Free Caught Running by Madeleine Urban, Abigail Roux Page B

same. Third block, a cheerleader had to sit with her leg extended because she was wearing a knee brace. Fourth block, it was a softball player with a wrist brace. Fifth block, a lacrosse player with a black eye. The teacher couldn't figure out how he'd missed all this before. It was all right there in front of him. It wasn't that he'd thought badly of the kids or didn't pay attention to them, it was just that he hadn't noticed the injuries or the way the kids dealt with them. That embarrassed him a hell of a lot. In the nine minutes before sixth block, Brandon crammed papers and files into his pack, snagged the duffle from under his desk and headed out to the gym and the ‘beloved’ health class. He had plans for the anatomy lesson he figured the students would get a hoot out of, and since he was still trying to build rapport with them, he figured some fun would go a long way toward helping that. He got to the classroom in the gym complex just a couple of minutes before the bell.
    Somewhere in the maze of hallways that connected the gymnasium to the locker rooms, offices, and classrooms, an angry bellow echoed off the tile and out through the open doors. It sounded again, clearer this time, accompanied by running footsteps. “Snakes in the grass,” an amused voice said to Brandon as he stood in the hallway. The science teacher turned to see the School Resource Officer leaning against the wall in the dark end of the corridor, his handcuffs and gun seriously out of place in the school hallway. Another shout echoed and a door slammed somewhere. “He's been after those little shits for weeks,” the cop said with a laugh.
    "What's going on?” Brandon asked, stopping outside the classroom as students filed in past him.
    "Kids loitering in the locker rooms, that sort of thing,” the SRO answered. “Hell, they're more scared of Campbell than they are of me.” He laughed softly as he put a Pepsi can to his lips and spit tobacco into it discreetly.
    Brandon had to grin. “Hell, I know I am,” he said. His smile grew when a couple of kids smashed through the double doors just past them and raced toward the breezeway leading back to the main building.
    The SRO laughed hard as the kids flew by him, and a moment later the doors were pushed open and Jake came stalking out. “Little bastards,” he growled, completely unaware of the presence of anyone else until he turned around. “Next time just shoot ‘em, man, I won't tell nobody,” he huffed to the cop. Brandon and the SRO looked at each other before dissolving into laughter. “Shut up!” Jake called grumpily as he pushed through the other pair of doors and into the large gymnasium. “ Get the hell off that rim !” he bellowed suddenly as the doors creaked closed behind him.
    The two men left behind just kept laughing until the bell rang. “Welcome to the nuthouse,” the SRO said before sauntering off. Brandon went into class still grinning and grabbed up his grade book. What a hoot. Sitting on the edge of the front of the desk, he took role, still trying to match names to faces.
    "Ladies and gentlemen. And Rodney, ” Brandon had to call to one kid staring out the window. The student jerked his head around while the others tittered. “Today we're going to learn about anatomy."
    There were giggles and whistles in response to this news. The only kids in the rowdy class being quiet were the several girls who were batting their eyelashes at Brandon and the two kids who had been at baseball tryouts and knew Brandon as a coach.
    "All right. Did anyone read the assigned pages? There were only five,” he reminded them. “Raise your hands if you did."
    A few hands raised, a few throats were cleared. “I looked at the pictures!” one kid offered cheekily.
    Brandon waved Cheeky up to the front. “What's your name? Larry Wallace? Okay.” He looked back at the few hands and chose one of the quiet girls. “Come on up, Melissa. The purpose of this exercise is to identify