Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
The evil Mrs.Threadgill.
Mrs. Threadgill was the foul biddy who used to write me tardies, and send me home if my shirts had anything ‘provocative’ on them, regardless if they did or not. Hell, I’d been sent home my senior year for a Coke shirt because she’d thought it was promoting drugs.
I’d hated her guts, and I damn well knew she remembered me as soon as she saw me. It was kind of hard to forget a kid that was 6’4 and 200 pounds with the face of an Italian Stallion in my freshman year of high school.
Now I was two forty, but who was counting.
“Mr. Spada, what can I help you with?” Mrs. Threadgill asked coldly after I’d taken too long to answer.
“We’re here for Ms. Sheffield’s chemistry class. Can you tell us where to go?” I asked nicely.
Mrs. Threadgill looked at me as if he’d grown a second head. “You’re,” she sneered. “With the fire department now?”
I smiled widely at her. “For ten years now.” I informed her brightly.
She sniffed and then stood stiffly before walking to the door and opening it.
“I’ll take you. I have to escort Mr. Fairway back to Ms. Sheffield’s class anyway.” She said gesturing to a young boy that was sitting outside the principal’s office.
Of course, the first thing the woman heard was Dillon singing the Benton fight son at the top of his lungs to a crowd of young girls.
“Dallas Berry, that is quite enough.” Mrs. Threadgill reprimanded. “Mr. Fairway, please follow me.”
Dallas, not one to stop when he was told, finished the song despite the old woman’s glare, drawing chuckles from his underage fan club.
“This way,” Mrs. Threadgill snapped before shuffling down the back hall towards the science labs.
The young boy who looked like a little punk dressed in designer clothing seemed like a real winner.
His clothes were about three sizes too big, and he was holding his pants up by the buckle of the belt.
I wanted to pants him.
“Michelle, please tie your hair back or get out of my lab. You probably wouldn’t look so good bald.” Adeline’s voice scolded from behind the chemistry lab’s door.
“But Ms. Sheffield, if I tie it back it gets creases and looks like shit...”
Mrs. Threadgill opened the door so quick I barely saw her move. “Ms. Cox, I suggest you follow Ms. Sheffield’s direction or you won’t get to see the fireman do their demonstration, and if I hear you curse on the school grounds again, I’ll be speaking with your parents.”
Yep, the old goat still had it. She used to use the same line on me sixteen years ago. Worked every time.
“Firemen?” Michelle and Adeline asked in unison.
I smiled widely as I followed Mrs. Threadgill into the room that also hadn’t changed in sixteen years. Jesus, it was like being in a time warp.
“Ahh, our guest speakers are here early. Michelle, please allow Shane his seat back so we can discuss some fire safety. Mr. Spada, please introduce yourself.” Adeline said gleefully.
I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
Therefore, I had no problem spewing out the usual spiel I gave to the five to eight year olds, bringing Dillon and Sebastian in while I was at it.
After about fifteen minutes of speaking, I finally stopped and waited. “Any questions?”
Of course, Adeline had one. “How do you put out a chemical fire?”
Her eyes were practically dancing with happiness, which made me want to gather her up into my arms and hug the shit out of her.
We hadn’t seen each other in well over a week, although my phone bill would definitely be hurting from all the text messages we’ve been sending over the last two months. I’d been called into work twice on the days we’d planned to hang out due to the flu going around.
“It depends. What kind of chemical is it?”
After going on to explain what we did during certain situations, Sebastian finally broke up our verbal foreplay by asking if there were any other questions.
We of course got the usual questions.
Do you have a Dalmatian at the station?-No.
How much water does it take to put out a fire? –A lot.
Do we have a fire pole? –Yes.
Do you slide down the fire pole? –Duh. Yes.
Whose hose is the biggest. –Mine.
That last one was whimpered by Adeline into my ear, which I promptly answered with nothing but the truth.
“You had me ready to beat some teenage ass. Was it that Fairway kid?” I asked her, scrutinizing the boy who was trying to look anywhere but at me while Sebastian and Dallas answered more questions.
“Yes,” she agreed. “He was sent to the principal’s office, which in my opinion is more than enough of a punishment right there.” She shuddered, eyeing Mrs. Threadgill who hadn’t left yet.
“Doubt it. That woman used to be like a junkyard dog in my days. She’s gone soft in her old age.” I laughed quietly.
“I didn’t know you went here.” She asked confused.
“Yeah, I was home schooled until I was in junior high, and then my mom decided I needed to get out and experience high school and meet new people, so he enrolled me in my freshman year.” I hedged.
The reason I was home schooled was because I had zero immune system. I’d had Leukemia when I was a young child, and battled it for a year when I was nine years old. After that, I was a very sickly child who could barely walk out of the house without catching a cold.
Then, when I was twelve, I suddenly kicked all the colds and sicknesses, and was able to actually be a child.
I begged my father over and over again to let me go to school, and when I was fourteen, he’d relented. Mostly because he was tired of hiring tutors to come to the house to teach me the stuff. He had better things for me to do than sit on my ass all day. He didn’t want my mother to be teaching me either. Her role was mainly to play his perfect little house wife and attend brunches, and show her face in the community.