I lay in the bathtub, watching steam rise from the warm water. I should have felt relaxed, but I did not. I waited apprehensively. Nothing could calm my nerves. Not the dozen candles that lit the bathroom. Not even the New Age CD that filled the room with the comforting sound of the ocean washing against the shore.
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I'm Sam. Or at least I was.
I woke up to the sound of an alarm. I'm not sure why I didn't notice at first that something was up, but the only light was a crack in the window curtains and that was on the usual side of my bed. The alarm was a different tone, but my mind was groggy from having just woken up so it didn't register. I sat up, and flicked on the light switch for the lamp to my left. I had to stretch slightly further than usual.
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I was always amazed at how someone from my past unfailingly seemed to turn up on opening nights of exhibitions. It didn't seem to matter which city I was in, some old school friend, long lost family member or an acquaintance from the photography fraternity seemed to find the ads for my openings in the small print and turn up to say hi.
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Robert Kyle had finally had it.
Everyday he allowed his American History class the last five minutes of the period to themselves. And everyday during those last five minutes, the female student sitting directly in front of him would do something to give him a raging hard-on.
Dropping a pencil. Re-tying a shoelace. Tossing something in the wastebasket and missing by a mile. All three caused her to have to bend over.
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"Heaton? Paul Heaton?" My assistant addressed the class of sixth-form boys.
"Here, Miss." The teenage boy nonchalantly raised his arm.
"When this class is finished Mrs. Horner wants to see you in her office. I've already informed Mr. Rotheray that you'll miss his lesson." She handed him a slip of paper and left the classroom.
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Dave was having a hard time staying focused. The exams were complete, the term papers graded and the students were gone. A few more forms to complete and this school year was over! In just a few days, he'd be in the Keys - fishing with his college buddies.
"Mr. Becket?"
He didn't even have to look up from his paperwork. He knew the voice all too well.
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As I have mentioned in an earlier story ("Teaching Kaci"), I worked as a professor of English at a small but expensive New England college for about thirty years. The college had a mandatory policy of "retirement at 65", but I had decided to take mine about five years before that. My wife had died of cancer some years earlier, and I wanted to spend what remained of my life doing some traveling. I even thought about the idea of moving to Paris if I could get a small apartment.
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I stood in front of Mrs. Moffit's room door, hesitating.
I had asked her if I could stop by after the evening orientation, and find out what I'd missed at the group meeting. I was the only student from our team who had entered both a team and individual event and advanced to the national level competition in both. Now the time issues that arose from competing twice were starting to catch up with me.
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"Curtis, your 10 minutes late.... Detention."
The entire classroom laughed and ohhed at Curtis like a bunch of elementary students.
He just turned 18 and this was his junior year at this school after being kicked out two previous schools for bad behavior. Being 18 also scared the younger kids away from him but it also made him cooler by the kids who were just as bad as he was.
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That day started like any other first day of preschool for Julie. She greeted the returning children as well as the newcomers. Parents milled around the room to see what new things Julie had set up for the children to do. As she was speaking to one concerned parent, she noticed a tall man standing in the doorway, with a large Stetson in his hand. Wrapped around his leg, was a small girl in a pretty green dress and saddle shoes. She seemed to be terrified at what she was seeing.
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