Historical Holograms From A Runaway Punk
EPILOGUE

The teacher shut the hologram off and turned the lights on; class was about to end. But the kids booed and hissed at her, still wanting the show to continue.

“What’s your deal, lady?” asked the blue-haired girl.

“Breezy, is it?” asked the teacher right back.

“So, you figured me out,” said Breezy.

“Does anybody sense what was going on in the holo-recs?” asked the teacher.

“I do,” said the boy with the black mohawk, “It’s about remembering the past, so we don’t get lost in chaos in the future.”

“Yea, but all that matters is what we do in the present moment right now. I mean, who cares what they did almost 25 years ago? It won’t matter when I have to work a full-time job,” said the kid with the orange hair.

“True, remembering the past may not matter to YOU right now. But others want answers about where they came from, and they will try to destroy your world because you don’t have them,” explained the teacher.

“Like, what Mayor Sye did with The Godfather?” asked Breezy.

BLING!

The school bell rang, and class was over. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow, class,” said the teacher.

The kids shuffled out the exit with disappointment on their faces.

“Those two are a legend,” said the kid with orange hair to his black mohawked buddy as they walked out. They were known as Spike and Wool because of their hair. The teacher figured out who they were too.

“Who?” asked Spike.

“Captain Clover and Zen, they’re like the Skypoe ying-yang twins,” said Wool.

“Yea, but you can tell they never went to school by how they talked, especially Zi-Yen. Man, was his English horrible!” said Spike.

Finally, the kids in her class came to terms with learning about their city’s history. It was a torch she agreed to carry come hell or high waters, but these kids acted like rabid piranhas in hellish waters. Punk kids with crazy hair and tattered clothes didn’t scare her; she’s experienced worse things than this.

Out of the corner of her eye, a little white envelope was spotted on the teacher’s desk that she didn’t notice before. She went to the envelope and picked it up, looking at the name artfully handwritten on the front with royal blue ink, “To Latina Rey.” It brought a smile to her hardened face because only a few people knew her by that name. She opened the white envelope and pulled out a white card with a deep purple four-leaf clover that said, “Good luck! Love, Your Big Sister.”

THE END

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