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you taste my French toast, you’ll want to propose matrimony!”
CHAPTER FIVE
    Big Bill Hogan handed a stack of pictures to the man now know as Battle. “As promised. Pretty good diffusion of light, I must say. Framing’s good, too. There’s some real art in that pile.”
    Battle thumbed through the stack. The pictures were mostly mundane snapshots of the Tadpoles hanging around, drinking and smoking by the creek. He lingered on some photos, sped past others. A few made him smile absently, as if recalling memories that had long since faded away. He finished with the pictures.
    “Good enough?” Hogan asked.
“For now.”
“Since you are still walking the earth, what is your next
command?”
    Battle rose from his chair. “Give me a couple of days to think about it,” he decided.
Hogan shrugged. “Unlike you, I have plenty of time.”
CHAPTER SIX
    The quaint, red brick schoolhouse sat nestled in an ancient neighborhood a mile north of the city’s old and relaxed downtown. Two stories tall and at least a hundred years old, it had seen its share of excited children of all ages. The Garfield school was originally built as an elementary school when the city was in its youth. It had large rooms with high beamed ceilings and wide sweeping oaken staircases at the north and south ends of the building leading down to the basement or up to the second floor.
    The building evolved over the decades, first as a police station (which explained the thick iron bars on all its windows), then as a community center for the elderly (which explained all the handicapped entrance ramps), before converting back to its designed purpose of education.
    In its current state, Garfield served as a charter high school for the city’s school district. The student body came from a variety of sources: bigger schools, reform schools, the local psychiatric hospital, and detention facilities. There was a handful of pregnant teens in the mix and a smattering of previously home-schooled youths tiptoeing back into the system to get their diplomas. Only a handful of students dreamed of college.
    The Tadpoles stood across the street from the old monolith, deciding whether or not they should go inside. It was past four in the afternoon and the sky hinted towards evening on the empty premises.
“It’s always bad news when we meet Mr. Wirtz,” Julio said. “Besides, we all skipped school this week. He must know,”
    Matt said.
Amber reminded them they all missed his mandatory meeting days earlier, too. All their families and guardians had been notified.
    “When’s the last time you went in, Marie?”
“I don’t know. Two weeks maybe. How ‘bout you, Toby?” “I came yesterday, but they sent me to detention for
    sleeping. So I just left.”
“Detention sucks,” Julio said.
“I thought it was your best subject!” Matt joked. “Keep it up, you red-haired freckled freak!” Julio grabbed
    Matt and put him in a headlock. “How about I gouge your eyes out? Huh?”
“Okay, but don’t break my glasses,” Matt said.
Julio released him.
Amber shook her head and crossed the street towards the school. “Stupid kids,” she mumbled to herself.
Once again, her friends followed.
“Where are all the other students?” Marie asked.
“Hello, girlfriend!” Matt said. “School has been out for like an hour!”
“I don’t carry a watch,” Marie protested.
Mr. Wirtz appeared on the school steps. His skinny arms were crossed; sleeves rolled up as if for a fight. He was in a sour mood. He pointed a crooked finger at them and gestured for all of them to follow him inside.
“This is your last chance,” Wirtz warned. He sharply turned on his heels and entered the building.
Amber swore she heard Matt gulp with dread as they slowly bounded up the stairs and entered the old school.
Inside, Mr. Wirtz was waiting in the hallway for them, a perpetual grimace on his face. “To my office. Now!” he shouted.
He marched towards his office at the end of the short