Jim's haunted past

Chapter 1: starts his new teaching job

The morning bell rang shrilly, echoing through the empty halls of Stratford High School. Jim Norman paused outside the scarred wooden door of classroom 211, briefcase clutched tightly in one hand as he took a deep, steadying breath. This was it. His first day as a teacher in his hometown, over two decades after he'd last walked these halls as a student.

As arriving teenagers pushed past him, chatting and laughing on their way to class, Jim felt like an invisible observer from another world. Being back stirred up memories and emotions he'd long kept buried. He could still picture Wayne waiting by his locker, joking with friends. Still see Scott ducking into the bathroom to sneak a cigarette during free period when he thought no teachers were looking. His brothers had been so full of life then. Now only ghosts remained.

Shaking off the melancholy threatening to overwhelm him, Jim entered the classroom. He focused on preparing for the new sophomore English class filing in. As he wrote his name on the chalkboard in neat cursive, Jim pushed down the nervous flutters in his stomach. He needed this job for Sally and the baby. They were depending on him to provide for them.

"Good morning everyone, I'm Mr. Norman," Jim said with as much confidence as he could muster. "Welcome to 10th grade English."

As the students took their seats, Jim appraised the sea of unfamiliar faces--until his gaze froze on three particular boys lounging together in the back row. Their greased hair. Cocky sneers. Leather jackets. An icy fist clenched around Jim's heart. No, it couldn't be. Not them. Not here.

Jim's body turned rigid, fingers digging into his palms so hard it stung. He'd recognize those butch, wolfish faces anywhere--the same ones seared into the darkest crevices of his memory for over 25 years. Richard Lawson. Vinnie. David North. The hoodlums who'd shattered his youth and destroyed his family with one act of senseless violence.

Wayne's panicked face appeared in Jim's mind, mouth open in a wordless scream as the blade sank into his gut again and again. The crimson stain spreading across his shirt, dark as the blood Jim scrubbed from the sidewalk afterward. His brother had been only 15. Barely older than the students sitting before him now. Jim squeezed his eyes shut and forced air into his tight lungs.

"Sir? Are you alright?"

Jim jolted back at the tentative voice, seeing a blonde girl in the front row staring at him uncertainly. He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure.

"Yes, sorry...just the first day jitters," Jim managed. "Let's take attendance."

He hurried through the roster, stomach churning as he marked the resurrected names of Wayne's murderers present and accounted for. They eyed Jim with smirks, slouched arrogantly in their seats like they owned the place. When the bell rang, Jim asked everyone to stay seated a moment. It was time for some answers.

Jim stood calmly, folding his arms. "Richard, Vinnie, David - I don't recall seeing you around before. Did you just transfer to Stratford High?"

The boys exchanged sly glances. Richard leaned forward, milk-white scar twisting his lips. "Yeah, we're new blood, teach. Gonna shake things up around here."

David and Vinnie snickered while the other students looked bemused at the mounting tension. Jim kept his tone casual. "Where did you all move from?"

"Does it matter?" Vinnie asked, flicking an ant off his desk. "We're here now. That's all that matters."

Jim's jaw tightened. Clearly they were toying with him. Fine. He could investigate their origins on his own time. As the teens filed out for next period, Jim made himself a silent promise: he would get to the bottom of this. He'd lost his brothers once. He would not lose his students too. The shrill ring of the bell jarred Jim from his troubled thoughts. As his sophomore English class gathered their belongings and shuffled toward the exit, he made a snap decision.