Assassin's Honor - Chapter #5 - Free To Read

Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

Dawn came early to the little clearing on the side of the mountain where the dilapidated trailer sat at an odd angle in the large yard. Honoraria woke without an alarm, and tiptoed from her room, past the small bathroom to the kitchen. Only a kitchen counter divided the cooking area from the small living room. She could see that her uncle was not in his recliner, and that worried her. She glanced nervously toward the bigger bedroom on the far end as she put two slices of bread into the toaster. She had just pushed the lever down when she heard him bellow.

“Honor! Where the hell are my keys?”

She didn’t answer him. She had not touched his keys. He had probably left them in the truck when he staggered in, drunk as usual last night. She looked between the toaster and the back door, knowing that she should hurry outside before her uncle came out of the bedroom, but she was so hungry. Her dinner had landed on the floor last night when her uncle had pushed her into the table. She shouldered her backpack and hovered over the toaster, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

Her uncle Tanner came bursting out of the bedroom, staggering and already reeking of alcohol, even though it was only seven in the morning. He was a big, brawny man with sagging jowls and a red bulbous nose. Yesterday’s clothes were wrinkled and stained, and his unkempt hair and unshaven face gave him the appearance of a bear. He looked at her with dazed, bloodshot eyes. “Where’s my coffee?”

She looked helplessly at the empty carafe in the coffee maker. In the chaos of the previous night, she’d forgotten to set up the machine for his morning coffee. He normally consumed several cups before he attempted to drive himself to work at the quarry. Tanner’s eyes followed her gaze to the empty glass pot, and he swore again. He pushed himself around the corner with remarkable speed and agility for a drunk man and backhanded her across the face. “You are fucking useless, you fat, ungrateful whore.” He leaned down so that his face was in her face, his foul breath making her nauseous. “I feed you, I shelter you, and you can’t even make a god-damned cup of coffee!” He took a step back and reached for a dirty mug from the counter, and lobbed it at her head, but she was able to duck, leaving the ceramic cup to smash on the back of the stove.

Her toast popped up, and she grabbed it, scorching her fingers. Her uncle was now blocking her exit through the back, so she dodged around the counter and sprinted for the front door. She heard him crashing through the living room behind her, but she was too fast for him to catch. She bolted into the woods, taking a shortcut to the bus stop at the bottom of the long dirt road. She was the only kid at this stop because they were the only house on the road. She wiped a slight glaze of sweat off her upper lip and sat down on the boulder by the road sign to wait for the bus. She nibbled on her dry toast, wishing that she’d been able to get some butter and jam on it this morning. At least she had something to put in her stomach.

The school was almost as unbearable as home. Almost. She had always been the outcast, the weird kid who went to school wearing ill-fitting hand-me-downs and who got the free lunches. Teachers had complained that she came to school dirty, with her hair uncombed until she had gotten old enough to take care of her own grooming. The kids teased her, calling her “trailer trash” and pulling her long dark hair. The fact that she liked to learn and was a good student did not help her peer relations, and even the teachers seemed to give her odd looks and a wide berth. All she wanted to do was finish high school and get out of this hick town. When she had her diploma, at least she could look for a job in the city and get far away from Uncle Tanner.

She pulled her gray hoodie over her head and used her long, dark hair to cover her face so that the new bruising and swelling would be hidden. It was an old game. The bus pulled up, and she climbed on and slunk into an empty seat. Nobody paid her any attention, and that was just fine. On a good day, she flew under the radar, and no one bothered her.

School had just opened for the year, and so far, the only problem seemed to be that her locker was right next to Aaron Mortem’s locker. Aaron was the captain of the football team, and the biggest asshole in the senior class, followed closely by his lackey Mark Pickman. Aaron Mortem's father owned the slate quarry and was arguably the richest man in Pete’s Peak. Mark Pickman was another spoiled rich boy. His father was a doctor in Rutberg. Anytime Honorera got too close to Aaron, she got a strange feeling, as though there was some kind of energy radiating off from him, and frankly, he smelled funny. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was a gamey, almost animal smell that made her feel off balance.

She hurried off the bus, trying to get to her locker before Aaron made his way upstairs. She quickly stuffed her books in and grabbed her English binder, but she wasn't fast enough. "Hey fatty! What the hell are you doing? I can't get to my locker around your big ass." Aaron shoved her aside roughly and slammed her locker shut. The little crowd that always seemed to follow him snickered, as if it was really cute and clever the way he bullied her. Honor simply pulled her hood down lower, ducked her head, and hurried down the hall to her AP English class.

One good thing about being one of the geeky smart kids – she didn’t share any classes with the jocks.

Honorera slipped into the back of the classroom, to her usual desk by the window. She liked that she could stare out into the trees when things got tense or boring. She took out her book and her binder and a pen and waited while other kids rushed to get in before the late bell. The bell rang, but strangely, there was no teacher. Where was Mrs. Dexter?

The kids' whispering soon became loud and rowdy conversation in the absence of an adult in the classroom. They barely noticed when the door opened, and the principal entered, followed by an unknown man.

"Hey, hey, quiet down!" Mr. Dulotte wrapped his knuckles on one of the front desks to get the class's attention. "As some of you may or may not know, Mrs. Dexter is out on maternity leave, starting today. This is Mr. Shepherd; he will be your substitute until she returns. I expect you will give him your full respect and help him to feel welcome here. Mr. Shepherd... your first-period class." The new teacher walked across the room with grace and confidence, causing a new round of whispers and giggles from the students. Normally the students would take advantage of a new teacher's ignorance and inexperience and grab the opportunity to slack off. There was something about this substitute, however, that made the students doubt if there would be any slacking off in his class.

Honorera watched warily under her hair as the man set his briefcase and a jacket on the chair and surveyed the class. He didn't look like a teacher, he looked like a god. The crisp dress shirt and the tie looked all wrong on his broad shoulders, and his biceps threatened to tear through the too-tight sleeves. Judging by the way he kept tugging at his collar, he wasn’t really into wearing ties. His hair was deep brown and longer than his collar, brushed carelessly away from his strong, angular face. His full lips were pressed into a small smile, and his sharp gray eyes were scanning the classroom. The intensity of those eyes made something inside of Honerera grow warm. He sniffed the air as if he smelled something.

"So, guys..." he started casually. "I'm sure that I do things a little differently than Mrs. Dexter, but we will be covering the same basic curriculum. I understand you had essays to write last week, so if you would please turn those in, I will review your work. I think that will give me a pretty good idea of where you are at in this class."

Honorera slipped out her paper. Other students had typewritten papers, printed off their computers and laptops, but hers was handwritten. Usually, she tried to use the computers in the school library, but she had no opportunity over the weekend. She hoped that Mr. Shepherd was not the kind of teacher to deduct points for a hand-written assignment.

The class went on much as usual. There was some discussion about the chapters they had just read, but Honorera never participated in discussions unless she absolutely had to. She just sat quietly in the back and doodled on her notebook as she listened. If she heard something she thought was particularly important or relevant she jotted it down in her notes.

But the new teacher was making her uncomfortable. Her eyes kept going back to him, studying the angles of his face, the width of his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed in his back as he wrote on the whiteboard. She was certain she had never seen him before, and yet she had this strange feeling of knowing him. It made her want to get closer and run away at the same time.

"Okay, I'm passing out a list of American authors. I'd like each of you to sign up for the author of your choice and read at least three novels by that writer. Each of you needs to pick a different author, so if someone has already signed up for your favorite, pick someone else. You'll be writing reports on each of the books you read, and then compiling an overall analysis of the author after you complete the three books."

There was a groan from some of the students. The paper was passed around, and naturally, it reached her back corner last. All of the interesting American authors had been taken, and she had to take some obscure writer she had never heard of. She wrote her name next to the author and passed the paper back up. The bell finally rang, and she packed up and escaped before most of the other students had even stood up.

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