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Paxton

Paxton

Paxton’s seen it all and like a ‘good soldier,’ he is true and loyal to the end. Not that he’s ever served in war (he wasn’t old enough for Vietnam; wasn’t healthy enough for anything that followed).

He sees the war on ‘the streets,’ and like Paul, fights the good fight (full-time and more) inside the four walls covering the propaganda that public policy dictates. Paxton will take his class to the edge, ending each lesson with words from Gandhi or someone just as peaceful.

The war he cannot stand, the one he truly sees, is the obsession that is about to possess his friend, his ‘kid brother.’

Family isn’t blood, but one will always bleed for family.

“You know, if you’re gonna snoop around, might as well check the medicine cabinet, too. It’s true we teachers toss tablets back like tic-tacs.” Paxton grabbed the last beer from the fridge with one hand, two quasi-clean glasses with the other. While 50-50 was out of the question, whatever was said next would determine the scale.

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