The smell of guilt
Good to see you made it back, Will. I was beginning to worry you had reneged on your responsibilities.
Andrews hadn’t backed off since my outburst. But like I’d decided earlier, I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.
Come on, sir, as if I would do that.
I slowly eyeballed every one of the tiny geeks in front of me.
In fact I met Zachariah Cohen during the lunch break. He found himself in a bit of trouble and needed some help.
The geeks weren’t old enough or skilled enough to hide their fear.
Andrews’s face crumpled into a frown.
Was there a problem, Will?
Andrews became teacher serious, letting me know he would step in if I needed him to. But to dob these guys in would have meant playground death for the Freak. No. I just wanted them to live in fear of me putting them in it.
Nothing that I can’t fix myself, sir.
The geeks’ restlessness increased. They looked at their music, in their bags, at their instruments. One even put his head into his lunch box. Anywhere but in my direction.
Well, let me know if I can offer any assistance.
The smell of guilt escaped like silent deadly farts.
And with that we got on with the rehearsals. I just managed to look over my shoulder and saw the Freak giving one of the guys the finger before he picked up his trombone. There was hope for him yet.