Prickles of Heat

A wave of heat passed over the stuffy classroom, urging the beads of sweat to drip off of my damp forehead. I adjusted my arm over my paper and glanced up at my water bottle. Empty. It had been empty since lunch four periods ago when I had savored the last drops. I had had no time to refill it in the passing periods, and none of the teachers had been willing to give passes to any of the dying students Instead, they cracked their windows open and hoped for the best.

So we were stuck. Stuck in the classroom for five more minutes, waiting, waiting for the bell to ring and to go home.

Though of course that wouldn't be any better.

I had to walk the three mile trek in hardly any shade, which normally took an hour, and in this 90 degree heat? I could only hope for a ride in an air-conditioned car, and those chances were slim. So I had to bear the walk.

When we learned that the school's air conditioning broke a week before the last day of school, we knew that we were doomed. It was bad enough that we had no cooling, but after factoring in the biggest heat wave in the past decade, us students were wishing for the last few days to be canceled.

I turned back to my essay. Though the lettering was neat and crisp, the paper was crumpled and edged with dust. I had took this paper home night after night. I was ready to finally be done with it.

Three minutes were left on the clock. I stood up and walked quietly to the front, letting my paper drift to the desk below me. Dr. McArthur glanced up from his papers, nodded at me, and returned to his business, not seeming to notice the insane heat at all. I rolled my eyes. He was immune. I was not.

Two minutes were left in the class period. Across the classroom, pencils scratched papers, working to finish their essays before the end of the period. They begged for more time. I begged for the 23rd of June to be over. But the day seemed infinite; the last two minutes seemed like forever.

Two minutes ticked down to one. I watched as the red hand steadily ticked around the wall clock, wondering how much time the walk home would take. At least the air conditioning was working in the house. I had something to look forward to.

Ten seconds. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two.

And then the clock froze.