Revolución Part A

From the moment he got out of his car, he knew something was off. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something was just not right. Maybe it was the fact that there seemed to be less birds chirping. Maybe it was that no one was outside skipping out on third period. Maybe it was the one kid he saw walking quickly away from the school.

Maybe it was simply the fact that he hadn’t been running this late in years.

He entered the school carefully. If everything had gone as planned, he was covered and would be able to walk into fourth period as if he had been there all morning. Everyone was bustling quickly through the hallways to their next class, talking a bit more excitedly than usual. He noticed everyone’s faces mixed with confusion, fear, awe, and the occasional spark of pride. He also quickly noticed that the closer he got to his class, the quieter it got.

It didn’t take him long to figure out why.

Dark storm clouds swirled about her head, flames erupted from her mouth, snakes wriggled their way through her hair, and death itself spewed from her eyes. The mangled bodies of her last three victims lay at her clawed feet as she sniffed around for the next student to maim.

Or at least that’s how it seemed at the time.

He had never seen his English teacher so angry before in all his days. In fact, no one had ever seen Ms. Plaisance this upset. He didn’t dare risk becoming the next casualty, so he waited until someone else caught her attention, said a silent prayer of thanks for that poor soul, and quietly slipped into the classroom.

Admiral, as his friends called him, found an open seat next to his second-in-command, Commodore. Commodore’s letter jacket proudly displayed his nickname on the back, surrounded by patches representing all of his state awards in football and track. Between Commodore’s athletic success and Admiral’s presidency of the student body and their combined social connections, the two of them virtually ran the school. All of the students respected them and most of the teachers recognized this fact enough to give them a fairly wide girth.

Admiral sat next to Commodore and quietly, trying to avoid drawing the attention of Unpleasant Plaisance, inquired about the success of their plot that morning. “Did Ensign cover for me?” Ensign was a freshman who worked in the office that their quartet of friends had recently taken under their wing.

“He said he did,” replied Commodore confidently. “And I haven’t known that kid to be wrong about much. Lieutenant has your homework for next period.”

“Awesome. Captain said his uncle called in sick for him, so he should be covered.”

A loud and very deliberate cough came from the back of the room, signaling Ms. Plaisance’s entrance. All heads snapped forward, no one dared to wait for the bell while in that classroom. Unpleasant Plaisance had made it clear on day one that the bell signaled neither the start nor the end of class. She did that. And no one ever forgot that fact.

No one.

What Admiral did often forget, however, was to pay attention. So as Ms. Plaisance began her lecture about some guy who wrote something a long time ago, Admiral began planning out the best way to capitalize on his actions that morning. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch. Assuming Ensign and Commodore had done their jobs, no one with any authority would be able to pin any of that morning’s activities on he and Captain, and by his calculations they were about twenty minutes from everything hitting the fan.

So if they were still twenty minutes out, Ms. Plaisance’s mood couldn’t be their fault. He casually looked over at the student who had been his unwilling diversion as he tried to enter class. She was staring unblinkingly at the board, softly sobbing. He felt a bit responsible for her current state, but rather than feeling guilty, he was simply curious. What could possibly have set their English teacher off like that? After all of their hijinks, they had never made her this angry. The idea that anyone could possibly make her angrier than he ever had baffled him.

A sharp pain in his side brought Admiral back to the present. He turned to face the board with just enough time to see Commodore retract his elbow before Ms. Plaisance turned around to ask a question. Without looking, Admiral offered his friend a silent nod of thanks for the jab that might have saved him. Hopefully, someone else would offer further assistance if she called on him. Luckily, before she could settle on a target for her question, bells started going off throughout the school, warning of a fire.

Admiral looked down at his watch. Six minutes early. Oh well.
He quickly grabbed his backpack and darted for the door before Ms. Plaisance could give her standard reproach that it was just a drill and the writings of the great Wilbur Milkshake (or whatever his name was) were far more important than a ten minute break from class. Commodore was hot on his heels with the rest of the class just behind.

Surprisingly, Ms. Plaisance didn’t seem to be concerned with getting them back into class. In fact, if Admiral had taken the time to look back, he would have seen the look of near relief on her face and her walking calmly to her desk. Things could not have been going much better.

Or so they thought.

Chapter 2 Part 3

Franc would never fully understand the far-reaching effects of his actions that day.  He honestly didn't care about any results or consequences at that moment.

Or, more accurately, he didn't dare to think about them.

He worked hard to turn his brain off and simply walk.  He had never been there under circumstances such as these before, but his feet somehow knew the path to the principal's office as though they had walked it every day of his life.  He vaguely noticed a teacher asking him if he had a hall pass, but this didn't even moderately phase him.  He simply walked by without ever acknowledging her.  The principal's secretary offered a similarly futile hindrance as he brushed by her into Mr. Hevel's office.

Franc stomped proudly and unapologetically into the office and dropped into the seat across the desk from his principal who was on the phone.  Mr. Hevel looked at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration as he tried to decide how to deal with the situation.

"Nick, I'm going to have to call you back," Hevel said slowly and cautiously as he hung up the phone.  "Mr. Bar.  Is there something I can help you with?"

Franc smiled to himself, realizing how he must look.  "No."

Mr. Hevel was stunned.  He had never seen Franc like this.  Something about him, something in his eyes and the way he was sitting, suggested that nothing that happened in this office, or anywhere for that matter, made any difference to him.  "Franc," he said, switching into a much more compassionate tone, hoping to ease Franc into a more cooperative state, "what are you doing here?  Did something happen?"

Franc's grin grew a bit as he noticed the principal's change in demeanor.  "Yes."

These short answers weren't like Franc.  He was usually so conversational and ready to offer more information than was needed.  "Would you like to tell me what it was?"

Franc's face switched from his almost manic smile into the face of an excited young boy, ready to tell all about his adventures and battles against bad guys and monsters.  "Well, Unpleasant Plaisance was being a power-drunk bitch, and I had had enough of it, so I told her," he giggled, fighting to contain his excitement, "I told her exactly what I thought of her.  Then I came down here so you could hear about it too!"

Mr. Hevel was legitimately concerned now.  No longer was he simply curious about his student's odd behavior.  Now he had reason for concern about his mental stability . . . and the safety of his other students.  Ms. Plaisance was frightening enough in the best of moods.

He tried to get a handle on the situation.  "Why don't I call Ms. Plaisance, and we can all talk this out, ok?"

Franc looked at him quizzically.  "No thank you, sir.  I'll take my suspension and be on my way."

"Excuse me?"

"My suspension.  What I did should have earned me at least a couple weeks' suspension.  You can talk to the old shrew yourself if you need further confirmation, but I think you'll agree that that is the only logical punishment.  I'd also rather not waste any more time here, because ultimately, we're both going to agree that it would be best for me to go home immediately."

"Well . . . "

"It's fine.  Here," Franc pulled a piece of paper out of his backpack, scribbled some notes on it, and tore it in half.  He set the first half down in front of Mr. Hevel.  "Here's the numbers where you should be able to reach my parents.  I'm gonna walk home, so don't bother asking them to come pick me up, just tell them about my suspension."  He handed him the other half.  "And this is a note explaining to them exactly what happened and that I'm going to be suspended for three weeks.  I just need you to sign it.  That way, even if you can't get ahold of them, they're still in the loop."  He politely handed the principal a pen before adding a bit sarcastically, "Because we all know how important it is for parents to be involved in their children's education."

Mr. Hevel looked down at the two pieces of paper and back up at Franc.

Franc smiled at Mr. Hevel and waited patiently.

After a minute long stare-down that was much more uncomfortable for Mr. Hevel than it was for Franc, the principal relented, signed the note, and handed it back to Franc.  "Thank you," said Franc pleasantly as he took the note and left the office before Hevel could get another word in.

He walked confidently past the secretary and out the front door, looking down at the note in his hands and reading it over to make sure all of this was real.  Then he crumbled the note in his fist, set his gaze in the direction of his house, and started walking very deliberately.  He had no intention of stopping or even slowing down until he got there.

Three weeks.

He only had three weeks, and he wasn't going to waste a minute of them.

It was time to finish his project.