Crazy From the Heat

Copyright

Crazy
from the Heat is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Copyright
© 2014 by Mercy Celeste

All
rights reserved.

Published
in the United States by Mercy Celeste

Warning:
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any many without
written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles
and reviews.

Contact
the publisher for further information:

[email protected]

Acknowledgements

Photography
provided by

Dan
Skinner

Cover
Art provided by

Jared
Rackler

Editor

Violet
Johnson Summers

I’d
like to thank Kendall McKenna for helping me with some of the law enforcement details.
If I made a mistake it was my error not hers.

I
set this book in my home town of Mobile, Alabama. The high school is a
fictionalized version of the school my children attended and policy used is
based on policy in that school.

Chapter
One

The
first week of August usually meant summer vacation, swimming up at the lake
during the day, ice cream and chasing boys. At least that’s what Grey did when
he was a kid counting down the days until Labor Day came and summer ended. Back
in the dark ages and in a different part of the country.

This
was the second week of August and Grey was standing in front of a group of
sweaty high school seniors who looked as if they would sell their grandmothers
just to make him shut up.

American
History. The last stop on the social studies portion of their academic train
ride. Next year some of them would go to college, others to work. Some would
sit in their parent’s houses with no inclination to do anything other than play
World of Warcraft all day long, and a few would likely end up in prison. No
Child Left Behind? What a crock. Thank God he'd graduated before that hideous
piece of legislation came down to do everything to keep all kids on the same
level. Bored out of their fucking minds.

Grey
looked over the ridiculous syllabus one more time. Day three and he was just
now getting to the syllabus. The first day they’d spent trying to straighten
out the computer scheduling mess. Day two, more scheduling details that kept
the blocks sitting in home room most of the day so that when school could
actually begin he was halfway into the second hour of third block. One hour and
forty five minutes in the middle of the day and every person in this class was
looking out the window even Grey.

He
droned over the class requirements, the notebook he expected everyone to keep
for a grade. Emphasized that a decently maintained notebook had on more than
one occasion pushed a grade from failing to passing.

“And
for the final we are going to do an in depth—"

A
swift knock on the door stopped him mid-sentence, he beckoned the person
inside. Just thirty minutes left so what did it really matter now? A tall blond
kid wearing an old Metallica t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans that were
currently around his waist, but once the last bell rang Grey knew those jeans
would slip down around his hips. A plaid work shirt tied around his waist acted
as a belt, beat up black Converse with writing along the soles covered his feet
and perched on his nose was a pair of dark wraparound sunglasses that Grey knew
cost the whole sum of his first paycheck. Beat up shoes and designer shades
could mean one of two things. Rich kid rebelling against society, or a thug. Sometimes
Grey wondered if the line between the two wasn’t sometimes blurred.

“Can
I help you?”

“Yeah.”
The kid held out a sheet of paper for Grey. “Looks like I’m in this class.”

“Class
started three days ago.” Grey tried not to let the insolence that radiated off
the kid get to him. He'd grown up with kids worse than this one could ever be.
He took the paper and glanced over the details. Transfer from Chicago. Well,
that might explain that.

“Paul
Gibson…Should we call you Pauly G?”

“Yeah
well, lucky me to just move down here to Podunk nowhere and discover that my
summer was in fact over.” Paul hitched an eyebrow above one dark lens his mouth
followed in a sneer, he ignored the name comment. “What is it, like a hundred
fricken degrees outside?”

“Welcome
to summer in Alabama. There’s a seat in the second row, text book on the shelf
directly behind you. Blue cover.” Grey pulled a packet of papers from his desk
and gave them to the new kid. “I’m Dr. Talbot. We’re running behind so if
you’ll take a seat please.”

The
kid walked over to the book shelf and dragged off a brand new text book before
making his way down the row, slim hips swinging as he walked.

“Oh
and Spicoli, lose the shades,” Grey said as an afterthought. The kid turned to
face him, his lips drawn into a thin line of displeasure that surely meant
nothing good for the future of this class. To Grey’s surprise he slowly pushed
the sunglasses on top of his head taking the long blond hair back with it. Grey
met and held the kid’s surprisingly intense gaze and waited. His eyes were a
pale clear shade of brown. Grey swallowed.

“Sure
thing Prof,” the kid said breaking eye contact first.

“As
I was saying, the final grade for this class will count forty percent of your
grade. I’ll assign partners closer to the middle of the term for an in depth
research project outlining a turning point in American History…”

* * * * *

Grey
took the late lunch wave an hour after his American History class ended. He
used the beginning of third block to grade papers and plan the next day’s
class. Today there was nothing to do but fill out his grade book and student
contact information. He pulled the new kid’s form first. Seventeen years old,
from Chicago, no parent information, just a guardian but the form didn’t go
into details about the guardian, could be an orphan, or a delinquent sent to
live with a grandparent.

“Did
you see the new kid?” Grey overheard one of the teachers whispering at the
table not far away. “Ought to be a law against them looking like that. Mrrrow.”
He choked on his chicken salad after that remark. “Dr. Talbot, we were just
discussing the student body.”

“And
what a body that boy has,” Sarah Hastings the other history teacher filled the
gap between them. “Not often we get interesting new kids. He stands out like a
sore thumb.”

“From
Chicago, that’s all his enrollment form says,” Grey said wiping his mouth as
the subject of the conversation walked away from the lunch line with a tray in
one hand, his text book in the other shades back in place. He sat at an empty
table facing the teachers table and Grey felt the weight of the kid’s stare
settle on him. Silly considering the dark lenses. The kid smirked and tilted
the carton of milk in Grey’s direction.

“You
have him?” Sarah drew his attention to her by leaning side ways to speak, her
elbow casually propped on the table, hand blocking her face. Her other hand on
his thigh.

Not
yet!
Grey closed his eyes to shut out the inappropriate thought then removed Sarah’s
hand from his thigh. “He’s in my senior history class. Doesn’t say much. The
other kids couldn’t stop staring at him but gave him wide berth. It’s going to
be an interesting year.”

“Aren’t
they all?” Sarah agreed taking her lunch out of the cooler bag and offering him
a portion of her pasta salad. “I’ve got freshmen and juniors this year for History
and then seniors for Economics. Five classes and no planning period. At least Economics
is a short class, half a block. Long lunch.”

“I
have Sophomore and Senior History and no short class at all. I'll probably set
up a study hall that hour for kids who need a place to land when they drop
economics.” He preferred to do his grading at home away from distractions.

“Oooh,
low blow, Dr. Talbot.” Sarah winked at him, and he could hear the innuendo in
her voice. Sarah was just a little older than him, Grey knew from conversations
with her the previous year. Two grades. At thirty she was a beauty. One who
marked him as first her competition, and then as a potential mate. Grey wasn’t
interested in being either, but she hadn’t cared.

“Sorry,
Sarah,” he shrugged. Knowing the kids as well as he did, he knew that those
with enough credits to graduate by mid-year would drop the elective classes
that bored them. Economics was, by definition, incredibly boring. He’d taught
it last year—half the class had dropped by the third week to take study hall.

“Don’t
worry about it, I’d drop it to take study hall with you any damned day of the
week,” Sarah laughed, and again Grey had the sneaking suspicion that she was
hinting at more than just ditching a boring useless class. “Especially if the
new kid had his student body in there.”

“He’s
seventeen years old, for chrissake.” Grey caught himself glancing across the
lunchroom to the topic of the discussion and for the second time felt as if he
were being watched.

“When’s
his birthday so we can mark it on our calendars?” The new redhead leaned over
and whispered and the whole table erupted in laughter.

Grey
leaned back in his seat. Life was seriously one long high school experience
that never ended, and if you were doubly cursed you ended up working in a high
school. “June sometime,” he lied, because damn, the whole conversation was
turning his stomach so much so that he couldn’t stop looking at the kid in
sympathy.

* * * * *

The
teachers seemed to be having a fine time, Paul decided as he picked at the crap
that passed for food. Greasy meat patty of undetermined origin, gloopy mashed
potatoes, a roll and a pear half. Tomorrow he would remember to pack something
to get him through the day because this shit sucked. Hotty teacher looked his
way again, the chick beside him laid her hand on his thigh and he blushed
before removing it. He said something that she didn’t like, and she leaned so
that Paul couldn’t read her lips.

The
cougars at the table were openly discussing the new hot student body. Paul
could only assume they meant him. The Prof looked his way again. Damn good
looking teacher. He wished he’d had one like that back in the day, Paul thought
as his pocket vibrated. He fished his phone out while the teachers weren’t
looking and kept it low. He didn’t want to lose the damned thing his first day.

Dude,
where you at?
The text read.