had accomplished exactly what Archie hoped.

For Raymond Reese to know the legacy he was leaving behind, to understand that others would carry forward what he had started.

And that he would be remembered.