Disclaimer: The characters of the Stephanie Plum series belong to Janet Evanovich and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

Challenge: Mud’s “War, what is it good for?” challenge – use one of the following phrases in a fic: 1) Life is a war. To survive is a struggle or 2) Shrapnel was named for an Englishman. Don’t you wish you could have something named for you?

Note: for those who aren’t familiar with the American school system – Kindergarten is the first class or “grade” in school. It is frequently only a ½ day class that teaches the beginning basics – alphabet, beginning reading, math, etc. First Grade is the first school year after Kindergarten is completed. Children spend a full school day at school and are usually 5-6 years old at the beginning of the year. I had my first homework while I was in first grade and it was to write a report on a person in history.

Young Carlos Reports
By TT

Carlos dragged into the house. School could sometimes be fun and learning was pretty neat, but this homework thing they started this year was just awful. What he wouldn’t give to go back to life before homework. Kindergarten hadn’t been all that bad, had it? He wondered. But then, he was a big first grader now, not a Kindergarten baby, so he would just have to do the book report.

Dropping his lunchbox and book on the floor, he plopped into his chair in the kitchen and slouched down, resting his chin on the table.

“Why so glum?” his mother asked as she entered the kitchen.

“I have homework,” Carlos replied, his voice betraying his disappointment.

“What sort of homework?”

“I have to write a report on an inventor,” Carlos informed with a heavy sigh.

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” his mother replied, sitting across from her son. “Did they assign you someone?”

“They gave us a list,” Carlos said, reaching down and pulling a paper out of one of his book. He handed it to his mother. “We have to write about one of these inventors,” he informed.

His mother looked at the list. “Louis Pasteur, who invented the modern process of pasteurization in milk. And a good thing too, though you need to actually drink your milk to benefit from it,” his mother informed, giving Carlos a stern glare. “Alexander Bell, who invented the telephone and instantly became a fan of teenage girls everywhere. Arthur Wynne, who invented crossword puzzles. Which has made your Abuelo very happy. George Crum, who invented potato chips. We certainly get enough potato chip crumbs in our bag, so it only seems appropriate,” his mother teased. “Major-General Henry Shrapnel who invented a new type of artillery shell. Huh. Who knew shrapnel was named for an Englishman? James Naismith who invented basketball, one of your favorites,” she observed. Seeing the distinct lack of enthusiasm her son was showing she asked, “Aren’t you even a little curious about this? Don’t you wish you could have something named after you?”

Carlos let out another heavy sigh and took the paper back. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but did it have to be homework?”

His mother laughed.

Present

Ranger settled into his usual seat at Shorty’s. His blank face was in place, hiding the discomfort he was feeling. Since he stepped in, all eyes were on him. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but there was something different about it today that set him on edge.

Stephanie settled into the seat beside him. “What’s up with everyone?” she asked quietly, looking around and noticing that everyone was staring at Ranger.

“Don’t know, Babe,” Ranger admitted, shifting slightly to make sure he had easy access to his gun.

“You’re here,” Shorty announced as he stepped out of the kitchen and moved to their table. Grabbing the menu resting on the table he flipped it open and set it in front Ranger. He pointed to a new entry on the list. “I’ll bring you one for free,” he informed before leaving.

Stephanie leaned over and looked as well. She broke out into a grin and then started laughing. “Did you ever wish you could have something named after you?” she teased.

Ranger smiled and closed the menu before replying. “Babe, if anyone was going to have food named after them, I would have guessed it would be you.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but I eat normal food.”

“Babe,” was Ranger’s only response as he noted that people had stopped looking at them. Slipping his arm around Stephanie, he settled in to wait for the arrival of their pizza – no sauce, no cheese, fresh sliced tomatoes, basil, eggplant and broccoli – the Ranger.

End

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