Junior's Luck

Junior's Luck - Chapter 2

Kelsey slipped through the door to Mr. Warren's class as the tardy bell rang. He had raced to his locker between classes to retrieve the blueprints. Short of breath, he plopped down in his chair, got out his drawings and pencils, and unhooked the T-Square from the side of his drafting table.

Mr. Warren wasn't in the room.

"Hey, look at Mike," someone shouted. Accompanied by laughter and cheers of support, Mike Stephenson took the clock off the wall and turned the minute hand forward ten minutes.

"When the cleanup bell rings," Mike said to the class, "get up and leave. Mr. Warren will assume the period is over."

The cleanup bell rang ten minutes before the end of each period to give the shop, art, and home economics classes time to replace tools and equipment and clean work areas before the dismissal bell.

"You, too, nerd." Stephenson pointed at Kelsey. "If anyone stays behind, Mr. Warren will figure it out."

Next to Kelsey, Mike Stephenson was the best draftsman in the class. He didn't make the grades Kelsey did because he spent most of his time showing off. Still, he was two projects ahead of Kelsey. He was as good as Junior in the shop and was the only student allowed to use the band saw and the lathe without Mr. Warren's help.

"Stephenson!" Mr. Warren said as he clicked the classroom door shut.

"Yes, sir." Mike Stephenson edged away from the wall.

"What are you doing out of your seat?" Mr. Warren began picking at his lower front teeth with the sharpened end of a pencil.

"I was trying to get the class to settle down, Mr. Warren." Mike Stephenson kept a straight face when he said this, but several members of the class snickered.

"You think I believe that? Get to your seat, Stephenson!"

Mr. Warren addressed the class: "I had to get Mr. Frink's shop class started because he got sick last hour and went home. When I'm out of the room, I expect you to get right to work on your projects like Kelsey here. This is the reason this young man gets good grades."

Mr. Warren had strolled down the aisle to Kelsey's desk and leaned on it as he chastised the rest of the class. Embarrassed, Kelsey tried to keep his head down, his eyes on the half finished drawing that lay on his desk, but he sensed the burning stare of Mike Stephenson and looked over at him. Stephenson sneered. Kelsey shrugged his shoulders, hoping the other boy would get the message, but Stephenson glared back and stabbed a finger toward the door.

"Let's not forget to bring those aluminum cans for your classmate, Junior Rush," Mr. Warren added. "He needs your help. Right, Kelsey?"

"Yes, sir."

Much to Kelsey's relief, Mr. Warren returned to the front of the room. He made a few comments on technique, then turned the class loose on their projects. Kelsey worked away at his drawing, looking up at the clock every few minutes, wanting the period to hurry up ‌and end so he could show Mr. Warren the blueprints.

Immersed in his work, his mind straying to the roll of blueprints beside him, Kelsey forgot Stephenson's prank until he noticed ‌everyone quietly stashing away their things. The clock read eight minutes until the end of class, which was actually eight minutes before the ten-minute cleanup bell. Mr. Warren sat at his desk, head in his hand, and appeared to be ‌reading something or dozing; it was hard to tell which. The classroom became quiet. Only the sucking sound of Mr. Warren's deep breathing and an occasional snicker from a student could be heard.

The bell rang.

Like race horses out of the starting gate, the boys leapt out of their seats and crashed through the door into the vacant hall. Within thirty seconds, before a startled Mr. Warren got his bearings, the classroom was empty of students, except for Kelsey.