Fire

by Lynnette Bonner

  Silence was the only response.

  She frowned. Maybe he’d hurt himself? Had the crash she’d heard been him falling?

  She started across the hall. “Are you okay? Do you need some help cleaning up?”

  More silence.

  Worry seeped in. What if he had knocked himself out or something? She might need to call for medics, but she’d left her phone back on her desk. She should grab it right quick, just in case. She rushed back into her classroom, snatched the phone off her desk, and then jogged back across the hall.

  “Simon?” she tried once more.

  Still no reply.

  Her heart thumped against her sternum. What was going on?

  She pushed down on his door handle, but the room was locked. Odd. Had the crash really come from this room? She only now realized that she’d assumed it was from this room because she’d seen the light. Had she really seen a light?

  She stood on her tiptoes and peered into the classroom, but everything was pitch black.

  It only took a moment to turn on the flashlight on her phone. She shone it through the little window, searching the room for anyone who might be hurt inside. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  Simon’s desk sat at the back corner of the room—a mirror of the way she’d set up her own classroom. And she could see most of the floor between his desk and the door. She didn’t see anyone, collapsed or otherwise. So unless someone had fallen behind one of the lab tables, or was pressed right against this door, there was no one in that room.

  A prickle of unease tightened the skin along the back of her neck. Where had the sound come from then? And why had she thought she’d seen light in here?

  Across the room, one of the heavy curtains at one of the windows fluttered inward, and that was when she saw the broken glass on the floor just below it.

  A breath of relief whooshed from her. Simon had left one of the windows in his classroom open and likely a breeze had blown in and knocked the curtain into a beaker which had crashed onto the floor. Since his room was on the third floor of the high school, he probably often left a window open to air out the chemical smells. Maybe the flash of light had been nothing more than a car passing on the road outside the school.

  Relieved to have her stressful little adventure fizzle into nothing more than a breeze, she turned back to her classroom with a roll of her eyes. Only she would get all hyped up over absolutely nothing.

  Back at her desk, she stared once more at the records of one Case Sheridan. Hyped up over nothing. Maybe she was doing the same with Case. What kid wouldn’t have social issues if he was dragged from school to school sometimes multiple times a year? His prank on her at the salon last Saturday had probably been nothing more than a bored kid seeing if he could really pass himself off as an adult. Likely practicing to see if he could get himself into a club with a fake ID, or something like that.

  She blew out a breath. Maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill, but still, she would keep an eye on him. However, for now, she’d let things ride.

  Lord, please just don’t let him hurt himself, because if I’m wrong I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself.

  With that decision made, she pulled her purse from where she’d left it in her bottom drawer, locked up her classroom, set the alarm on the school just as she’d been taught, and headed for her car in the parking lot.

  Another layer of relief washed over her when she noted that Simon’s lime-green Corvette was not in the parking lot. In fact, her car was the only one left. She released her last shred of concern over his fate.

  It really had just been the wind in his classroom.

  CHAPTER 5

  The metal of the chemistry room door pressed cold against a back damp with sweat and made the shirt stick uncomfortably. Knees curled to chest, quaked. Arms wrapped tight around them shook. The rapid rocking—forward, back, forward, back—did nothing to bring ease.

  An all-too-familiar terror squirmed and writhed like a can full of fishing worms. Almost caught! Was it safe to move yet? What had that new teacher been doing here so late, anyhow?

  Anger surged. Clenched fists banged the floor and pain radiated a reminder that flesh couldn’t conquer concrete. All the effort and time and work to get to this point could have been lost in one moment! No one was supposed to be in the school at this hour! No one!

  Careless! Why were you so careless? Always living up to what Father predicted.

  Rocking. Rocking. Rocking.

  “No!” The word emerged savage and hoarse.

  Father was not right. And only a few more batches of Fire were going to prove that. It wasn’t easy to make it in this world, but there was almost enough money now. Almost enough to start buying the equipment needed so larger batches could be made at home. Things would be much safer that way. After all, no one ever came to visit. And afterward, all the money would be free and clear.

  Save it! Spend it! Vacation on it. The choices would be endless. A smile pleaded for release.

  Just a few more months to freedom and affluence.

  The rocking stopped. The arms eased. The promise of tomorrow lit hope deep inside.

  But until then, what to do about the new teacher? Couldn’t have her falling into a pattern of staying late at the school. That just wouldn’t do. Had her car been in the parking lot a bit ago?

  The floor pressed icily against scrambling knees, and a quick peek out the window revealed her, illuminated in the glow of the parking lot lights, just getting into her car.

  A guttural grunt of disgust escaped.

  Stupid. Stupid!

  The car had been there the whole time. It was too easy to grow lazy and relaxed, obviously. Much too easy.

  What if there’d been no time to lock the door?

  Stupid! Stupid!

  A sweep of lights crossed the curtains at the windows and the low hum of Kyra Radell’s engine and crunch of her tires dissipated into the distance.

  A breath eased through pursed lips. She’s gone. No more danger.

  For now, cooling and collecting this batch took priority. And next time a more careful scan of the area would be in order before coming in to cook. That and being more careful with the glass lab equipment.

  Beaker. Glass stirring rod. Thermometer. Everything lay shattered on the floor.

  Careless!

  The broken glass begged to be cleaned up, but Radell would say something in the morning so it was best to leave it in shattered shards. The problem was…it would have traces of Fire on it. Would they notice and be curious enough to test it? That couldn’t be risked!

  What to do?

  Another beaker from the next station over caught a glint of moonlight as the curtain from the window—opened earlier to let out the fumes—wafted inward on a breeze. And just like that the solution presented itself.

  A sigh of relief freed the last of the tension..

  All was not lost. Not even remotely.

  Father was wrong again.

  Thursday morning, Kyra sat at her desk during her first-hour English period and studied her classroom. Students were supposed to be working on a report but Chloe Schumacher had been on her phone for the past fifteen minutes.

  Kyra had determined not to overreact. The kids were supposed to be working on reports and she’d waited to see if the girl had simply wanted to check something on the internet right quick. But Kyra’s dread mounted as it became clear that she was going to have to say something. Confrontation had never been her strong suit. Her heart was to reach her students with kindness and lure them into a love of learning, not badger and bash and demand from them in a way that would quash all the joy that being a life-long student could provide.

  How did she go about challenging the girl to do better at her school work without putting a barrier between them? And without building a fire beneath the already steaming cauldron of insolence Chloe seemed to carry with her everywhere she went? The last thing Kyra wanted to do was set a pattern that wou
ld result in a year-long battle with the girl.

  Most of the other students appeared to be working diligently, even Case Sheridan, miracle of miracles. So now was probably an okay time to leave the classroom for a few seconds.

  Kyra stood. “Chloe?”

  The girl looked up, rapidly shoving her phone into her backpack.

  Kyra offered a smile. “May I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?”

  Chloe rolled her eyes but stood with a gesture that made it clear she didn’t think she had much choice and exited the classroom.

  Taking a deep breath, Kyra followed her out.

  Chloe leaned against the wall, arms folded and one foot propped up behind her.

  Kyra let the disrespectful pose pass. Instead she tried to find some common ground. She pulled her own new red iPhone from the back pocket of her jeans and held it up for the girl to see.

  Chloe looked a bit confused. Her gaze darted back in the direction of her desk where she’d just shoved her own phone into her backpack.

  Kyra smiled. Good, catching her off guard might be the key to gaining the girl’s respect. “This one is mine. Not yours. You got the new iPhone too? How do you like it?”

  Understanding sapped some of the hardness from the girl’s stance. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool.”

  “I really like the new camera. It has some great new updates, doesn’t it?” Kyra felt like she couldn’t stretch out this olive branch much farther.

  Chloe shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah. I said it was cool.”

  One more try. “What do you like best about it?”

  Chloe only shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

  Okay… So much for attempting to establish some rapport. Maybe it was just time to bring this to a close. She didn’t want to be out of her classroom for much longer anyhow. “So here’s the thing...” Kyra tucked her own phone back into her pocket. “I’m really not that hard of a teacher. But when I give an assignment and give you time in class to work on it, I expect you to be working and not just surfing on your phone. Were you doing research for your paper?”

  Chloe hesitated and Kyra could see dilemma shining in the girl’s eyes. Would she tell the truth?

  After only a moment, the girl shook her head.

  Kyra was relieved to see that she had chosen the better part of valor. She offered the girl another smile. “Well thank you for being honest. I really appreciate that. I’m going to let it go this time, but I want your word that from now on you’ll make better use of your time in the classroom.”

  Chloe nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kyra stretched a hand toward the classroom door. “Thank you. You may return to your seat.”

  Chloe’s expression registered surprise that she had let her off so easily. But after only a split second of hesitation, she bolted back into the classroom.

  Once the girl was out of sight, Kyra let the wall take her weight, relieved to have the confrontation over with. Hopefully, Chloe would rise to the challenge and Kyra wouldn’t later regret her leniency.

  Thanking the Lord for an easy first battle-of-the-wills, Kyra turned to open her classroom door.

  “You handled that really well.”

  Kyra paused and turned to face Simon who stood across the hall with his hands thrust into the pockets of his slacks. Today he wore a turquoise shirt and matching tie. The man always dressed classy.

  She widened her eyes and blew at her hair, presenting a picture of precarious sanity.

  He laughed. “Don’t let them send you to the looney bin. Try to remember back to when you were a teen”—he swept a glance from her head to her toes and back again—“not that long ago.”

  She should laugh. Maybe even blush at his compliment. But the truth was, thinking back to her teen years was something she rarely tortured herself with. Those had been sad, confusing years that she tried to think about as little as possible now that she was past them. Having a brother who committed suicide had sent an explosion right into the heart of their family as surely as though someone had dropped a bomb in their living room.

  She chose instead to change the subject. “Did you have a broken beaker in your room this morning?”

  Simon looked surprised. “I did. How did you know?”

  She laughed. “I was in my classroom last night about ten o’clock when I heard it break. I meandered over but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary except that a window was open. It must have gotten knocked off the ledge by the curtain.”

  “Could be, I suppose. Well… I just escorted a student down to chat with our illustrious leader.” He stretched his chin in the direction of the principal’s office on the bottom floor. “I’d better get back inside.” Another tip of his head indicated his classroom.

  Kyra nodded and pointed to her own door. “Me too.”

  Just then a student poked his head out of Simon’s classroom. “Mr. Hall, my beaker seems to be missing.”

  Simon turned to face the student. “Must be the one that got broken last night.”

  The kid shook his head. “I don’t know. Kyle and Marissa are missing a bunch of things from their station too—a beaker, a glass stirring rod, and their thermometer. But I’m only missing a beaker.”

  Simon touched the boy’s shoulder, directing him back into the classroom as he gave Kyra a farewell gesture. “Well, let’s see if we can figure out who needs what.”

  Something about the exchange tugged for Kyra’s attention as she stepped back into her own classroom, but two boys were having a spitball fight that demanded her immediate intervention. And by the time the bell had rung for the period to be over and she considered the incident again, she couldn’t remember what had bothered her about it.

  She gave a self-deprecating chuckle and massaged her temples, willing away the headache that threatened to take over.

  Only twenty-three and she was already losing her mind.

  It was the end of the day and her stomach rumbled for dinner, but Kyra put it off for a few more minutes. After the day she’d just had, it was clear that she needed to do something drastic to get the kids interested in the medieval literature she so wanted them to enjoy.

  Perhaps a little recitation? Or…playacting on the kids’ parts? Yes! Maybe tomorrow she would give them all a break, have them spend a few minutes writing up their own medieval scripts, and then they could perform them for each other. What kid wouldn’t enjoy writing their own story about dragon slayers, knights, and maidens fair?

  She had a trunk of theatrical supplies with a lot of fun props left over from her own days in theatre. She dragged it to the front of the classroom and opened the lid. Pulled out a stick horse and a golden crown.

  With a giggle and a glance around, she settled the crown on her head and “mounted” the horse. “Trotting” a few paces across the front of the classroom, she thrust one fist into the air and proclaimed, “Beowulf will never seem more interesting to any students anywhere!”

  “Glad to see that my newest hire is taking her job so seriously.” A low chuckle emanated from behind her.

  With a gasp, Kyra spun around, tugging the crown from her head and dropping the stick horse in her haste. “Principal Vaughan!” Her face blazed. “I was just brainstorming ways to make medieval literature more interesting to twenty-first-century kids.” Gathering up the horse, she hurried over to the trunk and plopped the props inside. “What can I do for you?”

  The man’s smile was genuine and held no mockery. “Please. I’m always happy to see a teacher go above and beyond.”

  Kyra laughed nervously, still embarrassed at having been caught playacting. “Guilty as charged, I guess.”

  The man stepped further into the classroom and set his large satchel briefcase onto the closest student desk. “It’s actually the reason I came up here. I was just heading home, but saw your car was still in the parking lot, and that reminded me I noticed your code closed out the school alarm quite late the other night.”

  “I was here late grading som
e papers. Is…there a problem with that?” Kyra wasn’t sure what to make of the man’s comments.

  “No! No. Not at all. It’s just that I wanted to caution you to be careful, at least until the police can figure out this whole drug fiasco. With all that’s been going on lately I’d hate for something to happen to one of my teachers.” He smiled. “That’s all. Just be careful okay? Maybe grade papers at home for a time instead of here? And leave when the parking lot is busy, or at the very least while it’s still light outside.” He gave a pointed look to her classroom windows where she suddenly noticed how dark it had become.

  Relieved that she wasn’t in trouble for trying to do a good job, Kyra started to gather her things. “Of course. Thank you for thinking of my safety. I was just getting ready to leave.”

  “Well, good. Mind if I walk you out?”

  “Of course not. Thank you.”

  The man chatted amiably with her as they made their way from the building, set the school alarm, and walked through the darkness to the parking lot. He waited patiently while she dug for her keys, and smiled kindly when she thanked him again for his concern.

  “See you tomorrow,” was all he said as he headed for his own car across the lot.

  “Is that a Dodge Charger?” Kyra called after hm, admiring his sporty red ride.

  He smiled over his shoulder. “Yeah. My wife calls it my mid-life crisis vehicle!”

  As Kyra sank into her own plain sedan she chuckled to herself. Between Simon’s Corvette, Principal Vaughan’s Charger, and another sporty blue car she’d seen in the teacher’s lot a few times but had not taken the time to really look at, her sedan was looking pretty mundane. If she was going to work at this school she just might have to upgrade her wheels.

  CHAPTER 6

  The first full week of school was over! A week and a half down. Kyra leaned back in her desk chair and stretched her arms over her head as the last of the bustle and shouting in the hallway subsided. She’d made it! Now hopefully she could get the rest of her unpacking done this weekend. She’d purposely not handed out homework these last few days so that she wouldn’t have anything to grade this weekend. And she didn’t even feel mildly guilty about that.