Originally appeared in The Illinois Times, September, 2001

Mr. Robinson

His teeth were too many for his mouth. When he spoke it was as though a giant enamel orange wedge was lodged under his lip. His shoulders hunched with the grace of a vulture, his fingers knobby and long, and his eyes shifted about the room. On the first day of school he felt like a gargoyle perched upon a chaotic wooden desk.

He savored the first flicker of contention brewing in the back row. He grinned, “Don’t tempt me.”