Page 1

Story: Scorched

CHAPTER 1
“Caesar Valdez,please return to your seat.” Elise Johnson struggled to look calm and keep her voice even. She pushed a hand through her damp hair and sighed. Why was the air conditioner on the fritz again? How could she teach in such stifling heat?
Caesar glared at her and slumped into his assigned seat, grumbling, “I don’t know why we have to study history, anyway. It’s lame. Only losers care about history.”
Elise couldn’t blame the students for being fractious. The temperature in the room had to be nearing the mid-eighties. Outside, the South Texas summer had stretched well into the triple digits and it was late October, for heaven’s sake!
A transplant from North Dakota, Elise suffered in anything above seventy degrees Fahrenheit.
She sighed. If she could just make it another fewminutes, the day would be done, and they could all go home. “Can anyone tell Caesar why we study world history?”
Ashley Finch flicked her straight strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder and looked down her perfect nose at Elise. “Because teachers like to torture teenagers?”
The students laughed.
Elise nodded, already used to the young people posturing in front of their peers. A cheerleader, Ashley liked to be the center of attention and had no trouble speaking up in class; it got her in trouble often. She never knew when to shut up. After several conferences with Ashley’s mother, Elise understood where the girl got her mouth and attitude.
“Thank you, Ashley.” She stared into the sea of bored faces, each watching the clock on the wall, waiting for the bell to ring and school to end for the day. “Does anyone know another reason why we might want to study history?”
Alex Mendoza glanced from left to right and inched his hand upward.
As one, the entire class moaned.
Alex was the brainiac of the class. He’d already blown the class curve, earning him the disdain of his less fortunate and less studious classmates.
Elise liked him because he was voracious in his desire to learn and his ability to retain what he’d digested. “Yes, Alex?”
“We study history so that we don’t repeat the mistakes of our past. If we don’t learn from the past, we are destined to do it all over again.” His words started out slow and tentative and sped up as if he were afraid the class would pummel him with spit wads for being so verbose. “Who wants another Hitler or Hussein?”
The bell rang before the class could bombard him with a barrage of answers to his questions.
Students grabbed their books and backpacks and scrambled for the door.
Elise straightened her desk and gathered the quiz papers from a previous class. She liked to be home when the boys got off the bus. As a teacher, she had the latitude to be with her young sons when they got out of school. As a single parent, she liked to maintain a certain amount of stability in their lives. They’d been through so much.
Alex Mendoza and Kendall Laughlin were the last to leave, as usual. The two were best friends and partners on the school newspaper. They went everywhere together—joined at the hip, as Elise’s mother would have said before she passed away last year.
Kendall stopped in front of Elise’s desk. “Ms. Johnson, remember if you need me to babysit, all you have to do is let me know. I’m available practically anytime, and you’re just down the street, so I could ride my bike.”
Elise chewed her bottom lip. She hadn’t been out with adults since she’d come to Breuer, Texas, the small traditional German town on the outskirts of San Antonio. “Thanks, Kendall, I’ll keep you in mind.” For when she actually met some adults she could hang out with after teaching school all day. “Alex, don’t let Caesar’s comments get you down. You two will go far because you aren’t afraid or too lazy to learn.”
Alex shrugged. “I wasn’t worried. While I’m at Stanford earning my doctorate, Caesar will still be bagging groceries.”
“Come on, Alex,” Kendall said. “My mom’s waiting to take us to the library so we can dig up more scoop on Jack the Ripper.”
A chill slithered its way down Elise’s spine. “Why are you doing a report on Jack the Ripper?”
“We had to pick someone famous in history, and who wants to do the same ol’ same ol’?” Kendall grinned.
Alex rolled his eyes. “It was her idea. I wanted Albert Einstein.”
Kendall’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm. “There’s something about an unsolved mystery that appeals to me.” She jerked her head toward the door. “Are we going or not? My mom’s probably waiting in the parking lot.”
Alex smiled and scooted out the door after Kendall.
After the kids had cleared the room, Elise hurried down the hallway, her footsteps clicking along the tiled floors. She had to stop at the office where she’d drop off parent permission forms for their field trip to Enchanted Rock at the end of next week.
Elise tried to shake the uneasy feeling creepingacross her skin. All of Alex and Kendall’s talk of Jack the Ripper brought up memories best forgotten.