Minifics & Short Stories

Mr. Novak

“Bye, Mr. Smith!” Dean called out to the bus driver as he flew down the steps. He didn’t wait for a response as he adjusted his backpack and sprinted down the street. Flinging the front door open, Dean dropped his bag on the kitchen table and turned around to leave again. John looked up from the paper he was reading, slightly startled.

“Hey, Dean. I-"

“Hi Dad! Bye Dad!” He shut the door behind him and ran across the street to Cas’ house, mouth watering already. The front door was unlocked as usual, and he walked right in.

“Hello, Dean. Right on time,” Cas called from the kitchen where he was bent over the oven, pulling out a fresh-baked cherry pie. Dean sat at the table and politely waited for Cas.

“How was school?”

“Oh, you know, same as always. Stupid teachers teaching stupid stuff. It’s all pointless,” Dean answered distractedly, eyes fixed on the steaming pie.

“Hey, I’m a teacher! Does that mean I’m stupid?”

“No, you’re a cool teacher. I wish you were my teacher. Will you be my teacher?”

Cas laughed. “Yeah, maybe in a few years. How old are you now? Fourteen?”

“Almost fifteen,” Dean stated proudly. “Only three months until my birthday.”

“Ah, yes. Pretty soon you’ll be an adult, out wreaking havoc on the world,” Cas teased. He pulled out a knife and started slicing the pie. The sweet smell of cherries permeated the air and made Dean’s stomach growl. He stood up and got the milk carton from the fridge, pouring two glasses and taking them back to the table.

“Yeah, sure. But you’ll be my teacher, right? When I’m older?” Dean asked eagerly, an excited sparkle in his eyes.

“I don’t see why not, as long as I’m not dead by then.” Cas got two plates and carefully served the hot pie.

Dean laughed and took one of the plates. “You won’t be dead, you’re only 26.” They sat down across from each other and ate the pie in silence. “You make the best pie ever, Mr. Novak,” he said after a while.

“Thank you, Dean.”

*****

Their after school pie sessions became a tradition during the school year. Dean would come over as soon as he got off the bus, Cas would have a fresh pie on the table, and they would talk for an hour about school, girls (and sometimes boys), and everything else that a fourteen, now fifteen year old would want to talk about. Cas really took a liking to Dean, and Dean developed a bit of a crush on his older neighbor.

One afternoon in late May, Dean did not show up after the last day of school. Cas waited in the kitchen with an uneaten apple pie for over an hour before he began to worry. He shoved the pie in the fridge and walked over to the Winchesters’ house. John opened the door before Cas could even knock. He was carrying two large boxes that blocked his face, making Cas wonder absently how he could see where he was going.

“Hey, Cas. What can I do for ya?” John asked after setting the boxes down next to his Impala.

“Uh, I was just looking for Dean. He didn’t show up at my house today and I was worried.”

John sighed and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “He’s closed up in his room. We told him a while back we were gonna move back to Kansas this summer, but he didn’t take us seriously until he saw the packed boxes when he got home from school. If you wanna talk to him, go for it. But he hasn’t spoken a word to anyone yet.”