Slaughter House

Chapter 2

Not every death is a tragedy.

Sometimes, tragedy was smaller things, less permanent things yet powerful enough to crack a person the way weeds crack sidewalks.

That's what I thought when I looked at all these kids and myself. Though I was lucky to have a grandfather in my life, more than half of them were never told who their father even was. 

Looking around at my fellow classmates now, it was easier to understand why.

Blackbell was a tiny rural town blocked off by a giant river and trees covered with smut. The people themselves were covered with smut.

Cricket sunk down into his chair beside me. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed with me or himself so I tried not to pay too much attention to him.

My sights landed on a boy in front of me.

I think his name was Henry. His finger tips were black, solid black. They weren't dead or anything, he was just that filthy from working in the mines.

That's why this town was made up almost exclusively of bastard children. However, it wasn't the mine's fault. Sure, it claimed its victims but very rarely were there many at any time. The Blackbell Mine was one of the most well kept things in the area.

It was the after effects of working such a job.

Henry, the boy whose name would soon become synonymous with anxiety. As I watched him chew his pencil, he started passing notes back and forth with a round girl a few desks to the right of him.

No doubt talking about what was in the paper this morning.

Mr. Rath, our teacher, paced back and forth in front of his desk as he always did before he taught. He followed his previous footsteps perfectly every time leaving a permanent indention in the hardwood floor. His blazer was ratty and yellowed but looked much nicer than majority of what other men wore here. If I had never seen any thing other than this town and it's people, I might think that Mr. Rath was dressed nicely.

He began rambling on about a war that happened years ago...or maybe he was talking about his divorce. It was hard to tell where exactly he was in thought because most of it just sounded like drunken babble. The drunk babble was normally confirmed by him reaching for a flask in his pocket but today he decided to leave it in his desk drawer.

"Now lissen here" good old mister Calvin Rath spoke hazardly snatching a book off some kid's desk. "yall kids don't know nothing bout life, LIFE." He stressed the last word so he could take an extra long stare at his fidgeting students.

Luckily, he only taught  us history,  so we weren't really missing out on an educational experience.

"Them, them" Mr. Rath heaved as he slouched in his chair "goddamn eyes."

Nobody in the class giggled at Mr. Rath. They all just shifted uncomfortably and tried to busy themselves in a way that he wouldn't feel disrespected. We were all too familiar with angry drunks. After a bit, Mr. Rath calmed down and made his way to the bathroom leaving us to breathe.

"You see that shit in the paper?" a boy whispered slamming a hand on his desk.

"Yeah man, someone musta pissed off the tooth fairy." another ragged boy laughed.

"What?" little Opal asked barely peeking over the desktop behind me "I thought it was about a man and his dog."

"Oh, It is." I lied quickly turning towards her. "They're talking about something else, right fellas?"

After the boys saw my balled fist under the desk they quickly nodded.

Mr. Rath never came back to class, instead Misses came in early. Misses was the other teacher at our school. I don't know if I actually liked her or if I was just relieved to see her stout frame waddle to the blackboard. Unlike Mr. Rath, Misses never liked her name. She hated her last name so much she refused to be called by it and no matter how informal it was, she didn't care. Her name was now Misses. That's all. Just Misses and she will happily remind you of that at any time.