Friday Night Football Murder

By Louis Cisneros

During the day, high school teacher Steve Perez is a dedicated role model who wants the best for his students. When he discovers the well-liked football coach handing out illegal drugs to his players like candy on Halloween, Perez confronts the coach, having no idea that he has just set off a chain of disastrous events that may ruin his career, his reputatation and his future.

After approaching the principal with his concerns, he receives nothing but humiliation in return. Perez stubbornly decides to take his accusations to the school board. Unfortunately, he is up against corrupt school officials and a seemingly untouchable coach because of a winning series of State Championships. As the season draws to a close and tensions mount, Perez relentlessly and unsuccessfully continues his attempt to obtain evidence. Then when the body of a popular cheerleader is found under the stadium bleachers with a small container of illegal drugs by her body, the team quarterback is suddenly overcome with guilt and joins forces with Mr. Perez.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Nov 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781490785776

Louis Cisneros

The author was born in a small town in South-East Texas. Has a adolescence he worked in the fields around his hometown of Refugio, Texas. At the age of 18 he join the Army and did one tour in Vietnam. Received a Master degree from Stanford University and has been a teacher with the Houston ISD. Before becoming a teacher the author worked in the electronic field for 12 years. The author has published three novels with Trafford Publishing. He likes to go jog in the parks and go camping in California.

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© Copyright 2017 Louis Cisneros.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8570-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8571-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-8577-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017917484

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Day 1

Chapter 2 Drinking Time

Chapter 3 Principal’s Office

Chapter 4 Funeral

Chapter 5 The Devil

Chapter 6 Memories

Chapter 7 Smoking

Chapter 8 Tragedy at School

Chapter 9 Cruising

Chapter 10 Kiss of Death

CHAPTER 1

Day 1

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¡L evantate werka!

Something moved in between the blankets, and with sleepy eyes said, ¡Ay mami! Welcome to America.

Oh porque te quieres casar con un gringo.

¡Ay mami por favor!

The mother comes back into the room again and takes the blanket off her daughter.

Mejor que hacer tortillas que pan, ¡si por favor, casate con un mexicano!

Her daughter angrily responded, ¡Sí mami, voy a casarme con un gringo! Sí, quiero comer pan blanco más que comer tortillas quemadas.

Maria, as one of the cheerleaders at Harbor High, was nervous and excited about the district game. It was a good time for her to impress the gringo boys. "Mami, don’t worry about me. Por favor, let me get ready for school!"

Chapter%201%20C%20jpeg.jpg

Ringgggggggggggggggggggg!

In another part of town …

The alarm clock went off, and the music began, but I felt like rolling over and forgetting about teaching today. The weekend had been a total failure. It went by just like it was a few hours ago. My mouth felt like the 101st Airborne had marched over it and forgotten their officers’ latrines. I jumped up and made it to the head where the foul smell of last night’s worshipping of the toilet hit me like a howitzer. It turned my gut once more.

I knew I was running late. It was 7:30 a.m. The shower, as usual, was awakening, but the shave irritable. I glanced at the mirror of the man who stood before it—a complete wreck. My eyes had huge bags that could be used by Oscar De La Hoya as speed bags. It wouldn’t have made any difference to my face. I was getting old. I looked old and tired.

It was a nice autumn day in Santa Cruz. Tourists walked along the boardwalk, and beachcombers looked for seashells, the cold waves shuddering on their feet. The ocean’s thunderous rhythm on the rocks sent water into the air, making millions of rainbows, as the surfers perched on the jetty waiting for the tide to come in, in order to begin a series of wipeouts.

Bewitched by the spectacular view, the ocean seized my mind, and I began to imagine the savage love affair I could have on the wet sand. The sunrise to my right and the misty breeze to my left collided on my face and stopped me