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    One Hour
    One Hour
    One Hour
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    One Hour

    By Q. Kelly

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    About this ebook

    English teacher Jessica Harmon and one of her students, seventeen-year-old Riley Jenkins, hide in a classroom closet while a gunman rampages through their high school. They’re the only people in the room because it was Jessica’s planning period, and Riley stopped by with concerns about a debate assignment. When the gunman finds them in the closet, they figure they’re as good as dead. Except Jessica and Riley survive, without injury, their harrowing, surreal conversation with the gunman.

    Their shared trauma and their guilt from failing to stop the gunman haunt Jessica and Riley and bring them close. They’re not the same people they were before the shootings, and Jessica, who never had given as much as a second glance to a student, finds herself drawn to Riley.

    “One Hour” is the story of how Jessica and Riley help each other through their unique situation. Do they ultimately find happiness and a future with each other?

    *** This novella of about 24,500 words was first published with the collection "The Green Pill, One Hour and Other Lesbian Stories."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherQ. Kelly
    Release dateNov 2, 2013
    ISBN9781310816772
    One Hour
    Author

    Q. Kelly

    I live in Washington state, where I am a writer and an editor. I also have a master's degree in deaf education. In my free time, I hike and savor frappuccinos.Fact One: I like corny jokes. If you have any good ones, send them my way!Fact Two: My favorite color is purple, but my writing is gray. Life is not black and white. I often write about issues and characters where there is no "right" answer.Fact Three: I'm weird. I like being weird.Email me at yllek_q@yahoo.com. I'd love to hear from you.Check out my blogs at qkelly.wordpress.com and qkelly.blogspot.com.

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      Book preview

      One Hour - Q. Kelly

      ONE HOUR

      A Novella by Q. Kelly

      Copyright 2013 Q. Kelly

      Smashwords Edition

      Blurb for One Hour

      English teacher Jessica Harmon and one of her students, seventeen-year-old Riley Jenkins, hide in a classroom closet while a gunman rampages through their high school. They’re the only people in the room because it was Jessica’s planning period, and Riley stopped by with concerns about a debate assignment. When the gunman finds them in the closet, they figure they’re as good as dead. Except Jessica and Riley survive, without injury, their harrowing, surreal conversation with the gunman.

      Their shared trauma and their guilt from failing to stop the gunman haunt Jessica and Riley and bring them close. They’re not the same people they were before the shootings, and Jessica, who never had given as much as a second glance to a student, finds herself drawn to Riley.

      One Hour is the story of how Jessica and Riley help each other through their unique situation. Do they ultimately find happiness and a future with each other?

      Author’s Note

      One Hour was previously published as part of the collection The Green Pill, One Hour and Other Lesbian Stories. Here, One Hour is published by itself.

      Table of Contents

      Blurb

      Author’s Note

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Acknowledgements

      Q. Kelly’s Other Works

      One Hour

      Chapter One

      Jessica Harmon ignored the morning announcements and worked on the final exams for several classes. Today was a B day—meaning she had a planning period from eight-thirty to ten o’clock. Jessica would much rather grab additional beauty sleep and saunter her refreshed self into school at nine fifty-five. Alas, no such luck. Belleville High required the presence of all teachers by eight-fifteen.

      Jessica typed steadily on her school-assigned computer until knocking interrupted.

      Ms. Harmon? A soft voice to go with the knocks.

      Jessica glanced up, her gaze meeting gray eyes. Riley Jenkins. Interesting. Surprising. Jessica waved Riley in and checked the clock that hung above the doorway—nine-thirty.

      What’s up? Jessica asked. Riley was a quiet kid and didn’t speak in class unless Jessica called on her. Not a bad thing by any means. Jessica had been a nearly mute student, and look at her now—Ms. Jessica Harmon, high school English teacher extraordinaire.

      Riley pulled up a chair and sat across from Jessica. Riley was a pretty girl—long black hair, deep gray eyes, delicately carved facial bones that lent her an ethereal quality. Okay, Riley was more than pretty, and she didn’t seem to realize how good-looking she was. That only added to her beauty. Jessica could see a priest or two (or a hundred) flinging off their robes for her.

      Um…it’s about the debate. Riley avoided Jessica’s eyes.

      Okay.

      Ms. Harmon, what you did wasn’t nice.

      Jessica crooked an eyebrow. Riley was far from the first student to accuse her of shenanigans, but she was the first quiet, contemplative student to do so. I’m sorry you think that, Riley. Jessica tried to remember Riley’s debate topic. Couldn’t. Gotta keep you kids on your toes, Jessica added.

      Riley smiled faintly. I talked to Zach Hanley. He’s fine if we swap topics.

      Swap topics, my ass. Why do you think I did what I did? Jessica kept her voice gentle.

      I guess to…to…

      To what? Jessica prompted.

      A devil’s advocate thing, Riley muttered. Get us to think outside the box.

      Jessica nodded. Outside your comfort zones, yes.

      I get that. I wouldn’t mind so much, but good arguments for my side don’t exist.

      On her computer, Jessica brought up the information for Riley’s class, which met in the afternoons on A days. Jessica found the debate topic—gay marriage (against)—she assigned to Riley and her partner, Danielle Musgrave. Riley had penciled in gay marriage (for) as her preferred topic. So had Danielle and another student, Jon Reed.

      I pulled a switcheroo with most every student, Jessica told Riley. Students needed experience arguing as devil’s advocates. It sharpened their messages, their abilities.

      "I don’t care. There is no good argument against gay marriage. I can’t win this debate! What am I supposed to say, that the Bible claims man can’t sleep with man or that biology dictates a man marry a woman? That’s weak."

      Well, well, Jessica thought. Riley liked to win. Good for her.

      There are other arguments, Jessica pointed out.

      Arguments even weaker! The topic isn’t fair. The pro side’s guaranteed to win.

      You’re a smart girl, Riley. I have faith that you and Danielle will come up with something that’ll blow us away. Don’t worry so much. You’re not graded on winning or losing.

      Riley’s mouth twisted like she’d eaten a lemon. I’m pretty sure I’m gay, she spat out. I’m not gonna argue that I shouldn’t marry who I want. I’m just not gonna argue that. I have pride, you know? Fierce redness bloomed across Riley’s cheeks.

      I appreciate that. I do, but I can’t let you switch topics.

      Riley scoffed. Whatever. You don’t appreciate it. Just give me abortion or the environment, please.

      Jessica noted her student’s set face, clamped mouth and angry eyes. I do appreciate it, actually. Jessica leaned forward and offered a smile. I’m gay, Riley. So I do understand.

      The girl blinked. Blink blink blink. Interest glimmered in her not-so-hostile-anymore expression. Oh. You are?

      I don’t enjoy hearing people put down gays any more than you do, but it helps me refine my own arguments for why gay marriage should be legal. Do you follow?

      Riley bit her lip. I guess. But… A hopeful glance.

      Jessica shook her head. You’ll do fine. You and Danielle will find a hook.

      All right, Riley grumbled. She got to her feet. Well, I had to try.

      She trudged to the semi-open door, and Jessica called after her: Need me to sign your pass?

      Oh yeah. Riley pulled the pass from her pocket and returned to Jessica.

      The first line of the pass read: 9:27—M. Einhorn, photography

      Jessica checked the time and wrote on the second line: 9:35, J. Harmon, English

      Do you like your photography class? Jessica asked. She’d always wanted to sign up for one.

      I guess.

      What are y’all working on?

      We’re reviewing darkroom stuff for the final exam.

      Really? Isn’t photography all digital these days?

      Riley’s lips tugged up. Mr. Einhorn says film isn’t dead. She paused. Hey, Ms. Harmon?

      Yes?

      Do you have a girlfriend?

      The question didn’t bother Jessica. She was thirty-three, no fuddy duddy. She didn’t insist on keeping her private life concealed from students. But Jessica didn’t run her mouth and overshare.

      I’m kind of dating someone, Jessica said. Nothing serious. She added gently: You should get back to photography class.

      Click. An announcement.

      Code orange, code orange, code orange, came the staticky but calm voice of MaryEllen Haskins, one of the main office secretaries.

      Jessica frowned. Odd. Vice principal Peter Ronaldson did the emergency drills. Ah well. He must be sick today or in a meeting.

      Riley stepped into the hall.

      Hey! Jessica leaped to her feet. Where are you going?

      Photography.

      No, no. Jessica ushered Riley back into the room. Code orange means lockdown. To illustrate the point, Jessica scrambled to her desk, retrieved her keys and locked the door.

      Photography’s right down the hall. Mr. Einhorn would let me in. He’s cool.

      Well, he’s not allowed to let you in. Jessica wondered if MaryEllen’s voice had been too calm. Too neutral, like she was trying overly hard to come across as composed. Let’s get away from the door. Jessica strode to a corner not visible from the tiny window in her door, and Riley followed.

      I hate drills, Riley whined.

      They can be annoying, Jessica admitted. Fire drill, code orange drill, code blue drill (for bad weather such as a tornado). Seemed like a damn drill every two weeks. The worst part was the lack of advance notice. Only students with autism and their teachers knew about the drills ahead of time.

      Now, Jessica informed Riley, if this were an emergency, we’d get on the floor and cover our heads.

      Riley stared at Jessica as if she was impossibly unhip and as if Jessica had grown a third head. "I know," Riley huffed indignantly.

      Jessica shifted

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