Seattle,
2018

"AND SO, THE WAR of 1812 was significant to America as it helped to..."

I watched as the class remained silent, their lifeless eyes staring at me with hollowed expressions. A sigh escaped me as I ran a hand across my forehead. As per usual, my class was basically dead. This was what my on-level history class looked like. My eyes scanned the crowd before landing on Derrick, a kid who was busy whispering to his friend about something. I was going to relish this moment. "Derrick?"

The kid jumped in his seat before looking at me like a deer caught in headlights. "Yes, Mr. Herwy?"

"Can you answer my question?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Derrick muttered something under his breath as he looked around. "Uh— What was it again, sir?"

A few people snickered, but I quickly cut them off with my hand. "How did the War Of 1812 impact America?"

The boy frowned as he began to think. I watched the gears turn inside his head before he looked up. "It made lots of people die?"

I nodded. "That's one impact. But what I want to know is long term impacts. There's one big one that I think we should really focus on. Think of today's world and think of the people we fought during the war. What changed between then and now?"

Now everyone was thinking. I knew I had mentioned it. I did, didn't I? Honestly, couldn't tell anymore if I had said something or if I had forgotten to mention it entirely. Derrick frowned, rubbing his chin. Suddenly, a voice from the back piped up. "Canada."

Everyone turned their attention to Cera, a young and timid girl. Her voice immediately paled as she saw all the attention. "What was that, Cera?" I asked.

Her face flushed as she looked down at her hands. "Our relation—relationship with Canada changed."

"Thank you, Cera! That is a perfect example!" I shot up from the desk I had been perched on. The entire class jumped at my sudden burst. I didn't care, though. My passion for history overtook everything. "Before the War of 1812, Canada and the US were simply just neighbors. They didn't like one another, especially since Canada was still under the control of England. After the war, the US and Canada made a treaty that is still lasting to today. It is the longest standing peaceful border in the history of the world. We have never fought against Canada since."

I saw a few students scribble down what I said before I changed the slide. "Another very important part of the War of 1812 was—"

••••

THE SMELL OF RANCID lunch meat made me gag. Thankfully I didn't have to sit in the cafeteria. However, I needed to talk to a teacher that was on duty here. Due to budget cuts, Maryanne had to watch the high schoolers in order to keep things safe.

My eyes scanned a table populated by giggling teenagers. I grimaced. My stomach rolled in physical pain at the sight of the 'meat' and 'food'. It had gotten really bad in my entire existence.

I immediately remembered hunting and killing my food way back in the day. My chest tightened. Maybe I didn't miss those days as much. It was always a fight for survival, one more intense than todays. In today's world I could drive down the street and pull into one of the fast food places for a quick bite to eat. I could stop by any gas station and buy a water or a bag of chips. While it was less healthy than the past, it made things more convenient.

My mind wandered to my old friends. They would've loved this.

Immediately my mood soured. I couldn't indulge in such thoughts. My attention went back to the task at hand. Finding Maryanne to ask her about a lesson plan.

I was tasked with teaching her class during fifth period because she had to help set up the assembly the school was having during sixth. I don't know how she managed a wild group of history students while also being the student council teacher. I was barely able to hold these rug rats at bay in my classes, and yet she taught two different types of kids.

Dividing these students into types made it easier for me to identify the most likely reaction they would have to something. There were the charismatic popular kids, the popular for some reason kids, the average kid who was smart, the average kid with average grades, the failing kid who was smart, the failing kid who was not smart, and late but not least, the delinquents. Of course, there were sub groups as well, but I didn't have time to list all of them in my head.

I had just found Maryanne.

The petite woman looked like the super sweet Hispanic neighbor that those kids in movies always have who shower them with delicious food. Maryanne was that woman. She couldn't bake or cook in general, but otherwise she was really sweet. I towered over her, but most times people couldn't tell the difference between me and a student.

My chest tightened. I would forever look like a teenager. It made going to bars really difficult. It also made it real awkward when a parent came in and asked where Mr. Herwy was. I once had a parent ask me if my dad was out at the moment, and another time one of my student's sister hit on me. Awkward.

"Maryanne! Mrs. Garcia!" I called, waving at her.

The woman looked to me and then smiled. "Lawrence! How can I help you?"

"I need your lesson plans. Where did you put them?" I asked, stopping in front of her.

"I believe they are in the second drawer on my desk. If not, then just know they are learning about the Salem Witch Trials."

I felt my throat dry up. "You're that behind?" I croaked.

Maryanne nodded. "As an AP teacher we go more in depth. That means we spend more time on events."

I tried not to take offense to that. I didn't want to go through and learn how to teach AP kids. Plus, it was way harder to grade them and such. Ick. "Well, it's a good thing colonial America is kind of my thing."

"That's why I wanted you to teach them. I think they'll like you, Lawrence." Maryanne winked at me, a grin spreading on her face. "Oh, by the way, there is a new student too, so just keep a good face on and all that jazz."

I nodded, giving the needy woman a soft smile. "Will do. I will see you later. You owe me!" I called after her as I walked away.

Maryanne laughed as I walked off. My mind then ran off to the task at hand. I had to teach the Salem Witch Trials.

I rubbed my neck, my face darkening. History was my thing, but there were certain events I did not like to talk about. Whenever it was time to talk about be witch trials, I typically briefly talked about them. However, if I were to just gloss over it, Maryanne wouldn't be happy. Something twisted within my gut. I immediately tumbled into the nearest teacher's bathroom. My legs gave out in front of the toilet. It was just in time to as all the contents of my delectable lunch spilled into the bowl. A groan escaped me as I leaned back, pressing my back against the wall.

Dammit.

After making sure I was not going to throw up again, I stood up and made sure to clean any evidence of my episode up. I knew it had to do with thoughts of the trials, but that couldn't be helped. After years of it still haunting me and talking to a few people about it without giving away too many details, it was determined I had PTSD. It wasn't hard to imagine that I did, especially since that was the most horrific time of my life.

My neck ached once more, and I rubbed it as I walked out of the bathroom. The next ask for me was getting a mint because I could taste the vomit in my mouth. My mind immediately went to Miss Robinson, the lady at the front desk. She had a huge bowl of mints and I would need some of them.

By the time I reached the desk and had grabbed a handful of them, lunch was almost over. "Lawrence, did you eat some tuna or something?"

I looked down at the young woman and gave her a dazzling smile. "Yep. I have to teach Maryanne's kids too so I gotta make a good impression."

My stomach rolled hazardously as she laughed. "Good luck. I heard fifth hour is full of the self-centered kids that everyone loves."

I muttered a few obscenities, which only furthered her hysterical state. "Goodbye, Miss Robinson."

"It's Emma, Lawrence!" The young woman said as I walked off, a bright red flushing over her cheeks.

While I was flattered that she was into me, I knew that nothing would come from it. I couldn't afford to hand my heart out to anyone. That would only lead to yet another crack. I don't know how many more I could endure before my heart shattered.

I barely made it to Maryanne's room before the bell that ended B lunch and started fifth hour began. I quickly went to her desk and found the lesson plans. My eyes skimmed the paper before I heard people begin to come into the room. I glanced up and saw students walking in. When they noticed me, they immediately began to whisper amongst themselves. I sighed before continuing to read this paper full of retched memories for me.

By the time the bell that signaled class was starting rang, I had managed to quell any nausea threatening to break way. I looked up at all the students talking. I picked up the roster sheet and then looked down. I adjusted my glasses before clearing my throat. "Okay then."

Everyone looked at me. I saw a girl looking at me with a confused glint in her eyes. She was probably the new kid. "So, I'm Mr., Herwy, one of the other history teachers here. Mary— Mrs. Garcia is busy setting up the assembly for next hour, so I'll be filling in. Let's do roll first, okay? Uh— Marcus Alcantara?"

I watched a boy in the back nod to me as I raised his hand. "Here."

And so, I continued down the list, butchering a few names. It's not my fault I can't read every single name these kids have. I speak five languages and yet none of those names were ones I could speak. It's honestly stupid. People these days were so strange. "Did I get everyone?" I asked after marking down everyone who was absent.

The one girl raised her hand. "And what's your name?"

"Lavern Yeller."

I stiffened at the name but smiled nonetheless. "Are you the new student Mrs. Garcia told me about?"

Lavern nodded, her face flushed red. I chuckled before writing her name down. "Perfect. Who wants to take this to the office?"

After handing it to someone, I began to lesson. "Today we will be talking about the Salem Witch Trials. Who here knows what they were and why they happened?"

Some kid whose name was Kyle raised his hand. I pointed at him as I took a seat on a table near the Smartboard. "So, the Salem Witch Trials was an event in which people were executed for being witches, and they happened because of hysteria or some form of it."

"Yes. There're other theories that perhaps disease and boredom also played a part, as well as a want for power. Other than that, that is basically what happened. A group of 22 people were executed because they were thought of as witches or warlocks. Warlocks being male. Now, Salem was a Puritan colony. Can someone explain a Puritan to me?" I adjusted my glasses again, my stomach churning.

A young girl whose name was Hannah raised her hand. Kyle did as well, but I called on her instead. She gave Kyle a pointed look score looking at me, batting her eyelashes. "The Puritans were a group who came from England because they believed that the church was corrupt, and so they wanted to come to America to make their own, better version."

"Very good, Hannah." Her face flushed red and she winked at me. I kept my face as neutral as possible. She was a teenager, she had to know flirting with me was illegal. "Puritans followed the Bible to a T because they saw it as the exact word of God. They also believed in predestination, so no matter what they did, they were either going to heaven or damned to hell for all eternity. Now, one thing they did think would automatically damn you was becoming a 'Devil's Agent'."

I watched as thy began to write down what I was saying. "They believed that when a person made a deal with Satan, they became a witch or warlock. There were tell-tale signs of them being one too. If they were unable to speak the Lord's Prayer or if they were able to hold a rifle, with their arm extended and their finger in the barrel, they could be a witch or warlock. They also checked for any physical flaws, such as a skin tag. They called them 'witch's tit', and so the person might be sent to the gallows.

"Now, of course, finding proof of actual witchcraft is impossible. However, people would often fake being possessed by demons in the witch's presence or fake symptoms of curses to better sell the witch. The people who started the witch trials are two young girls named Betty Parris, who was only nine, and then her cousin Abigail Williams who was eleven. They talk to a slave named Tituba for advice on their future husbands. After telling their fortune using a West Indian ritual, the girls began to act erratically. They identified Tituba and two other women as witches."

I watched as they continued to write. I took this chance to begin writing down every person executed. My stomach rolled, and a sick feeling began spreading across my spine. As I wrote my name, memories of the rope tightening around my neck flooded through me. I bit my lip, trying to focus on anything but that. If I blacked out now—

"Mr. Herwy, why is your name up there? I mean, your name is Lawrence, right?"

"It's a strange coincidence, isn't it? But no, me and his Lawrence are not the same. He was barely nineteen when he was executed. Hung. Poor kid. Anyways, let me get into some of these people and why they were accused—"

A strange feeling suddenly filled my body. I immediately felt dizzy. The next thing I knew, the ground was rapidly approaching me. I could hear people calling my name as I fell forward. The feeling simply spread, and it took me a moment to realize what it was.

As soon as I realized exactly why I had collapsed, my head hit something hard. A desk, I think.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head. As everything turned black, I came to the realization of where this horrific event had just taken place.

Salem.

••••

Part of me wanted to make this chapter 1692 words long, but there was just so much I had to fit in. So, it's about 2600 words long.

I hope you guys enjoy this story! I'm so excited for this.

—Paige