MURDER FIGHT: Part 4 (1068 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 2 on 6 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by awj002 (View user info) at 2007-05-28 16:10:27 EDT
Part 3: http://www.ubersite.com/m/108719
**
Half asleep at his desk, Mr. Hawkins heard the explosion. It woke him with a start. "God damn it," he said, pounding his fist, scattering a stack of poorly-written book reports. Madame Roulette, the French teacher, came barreling across the hall and through the door, closing it behind her, locking it. She peeked out its thin, vertical window, saw only a row of rusted lockers. She started to cry. "Merde," she said through her tears. "Pourquoi, Jeffrey? Pourquoi, God damn it!" She emptied a box of chalk into her hand, snapping the sticks and throwing them, dropping one and kicking it. She bit the end off of one and chewed it, frantically. She spit and gagged and cried harder. Mr. Hawkins rushed to take her in his arms. "I can't tell you why," he said. "I don't know." Mme. Roullette looked into his eyes. At 31, he looked twenty years older. He held her more tightly and they huddled in a corner behind the desk. Minutes passed. "Do you have a favorite, of them all?" she asked. She felt his short, greasy hair brush her face as he slowly nodded his head, no. "They're throwing grenades now," she said.
More silence.
Back in the lunchroom, the bell sounded miniscule. The ringing in Ricky's ears was much louder. Someone was yelling 'truce,' and then someone else, too. Everyone was yelling truce. The kids in trenches four and five were wiping bits of Kyle Wiezkowski from their hair. Tom peeped his head over the table in one direction while Reggie looked in the other. They saw similarly cautious eyes. The more well-armed students stood slowly and showed their weapons. This, Tom knew, was the most scary time in the life of a high schooler. 'Truce' isn't like 'Murder-fight,' it doesn't guarantee a course of action. In times like these, the secret thoughts of others mean life or death.
From the first trench, a gang of honor students escorted their half-crawling compatriots to safety. They would head to class, avoiding a bottleneck in the lobby. The second trench emptied, too, and finally Ricky followed Tom and Reggie to level 4 French, where they found that Roulette had not returned from her rendez-vous with Hawkins. "Fuckin' murder-fight," Tom said, turning the classroom television to channel 15 news. A camouflaged reporter pointed at a computer-generated map of the United States, where battle lines stretched like jet streams across Kentucky. The terrorists had advanced well past Lexington. "Fuckin' arabs, fuckin' grenade. Shit on this," Tom said. Ricky was carving his name into the desk with a nail file. "It was worse in Virginia," he said. Tom scowled. "What do you know about it. I'll cut your fuckin' head off." Mme Roulette entered the room with a fairly convincing smile, pretending not to have heard the remark. Phil Barlow's desk in the front row was empty. "Bonjour," she said. "Ca va aujourd-hui?"
"Ca va bien," said the children. "Je ne sais pas," answered Reggie. "J'habite au fromage."
User Reviews
Submitted by Barnymeinhoff (user info) at 2007-05-29 14:14:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by awj002 (user info) at 2007-05-28 20:06:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
mockidol, you are correct (c'est vrai)
Submitted by mockidol (user info) at 2007-05-28 19:30:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I live with cheese?
Is my french that rusty or is that right?
Submitted by Sinistral (user info) at 2007-05-28 18:30:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm anxious to see where this goes.
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-05-28 18:30:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
When the story get's weird, the weird wanna read more.
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2007-05-28 16:35:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What in the hell is wrong with you?