Ms. Ashling watched her students stare blankly at their computer screens. She had given her freshman composition class an assignment in which they were to write about an important event in their life. She could see, however, that most of them had little, if any, idea what to write about. She thought to herself for a moment, and then glanced at the beautiful mural that adorned the wall of the school’s library. A smile crept across Ms. Ashling’s face, as she had an idea with which she could inspire her students.

“Ok, class, I see that most of you are having some trouble deciding what to write about,” she looked them over, making sure she had their attention, “so I’m going to tell you a little story; an important event that happened in my own life. How many of you know the story of that mural?” she asked, pointing towards the artwork upon the wall. When none of the student raised their hands, she felt her heart drop a little, and then said, “Well then, I guess I should fix that! I told you at the beginning of the year that I attended this very high school, but I didn’t tell you that I knew the person who painted that mural. In fact, we were in the same year, and I was present when the tragedy that mural commemorates happened.”

“Tragedy?” piped up one of the more soft spoken girls, “I never knew about a tragedy happening here.”

“Oh yes, Melissa, it was a horrible day, but it changed the course of my life, and the life of my closest friends, for the better, I think.”

“Ms. Ashling?” the class clown, Caleb, asked innocently, “Does this mean we’re going to have to write about a serious event in our lives?”

“Oh no, you won’t have to do that if you don’t want to, though those topics tend to be the most interesting to read, and easiest to write. Please don’t think that my story is an example of what you have to write. I just want to give you an idea of what you could write about, while also telling you a little story from this school’s past. If you don’t want to write about something as serious as this, please don’t force yourself too. Now, do we have any more questions before I begin? It is a bit of a long story.” She listened carefully, and watched for signs of other questions. None came, so she sat down and motioned for her students to come sit around her. “As I said, this story is a long one, so if we run past the bell a little bit, I’ll make sure to write you all passes to your next class. Now, everyone get comfortable. Mandy, Liz, enough chit chat,” the girls in the back that had been whispering snapped to attention, forgetting that Ms. Ashling had the uncanny ability to hear them whispering, “Now then, I’ll begin the story with-”

“What’s going on over here, if I may ask, Ms. Ashling?” the librarian had wandered over, with a surly look on her aged face and her hands placed firmly on her hips.

“Oh, I’m sorry Mrs. Applegate, I was just about to tell my students the story of the library’s mural to give them a little inspiration for their assignment.” Ms. Ashling smiled politely as the surly look on Mrs. Applegate’s face shifted to a look of guilt, and then to a look of sympathy, “Oh my, I haven’t thought about that in such a long while, I hope you don’t mind if I have a seat and listen.”

“Of course not, ma’am, you’re in the story, I couldn’t refuse you that if I wanted to.” The students looked around at each other, having forgotten that Mrs. Applegate had been the school’s librarian for several decades. Ms. Ashling grinned mischievously, quickly running over the events she planned to describe in her head, and then settled in to begin her story.

“Pardon me, Ms. Ashling, but what might you be up to in this little powwow?” The school’s other long time resident, Mr. Hester, the art teacher, happened to have wandered through the library and saw the cluster. Mrs. Applegate whispered something to him and pointed at the mural. With a surprised, yet sympathetic look not unlike Mrs. Applegate’s, Mr. Hester sat down and nodded with approval to Ms. Ashling. She winked at him, and then turned back to her students.

“Now, before I begin the actual story, I have to lay out some basic information. This event occurred eleven years ago, in the second half of my sophomore year. The person who painted the mural was a friend of mine named Andrew — Andy to us. He was the smart, quiet type. He had little issue maintaining good grades, but his ability to socialize was rather… lacking. The only people he spoke to outside of his teachers were me and our junior friends Danielle, Jason, and Mark, all of whom were present for this event as well. Danielle was an energetic big-sister-to-everyone type of person, and she was pretty good looking too, so over all, it was hard not to like her. Jason, Danielle’s boyfriend, was the school’s resident genius. He wasn’t a stereotypical “nerd”, as we called them back then, as he was very athletic. Mark, Jason’s best friend, was his counterpart; where Jason was the school’s resident brain, Mark was the resident badass. He wasn’t as smart as Jason, but was much more athletic. He was kind of a jerk jock with a heart of gold. Those three managed to break Andy out of his introverted shell by the end of their senior year, but it took a lot of work on their end…” Ms. Ashling paused and laughed, remembering the chaos of her junior year.

“Wait, Ms. Ashling,” Jack, the freshman football star, interrupted, “Do you mean Jason Sanders and Mark Windsor? The Legendary Duo who lead our football team to state victory four years in a row and then mysteriously vanished before graduation?”

Ms. Ashling grinned at him, “The very same, Jack.” A look of awe and wonder covered his face, as well as the faces of the other athletes in her class. “They were, and still are, very good friends of mine.”

“So you know what happened to them!?”

“I do, but that’s a story for another day, Jack.”

Jack sat back with a defeated look on his face, obviously disappointed that he wouldn’t get to learn the answer to one of the school’s greatest mysteries.

“Now then,” Ms. Ashling continued, “on to the story!”

I had a weird feeling as I approached the school that day. We were scheduled to go on a big field trip to a relatively close American History Museum, and the three buses that were to take us sat in front of the school, looking empty and somehow frail. I was nervous. I didn’t know why then, I just had a bad feeling about the trip. The thunder clouds that were slowly rolling over us didn’t do anything to ease that feeling.

As I got around the buses, I saw a small crowd of people gathering. I knew most of them by name, but wasn’t well acquainted with them. I was pretty shy myself back then. I sat down next to Andy and bade him good morning. He nodded, still looking rather sleepy, and laid down next to me. I laughed and poked him, telling him he could sleep on the bus.

“Sleep on the bus when I’m sitting next to you? That’s not likely” he gave me an irritated smile that I knew to be a harmless sign of affection.

“Well, you have a point there,” I laughed again, “I am a bit of an early bird.”

“Early bird? You’re a freaking Morning Glory, girl!” a voice from behind me chided. I turned to see Danielle standing there and smirking at me as she held a cup of coffee.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you pass American History last year?” I retorted.

“Of course, but Jason’s going because he’s president of the History Club, and he’s dragging Mark and I along with him.”

“Ah, that’s Jason for you. Where are those two now anyway?”

“They’re helping Mr. Gyles load the food onto the buses. Jason only got to bring us because he promised to make Mark work as muscle, and make me act as a chaperone.”

“You? A chaperone?” Andy snickered, “Oh boy, we’re in for it now…”

Danielle jumped forward and landed on top of Andy with a “thud”, causing him to grunt as she sat on his chest. “What was that? Disrespecting your elders, Andy?”

“Can’t… breathe…”

“I can’t hear you…”

Andy was struggling to get free as Mark walked over and yanked him out from under Danielle. Jason laughed at the whole scene, as Danielle innocently sipped her coffee. Andy grumbled, but I patted him on the head, and he stopped to glare at me.

“Alright folks” Mr. Gyles, my history teacher, yelled out, “time to load up. We best be on these buses before it starts to rain.”

Thus, four American History classes filed onto two crowded buses. The third bus was for the extra chaperones and overflow from the first two buses. Andy and I were on that bus, with Mark, Danielle, Jason, and several teachers. Looking around, I saw Mr. Gyles, Mr. Hester, Mr. Hunt, one of the Phys. Ed. teachers, Ms. Florence, my Biology teacher from the year before, Mr. Jacobson, the other History Teacher, Mrs. Point, a Math teacher, Ms. Axel, the Physics teacher, and Mr. Valence, my English teacher, and one of my favorite people ever. Somehow, though, the uneasy feeling I had when I arrived at school was growing worse as time went on, rather than going away.

The sky had turned black as the rain finally started. I had become so engrossed in the feeling of unease that I jumped at the first thunderclap, causing my friends to laugh and comfort me as I said I was ok. I tried to hide my wariness as we left the school, and I chatted quietly with them. The ride out of town was fairly uneventful; the older three were familiar with all the teachers on the bus, so everyone riding became engrossed in conversation. I don’t remember everything we spoke about, but I do recall something about the buoyancy of ducks, and also a deep philosophical discussion about peanut butter. The storm outside was getting progressively worse, but it wasn’t so bad that we couldn’t keep going. Andy had even managed to fall asleep next to me, and was leaning his head on my shoulder as I watched the rain through my window.

“You two couldn’t be less alike,” Jason laughed from the seat next to us, “but I guess that explains why you’re such good friends. Opposites attract, as they say.” He looked at Mark and grinned.

“You know it, buddy,” Mark replied.

I laughed and smiled at them knowingly.

“Are you alright back here? You got kind of quiet.” Mr. Valence had come down the aisle to us and was now in the seat in front of my own. I blushed and tried to hide it. I had a huge crush on him at the time, and was thoroughly embarrassed at the situation he saw. “Ah, young love, ‘tis such a sweet and romantic thing.”

Danielle almost fell out of her seat laughing, “Those two? In love? You’ve got a better chance of Jason leaving me for Mark, Mr. V.”

Mr. Valence put on a looked stricken, “Danielle! I’m hurt! You doubt my ability to judge love when I see it?”

“I have to side with Danielle on this one, V,” Mark chuckled, “besides, I don’t think Andy’s the one who’s caught her eye.” he grinned at me, and I glared back, blushing more.

“A romantic you may be, Mr. Valence, but a matchmaker you are not.” Jason added, with an ounce of sarcasm.

Mr. Valence grimaced at him, “Et tu, Jason?” We all gave him this look that anyone who ever had Mr. Valence can still make. It was a combination of exasperation, glaring, and a strong attempt to stifle laughter. He loved to make cheesy puns out of quotes from famous stories, and while it’s impressive on the first day of class, after a few weeks everyone gets tired of it, but they never ceased to be funny.

Andy sat up as we started across the bridge that marked the second half of our journey. He looked at me groggily and asked if we were there yet. I shook my head and told him half way. He grumbled and stared out the window. The rain was coming down in sheets, and if we weren’t already on the bridge, we probably would have pulled over and waited for it to let up some. As it was though, we were already a third of the way across the bridge, and there wasn’t a lot of traffic, so we decided to get across first. Big mistake.

At the last rest stop, several of the teachers had shifted to the front two buses to help control the students who were giving the bus drivers issues. Mr. Gyles, Mr. Hester, Mr. Jacobson, and Ms. Axel had all left the bus. The bus seemed almost empty now, with four people gone. Little did any of us know that the shift in positions would greatly affect the outcome of what was about to transpire.

The rain came down even harder as we got half way across the bridge. The bus drivers could barely see fifteen feet in front of them, and the sound of the rain made it almost impossible to hear anything on the radio. I sank back into my seat, feeling the same chill from earlier run down my spine again. I looked at Danielle and Jason. They both seemed just as uneasy as I was. Mark seemed unperturbed, but nothing really ever shook him. Mr. Valence turned and gave me a look of reassurance and put his hand on my shoulder.

“It’s just a little water, nothing to worry about. Everything’s going to be-”

In the next split second, the sound of tires squealing and metal grinding against metal filled our ears. The first bus had swerved and was now motionless across the road. The second bus had collided with the very end of the first as the driver was frantically braking, angling the first bus and coming to a dead stop between it and the side rail of the bridge. Then our bus hit the end of the second bus, at nearly full speed. Our driver hadn’t had the reaction time to break between the first bus swerving and us hitting the second. There was a loud crunch as we hit the other bus, and I heard glass shatter. Then, we weren’t flat on the ground. Somehow, the momentum of the bus, combined with the slickness of the road due to the rain caused the bus to arc upward at the impact. We were nearly vertical within another split second. I looked at Mr. Valence, and then to my friends, and we all shared a look of shock, which transitioned to horror as the bus began to tilt to the side and over the railing of the bridge

Slowly, I came too. I realized that I was lying on my back, against the window, as the bus lay tilted somewhat on its side in the river below the bridge. Water was slowly seeping in through the broken windshield, but it was at the bottom, so there was an air pocket near the back end, where we had all ended up. I was dazed and my shoulder as a little sore, but otherwise I was unharmed. Andy was on top of me, in a similar state of confusion.

“Are you ok?” I managed to groan. He grunted in response, which I took as an “I’ve been better.” I stumbled to my feet, and sat on the edge of the seat in front of me. I looked around. Mark was unconscious in the seat behind mine. Danielle was supporting a rather battered looking Jason, and gave me a concerned look. I turned to check on the teachers, and saw Mr. Valence helping Mrs. Point up, and Ms. Florence and the bus driver tending to an unconscious Mr. Hunt.

“What happened?” Jason muttered, rubbing his head.

“Bad driving, bad weather, bad decisions, and physics,” Mr. Valence grumbled in response, “Thankfully, we were the only bus that went over the bridge.”

“Over the bridge!?” Andy snapped to attention, “So that means that we’re….” he stopped, and his face paled.

The bus driver said poignantly, “I hope you kids can swim.” to which Ms. Florence shot him a nasty look, “It’s the truth, ma’am. I can get the emergency doors open, but we’re underwater, so we’ll have to get away from the bus somehow.”

“Let’s assess injury first, we don’t have a lot of time,” Mr. Valence commented, somehow keeping his relaxed demeanor, “Danielle, how does everyone look over there?”

“Jason’s pretty beat up, it looks like he has a few broken ribs, and Mark’s out for the count,” Danielle said, pausing as she looked at me,

“Andy and I are a little shaken up, but we’re ok otherwise.” I said nervously.

“Alright,” Mr. Valence nodded, “how about over here?”

“I’m not sure I can walk,” Mrs. Point said through gritted teeth as she held her leg, “I think it’s broken.”

“Pete’s out too,” Ms. Florence added, in reference to Mr. Hunt, “Seems like he hit his head pretty hard. As for myself, I’m a little bruised, but otherwise ok.”

“I’ve seen better days, but this is nothing compared to Nam,” the bus driver said plainly, “however, overall, we’re not in a great situation.”

“Aside from Mark and Pete, is there anyone here who cannot swim?” Mr. Valence asked, Jason and Mrs. Point both raised their hands, “Due to injury or inability?” Mr. Valence added.

“Injury” Jason coughed, holding his ribs, “definitely have three broken ribs, and I’m pretty sure my shoulder’s out of its socket.”

“Same for me,” Mrs. Point answered, “There’s no way I can swim with my leg like this.”

Mr. Valence stood quietly for a moment, thinking. “Ok, Danielle, you help Jason. Lisa, you help Vicky, I’ll get Pete.” he pointed at Andy and myself, “You two help each other ok?”, we nodded, and he turned to the bus driver, “Bert, you come get Mark.”

“Roger that, cap’n.” Bert barked, and then he climbed his way over, past us, and pulled Mark up on his shoulder. “Now, we’ve got three easy ways out; the broken windshield, the top hatch, or the back door. If we take the first, we risk getting torn up on the glass, and not getting to the surface for air,”

“But if we take either of the latter,” Ms. Florence continued, “The pressure will cause the water to rush in and would make it difficult to get out at all. We can’t take the top hatch anyway, there’s no way we could get Pete or Mark through it unconscious; they’re too bulky.”

We all seemed to be lost in thought, as the bus shifted slightly and scraped against the rocks it was wedged between. Scrambling to retain my balance, I looked down and saw something we had forgotten. Beneath my feet was an emergency exit window.

“What about this?” I asked, indicating the window.

“Good eye there!” Bert shouted, “I had forgotten about those!”

Mr. Valence looked at it eagerly, “It should be wide enough to get Mark and Pete out, and at this angle, the water would pour in on us, though it will still be pretty fast.” He jumped over the seat I was sitting on, landing above the window, “Andy, help me get this open.” Andy leaned down from his own seat, and they struggled with it against the water. Finally, it popped open, and Mr. Valence pushed the window out with his foot, to check the speed of the water.

“It doesn’t look that fast,” Andy mumbled.

“But it is only March, so it’s icy cold. We’re going to have to swim fast.” Mr. Vance grimaced and looked at our group of battered bus riders.

“Get Mark and Mr. Hunt off first,” Jason grunted, “that way we can send someone extra if they need help getting to the surface.”

“No,” Mrs. Point argued, “You kids should go first, we old folks can wait.”

Mr. Valence shook his head, “As much as I hate to say it, Jason’s got a point. However, Bert and I are very strong swimmers, so I don’t think we need to worry about that. Also, I’m nervous to move Pete just yet, I want to check and make sure his neck isn’t hurt. Bert, you get Mark and go first, alright?”

“Aye aye,” Bert hauled Mark over his shoulder, and with a splash, slid out the window. We watched nervously as he began to pump his arms and swim towards the surface and the edge of the river.

“Lisa, you help Vicky out next,” he motioned to Ms. Florence and Mrs. Point, “and no arguing, Vicky.”

Ms. Florence helped a defeated Mrs. Point over the seat, and out the window, and held her as they swam after Bert. Mr. Valence was checking Mr. Hunt’s neck, as Andy and I helped Jason over the seat. Danielle looked at Mr. Valence, and then at me, and said,

“You two go help him get Mr. Hunt out, and be careful; it doesn’t look like the bus is going to hold here much longer.” She looked out the cracked windshield nervously, and then slipped into the water with Jason. I looked over at Mr. Valence, who was finishing his examination.

“You two go ahead, I can handle things from here.” he muttered, hauling Mr. Hunt over his shoulder, “it doesn’t look like his neck is badly hurt, so I should be able to get him out without any issue.

I shook my head, “No, you go first. We can handle ourselves, but you need to take care of him too. I looked up at Mr. Valence, who was now standing next to me, with each of us on a side of the slowly flooding window.

“Besides, we’re both conscious to help each other if something happens, you should go first. The bus isn’t going to hold here much longer.” Andy argued.

Mr. Valence gave us a defeated shrug, and then put his hand on Andy’s shoulder. He looked as though he were about to apologize, but he swiftly pulled Andy toward him and dropped him out the window. I looked shocked, until he smiled at me and said “Go, he needs your help.” Torn, but knowing what I had to do, I dove out after Andy and helped him right himself in the water. Together, we looked back as we swam, and watched Mr. Valence slip out of the window, holding Mr. Hunt. To our horror, the bus shifted right as he slid out, and hit Mr. Valence square on the back. Bubbles burst out of his mouth, as he struggled to get his head back inside the bus for another breath. He managed to, but now we were both swimming towards him.

I could see the shadows of people swimming above me, two of them, and both faster than either I or Andy could muster. I felt a hand on my back and turned to see Mr. Hester grabbing Andy and myself and motioning towards the surface. Ms. Axel and Mr. Jacobson had dove down now, and were swimming towards Mr. Valence. Mr. Hester gave us a smile and a thumbs up, and then motioned for us to follow again. Reluctantly, we did so. I turned one last time, and saw that Mr. Jacobson now had Mr. Hunt, and Ms. Axel was helping Mr. Valence, and they were all slowly making their way towards us. Relieved, I turned and swam until I got to shore.

Mr. Gyles and Mr. Hester helped pull Andy and myself up onto the beach, and from there, we saw the four heads of our teachers surface. Jason and Mark were lying next to us, and Danielle sitting behind them. Bert was standing with Mr. Gyles, watching the four heading slowly towards us. Ms. Florence and Mrs. Point were sitting near Danielle, breathing heavily.

Bert saw it before the rest of us. He began to frantically wave his arms at the group of teachers in the water, as Mr. Gyles and Mr. Hester snapped to and began to drag myself, Andy, Mark, and Jason further up the bank. Then I saw it; a massive wave of water, barreling down the river. The rain must have caused something to overflow, because the bulk of water was much higher than the river, and moving much faster. Just as Mr. Hester moved to dive into the water, the wave crashed into them. Then they were gone.

The next few weeks were filled somber days and morbid nights. All four teachers the river claimed drowned. Those of us who were on the bus took it harder than the rest, because we had all left them there. Guilt and shame wracked our bodies and aggravation filled our minds. Jason was hospitalized for several weeks because of his ribs and his shoulder, and Mrs. Point was out with a broken leg. Somehow, Mark had managed to escape uninjured, beyond being knocked out by the force of the crash. He seemed especially angry about the outcome. Several students were sent off to the hospital after he thoroughly explained to them why they shouldn’t be “happy because they don’t have homework now”.

Andy had it the worst though. He wasn’t able to cope with how he had been forced off, and he was convinced that it should have been him that was last off the bus. I wasn’t much better, as I had the same mind set, but when I grieve, I tend to bottle everything up and deal with it later, after everyone else has had their chance. It was hard for me to watch everyone suffer like they were, so I forced myself to be the rock for at least one person. That person was Andy. We grew a lot closer during that March and April. Still, I was shocked when I saw what he did on the first month anniversary after the accident.

Andy had mentioned to Mr. Hester that there should be some lasting memorial set up for the four teachers who died. Mr. Hester agreed, but didn’t know what, or how, to do it. Then he had an idea. He told Andy to sketch out something he thought would be fitting, and that he’d have his best art student immortalize it. Andy was shocked, and honored. He went home that night and sketched it out. If Andy had had more self-esteem, he might have realized that Mr. Hester had meant that Andy would be the one creating it, but in his eyes, he was only a mediocre artist. Mr. Hester, meanwhile, approached Mrs. Applegate and asked if he could use the library’s empty wall. Mrs. Applegate, Mr. Valence’s mother-in-law, agreed to the plan.

That Friday, after school, Mr. Hester brought Andy to the library. There he had marked a space on the wall proportional to Andy’s sketch. The school had agreed to buy a good amount of High Quality art supplies for Andy to use. Andy didn’t believe he was Mr. Hester’s best artist, though, and refused to do it, thinking that their surely had to be someone better. Mr. Hester managed to convince him in the end, but it took a great deal of effort.

Thus, Andy started the most inspired work of art in his entire career. He worked on it for an entire month, carefully veiled in secrecy from all but Mr. Hester, Mrs. Applegate, and the School Board. He spent entire weekends in the library, working on the mural. Every day after school, every free moment he had, he was in the library, behind the veiled wall, working.
On Monday, May 13th, 2041, the principal had the school assemble in the library. Andy was standing quietly in front of the veiled wall that had been puzzling us for the last month. I stood with Danielle, Jason, and Mark, who were just as confused as I was, waiting to see the reason we had been brought to the library. The principal, Mr. Hester, and Mrs. Applegate all walked over to Andy, and pushed him forward to speak. The library went silent.

“Two months ago,” Andy started nervously, “tragedy befell our school. We lost four of the most amazing teachers to ever grace these halls. As most of you know, I was on the bus that went over the bridge. In fact, I was one of the last people out. I was forced out against my will by Mr. Valence, because he held his duty to his students higher than the value of his own safety. I’ve been tormented by this fact since that day, and I probably will be for the rest of my life. However, with the approval of Mrs. Applegate, and of our principal, Mrs. Dawson, and with the help of Mr. Hester, I have created what I hope you will find to be something worthy of being the memorial for the four we lost, and a reminder for those yet to come.”

I watched as Mrs. Applegate and Mr. Hester drew back the veil that had covered Andy’s secret work space. My jaw dropped at the beautiful mural painted upon the wall. Mr. Valence and Mr. Hunt stood between Ms. Axel and Mr. Jacobson, all gazing down upon us, with warm, proud smiles on their faces. Behind them, a bus sat on a bridge, and a calm river flowed. The weather in the image was sunny, with only sparse clouds in the sky. Their names had been engraved and then painted beneath them, upon a blue banner. Above them, another blue banner hung, with the silver inscription, “En memorandum.” A green banner hung from the side, held by Mr. Valence, which read in silver, “Carpe Diem.” while Mr. Hunt held a green banner opposite Mr. Valence, which read “Memento Mori.”
“These were two sayings that Mr. Valence told me often. For those who do not know Latin,” Andy commented, “Carpe Diem means ‘Seize the day’ and Memento Mori means ‘Remember your mortality’. These were his two favorite sayings. That is why I chose to include them. That is all I have to say, I hope you all approve.”

Danielle was the first to start clapping, but it quickly spread throughout the crowd of students. The applause was so loud that I thought we might shatter windows. Andy’s face flushed bright red as he tried to hide behind a bookshelf, only to be intercepted by Mr. Hester. High School was a very different experience for Andy after that.

“The end.” Ms. Ashling said softly. She sat quietly, gazing at the mural. Her students were silently transfixed. Mrs. Applegate was sniffling into a tissue, and Mr. Hester was holding back tears of his own. There wasn’t a sound in the room. Ms. Ashling got to her feet and smiled at her class. “I hope I’ve given you some sort of inspiration.” The bell rang. Slowly, the students got to their feet, each lingering as they passed the mural. When the last student left, Ms. Ashling slowly approached it. She felt a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s not quite the way I remember it, Andrea,” Mr. Hester chuckled, “but I guess it got the job done.”
“Well, you always have-” Mrs. Applegate sniffled, “had a beautiful way with words, dear.”

Andrea smiled but said nothing as she ran her finger over the signature on the bottom right corner of the mural. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She lingered at the comment written in white beneath the banner which held the names of the teachers, “March 13th, 2041. Never forget the Ides of March.”

“And never, I shall…” she whispered. She righted herself, smiled at Mr. Hester and Mrs. Applegate, and quietly left the library.

One of the girls in Ms. Ashling’s class slowly approached Mr. Hester as he stood, staring at the mural.

“Mr. Hester?” she asked shyly.

“Hmm? Oh, Lauren, how may I help you?”

“Well, I wanted to ask, what was Andy’s last name?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I just… I have this feeling, and I want to know if I’m right or not.” she mumbled feebly.

Mr. Hester chuckled, “Why not go take a look at Andy’s signature.”

Lauren slowly approached the mural, and stared in awe the closer she got. When she found the signature, she squatted down to read it.

Slowly, she read it aloud, “Andy Ashling, Begun 4/13/2041, Completed 5/13/2041.”

The End.