Finding Perfect. Susan Mallery

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ teacher, an attractive woman in her forties, fluttered.

      “Oh, Mr. Moreno, I can’t thank you enough for speaking with us today. It’s such a thrill.”

      Raoul smiled. “I’m always happy to come talk to kids in school.” He glanced at the class. “Morning.”

      A few of the students greeted him. A few more looked too excited to speak. At least the boys did. Most of the girls didn’t seem impressed at all.

      “Fourth grade, right?” he asked.

      A girl with glasses in the front row nodded. “We’re the accelerated group, reading above grade level.”

      “Uh-oh,” he said, taking an exaggerated step back. “The smart kids. You going to ask me a math question?”

      Her mouth curved into a smile. “Do you like math?”

      “Yeah, I do.” He looked up at the class. “Who here really likes school a lot?”

      A few kids raised their hands.

      “School can change your life,” he said, settling one hip on the teacher’s desk. “When you grow up, you’re going to get jobs and work for a living. Today most of your responsibilities are about doing well in school. Who knows why we need to learn things like reading and math?”

      More hands went up.

      His usual talk was on staying motivated, finding a mentor, making a better life, but that seemed like a little much for the average nine-year-old. So he was going to talk about how important it was to like school and do your best.

      Mrs. Miller hovered. “Do you need anything?” she asked in a whisper. “Can I get you something?”

      “I’m good.”

      He turned his attention back to the students. The girl in the front row seemed more interested in the pretty scenery outside of the window. Oddly enough, she reminded him of Pia. Maybe it was the brown curly hair, or her obvious lack of interest in him as a person. Pia hadn’t gushed, either. She’d barely noticed him. Not a real surprise, given how her morning had started. But he’d noticed her. She’d been cute and funny, even without trying.

      He returned his attention to the students, drew in a breath and frowned. He inhaled again, smelling something odd.

      If this had been a high school, he would have assumed an experiment gone bad in the science lab or a batch of forgotten cookies in home ec. But elementary schools didn’t have those facilities.

      He turned to Mrs. Miller. “Do you smell that?”

      She nodded, her blue eyes concerned. “Maybe something happened in the cafeteria.”

      “Is there a fire?” one of the boys asked.

      “Everyone stay seated,” Mrs. Miller said firmly as she walked toward the door.

      She placed a hand on it before slowly pulling it open. As she did, the smell of smoke got stronger. Seconds later, the fire alarms went off.

      She turned to him. “It’s only the second day of school. We haven’t practiced what to do. I think there really is a fire.”

      The kids were already standing up and looking scared. He knew they weren’t very far from panic.

      “You know where we’re supposed to go?” he asked. “The way out?”

      “Of course.”

      “Good.” He turned to the students. “Who’s in charge here?” he asked in a voice loud enough to be heard over the bells.

      “Mrs. Miller,” someone yelled.

      “Exactly. Everyone get in line and follow Mrs. Miller as we go into the hall. There are going to be a lot of kids out there. Stay calm. I’ll go last and make sure you all get out of the building.”

      Mrs. Miller motioned for her students to move toward the door.

      “Follow me,” she said. “We’ll go quickly. Everyone hold hands. Don’t let go. Everything is fine. Just stay together.”

      Mrs. Miller went out the door. The children began to follow her. Raoul waited to make sure everyone left. One little boy seemed to hesitate before leaving.

      “It’s okay,” Raoul told him, his voice deliberately calm. He reached for the boy’s hand, but the child flinched, as if expecting to be hit. The kid—all red hair and freckles—ducked out before Raoul could say anything.

      Raoul went into the hall. The smell of smoke was more intense. Several kids were crying. A few stood in the middle of the hallway, their hands over their ears. The bells rang endlessly as teachers called for their students to follow them outside.

      “Come on,” he said, scooping the nearest little girl into his arms. “Let’s go.”

      “I’m scared,” she said.

      “I’m big enough to keep you safe.”

      Another little boy grabbed hold of his arm. Tears filled the kid’s eyes. “It’s too loud.”

      “Then let’s go outside, where it’s quieter.”

      He walked quickly, herding kids as he went. Teachers ran back and forth, counting heads, checking to make sure no one was left behind.

      When Raoul and his group of kids reached the main doors leading outside, the children took off at a run. He put down the girl he’d been carrying and she raced toward her teacher. He could see smoke pouring into the sky, a white-gray cloud covering the brilliant blue.

      Students flowed out around him. Names were called. Teachers sorted the groups by grades, then classes. Raoul turned and went back into the building.

      Now he could do more than smell smoke. He could see it. The air was thick and getting darker, making it hard to breathe. He went room by room, pushing open doors, checking under the large teacher desks in front, scanning to make sure no one was left behind.

      He found a tiny little girl in a corner of the third room he entered, her face wet with tears. She was coughing and sobbing. He picked her up, turned and almost ran into a firefighter.

      “I’ll take her,” the woman said, looking at him from behind a mask and grabbing the girl. “Get the hell out of here. The building is nearly seventy years old. God knows what cocktail of chemicals is in the air.”

      “There might be more kids.”

      “I know, and the longer we stand here talking, the more danger they’re in. Now move.”

      He followed the firefighter out of the building. It wasn’t until he was outside that he realized he was coughing and choking. He bent over, trying to catch his breath.

      When he could breathe again, he straightened. The scene was controlled chaos. Three fire trucks stood in front of the school. Students huddled together on the lawn, well back from the building. Smoke poured out in all directions.

      A СКАЧАТЬ