Amateur Hours

Chapter 1

I can't take it anymore.

If Mr. Rossi drones on for one more second about blood splatter patterns on a crime scene I'm going to scream.

I have nothing against forensics. My dad is a forensic scientist after all, but that just means I've already learned about 90% of this stuff from him years ago.

Worksheets are being handed out down each row of seats and it takes everything in me to stifle a groan. The satisfaction of voicing my annoyance with this class is not worth the detention that would likely follow.

After about 10 minutes of working on a paper that probably should've taken me a whole hour to complete, I let my eyes glaze over and lean my head into my hands, thoroughly bored while my classmates continue working in small groups around me.

I never had very many friends growing up, which was fine by me, I liked my personal space thank you very much. But because of that I was pretty much always home with my parents. My mom works at our local bookshop part time while she's still figuring out the legal things to open her own bakery. Right now she's in the process of finding a building.

It's a very slow process.

But she keeps busy. So I spend the majority of my days hanging out with my dad at work. And it's been like that for the past 7 years. Which I don't think is allowed to be honest, but the chief doesn't mind cause I keep mostly to myself.

So I sit at my dads desk, doing homework or reading a book while he works around me, fussing about a new case every week.

"There's no fingerprints on the scene to suggest someone else was in the room, and no footprints either. Are you sure this wasn't a suicide?"

"Do you see that? The tiniest smattering of blood on the floor, slightly smeared over there. Obviously they were trying to cover their tracks."

"Who the heck leaves a perfectly good hotdog at the crime scene? That's a crime in and of itself if you ask me."

He always includes me in his investigations, no matter how absurd they are. He calls me his little assistant.

Which is why I'm so bored in this goddamn class.

I've been unintentionally studying forensics my entire life, so this class is of little use to me. But it was the only one they offered seniors that I hadn't taken already or wasn't completely bored of, so I took it.

Now I'm wondering if I should've just tried to take biology again.

I shudder as memories resurface of dissection labs and I shake my head to clear it. Never mind, forensics is fine with me.

I look up at the clock and groan internally.

It's only 10:15 and I still have 45 minutes left of this class.

It's gonna be a long day.

The bell rings signaling the end of lunch and I stand, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

I debate tossing my half eaten sandwich into the garbage bin on my way out before slipping it back into my backpack.

"You know that's the third lunch you've skimmed through in the past week Sav."