The Last Class. Part 2.

Georgie and I sat in the back row of Miss Anderson's Home Economics class, which was also our Home Room, watching Mark whisper sweet nothings to Julianne, the bleach blonde bow headed bimbo and longtime girlfriend of that over-sized football playing ape.

Source: Pixabay.com

They sat in the front two desks, as usual, he stroking her bangs, she leaning awkwardly like a fat man in a dump truck.

I pulled my right hand, which contained a half smoked Newport, down from my sorrow withered face exhaling a large plume of greyish smoke.

"Look at him. Another headcase." I felt sickened.

Most of the class had taken it pretty hard, which was expected, but I was frankly surprised at how many of my roommates were utterly incapable of grasping the bitter pill of reality.

"She's dead, mate! Get a fucking grip!" I wanted to yell out. If her bloated belly and black ringed eyes weren't enough of a give away, the flies that wanted to nest in Julianne's putridly disheveled hair should have been.

Georgette was silent. She sat dazed staring at the half open window, lit cigarette hanging unsmoked from pink painted lips. I guess you could say I was lucky. Having gone from foster home to foster home I had pretty much no one to feel heart broken about. Sure, I liked the Windsmiths. She was a great cook, a snappy dresser, pretty in her own way,
always quick with a smile. He was a balding fellow that loved cigars. He was teaching me how to play chess.... quite badly. But love? Well, I'd only known them for about seven months.

My Georgie Porgie had 4 little sisters, including 4 month old baby Samantha. All dead. All gone. Everyone, everywhere. Every drop of life squeezed from the tube, leaving the dingy flat cylinder called Eirstwhile breathing heavily as we cursed at it's grotesque existence.

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The bell rang dutifully at 1:00 p.m. telling us with dull urgency that recess was over. One by one we crawled from our metal playground, stood up, and headed through the tiny tin gate and sliding glass doors that lined the entrance to our Academy and Learning center.

Right away we knew that something was wrong. Where was the sound of kids screaming in the nearby cafeteria? The clanking of plates and silverware?

Where was Miss Showendown to greet us at the lobby door with a yell and a get to class you ungrateful lot?

There was nothing. Silence. Bobby ran towards the second floor stairs. John ducked his head into class 2B, arts and crafts. From the corner of my eye I saw this person and that person head left, right, upstairs, into this room, that room, and I? I walked straight ahead. There was something up there. A shoe?

I heard a scream. And another.

"They're dead! They're all dead!"

It's a game, I thought. It's not real.

I was a zombie on a mission. The nurse's office was up a bit further. Sally worked there. With her long black hair and pale white complexion, she was a perfect porcelain doll. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't feeling well. Nausea.

The shoe was in the doorway. It was a black leather buckle up from a girl's uniform. I walked in casually and sat quickly down in the plastic orange waiting room chair. Sally was lying on the tiny white cot. Had she been sleeping? Her white button down shirt was half open, her green and blue skirt lay neatly above her knees, and one shoe sat coldly on solid foot, while the other was nearly naked... sock only. The top of her chest showed through the buttons, revealing a beige colored bra. No rising nor falling. I held my hand over her plump red lips. No breath either.

I plumped back in my creaky chair with an air of disbelief. Somewhere down the hall people were being sick. I felt it too, but still I stared. How many times had I tried to look up Sally's skirt as we walked to Math together? I lingered behind her, ducking down slightly as she weaved and bobbed down the hallway. Our desks were lined in rows against the wall. Boys on one side, girls on the other. The brochure should have said "if you like looking up skirts, come to Eirstwhile!" I'd never had any luck with Sally. But now, in this pocket of unreality, she lay just two feet from me, breathless....

I reached forward without a thought to grab at the hem. What was I doing? Just real quick. Just real quick. A flip, a green and blue flash, and there they were. White as the driven snow. I always knew they would be. Disgusted at my own perversion, I got up to leave and found myself instead sitting on the side of the bed. Minutes were like hours. Or was it hours that were like minutes? I'd never seen a naked girl outside of porn on the old folk's computer. Never in the flesh.

Logic overcame lust as I regained my senses and started to rise. The others. What was really going on out there?

Too late. Martha and Matilda were in the doorway.

"Well, aren't you going to fuck her?." Martha laughed. "Don't let us stop you."

The best friends could have been twins. Red hair, dimples, deceptively innocent smiles. They were naughty, haughty, and some would say downright dirty cunts.

"You know, I really don't think she would mind if you pulled those panties down just a bit." Matilda sneered. "Georgette might though."

Georgie! Crap!

I launched forward with an expression of pure rage plastered across my face. "Don't you dare....." but they were gone already. Down the hallway into who knows where. Back to homeroom? If they tell Georgie Porgie my world will be over. I have to find her.

Part 1 - https://steemit.com/fiction/@jeezzle/the-last-class-part-1

A Jeezzle original.