Sam tugged at his tie as he and Dean walked into the high school. He had a latte in a paper cup in one hand. He glanced at the kids as they walked by them. They were here for a case. Costa Verde High School had had a rash of suicides lately. Teachers, students, even janitors had all offed themselves. From what Sam could find, there had been no
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And it was a nightmare.
But no, it wasn't. He just wished it was.
"Ronnie Van Zahn, your aethetically more pleasing older cousin with a penchant for pretty brunettes and brand new senior gym teacher because the other one bit it," Dean replied blandly. "Education is the future, man. And this job, for the record? Blows. It was awesome until you made me the friggin' gym teacher. Ass." He glared at his giant freak of a brother, but he didn't really mind. Because come on, what was he gonna do all day? Blow a whistle and yell at kids to drop and give him twenty dollars or push ups didn't really phase him.
And no, he was not humming Free Bird as he drank his black coffee and pointed his half eaten donut at his brother. "Gym teacher. You suck."
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"I'm not sure what we're looking for. There's a few things that can cause something like this. Just don't drink the kool-aid."
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One point for Dean.
One of the girls they were passing bumped into him and he reached out to steady her. The look of instant love was enough to make him pull his hand back immediately and feel old. And kinda awesome at the same time. He gave Sam a shrug. He graduated eleven years ago for Christ's sake, but who could blame the girls for staring.
It was Dean.
Duh.
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Duh.
Sam barely stepped out of the way of some guy who looked like he was on the football team and out to prove something in the hallway. It'd hadn't been quite so long since he'd graduated but he still felt old. Everyone looked so young.
"What's your first class? I'm in the same room all day. 213."
And that couldn't be a good sign. He thought public buildings had gotten rid of all 13's.
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In reality, he was intending to spend most of the day outside. Make the little suicidal freaks run the track or play some highly illegal tackle football, maybe soccer if they were too wussy for a tackle sport. Whatever. He was going to make them do something. None of that rope climbing shit for him.
Plus? A whole friggin' day outside and hopefully lunch with a hot teacher or something.
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"I'll leave my phone on. If you see anything or hear anything, let me know. I'm going to talk to them about Sylvia Plath. Maybe I can steer the discussion toward suicide and get them to say something. I tried to get one of us a job as the counselor here but apparently, his mental state is fine."
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Anyone that was 'fine' period wasn't good news. People like that didn't exist. Demons did though.
"Senior girls and boys," he answered though, glancing down at the schedule again. "Third lunch, nice, what about you?"
Oh man he felt lame.
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See! Dean was totally going to get to have lunch with a hot teacher! He just hadn't expected it to be his brother!
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