_As indicated in my post yesterday,  I am rewriting my story The Last Class because I was a bit uncomfortable with the direction that it was heading in.    However, after we rereading this chapter I realize that I'm quite fond of it. I will make a few cosmetic changes before beginning the third chapter tomorrow.    Please note that I'm looking for **real comments** about how to improve my stories. If you provide me with a good real comment that I am comfortable with I will reward you with a substantial upvote._

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<h2>The Last Class</h2>

REWRITE Part 2

Georgie and I sat in the back row of Miss Anderson's Home Economics class,  which doubled as our Home Room, watching Mark whisper sweet nothings to Julianne, his bleach blonde bow headed bimbo and longtime girlfriend.  Mark was,  quite simply,  a muscle bound ape that had woken up one day shocked to realize he now had a human brain.   He was rough, gruff,  and always ready to tumble with anyone smaller than him.  Nerds made great target practice.

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_Source: Pixabay.com_

 The love birds sat in the two center most front desks,   he stroking her bangs, she leaning awkwardly like a fat man in a dump truck,  eyes vacant and hollow.

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

_"Another headcase."_ I muttered.  I felt sickened.

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

If her bloated belly and black ringed eyes weren't enough of a give away, the flies nesting in Julianne's putridly disheveled hair should have been.

Georgette sat silently watching the romantic interlude unfold.  Every now and then she rubbed her eyes and turned to sullenly stare out the half open window.  A lit cigarette hung unsmoked from her glossy pink lips. 

With the passing of time she'd become increasingly catatonic.  Zombie-like.   I was worried about her.

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.  

The Windsmiths were good people,  but there weren't my family.  Not really. 

<del>She was a great cook, a snappy dresser,  pretty enough with her quick smile. He was a balding,  fat,  loved cigars. He was teaching me how to play chess.... quite badly. But love? Well, I'd only known them for about seven months.</del>

My Georgie Porgie,  on the other hand,  had four little sisters, including 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 they seemed like flies. Buzzing 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 man 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 my perfect dream girl. 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 solidly on cold 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 plopped 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. 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, well.   Having a bit of fun in here are we?."_ Martha laughed. _"Don't let us stop you."_

Our school had two cheerleading captains.   Stuck up bitches who never gave anyone the time of day.    Not without good reason. 

_"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? 

 I imagined Georgie sitting at her desk crying as I rushed back down the hallway.    How could I have been such an idiot? 

 I have to find her.

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

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